#some other schmucks

[average-transdalorian]

I’ve seen a good amount of ideas about Eldritch Force Cryptid Anakin Skywalker. Which is great! He is canonically 1/2 Force, and I love seeing the silly and terrifying effects that might have! But. Y’see. The Twins are both 1/4 Force. And they have no idea what’s possible. For instance.

Leia knows that the Force can be used to absorb blaster fire the way Vader did at Cloud City. Luke knows that the only limits put upon the Force are the ones the user put there. What if some Imperial fuckface put together a third Death Star, say, 3-5 years after RotJ? And decided that the first target would be Hosnian Prime (or whatever the capital of the New Republic is at that point), and waited until Like was there visiting Leia, so as to take out the biggest political and practical issues at the same time? So Highest Grand Moff His Imperial Fuckface pops out of hyperspace at just the right moment, DS3 all charged up, and fires at Hosnian Prime. And he waits the half minute it takes for the beam to destroy the planet. And he waits. And he waits. And the beam is gone but the planet is not. And standing right where the beam should have hit are the Skywalker twins, who absorbed the entirety of the beam because nobody told them they couldn’t.

Idk I just think it’d be neat

[vanessakimballs]

RT continues to fumble, how are you gonna disrespect trocadero this fucking badly?

[fistfuloflightning]

Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu both die in the Lingxi Caves. Young and inexperienced and wholly unprepared, their head disciples are forced to take their place.

[blazeball]

i feel soooo normal about grolon and ava

[whatudottu]

You know I’m starting to fixate on something where I actually care enough about it to ramble something something- so let’s give it up for NSR! *tiny applause of me doing whatever the hell i want to do on this blog*

An odd thing for me though is that I’m specifically doing a whole character ramble and practically ONLY a character ramble so no biology stuff here (only slight astronomy). Please welcome to the stage, my scrimblo bimblo: DJ Subatomic Supernova!

As I once again shove aside my not only in-progress work but the ‘actually read to post’ work too, I’m here to spew words about my favourite egotistical space orb and not only am I going to do that, but also compare them to someone else of a unique mind. Because of both of their particular quirks about identity, self-importance, and ultimately expression of art, I like to think DJSS may share some grounds with Eve, perhaps enough to decently get along with each other if not even form a friendship.

If you’re one of my typical followers interested enough in reading this to get to here - the second paragraph UNDER the readmore - I will give a summary of the DJ and the Diva. DJ Subatomic Supernova, a space themed NSRtist with an ego so dense it can cause a singularity (which may or may not be an actual literal thing that has or did happen) and underappreciated ex-professor of university grade astronomy, strives to preserve their name and music to extend not only beyond their own time but for the future beyond humanity’s own existence in order to stave away fading into obscurity and truly becoming everlasting. In this battle of existential dread and their entire ‘Avatar of Earth’ schtick, we have a character who’s ego comes with a twist of not being selfish even though it is significantly self-centered, their motivations though using the medium of themselves being to create a legacy for humanity that will spread to the furthest reaches of the galaxy and back.

Eve meanwhile - real name Nadia - views the world in ways that seems only she can, seeing herself as the only one to understand the way she thinks and feeling so incredibly lonely in that fact - a realm of existentialism in of itself - especially since the one person that had begun the attempt had ended up losing thanks to his hair being set on fire. Expressing herself not only through her psy-dub music, Eve is an artist of multiple mediums from sound to visual, of sculpture, fashion, and paintings, many themes of her work centering on her personal experiences and insecurities, of eyes staring at her peculiarities and of turning those eyes against the viewer.

And what do you get when you cross an egotistical existentialist with a suffering surrealist? Maybe you get a little common ground to stand on. Perhaps not enough to satiate Eve’s personal desire to find like-minded brothers and sisters, perhaps not enough to bring Nova back down to Earth to appreciate the present for what it is. But perhaps enough that at least among coworkers, there’s even remotely enough broken ice to hold a conversation, perhaps enough that if in friendship, Eve may look towards the stars and Nova may look at the self of another.

Of course, this is not simply a character analysis based solely on canonical information, as it is now that I will elaborate (at least from the perspective of DJSS) with some headcanons of my own.

I’ve always been particularly an NSR lurker, not really doing much of actual engagement with the fandom but certainly sitting by the wayside and looking in. A thing that I have seen for folk’s take on a younger Nova is that they weren’t always a supernova one Bunkbed Junction away from going singularity- instead, they were a star. It’s always been one of the larger blue stars, but here I’d like to just go out and make it an O-Class main sequence star and be essentially a miniaturised equivalent; and when I say equivalent, I mean EQUIVALENT!

If you were an object head of maybe a G-Class main sequence star (the star itself significantly smaller than what it would actually be), you’d have on your head a miniature sun that would be a little portable and ultimately dimmer version of our very own Sol (or specifically if you had a G2-Class star which is more accurately our own sun). But if you had the misfortune of having an O-Class (O2-Class in this case for reference) star, with 800000 times the luminosity of the sun you’ve got a very VERY significant issue about just existing if you don’t wear something for the protection of literally anyone and anyTHING with eyes or cameras.

