#OOF THAT DELIVERY

[sophfandoms53]

How tf does Jerry sound more like a robot than the literal Chenbot what none of that was natural

[wistfulwatcher]

[f1-stuff]

Miami GP '24 // Thurs Interview

"Happy to be racing in these historical colors for Ferrari, and happy, you know, to have a bit of a different vibe this weekend. Always good fun."

[wettblanket]

ougough stan patiently (impatiently, desperately) waiting for ford to call him home bc he's been bad and bad dogs get sent away. if he is good enough ford will want him back, if he can prove that he can listen then ford will take him back. so he just waits. suffers and pushes through and waits. he can't help but call just to hear his brother's voice but he can't ask to come back. he hasn't learned his lesson yet. ford hasn't decided he done being punished. and its not like he can just show up. ford doesn't want him anymore. he has to earn it, he's the one that destroyed that trust in the first place. bc he's always such a bad dog. its just that ford couldn't take anymore. who could blame him? who wants a dog you can't trust, one who doesn't listen or know its place? who never learns its lesson?

[bellaheartly]

come to mako island with me. it's the most wonderful place. ↳ h2o: just add water ✧ s01e07, “moon spell.”

[momentomori24]

Anon who sent the ask about your new Wolfgang sprite ideas here (and who sent you the thanks for answering my previous asks), and I do love your reply! You���re right, Wolfie deserves to be silly every now and then.

Speaking of sprites, I do have another ask: what are your favorite canon Wolfgang sprites and voiced lines?

As someone who loves literally all of Wolfgang's sprites and voicelines this is a bit of a tricky one, but there are still some that are especially dear to me (also for the sake of not going with the obvious choices I will not include his hallucination sprites nor his last words nor his crash out in Chapter 0 because they are stand outs):

Immediately bringing up this one as a personal fave simply because it's the one I keep on a side tab as emotional support/encouragement whenever I have to get through revision and homework LMAO

Really love these ones too! Wolfgang blushing over being called a malewife is very cute (born to give soft kisses in the morning, forced to get a job and be a lawyer), and in general I really like his smiling sprites.

And this one. I can't you why. There's so much haterism in his eyes and I kinda love it (you just know he's looking at Damon lmfao).

Now to the voicelines! I'm also gonna include his unused voicelines because they are also really good:

>"If there is even a shred of innocence within you, I will find it." (I don't think it's actually in the game however I really, really like this one)

>"Everything about it, the state of the corpse, the evidence left at the crime scene, the fact that they are actively deceiving us even now.... It's unforgivable! Whoever the killer is enjoy these last few moments of freedom." (I will never get over how similar his and Grace's lines are omds)

>"Thank you. But it's simply my duty as a lawyer to ensure that the discussion proceeds in the logical direction." (i'm so curious if he was just being reasonably worn down or if he got a backhanded compliment, like who the hell was he replying to cuz that "thank you" was so sarcastic sounding dear lord 💀)

>"Killing a woman is the worst thing a man can do." (This one is funny cuz he was already hot to me and then he said this and crashed out and he somehow became even hotter lmao)

>"Do you turn in a half finished exam, Wenona? An essay without it's proper conclusion? This isn't about efficiency, this is about being right. Or so you-- a supposed entrepreneur-- not value integrity?"

>"When you put it like that, that does sound very feasible. I suppose I must concede."

Also all the ways he says Grace's name are included. The fact that she's the only one whose name is part of his voiced lines over dialogue scenes isn't lost on me btw.

[lultimagoccia]

What Is Your Final Act as a Villain ?

you succeeded with your plan, and you can see it playing out as you succumb to your injuries

glorious, glorious, you think. you don't feel the pain anymore, you just see the blood seeping through your fingertips. you are a martyr for your cause, you think. you have won, you think. the world around you bows to your glory, and you cry. and you die.

[crotovane]

hey does anyone know any jobs that are good for people with anxiety and autism and if so how would i get there

[alixero]

Ok lemme just-

[doriansbutt]

I was so nervous about my new gaming laptop not having all the parts it needed bc it was open box and $600 off I was like ‘it’s gotta be missing the power cord or smth like that cuz oof too good to be true….’

Nah I’m out here installing bg3 now babeyyyy thanks @erlkonigstochter 💚

[nerdykeppie]

Okay, y'all.

I'm gonna be really up front with everybody in a way that I'm usually not:

This year so far has been really rough, in a way that kinda has me worried. Bear with me, and there will be dog pictures along the way and pictures of new swag at the end, ok?

Running a small business is always rough, and with everything going on - with me being down-and-out struggling to get my hysterectomy approved, with everything going on financially & politically, with Jake moving out here - we knew that this year probably wouldn't be a banner year, but...

... when I pulled reports at the end of May, I was kinda shocked and gutted because at the start of June, we were actually down a considerable amount year over year. I knew the year wouldn't be great, but like, oof.

Pride is usually where we make our money for the year - we call it "gay Christmas," because where other retailers count on their holiday season, we count on Pride to make sure that our employees get paid during January of the following year.

