#and yeah starting with teh

[egs-zs8-1]

[itwoodbeprefect]

i was today years old when i realized that the orange blobs on this shirt pat wears for a good part of episode 6...

... are flowers (and rocks)...

... and not, as i fully believed, many tiny flying pomeranians. for your convenience i've prepared a visual to argue the validity of my interpretation

corporate needs you to find the difference.png

[thenixkat]

Dungeon Meshi 🤝 Dorohedoro > not being romance-focused and going in on the power of friendship but the fandom is overrun by shipping shit

[courtillyy]

you really have to be thankful that some lobbies happened when they did bc that combination of ppl collabing will never happen again

[navy-leader]

Startign to think theres a thing with me and J names....

[threeeyedharemp3]

i might be able to volunteer at this Very cool record store in town when they move in a few months so that would be cool :D i've never had a job or anything and tbh working at a record store is the only job i think i could do w/out hating

[mothersfavourite]

ok now back to finishing my durge run

[horseracetests]

this is VERY stupid but sometimes i get kind of sad that i dont have like, nostalgia for world of warcraft. like i wish i would have played when i was younger

[riddlemearose]

@wailing-whaler Pls don't get me wrong bc this is hilarious (Ganondorf: is he okay? Sky: dont matter bc you're not gonna be) but consider this instead:

The conversation had gone something like this:

“Wait, I thought you’d be mad.”

“Mad?! ‘Mad’ doesn’t even begin to cut it. He tried to kill you! You literally lost an arm! Fi had to be immersed in Flora’s magic for thousands of years to recover! Wild, I’m fucking furious! I’m going to eviscerate him.”

“How the hell do you even kno—actually, you know what? Don’t answer that question. I’ve dealt with enough time travel shenanigans lately and I don’t need the headache whatever you say will give me. Just… did you seriously come here to kill Ganondorf?”

“Wild, are you really asking me that? What part of 'he tried to kill you and he destroyed Fi' did you miss?! Of course!”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ‘ah’. Hey, don’t laugh at me!”

“I – ha – I can’t breathe, gimme a second. Ha-ha, I need to ask one more time: did you seriously get someone to send you through time just so you can fight my Ganondorf?!”

“YES! We’ve established this already! Why are you still asking?!”

“Hylia above, Sky, I love you, but you’re absolutely ridiculous. Let’s go kill Ganondorf.”

I think we as the LU fandom need to stop the whole "Sky gets mad at Wild for the Master Sword breaking in TOTK" and start going "Sky is going to throw hands with TOTK Ganondorf no matter what laws of magic he has to break to do so".

Bc let's be real here, if Sky ever found out that Ganondorf tried to kill Wild and literally destroyed Fi while attempting to do so bc she was protecting Wild the best she could, he really would just go and kill Ganondorf himself.

He would manifest himself into Tears of the Kingdom in any way he possibly could (as a ghost, via possession, literally forming a physical body out of pure spite and rage, fistfighting the Shadow to open a portal) and he would jump into the Hyrule Castle rift and murder Ganondorf single-handedly.

And Wild would 100% be on board with this bc 1. now he has the best back-up he could possibly ask for; and 2. he knows that Sky murdering Ganondorf would be glorious to watch

[pessimisticrunawaygalaxy]

[syofrelief]

buzz

unofficial pt 2 to this but you don't need to read the first one. fluff! kisses, too.

Your grin was wolfish when your new little helper trudged into your office.

Soap's head still had a stocking cap's worth of gauze wrapped around it, the purple bruising around his eye faded only slightly. He grunted a hello and stomped to the armchair next to your desk.

"Well hi there, mister," you teased, flicking through your notebook innocently. "Heard you got a bit banged up out there. I like the hair, by the way."

Soap groaned, lower lip pushing out. "Aw, bile yer heid, ah cannae believe they made me shave it off," he whined, grieving his perfect mohawk. You snickered at the reverence in his eye as he patted the bandages gingerly. You wondered what lay beneath it, how his head would look without its trademark style.

"Desk duty?"

"Aye," he sighed. "It's th'worst. No offense."