The ‘not yet named Nova’ Nova had to grow up early on wearing a super shaded helmet for the entire time they were star - already a thing one might be self-conscious about - up to and including the very moment they went supernova, another thing I must touch on. Depending on the size and general energy output of a particular celestial object - such as; a star - the point in time in which it collapses in on itself and, in the sake of stars, supernovas changes. And this particular case, let’s change a rather heard of saying for the sake of elaboration; the bigger you are, the faster you fall-

Not only was most of Nova’s early life spent hiding their star for the sake of other’s, anyone from astronomers themselves to any old star object head would say it was simply an inevitability that their star would collapse in on itself and become someone completely different, not a matter of if but when... and most certainly ‘young’ while it’s at it. Insecurities from being beheld a wonder to being seen as weird to even having adults already mourning their existence as a star, Nova may in fact turn to the stars above and retreat from the stars below in order to even begin to attempt to cope with their inevitable demise, embracing the existentialism and relying on their inherent knowledge of the astral sea to pursue a career in education. To teach people not to fear the end, the whatever theorised death of the universe, the collapsing of stars. To say that they shouldn’t be feared and shouldn’t be mourned just because they will change - and they will - and that the supernova that has been the subject of so much misplaced misery is in fact a dispersal of resources that can build to something much greater than the some of its parts.

And they are left unheard in the vast emptiness of space, of the classroom, of the home.

The inevitable happens, sparked early (far too early even for an O-Class) by a numeral amount of factors that would cause their world to spin, the light to bend, and an insurmountable level of stress and pain and misery and insecurity influenced supernova.

Too many lights and sounds and senses, DJ Subatomic Supernova particularly hates the design of Akusuka and Metro Division. Cast Tech, the district they hold Charter to, is low lit for a reason. Natura does not induce the swirling of senses, but DJSS has no particular interest in the gardens, for all the worth they put into Earth as a whole. And Dream Fever, something about the eyes that stare and the oddities that twist and turn.

Perhaps it is not their first choice to take in the work of Eve - of Nadia; the artist behind it all - it is not a reflection of their own story, nor does it reflect where they stand now. But there is meaning, meaning they can take in, take pieces of and relate them back to the past. The past that no longer exists, not if they have anything to say about it, not that they had any say in the first place. The artist Nadia, the diva Eve, the balance of the insecure and the expression. Reveling in the dual tones a much younger Nadia tried to hide (concealer rubbing off to reveal a hot pinkish red), the criticism of the viewer, to make the audience feel what had been felt constantly not entirely that long ago. A desperate plea to find someone that will listen, someone that will understand, someone that will hold their memory and share their story ad nauseam.

Perhaps there is something to share solace in, knowing that back on Earth there was another like Nova themselves seeking to engage to the world beyond them.

Though for different reasons, perhaps the two find even a slight solidarity with each other, whether friends or simple coworkers.

[woodnrust]

Fast fashion bad and all but also every time one of those micro trends dies and people start donating their clothes it's like whale fall to deep ocean for thrift shoppers. Actually cute garment you saw on somebody cause it's apparently in style now? Yum yum can't wait to find that in a thrift shop for $5 in a month's time

[joi-in-the-tardis]

I think in an ideal situation, where the company actually hired and retained the right amount of workers I could consider this job. But, this is a blood from stone situation. This morning was the first time I've been left here alone (I'm still not fully trained and don't have full access to things 🙃) and the first time they've seen me angry. Well, surprise! I am a human person and I experience all of the feelings. And today, I'm mad.

[nuttyrabbit]

Late Night IDW Team Dark Ramblings

You know, I've been thinking about how Team Dark could be better portrayed/utilized in IDW and I've come to realize that a big issue with their portrayal/usage is that they don't really have any antagonists of their own.

Like they're supposedly not super buddy buddy with Sonic and co but the only times they show up are to help them with whatever Eggman thing is going on at the moment (or that one bit with Clutch, which factors into my solution). As a result they just kinda feel like Sonic's butt buddies or in the case of Shadow, that one annoying guy who pops in to tell you you're bad at your job.

I know it's partially a result of not having a Universe equivalent where they can fuck off and do their own thing, but at the same time, as of now there's nobody for Team Dark to really bounce off of antagonist wise, and specifically for Shadow, there's nobody for him to really go all out on and let him actually be cool against.

And I was thinking about how to fix this for a while, until it hit me that the solution, or at least the start of it, was right in front of my face: Rough, Tumble, and Clutch should be antagonists not only for Team Chaotix, but Team Dark as well.

Those three provide the sort of shadier, "darker" antagonists that fit characters like Rouge and Shadow specifically (the former is evidenced by her and Clutch's delightful interactions in Chao Races). Now you may be asking "But Nutty, those three are interesting, but they can't take Shadow in a fight, no way no HOW, and having Shadow beat them up just feels like a consolation prize for him" and to that I'd say that yeah, you're correct about that, which leads into the second part of my proposal

Use Clutch and Rough/Tumble as a launching pad. I'm showing my biases towards certain kinds of characters here, but I think it'd be cool to have those characters be a jumping off point to have more outright criminals/org crime villains. Villains that are meant to be a bit seedier, a bit more "underground" and whom Shadow's pragmatic attitudes and raw power, as well as Rouge's finesse, can be properly applied against. It could also provide an opportunity for Team Chaotix and Team Dark interactions, which as far as I can remember, we haven't really had outside of like, Heroes (and that one Archie issue early in Ian's run where the Chaotix interrogated her but that barely counts).