Pause for Ser Davos Seawoof:

This Pride has started ... slowly. Not terribly, but a little more slowly than I'm comfortable with, and slowly enough that I'm nervous. We invested a lot of money in new stock and equipment, and that's got to pay off. Right?

So here's the pitch:

We need to make at least $60K in sales this month to make sure that we're in good shape for the upcoming year. We are currently at $8100, and we have a two-day event coming up in Seattle at the end of the month, but that still gives us an awful lot of ground to make up.

If we hit our sales goal for this month, NerdyKeppie will donate 1% of our net profit for June to @queerliblib.

Just hitting that goal would both make it possible for us to know we can make it through the year & even if we have the worst profit margins this month, it'd be a minimum $250 donation.

We just added Express delivery as a shipping upgrade on most of our t-shirts (limited color and size options on that, which isn't under our control) so if you need something quick, we've got you, and everything from our Portland HQ collection ships usually within 2 business days.

Everything in our Bottoms & Tops collection is Buy 2, Get a 3rd 69% off with code TOP2BOTTOM until midnight tonight:

And as always, NerdyKeppie is 100% trans-owned and queer-run. We start all of our employees at a minimum of $25/hr, and all eligible employees are IWW members. We have no investors, and we have no shareholders to please. Big box corporations screw over small artists and drop Pride the minute it gets hard or controversial, but this is our life.

We're here for the long run. Help us stay and help us build resources for today & tomorrow, and get some cool-ass swag while you do.

💗🏳️‍🌈

[adampasriche]

I broke my ebook reader last week… I’m being so not strong about this

[takenbypeter]

Delivery For The New Avengers

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

Words: 1597

A/N: here is the second part to: Delivery For Bob. I am obsessed with this story and I’m having real fun writing for all the Thunderbolts. It’s fun including all their diff personalities.

“Delivery for John Walker,” you said entering the usual vicinity. The recently busy room was quiet this time around with only the blond and Bob occupying the space. 

“On your left.” You turned, now locating the recognizable voice. You handed over the bag receiving a, “wait right there,” from him as he opened the bag and began checking the contents. While you stood, you peeked around as usual and waved at the familiar face who was poking his head out from behind a chair a bit away. 

Bob. 

Seeing you wave he waved back his concerned expression shifting into a more content one. 

“Perfect everything’s here thanks.” You nod, taking a step back but his voice pulls you forward again.  

“Oh and this is really random but I had a question,” you gave him an uncertain expression, finding yourself getting used to the questions that were thrown at you recently. 

The last two weeks have definitely been…an experience. At first you only delivered to the brunette, Bob, but now it was like each member of the new avengers suddenly grew aware of the delivery app and was making sure to use it. You didn’t blame them, it honestly just meant more money for you and they gave pretty good tips. But the strangest thing was that each time you dropped off a new delivery someone always had a question to you that was unrelated to your job. 

Once it was, “where is your favorite place to eat?” Another time it was, “do you have siblings?” And another, “what is your favorite thing to do?”

The questions were getting more and more bizarre and personal and honestly with each one you started to think they were either pranking you or planning to murder you. 

While the others have increased their ordering, Bob on the other hand decreased his. Mainly because he felt bad for how many times you’ve already stopped by. Plus even he had to admit the questions that his teammates were asking you were getting out of hand. 

Honestly though, it did slightly irritate him that they had more conversations with you in a week and a half than he has in a month. But that was his own doing really. 

“So my question is do you prefer brunettes or blondes?”

Bob immediately moved his body making sure John could see him shaking his head.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “it doesn’t really matter to me.”

John narrowed his eyes, “okay but if you had to pick which one would you pick? Brunettes,” he lifted one hand up before lifting the other and sending the other down like a scale, “or blonds?” 

“Both I guess. I don’t really have a preference.” John stood there, hands still up while your phone dinged. “Sorry, I have another order to do and this is sort of a weird question so I’m gonna go. Bye Bob,” you waved, making sure to say your farewells while he again waved back. You always made sure to acknowledge that Bob was there. 

“Oof guess we’ll never know the answer to that one Robert. Sorry about that.”

“Okay can you just,” Bob pressed his lips together, his hands coming up grabbing the air pretending to crush it, before he turned around and returning back to his spot. 

“What! I actually was hungry that time,” John shouted before Bob’s hand came up over the seat making sure Walker could see his middle finger.

Despite Bob thinking that was so far one of the most obvious and obnoxious questions yet, Yelena would soon up the ante with a question of her own that evening.

The team was together, well most of them aside from Bucky. When the elevator dinged again. 

Yelena didn’t even wait for you to say your spiel as you entered, immediately just walking up to you, “oh thank you! I have been craving this all day,” she mumbled as you gave her the bag. 

“Wait here,” she turned to no doubt get the tip but she then turned around again, “actually I had a question for you?”

‘Here we go again,’ Bob thought as he instantly covered his face out of embarrassment from where he stood. 