"None taken. Not for everybody." You could feel the tremors his bouncing knee sent into the floor as he sank into the cushions. A part of you did feel bad for teasing, but it was overtaken by the immense relief blooming in your chest.

Desk duty meant inside. Away from out there. When one of the privates had stuttered out that Sarge's been shot, miss, I can't- you hadn't even let the poor boy finish before sprinting to the bay. It had been a bloody mess. Literally.

Cold terror seeped under your skin, remembering the limp feel of his hand. You shivered.

"Y'alright, lass?"

His voice made you jump. "Hm? Yes. Yeah, I'm...I'm good."

"You look like yeh've seen a ghost." His twinkling eyes made you smile warmly. He had such a pretty face, even bruised up. A little unfair, honestly.

He settled again, chin on his hand as you continued combing through the thick file in front of you. Warm grew on your cheeks as you felt his unwavering stare. You liked having him with you, but recently it had become a distraction. His gaze was a little too open. Too vulnerable in a way that made your lungs struggle for air.

"Johnny," you said suddenly. "Where's Price put you? For desk stuff."

He shrugged, playing with the seam on his pants. "Dinnae, somewhere down the hall."

You cocked your head. "You got a shift today?"

"...Aye."

"You gonna...show up?"

He pouted at you, blue irises shining like the deepest sapphires. Damn those eyes. His fingers stilled on his jeans, all energy focused towards beaming the biggest pleading puppy look he could manage. Your tongue dried and you resisted the urge to pinch his cheek.

"You can't skip," you laughed waveringly, voice light and frail. Great cover-up.

"But...I wanted teh sit wit' you," he pleaded.

Where was this coming from? God, rip out your heart why doesn't he?

"Soap," you said gently. "Go on. We'll talk at lunch."

Grumbling, he dragged his feet all the way to your door, sending you a sour look as he headed off to his own little office. Poor baby, you thought, gaze drifting to the now-empty armchair. Soap wasn't built for desk work; he needed the flashing lights and high octane and loud booms. It'd be a tough couple of weeks.

Sighing, you hoped he wouldn't be too angry with you, reaching for the newest project. It proved to be even denser than the last one, and your head dropped to your desk. Ugh.

Despite banishing him (gently) to his work, you heard him scamper by your doorway more often than was necessary. On day three you'd started timing the intervals. Five minutes. Ten. Six and a half. Ten and fifteen seconds.

The telltale creak of the floor beneath his heavy boots echoed again. Rolling your eyes, you swiveled around to catch him in the act.

Your jaw hit the floor when you saw him. His bandages were gone, and...

"John," you breathed. His government name shocked the smile right off him, and he flinched.

"Aye, whassat for?" He stuck his tongue out, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Your...hair," you said again, hand over your mouth.

It was gone. Gone, gone. Brown fuzz barely covered his scalp, pink scar tissue in knotted lines behind his ears. Your shock was maybe a bit too evident, because hurt flashed across his eyes. Immediately you regretted it, going to stand.

"Hang on, I didn't-"

He sniffed and turned to the door.

"No, Soap, wait!"

You leapt up to kick the door shut before he could leave. Plastering yourself against the door, you fought to keep his gaze. Johnny's ears were a deep purple, and you gently touched his arm.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. "It's not...it's not bad. It just surprised me. That's all. Come on, please don't...I'm sorry."

He rocked on his heels a moment, gaze still shy. Hair meant a lot to him. Everyone had something in this place. You had so few things to make you, you. Any little feature was clutched onto for dear life. Scented soap, a shade of lipstick, piercings. Soap had hair. He liked taking care of it, combing his hands through it or styling it on lax days.

"Looks chopped, ah ken," he muttered, scruffing a hand over his bare neck. You smiled softly, reaching up to run your hand over the peach fuzz. It tickled.

"It suits you," you said, and you meant it. As much as you missed his waves, his eyes shone a bit brighter now. "Come on, sit. I've got nothing to do."

"Um," he began, and you paused. "Ah...had a question fer ye, actually." He pulled a crumpled note from his pocket, trying to smooth it into legibility. "I...what's this mean?"