Now you may also be thinking: "Well wouldn't that just bloat up the cast?", and to that I say the wonder of these kinds of villains is that they're inherently disposable. It'd be quite easy to say, throw out some criminal of the week for them to deal with and when they're dealt with, they're gone if you want em to be gone. Now granted, in an ideal world this would be slotted into a Universe style book where the more episodic stuff would fit (and frankly it's the only place I thinnk it could reasonably fit since having arcs without Sonic in them is pretty much verboten), but it's still interesting to think about nevertheless

Also you could totally pull from Jojo Part 5 and make a funky hitman squad with crazy powers and a close bond and have them be reoccuring villains if you really wanted.

But yeah these are just some thoughts I wanted to get out there. Lemme know what you think

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[hellisharchive]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

・﹒・ perversions of the soul

Warnings: 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

Pairings: [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

Notes: Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒Lucifer﹒

・He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

・He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

・While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒Adam﹒

・This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

・He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

・Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

・Valentino・

・Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

・Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

・He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

・Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒Vox﹒

・Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

・Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

・He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒Saint Peter﹒

・That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

・He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

・He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

I started reading Discworld earlier this year –because I figured it's a cultural treasure and I may as well get around to it by now– and like, I knew something about Terry's ability to sneak underhanded puns into the texts –I've seen the posts. I'd also read Good Omens, even if at that point I couldn't disentangle who was writing what.

So I entered the books fully like the Stay back, slut meme, except regarding wordplay. I was reading with a fine-toothed comb. I was squinting at every name and testing every phoneme. Not necessarily because I don't like puns or didn't enjoy the idea of getting caught by surprise, mind you, just that I'd heard very good things about Terry Prachett's humor and I didn't want to miss any of his jokes and with wordplay stuff if you don't catch it, you'll never know it existed.

I caught a lot of stuff, and even when I didn't get some of the references (the series stretches across a lot of decades I wasn't born in) I could still at least tell when he was making them. I made it out of my grand read with a pat on the back and a certain pleasure in the knowledge that I had enough pop-culture and etymological awareness to not let Terry pull a fast one on me.

In classic Pratchett fashion, turns out I was dead wrong.

I was rereading Soul Music, because even if I'm late to the party I still enjoyed the Discworld books immensely, and I got to the scene where a bunch of schmucks with no music knowledge (or talent) are infected by the spirit of rock n' roll and descend in a horde upon a guitar shop. The owner starts off trying to sell them decent instruments, but, soon realizing his new flow of customers couldn't play a triangle and are more interested in the look of the thing anyways, he promptly starts pulling out his scrappiest, crappiest pseudo-instruments (Ankh-Morpok, amiright) and sticking a bunch of paint, glitter, and ankh-stones on them for the look of things before selling them at marked-up prices.

Ankh-stones were first mentioned in Sourcery, I think, and were used in the creation of the fake Archchancellor's hat. They get mentioned in other books on and off as a source of bedazzlement that's pretty clearly meant to be a riff on rhinestones. First time I read about them, I went "oh what a nice little bit of worldbuilding, of course some gems would get named after local stuff" and thought no more on it. But like…

Ankh-stones.

Rhinestones. Rhine-stones.

The infamously nasty River Ankh that flows(?) through Ankh-Morpok, and the River Rhine, a real river that exists.

I just about swore and hit the table when I clocked that one, because I went into the series ready for it, I was looking for it, and Terry still fuckin' got me good.

[bet-on-me-13]

Wes ruins everything

Wes had finally done it, he had finally realized why nobody ever belived him about Fenton and Phantom! It made so much sense now, he had been looking for an answer for years, thinking he was going crazy because everybody refused to see the Obvious!

He was Cursed!

He literally had an Ancestoral Curse on his Bloodline that made it so that all those born with the gift of Prophecy would be ignored! A Gift of Prophecy that he apparently had.

It was Cassandra's Curse, the one from Greek Myths. Apparently she was his Great×1000 Grandmother and passed down the Gift (and Curse) of Prophecy to him. And he knew how to break it!

All he needed to do was gather the right resources, chant the correct incantations, make sure not to accidentally summon a Demon in the process, and he could just foist the Curse onto some other poor schmuck. Sure it would suck for them, and he would loose his Gift of Prophecy, but Wes had been ignored for Years at this point, he needed validation!

So he did the Ritual, and he didn't mess it up, and he managed to get rid of the Curse.

Now all he had to do was convince everybody that he was right for the first time in his life! This was going to be great!

...

Cass didn't know what was going on.

A while ago, she had started getting these...gut feelings that she couldn't explain.

She would look over the details of a Case her Family was working on, and see a patern that the others were seemingly ignoring. Like when she realized that The Penguin was about to raid the Docks on the East Side, but the others were convinced it was going to be on the West.

But when she had tried to tell them, they had brushed her off. "We've already concluded that he will begin the Raid on the West side, no need to go to the East."

She had gone anyways, and low and behold she had been right. But nobody even acknowledged that she had been right at all, they had just wondered how they had missed the signs, not even questioning how she had known.