You peered at the chicken scratch. Tran/map.

"Oh, they just want a translation of the map. Was this on a picture of something?"

He stalled, trying to remember. "Uhm."

"Here, bring it to me."

Moments later, you had a map sprawled on the floor, annotations and notes in a foreign pen scrawled over it. You were poring over a few dictionaries, trying to find matches.

"So, the best way to do this is to start with any context clues. The..."

Your words fell on deaf ears. Johnny was gazing at you, cheeks pink and lips in a loose smile. Hair drifted from behind your ear, and his hands twitched. He wanted to fix it. He wanted...touch. He'd missed sitting in with you, hearing you hum and the delicate smell of your office. Pretty bird. Smart bird, too, using all the big words he-

"Johnny?"

He blinked, caught. His hand was halfway to your hip, reaching for your keys.

"You...you okay?"

You were blinking at him, a little confused. He nodded, grabbing the key ring gently. He tugged, liking the jingle. You watched him fidget for a bit, then shakily continued.

His sharp ears caught the waver in your voice. The pink on your neck. A slow grin spread across his cheeks. He edged closer, thigh nudging yours. The keys were a nice fidget, but his fingertips burned to squeeze the soft of your hip. Your mumbling didn't pause as he cautiously leaned his forehead on your shoulder, nose brushing the soft cotton of your sweater.

You'd stopped trying to explain the process, now just doing his work for him. Murmuring the new words to yourself, pen scratching soothingly on the papers. Soap's eyelids were heavy with the heady knowledge that you knew. You knew what he was doing, let him cuddle closer, buzzed hair tickling your jaw.

The pen stopped. He felt your chin twitch, your eyes meeting his.

"Soap," you said gently. "Are you asking for something?"

He didn't move, hands frozen on your hip. Baby blues blinked innocently up at you from his curled position on your floor. A choked sound in the back of his throat.

You smiled, setting your book down with a thud. "C'mere, idiot."

He crawled forwards, burly arms wrapping around your middle. Elation bubbled over in his chest, flowing into his veins like nectar. The soothing coo you let out as you ran your hands up his back send his mind into the stratosphere with euphoria.

He clutched at you like a lifeline as you held him, cheek on his head. The stubble was growing on you. It felt nice, like a soft blanket. You scratched gently behind his ears, resulting in a rumbling purr from his prone form. Soap's head rested on the plush of your chest, eyes half-lidded and bleary.

"Missed ye," he mumbled, grip tightening. You frowned, petting his neck.

"You see me every day, silly goose."

"Yeah, but..." he nosed into your neck, pulling himself closer. "Hav'nae done this inna while. Missed it."

You hummed in understanding, nails raking gentle patterns on his skin. A knot of scar tissue made you pause. He noticed, eyes flicking to yours. Concerned. That echo of terror whispered in your head, remembering.

"You scared me," you whispered, throat tight. You smoothed over the scar, too close to those pretty eyes and the fragile mind behind them. Soap sat up, slowly, something stirring in his eyes. It was too much. You hung your head, eyes welling.

"M'sorry," you choked out, tears bubbling over your hands. He drew you close, murmuring dissent at your quiet sobs.

"Aye, none a' tha', birdie," he sighed, "was just a scratch. 'M alright, doll, look," his hand took your and pressed it to his heart, thumping steadily beneath his warm chest. "See? 'M jus' fine."

You crept into his lap, latching yourself securely under his chin. Soap made no effort to stop you, wrapping his arms tight behind your back. He rocked gently, lulling you until the sniffling ceased.

"Aw, wee one," he soothed into the crown of your head. "Didnae know ye cared so much." His tone had the audacity to be teasing, and you whipped angrily to him.

"Didn't- Johnny MacTavish, how-"

He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "Teasin, teasin'. I ken."

You huffed, brow still pinched. His lips pressed a kiss there too.

"C'mon, it was funny. Laugh. Laugh, bonnie, lemme see tha' smile-"

You tried to keep your face twisted, but the insistence of his lips across your face cracked your composure, face splitting. Giggling as he crowed triumphantly, smacking a kiss onto your nose.

You grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his. A small noise in his throat, his fingers tightening on your hips. You licked gently into his mouth. He tasted warm and sweet, sending a shiver down your back. His hands slid up to your jaw, cupping you delicately. Something blossomed in your chest. This was how it was supposed to be. A feeling, one that had been shoved down in the dark, finally coming up to the surface. You nipped at him, trying to fuse your bodies together. Johnny groaned, cheeks flushed.

When you parted for air, his lips were pink and swollen. He took in your flustered face and heaving chest. Your dilated eyes met his.

"Hi, lamb," he smiled, pinching your blushing cheeks. "Look cute all messed up."

You scoffed, burrowing into his neck. His firm, warm skin smelled of fresh pine. You sucked in greedy lungfuls, nosing beneath his ear. His shoulder sloped perfectly for your head. A puzzle-piece match. Meant to be, your heart preened as your hand fisted gently in his shirt.

"Lass," he said, pecking your hair. You hummed, too content to face him. "Ah've a question."

You cooed contentedly, not really listening as his warm grip kneaded your thigh.

"Can I stay here?"

Your brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"Can...can I stay in yer office?"

Your eyes cracked open, brow raised. "Can you work in my office? Johnny..." you breathed a laugh, shaking your head. "I'd get nothing done. Neither would you, for that matter." He blustered indignantly, puppy dog eyes back in full force.

"But..."

"No, Soap," you laughed, kissing his forehead. "Nice try."

His protesting was silenced when you pulled him closer, lacing your fingers together. You were bluffing, but his pout was cute. You'd ask the CO tomorrow to move his stuff in here.

Soap grumbled, breath puffing over your ear.

"Wha' if I get shot again, then ye have to let me-"

"No."

yippee!

[courtillyy]

omg fiona hiiii :)

[blindtaleteller]

tags. cause all that and I'm too lazy tonight to pull it over? lol

following the theory that loki intentionally banded the avengers together so he could sicc them on thanos later, after he took the throne in T:TDW, i think he'd be so angry at the events of civil war like:

loki as odin: hello heimdall, how do earth's mightiest heroes fare as of late?

heimdall: they have disagreed on many subjects and split up two days ago

loki:

heimdall:

loki: they haVE WHAT?

cue loki coming down to earth and bonking everyone's heads together until they all get along again

stark: how the heck are you alive???

loki: skills. listen here, i did not pour my blood, sweat and tears to form this team for you idiots to throw all my hard work out the window!

loki, grabbing rhodes and stark by the wrists: now, we are going to get your little friends out of prison, understood?

like an exasperated kindergarten teacher, y'know?

Loki, hitting Steve over the head with a newspaper: he's your friend, of course he's upset you lied to him about something like this

Tony: hah!

Loki, giving Tony a death glare: did you have to fight each other about it

[w0rmss]

Justice league members (your choice) reacting to y/n who can perfectly mimic sounds? Just some crack hcs xD

I did a selection just a few sentences on how they'd react. Bruce clark diana hal Oliver.

Enjoy

Batman

Bruce sat at one of the computers in the watch tower checking over reports and mission files when he heard it. A voice that sounded just like his. And not his voice changer. Him Bruce Wayne. The man turn in his chair to face the voice. To face you. You smiled waving at him. "Hello I'm the new member. Mimic." Bruce sat there in shock for a moment before turning back to the computer grumbling. "Never do that again."

Superman

Clark was minding his own business looking out the large window at teh stars. His head traveling off to distant places. But then he heard a voice that sounded just like Lois. "So you're the man of steel." He turns and is met with someone who is definitely not Lois. "You're not." He starts but you cut him off. "Lois lane yeah I know sorry. You guys seem so close on the tv and I love the way she talks. I'm mimic. Martian manhunt recruited me." You smile and stratch out a hand as the man stares at you in pure confusion

Wonder woman

Diana was following the sound of an electrical buzzing through the halls of the watch tower. She couldn’t find it anywhere but had to in case her team were to be endangered by it. Eventually, she could hear it getting closer and closer till she crashed into you. You land flat on your ass but the buzzing stopped. "Oh hera, are you alright." Diana picks you up with no bother. "I'm fine. Thank you. Sorry, I was in my own world." You smile. "Did you hear a buzzing by any chance." The amazonian asks, looking around the hall. You tilt your head confused till you realise. "Oh god, sorry, that was me. I mimic sounds. It's my meta ability. I am so sorry." The woman looks at you before laughing.