It wasn't limited to Cases either. Even small things, like telling her brother's where the TV remote was were brushed off, and hours later they would still be looking, never even having checked where she told them.

It seemed that no matter what, nobody cared about her point of view anymore. They kept brushing her off, telling her she was wrong, actively ignoring her ideas.

And it was getting worse. They were starting to ignore her more and more, forgetting she was in the room, not calling her down for Dinner, even forgetting to check in on her during Patrol.

She knew that there must be something going on, Magical or otherwise, but when she tried bringing it up with her Dad or JLD, they would also Brush her off.

Her Family was forgetting her. And they didn't even realize it.

...

Danny was not okay at the moment.

When he had gone to school a few weeks ago and noticed everybody staring at him, he didn't give it much thought. Maybe Dash or Paulina had spread another Rumor about him again, not too out of the ordinary.

When his name had been called over the Intercom, he hadn't thought much of that either. His grades were falling even more than usual, so he assumed his Guidance Counselor wanted to have another talk with him.

When he walked into the Principals Office to see both of his Parents and some GIW Agents, that's when he realized something big must have happened.

He didn't have much of a chance to react when the Shields went up, but he did react when the first Ecto-Blast scorched the wall behind him. His Parents began to scream at him as they fired their Blasters, something about replacing somebody? He didn't know, he was pretty preoccupied at the moment.

It took more effort than he cared to admit to escape the Room, but a stray shot to the hidden Shield Projector under the Principals Desk proved to be his saving grace. Unfortunately the moment he escaped the Office, he was met with a veritable Army of GIW Agents, all armed to the Teeth with Weapons he had never even seen before.

He managed to get away for a moment, hiding in the Bathroom as the Agents chasing him passed it by. That's when he met Wes.

He obviously hadn't been expecting him, but the moment he saw him Wes put on a smug look. "Oh hi Fenton, trying to get away from the other students?"

Danny had replied with confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I finally managed to convince everybody about you, now everyone knows that you're Phantom! I'll bet you're hiding from all of the other Students hounding you for questions right?"

"...it was you?"

"Yeah, so? I finally get to be right!"

"...You absolute MORON-"

That was the last Danny got to say to Wes before an Ecto-Blast launched him through a Wall, seeing his face morph into a look of Shock just before the dust cloud covered it up.

Since that day, Danny had been on the Run. Nowhere was safe anymore now that the GIW knew both his Human and Ghost's faces, but he had to keep running. He crossed state Lines already, and was on his way to the next Ecto-Rich City he could sense, somewhere in New Jersey.

He cursed his Fenton Luck every day. Why had everybody believed Wes this time?! Nobody had ever belived him before, nobody even seemed to acknowledge his existence after a while! What had changed?

Danny just wanted to rest already.

...

Cass had taken to Patrolling alone recently. She had taken to doing a lot of things alone, actually.

After the first month, it seemed that nobody could remember that she was in the room with them, even if she was within their eyeline, she just faded into the background. By the 2 Month Mark they had stopped talking to her entirely, although occasionally she would get a Text or two from her dad. By the 3 month Mark she was completely invisible, and By the 5th she had been forced to get used to it.

She didn't know what was going on, was it a Meta Ability? Magic? Alien Tech? She had no idea.

She had begun to cook for herself after the first time Alfred forgot to set her Plate at the Table. The same with Washing her own Clothes, Cleaning her Room, and Paying her Phone Bills. At the very least the Automated Allowance Payments to her Account had kept up, or she wouldn't have been able to go to her favorite Cafe anymore.

It was bittersweet for her. She used to go to that Cafe every week with Alfred, but he didn't even come on his own anymore. Had he only come for her? Did she really mean that much to them? It hurt, she finally had a family that cared for her and suddenly she didn't exist to them.

She sat alone at a Table, ignored by everyone in the Cafe as usual, when a new face walked in. He looked about her age, a little roughed up, walking with a sort of cautious gaint, as if he was scared of something. His Body Language seemed to agree with her assessment, as his body practically screamed "Worry" in its movements.

Cass stopped watching at that point. Just another Gotham Teen, probably worried over something like getting not having enough money or getting mugged on the way home. It was a Common sight in Gotham.

She attention was pricked again for a moment when she heard a voice speak up. "Uh, can I sit here?"

She ignored it, he wasn't talking to her.

"Um, excuse me? Miss? Could I sit here?" He repeated.

She ignored him again, he wasn't talking to her. Nobody talked to her.

"Hello? Do you have Earbuds in?" He said, and he waved his hand in front of her face.

Her face. He waved his hand. In front of Her Face.

He was talking to her.

She looked up at him sharply, seeming to startle him for a moment before he asked, "So, is that a no?"

"You can see me?" She asked.

He looked a bit bewildered, but replied "Uh, yeah? Why would I not? Are you...a Ghost?". That last part sounded a bit suspicious.

"No. Not a Ghost. But nobody sees me. Ever. Nobody remembers me." She replied. She had never spoken this much to anybody outside of her Family, but in the past few weeks she had been starved for interaction.

He seemed slightly interested, and sat down at her table. He looked her in the eyes, and said "Do you...talk about it?"

She smiled. He could see her.