Green lantern

You and Hal were stilling in the break room together. He had spent the last 30 months showing of his ring before he stopped and realised he didn't know what you could do. "So what's your bit." You asked sliding into a chair across from you. "I can mimic sounds and voices." You reply causally sounding exactly like him. The lantern nearly falls of his chair in shock. He looked bewildered amused and confused at once. "Can you do bats." He asked leaning in closer. "I'm batman." You say in the vigilantes voice before giggling.

Green arrow

Oliver had heard a lot about you before he met you. So when he found you in the training room one afternoon he had to say hi. "So you're the new hero. Mimic right." The blonde asked, walking over to you, a towel around his neck. "That I am handsome." You say in black canary voice making Oliver jaw drop. "I um. Wow. That's impressive. What else you got." With a smile, you mimic the voices of league members' villains and everyday sounds. "Do a... tea kettle." Oliver grins leaning against a bench as you do just that.

Hope you enjoyed and I hope that was right.

Feel free to request like reply repost

Stay safe

Have a wonderful day night afternoon etc

[vaggietheangel]

Charlie the type of girl to say "He's.....right behind me. Isint he?" When teh Vs show up to the hotel.

Niffty the type of girl to flush a fart.

Husks the type of guy to go "Yeah we needed this." When it starts raining.

Vaggie's the type of girl to say, "Look who finally decided to show up." When someone is a minute late.

Angel's the type of guy to go "hehehehehe whoops!" When he hits an imp with his car.

Sir pentious the guy to stop mid air while failing and then hold up a sign that says "Goodbye."

Alastor the type of guy to stare at his enemy from across the street and vanish when a bus goes past.

Lucifer the type of guy to say "Well don't mind if I do" before going down on a woman.

Cherri the type of girl to bully someone by tying their shoe laces together.

[no-144444]

persistent perstering- c.leclerc

Day 13 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Ferrari drivers are persistent. You’re not looking for love. Too bad he is. 

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You liked your job. Ferrari was a good place to work. You’d befriended many of your colleagues, you enjoyed the travel, and though your work was challenging, you felt good. You were the assistant strategist who, granted, usually had better strategies than your boss, but you bite your tongue to keep his massive ego alive. If you could slap him in his dumb fucking face, you would. You liked being in the garage, well, you would if it weren’t for one thing. 

Charles LeClerc. 

Ferrari’s number one, Prince of Monaco, il Predestinato, King of Monza, the Ferrari driver. 

He was a pain in the ass. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy, he hung on every word you said, laughed too hard at all your jokes, talked too much, and he wasn’t exactly your type. 

Well, no one at that moment was. You’d imposed an iron-clad dating ban on yourself when your last relationship ended badly. You weren’t interested in the Monaco dating scene, and even if you were, you wouldn’t start up again with Charles LeClerc. 

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“Morning!” You called out to Carlos. The humid air made every piece of clothing you owned too warm, so you were in a vintage Ferrari cropped-tank. You loved your team, even before working there. Behind Carlos, was Charles, not that you knew that. Carlos smiled, coming over to you. 

“How are you doing?” He asked with a smile. 

“Fucking hot,” you chuckled. He nodded. “It's mad weather.”

“I know what you mean,” he nodded. “Charles’ here could barely stand getting out of bed.”

Charles stepped out from behind him with a bright smile. You smiled back politely, and somehow didn’t notice the way his jaw dropped when he saw you. 

“Ready for tonight?” you asked them both. 

“Ready,” Carlos nodded. “And hoping that you’re doing my strategy.” 