[lovebugism]

“you were outside for one minute, how can you be dying of hypothermia?” with Steve and ditsy reader🥹

ty for requesting! — you walk in the freezing cold to ask steve if he would still love you if you were a worm (ditzy!fem!r, established relationship, 1.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Your arrival is marked, first, by an ignored knock. 

Steve’s lazing on his couch, heavy with post-work exhaustion, with his resident schmuck slouched at his side. Robin acknowledges the tapping at his door before he does. “You gonna get that?” she mumbles, mostly uncaring and partly distracted by the TV.

Steve shrugs, unblinking. “It’s probably just a package or something.”

“Or maybe it’s your girlfriend,” she retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm as she turns to him with wide ocean eyes. “Remember her?”

Steve scoffs. “She said she wasn’t coming over today… Why do you think you’re here?”

Robin would punch him in the shoulder if she wasn’t so tired. “Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

Another knock echoes down the foyer. This time, followed by a voice — muffled and achingly familiar. “Can somebody let me in before I die out here?” 

Steve jumps off the couch without thinking, filled suddenly with newfound life and distant horror. He vaguely hears Robin mumble “told ya” as he rushes to the door. 

He wrenches it open with an iron grip around the knob. He’s smacked in the face by the bitter breeze waiting on the other side. Snow falls from heavy clouds, swirling with freezing wind, and you’re standing out in the middle of it all.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Steve blurts. Not because he’s unhappy to see you, but because it’s basically a tundra outside, and you’ve got on the thinnest jacket he’s ever seen.

Your brows pinch as your face swirls something pitiful. Eyes wide and glassy, you blink snowflakes from your lashes. “Dying of hypothermia,” you murmur into your knit scarf, shrinking into your crossed arms.

Steve manages a small laugh. “Okay, you were outside for one minute. You’re not dying of anything— now get in here before you freeze.” He ushers you in with a warm hand pressed against the small of your back. “And I meant, what are you doing here? You said you were staying home ‘cause of the snow.

“I had a very important question to ask you,” you insist while he helps you peel off your jacket and scarf. Crystalline flakes fall from the fabric and onto the hardwood, melting almost instantly.

He hangs both on the rack for you. “You walked half a mile in the snow to ask me a question? Why didn’t you just call?”

“‘Cause it’s too important— I had to see you first.”

Your pout is childlike and firm. Steve concedes with a nod. “Okay. Well, uh— Robin’s here. Is that okay?”

You’re beaming almost instantly, forgetting about the boy entirely as you duck past him and down the entrance hall. You find Robin slumped on his sofa, still in her Family Video vest because unbuttoning it was too much work. Her bitten lips curl into a smile at the sight of you, the ball of sunshine Steve’s trying to tame.

“Are you guys having a sleepover?” you ask, all giddy at the thought.

She leans her elbows along the back of the couch and shrugs. “Well, we were. But since you’re here, I’m thinking we should just kick Stevie out.”

“Yeah. No. Not happening,” Steve deadpans as he appears behind you. He guides you towards the stairs with a warm arm around your shoulder. “C’mon— Let’s go.”

You pout. “Wait. Where are we going?”

“To get you some fresh clothes. I just got a load outta the dryer— Remember when you said you were freezing?”

“I’m past freezing, Stevie. I’m dying.” You groan and lean much of your body weight into the boy beside you. He laughs and carries it no problem.

“I’ll warm you up. You’ll be okay.”

He gets you into his bedroom and starts taking off your clothes. “At least take me out to dinner first,” you quip in a tiny voice as he pulls your sweater up and over your head. He scoffs and replaces it with a sweatshirt. Hissweatshirt. From the laundry basket full of fresh clothes he hasn’t folded yet. Then he sets you on the edge of his bed and tugs your jeans down your thighs, only to put a warm pair of baggy sweatpants over them again.

There’s something distinctly domestic, you think, about someone taking off your clothes only to put fresh ones on you again.

And then, even though he knows you’re perfectly fine, Steve cuddles with you under the sheets of his bed for a moment. He says it’s to help you warm up faster — “‘cause you were dying, remember?” But really, he’d just missed you. In a very simple, human way. And it feels good to hold you to his chest like this.

“Feel better?” he asks, filling the silence of his bedroom, chin bobbing against your head.

“I feel more alive now. If that’s what you’re asking,” you answer.

“Less than an icicle?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re the cutest damn icicle I’ve ever seen—” He pulls just far enough way to see your face, smiling when he finds you grimacing at his dumb attempt at flirting. He plants a chaste kiss on your pouted mouth. A low smack fills the bedroom. You’re beaming all over again when he’s gone.

“What was your question again?”

Mouth still sparkling with longing, your face swirls with confusion. “Huh?”

“You said you came over to ask me something.”

“Oh, yeah!” you shout, wiggling out of his hold to face him more. You grow suddenly serious — as serious as a person like you can be, anyway. You talk wildly with your hands as you ramble. “Well, I was at the trailer earlier, and I was talking to Eddie, and I’m pretty sure he was high—”

“Figures,” Steve scoffs.

“—‘Cause outta nowhere he was like, ‘Would you still love me if I was a worm?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah. Obviously. I mean, I’d be sad about it and everything, but I’d still take you everywhere with me.’”

“He might be easier to tolerate that way,” he jokes, pink lips curled into a small smile.