You chuckled and followed him into the paddock, Charles tagging behind you both. “Sadly no, but I will be on stand-by for drinks afterwards, first round on me if things go wrong?”

“First round on me if things go right,” Carlos nodded. 

“Well, good luck today,” you smiled. “Can’t wait for the sprint!”

“Thank you,” Carlos smiled and left to go to his side of the garage. 

“Feeling ready for today?” you asked Charles, trying to be polite. 

He nodded. “How bad can it be?”

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Very, very bad. Extremely bad. Awful. 

Sprint went like this; 

Lap 2: Charles Engine failure into the pits for a 20 second stop.

Lap 8: Carlos crashes with Norris 

Lap 16: Charles into the barriers. 

Double DNF with the feature race tomorrow and quali tonight? Yeah, you’d all be getting fined for staying late. 

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You sat at your desk, looking over the strategy for tomorrow, disheartened at your prospects. Quali had ended 2 hours ago and Charles and Carlos were starting at the bottom of the grid, and it was your job to get them back up into at least the top 10, if not the top 5. Finally, the ball was in your hands in terms of strategy and no matter what, they were going to listen to your calls. The team had all left 30 minutes ago, the cars were fixed with no upgrades and some understeer, but they were drivable. 

“Heading home soon?” Charles’ voice rang out through the empty garage. 

“Nope,” you sighed.

“You’ll work yourself to death,” he sighed. “What are you looking at?”

“Strategy is in my hands tomorrow,” you blurted out. “And I’m fucking freaking out,” You let out a sad chuckle as you felt all of the pressure on your shoulders get heavier and heavier. “I don’t know what to do now. Austin is always a fucking ordeal, and with teh Sprint and you tow trashing the cars we’re so fucked, and they’re finally giving me the chance I’ve been asking for and if I fuck it up they’ll never promote me, even though they know it’s less than ideal circumstances.” 

You took a deep breath as your eyes watered. He placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You can cry.”

You groaned, covering your face. “I don’t want to cry.”

He chuckled softly. “I think you might need to.”

You shook your head, taking deep breaths and wiping your eyes. “No, I-I’m alright.” 

Your breathing quickened. Your heart raced. Your mind clouded. Your ears rang. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

This couldn’t be happening, not in front of your colleague, not in your workplace not-

And then his lips were on yours? His hands in your hair as you sat there stoic and frozen with anxiety, he fucking kissed you. 

WHAT A CUNT. 

You hastily pushed him off and gathered your things, hoping he would just leave you alone. He rushed out apology after apology until you finally turned to him and screamed. “Leave me the fuck alone Charles! Not everyone is in love with you, alright? I’m Carlos’ friend, not yours! I tolerate you, because I fucking have to, because it’s my job, and because I’m a fucking professional! If you cannot extend those same respectful luxuries, don’t come near me Charles. Just leave me alone!” 

He stood there, shocked, as you stormed off to your hotel room. 

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You walked into the paddock the next morning with your head held high and a plan for the strategy. You knew what you were doing, and the only time you’d have to see Charles today would be on your screen in a car driving more than 300 kilometres an hour. Perfect.

When you got to your desk, there was a small note on it with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. 

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Dear Y/n,

I am so sorry about my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable. I panicked and I wasn’t sure what to do, but I know now that was not the way to go about it. I am so incredibly sorry, and I promise to leave you be from now on.  Sorry again, Charles. 

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A part of you felt bad, another didn’t. I mean, working with F1 drivers, you were used to tall egos on shorter men, with very little to back them up other than their money. You were sick of it, and to be honest, Charles just got the brunt of your anger because he was close to you, and he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

And I mean, it was a pretty good kiss. But no, he’s a dickhead, right? 

You huffed at your own stupidity. No way you were letting a man get you this confused about what you wanted. You didn’t want…? You wanted…? Fuck, what did you want?

“Hi,” Charles’ sheepish voice came from beside you. You whipped your head around to meet his eyes. “I just wanted to apologise in person as well. I am truly very sorry about last night, I put my own feelings above yours and took advantage, and I am deeply ashamed. I promise-”

And then your lips were on his?

How the tables turn.

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