You don’t seem to hear it.

“And then I thought— ‘Oh my god, what about Steve? Like, would he still wanna be my boyfriend if some evil witch turned me into a worm?’ And it really freaked me out, and Eddie was zero help, and then I got so sick about it that I had to come over here and ask you.”

You don’t take a single breath until you’ve vomited all the words out.

Steve — equal parts impressed and worried by you — nods slowly and with wide honey eyes. He calculates carefully what to say, lest the wrong thing spill from his mouth and send you spiraling all over again. “Okay… Well… For starts, yes, I would still love you.”

He swears you breathe a sigh of relief then.

“But like… Can I ask why you got turned into a worm?” he wonders with pinched brows.

“The optics don’t matter,” you insist girlishly.

“Right. Well. Can the evil witch-woman turn me into a worm, too? Or is that against the rules?”

Your doe eyes begin to sparkle, wide and full of hope. “You’d wanna be a worm with me?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distant with disbelief.

Steve scoffs. “Of course, I would. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere without you.”

You knock the breath from his lungs when you lurch suddenly forward. Chest against chest, your arms wrench tight around his neck. He’s stunned for one moment, then hugging you back the very next. His wide palms rest warm along your spine. He manages a laugh despite being halfway strangled.

“I mean, think about it. I could spend the rest of my life hugging you like this if we were a couple of worms.”

“Well, you’re gonna do that anyway,” you quip, muffled into his neck.

Steve hums. “Touché.”

You pull away from him after a moment or more, serious all over again. There’s a firm furrow to the center of your brow and an unsmiling glint in your eye. “We have to set ground rules, though. Just in case.”

“Of course,” the boy concurs, fighting back a smile.

“If I get turned into a worm, and you couldn’t be one with me, what would you do?”

“Like… If I wake up and there’s just… A worm on your pillow?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, face pinching ‘cause he’s really thinking hard. “I’d be really sad.”

“But what would you do with me?”

“I’d get you a tank or something. Or, like, a little necklace to put you in— so I can carry you around everywhere.” He figures that’s the most perfect solution to this wildly unlikely situation, given the risk he couldn’t be there with you. Then your pout deepens, and he second guesses. “Is that okay?”

He can’t believe he’s entertaining this at all, really, but you’re worrying’s got him stressed about it, too.

“I want you to hold me in your hand,” you tell him, quiet and sincere.

Steve nods. “Deal.”

“…And hold me at eye level at all times.”

He laughs before he can stop it. “Sure.”

You start to smile, but don’t let yourself. “But how would you find me?”

“If you got turned into a worm?”

You nod, slow like a sheepish child. “How would you know which worm was me?”

“I’d find you,” he insists.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs with a shrug, mostly uncaring because the idea of finding you has never worried him before. There isn’t a world where the two of you aren’t together. Even in the infiniteness of time and all its parallel existences, Steve thinks you’ve found each other in every single one. 

“I’d always find you. In every universe,” he assures, wearing a crooked smile on his lips when he boops the tip of your nose with his finger. “And out of every worm.”

[brunettegirlwrites]

rafe with goldengirl!reader would turn him into a little lovesick puppy.

his group of friends are friends with your group of friends—you’re constantly seeing each other. you guys all grew up together—he’s seen you develop into the woman you are. he’s liked you since the age of 10 and he’s loved you since the age of 13.

you’re head girl of kildare academy and he’s president of student council just to be at the same meetings as you. you won senior prom queen and he was runner up for king. it pained him to watch you slow dance with some schmuck who wasn’t him.

you’re the first person he looks for in a room :’)

annnnnnnd his love language is 100% physical touch!!!! always always always needs to have his hands on you, needy boy. whether it’s a hand on your thigh when he’s driving you around, or on your lower back while you’re walking side by side, or even be braiding your hair whenever you’re sitting together—he needs to touch you.

[nomsfaultau]

Dark sbi where Tommy accidentally kidnaps Philza, not knowing he’s a crime lord. And he swears it was an accident! He just, you know, panicked. Tommy and Tubbo were just minding their own business slapping graffiti on a building (practicing their art skills, you see) when a cop started screeching at them, apparently not an appreciator of the fine arts. And since Mrs. Innit would KILL him if he got arrested, Tommy panics and takes a hostage, shouting at the cop not to take a step further or he’ll kill the random civilian he’s ducked behind so he can’t get shot.

Meanwhile Philza isn’t entirely paying attention, and realizes there’s suddenly a small child sheltering behind him from a cop. He gives the cop the nastiest look imaginable, which causes them to back off enough that Tommy thinks his plan is working. Once the negotiations start Philza is baffled by who would have the gall to kidnap him, and so poorly at that. Frankly it’s an umbrage to face the work of an amateur.

Well, till the abductor asks his name. “…do you not know who I am.?”

Tommy squints at the guy. His suit looks kinda fancy? Is it better or worse for him if he managed to randomly capture some Wall Street schmuck? “Hell no,” he hisses. “And I don’t care. I’m a dangerous guy alright? You don’t know what I’ll do to you.”

Philza’s laugh causes the cop to advance, wagering the situation isn’t intense. But because Tubbo’s ‘Yes And’ game is a force to be reckoned with, he casually pulls out a nerf gun (painted to look real for a prank on Ranboo) and trains it on the cop. Philza is positively delighted as he realizes just how amateur his abductors are. Oh this will be a riot to watch.

With more bluffing than Tommy knew he had in him, promising the hostage 20 bucks if he pretended to go along with it, the pure manic chaos bleeding from Tubbo’s eyes and ample gun waving, and creative use of spray paint in the eyes of the chasing cops, Tommy and Tubbo somehow manage to book it. For some reason the hostage keeps up with them instead of escaping. Huh. Can you develop Stockholm syndrome that fast? Tommy would ask, but he’s panting from sprinting. And as they live in an unjust world, hostage guy isn’t even breaking a sweat despite the three piece suit.

“You’re not going to get far on foot,” Philza murmurs. As corrupt and useless as the cops are for most things in this city, he doesn’t imagine there’d actually be that much fuss over a random man being kidnapped, but he wonders what they’ll do if spooked a little more. It’s been amusing thus far. The boys bicker, then elect to force him to drive as neither have licenses. They don’t ask him to drive to their homes, instead some secondary location. Smart, albeit Philza will definitely know both addresses within the hour.

While Tommy is busy ‘threatening’ Philza about the consequences of not getting them there, Tubbo just leans over from a bag of chips he’s munching on and offers them to Phil. Tommy rounds on him, less for showing exploitable kindness to the hostage and more for eating the Doritos that were meant to be his. Philza almost chides them for revealing each other’s names, but decides it might just be easier to hand them notes at the end of this. So far they aren’t getting a passing grade in abduction. But he has to admit it’s far more entertaining than the ‘business’ meeting he was planning to attend.

(Techno, meanwhile, hasn’t heard from Philza and is going BALLISTIC trying to figure out who kidnapped him. From the police report Phil just kinda went along with it, and looked terrified after a private exchange with the abductor, which has to mean the threat is ungodly to convince the Angel of Death to submit. Techno’s about to have a panic attack imagining the unthinkable horrors happening to his best friend, and is only holding it off by doing atrocities about it. This is the THIRD secret criminal organization he’s ripped apart in the last two hours and PHILZA ISNT HERE EITHER!?)

Philza has decided he likes his kidnappers. They’re not experienced in the slightest, but they make up for it with bravado, determination, and a certain lack of rationality that is necessary in the line of business Philza is in. Yes. They’ll do nicely if given a little guidance.

It’s half an hour before either of them notice Philza is driving aimlessly and they don’t recognize the city around them at all. “Hm? Next time I don’t recommend you give the hostage control of the vehicle. I could have immediately driven to the police station.”

Tommy frowns, almost more nervous at the implication the obvious blackmail would go unused. “…why didn’t you?”

“There’s no love lost between the cops and I. And even more importantly, you amuse me. I like your…potential.” He grins at the soft click of Tommy covertly trying the handle and finding the car doors locked. “Getting out at this speed is almost always fatal, Tommy.”

Tubbo lifts the muzzle of the fake gun towards him. “Let us go right. now.”

Philza leans over, ruffling Tubbo’s hair. The teen gulps at the glimpse of the holster Philza’s jacket was hiding, sharing a wide eyed look with Tommy. “I’m not exactly scared of foam bullets, mate.” He chuckles lowly at the tension freezing both of them. “Relax. You’ll be home by dinner. After you went through all the effort of kidnapping me to avoid trouble with your parents, I don’t intend to ruin it. I like you two; you have spunk I don’t see often. After all, it takes a lot of guts to kidnap the leader of the Syndicate.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

The 141 boys and the TikTok trend “everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer”

Firstly, I want to say that in this house, we say "fuck the police (derogatory)" every single day. However, I will indulge in this instance because it's our 141 boys and I think the trend with them would be absolutely smoldering. But I will change it up slightly, and pull from my Bodyguard!141 AU Post as well as lean into a security detail aspect for this one.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, flirting, secret relationship

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Price adjusts the ear piece in his right ear.

The blasted thing doesn’t fit right. It keeps slipping. It’s irritating but it’s manageable. Not like Price is running anywhere. At least, he doesn’t plan on moving too quickly. His job is to stand and observe. To make look after a certain MP’s daughter, and to take her back to the hotel when she tells you she’s ready to leave.

You are no stranger. Far from it.

And it goes far beyond the grounds of appropriate behavior.

Price has completely stuck his foot in it, bedding you when he isn’t supposed to. Stealing kisses in dark corners, and fucking you behind closed doors. He was hired by your father to look after you, and instead, John has taken it much further than that.

But he doesn’t fucking regret it.

Not at all.

John adjusts his ear piece and scans the room from left to right. You’re not in sight but that doesn’t bother him. This ballroom is packed full of rich schmucks who couldn’t give a shit about him.

He scans the room again, and this time he finds you.

You’re walking toward him, hips moving in a sultry sway that steals John’s resolve. You’re gorgeous. Perfect. And he can’t stop staring.

The corner of your mouth quirks with amusement, and John straightens his shoulders, making himself appear bigger. He needs to look professional. He needs to look like he’s not thinking about all the ways he wants to fuck you.

But it’s hard to focus, and when you approach, you glance over your shoulder at him, words leaving your mouth that John doesn’t entirely catch at first. Your foot pops in the air, and the friend you’re walking with giggles, her hand pressed to her painted lips.

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

A good girl.

Yes. You are.

You’re John’s good girl.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

High-stakes missions have always been part of Kyle’s life. It is what he knows. What he thrives on. But between the missions, Kyle keeps working, and not with SAS.

Kyle mostly signs up for security detail at different places around London. Sometimes he might work as a bouncer for a club, or be monitoring people entering a music venue. Sometimes the gigs are swanky, and sometimes they’re not. Kyle doesn’t really mind as long as he’s paid.

That’s the whole point.

He’s saving. Wants to buy a house. Maybe find someone to settle down with. Life is going by fast. He needs some stability amongst all the violence.

And tonight? Tonight, he’s nothing more than a glorified security guard.

He looks the part in all-black tactical gear, and he isn’t the only one. There is an entire group of them all lined up in front of large windows, creating a bit of barrier. The event coordinator expected protests. All there is are a handful of people across the street with signs. They’re harmless.

Kyle doesn’t pay them any mind.

He does watch the regular people walking by on his side of the road. Some people are here for the event and others are just passing through.

Standing on the corner nearby is a small group of young women. They’re all dressed up like they’re heading to the clubs. Kyle pretends he’s not looking, but that would be a lie. There is one he keeps glancing at.

You’re fucking stunning. A beauty.

But Kyle has to remain calm. Aloof. He’s not here for you or anyone except the job at hand.

“Go over there.”

“I can’t!”

“Girl. He is so cute. Do it.”

Kyle casually turns his head, only to find you striding toward him. His throat drops into his stomach, and you waltz past him, pausing just to his right, flipping your hair, and batting your eyelashes at him and then your friends.

“Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

Your friends scream, and then you hurriedly run back to them as if you’ve done something you shouldn’t.

A good girl? Sure you are, love.

Kyle smirks and looks away, doing his best to hide a growing smile.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the driver seat of a large, black SUV. His fingers are itching for a cigarette. He needs the smoke—to feel the burn. To rid himself of some of this agitation.

It’s not annoyance. It’s not frustration. And it sure as shit isn’t anger.

No. Simon has a fucking rager in his pants, and his thoughts are filled with images of you. You—who he’s supposed to be protecting. Escorting you to and from events, pushing back the crowd, and keeping a firm lock on where you are at all times.

The black dress you’re wearing tonight is made of flimsy material. It clings to every curve and swell. Simon is hungry—a feral animal that couldn’t stop stalking you throughout the event.

Now, he’s about to take you back to your hotel. And he knows you’ll invite him in. He knows that the little black dress you wear will be nothing but a pile on the floor in due time.

But this need in his bones isn’t just Simon’s fault. You were a fucking tease all evening. You were bad. Openly flirting with other men in front of him, drinking more than you should have, and genuinely being a little terror to his sanity. All this behavior will only get you punishment. A punishment he’s happy to deal out once he has you behind a closed door.

A car door clicks, and Simon glances up, expecting to see you slide into the backseat. You’re not there. You’re next to him. In the front passenger seat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Simon, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

You shrug and settle in. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, leaning on the middle armrest.

Simon can smell your perfume. “Buckle up,” he growls, and you do so casually, as if you don’t hear his irritation.

He pulls out into traffic, and the moment the two of you are clear of the building, Simon feels your hand on his thigh moving dangerously close to his dick.

“This bad behavior needs to stop.”

Your body shifts and you sing-song the next words out of your mouth. “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

The words are bit slurred. You’re completely pissed, and Simon cannot help but laugh. No punishment then. Not tonight at least.

But tomorrow?

Absolutely.

John "Soap" MacTavish

This isn’t Johnny’s usual job, but it’s easy work.

Usually, hired security and local police take care of concerts and sporting events, but the military has been called in for this one, and Johnny is fine with that. Again, it’s easy work, and they’re paying him more for it.

He stands in one spot, scans the crowd, and acts casual while looking downright intimidating. The intimidation isn’t hard. They have him completely decked out in all-black tactical and balaclava included. All you can see of Johnny are his eyes.

It’s fun, actually. When he put it all on, he pretended to be Simon, only to receive a swat upside the head for it from the man himself.

Johnny has his hands casually resting on his bulletproof vest. No one is really looking at him, and those that do quickly look away. But there is one he can’t stop looking at.

You’re so damn cute, and you can’t stop glancing at him either. You’re with friends, and you keep smiling in his direction. If this were any other night, Johnny would approach you, flirt a bit, maybe even ask for your number. Might even take you home with him if you were open to it.

But Johnny is on the job, and he can’t afford to do that.

As you move closer to him through the crowd, one of your friends keeps saying something to you, moving their hands as if urging you to do something. Johnny isn’t sure what, but he’s curious. You don’t look like danger, and there is nothing about your demeanor that says that you’re looking to cause trouble.

Maybe it’s the balaclava. That seems to be a thing now.

As you approach, there is a pop of your foot, a quick flip of your hair, and a stunning smile. Your friend holds up her phone and you turn away from Johnny briefly to say “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

I bet you fucking are, love.

Your friends giggle with pleasure, and you quickly move away from him but not before you glance over your shoulder one last time, mouthing a silent “thank you.”

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