“Are you single?” Bob’s expression moved at the horror of Yelena’s words. Astonished and embarrassed by the intruding question. 

“Oh I have a question too! What is your thought about dating big time superhero? It’s very cool, no? ” Alexei added. 

“Follow up question,” said John as he raised his hand. “Do you find my friend Bob Reynolds here attractive?”

“Okay,” Bob finally got up and stood in front of you so you could put your attention on him. “You don’t have to answer those ridiculous and private questions,” he says, making sure to look over his shoulders at the others as he purposefully highlights those two words. Turning to you again, he guides both you and himself into the elevator and presses the button to descend to the lower level. 

“Let’s head down, I’ll just give you the tip,” was heard as the doors shut. 

“I bet,” John muttered, earning the rest of the group to turn to him with a series of revolted looks on their faces.  

“Ew,” Yelena said. 

“What?”

“Disgusting, really,” Ava chimed. 

“It was a joke,” he defended. 

“Ten minutes time out now,” Alexei commanded. 

“I’m not a child you can’t—“

“Ten minutes, no one talk to the U.S. Agent!” He shouted as everyone turned their back to the blond who let out an annoyed groan. 

Meanwhile in the elevator it was quiet, the only sound being the machine traveling downwards. 

You two faced forward and Bob finally leaned towards you a bit to apologize on the others behalf, “I’m sorry about them and all the questions. You don’t have to answer any of them, ever!” He stressed while you just chuckled. 

“It’s okay.” 

Bob closed his mouth as the silence returned. He occasionally peeked in your direction realizing that this was the longest time he had spent with you. While also recognizing it had been a while since it was just you and him in a room together. 

His voice eventually eased the tension again, “can I ask one thing? I swear it’s not too crazy.”

You nodded knowing he was one of the few who seemed to actually respect you. 

“Why do you keep coming back? You know they’re going to keep asking you dumb stuff.”

You nod agreeing, “that’s true. But I don’t know,” this time you glanced to your side finally meeting eyes with the man and he swears his breath hitched at the mere contact. 

“They’re funny. Seems like you have a really good crew here. And how many people can say they’ve gotten to interact with the New Avengers,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his, causing his body to hunch into itself, practically liquifying at your mere touch while a smile finally grew on his lips. 

“Plus they’re not so bad, and I know you’re not so bad.”

He was happy that you felt safe at least. Bob’s joy took a quick pause though when you spoke again. 

“Can I ask you a question though?” He turned to you showing you he was all ears.

“Do they ask all the delivery guys questions or just me?”

“In all honesty no. They’re just trying to help me.”

That piqued your interest. “Help you?”

“I mean yes, but at the same time they’re also making fun of me?”

You raised an eyebrow and he picked up on your want for an explanation. “Okay this is not how I wanted to tell you,” he said under his breath as his eyes hit the floor. They squeezed shut as his head tilted, almost like he had to force the next words to come out of his mouth, “they sort of picked up on the fact that I maybe…sort of…like you?” He peeked one eye open trying to gauge your reaction and when you didn’t say anything he opened both eyes, “I mean if that’s okay with you, of course. I was perfectly willing to ride this crush out, and I mean it’s not like a gigantic huge crushing crush it’s more of a, she’s cute. Hope I get another chance to see her again. I would love to hold the door open for her, and give her flowers, and watch the sunset together, sort of thing.” His eyebrows came down at his realization of how his words sounded. 

Your eyes were wide now and he really should’ve stopped talking. He took a step back giving you some space due to his crazy talk. “Wait, this is coming out all wrong. I just like you. A lot. That is all I wanted to say." He gave one final wave with his hands showing he was done and he faced the doors again. You thought he was finished but he spoke again, “don’t worry though I am going to squash this thing. It’ll be over in no time.”

The elevator dinged once again as he concluded, not giving you any time to respond. Noticing you were at the designated floor he let out an, “oh,” before reaching into his pocket. “Let me give you your tip.”

You reached out a hand stopping his movements, “save it…” he did as told while you stepped outside the elevator doors, “…for when you want to maybe hold a door open for me.”

His feet were planted in the elevator and his cheeks slowly lifted while he was speechless. You smiled back and then…the doors slid shut. 

[bvrnesher]

❝ The art of flirtation ! ❞ ― leo valdez !

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

a/n: this was a req, but i accidentally deleted it TT. ! This is short as fuck, but I tried 🫂

— ✦ pairing: leo valdez ! reader.

LEO VALDEZ DID NOT invite you into his workshop.

Let’s make that clear.

You showed up. With your sketchbook, your paints, and that annoyingly pretty sunshine-aura thing you had going on—like some golden art nymph from a Renaissance painting decided to cosplay as a demigod and crash a garage.

You just waltzed right in, right past the “No Touchy” sign, the hazardous contraptions, and the suspicious trail of smoke leading to the corner where Leo’s latest death-trap invention was probably preparing to self-destruct.

And then, without asking, you sat down.

Right on his favorite workbench.

The one with burn marks, mechanical limbs, and a mysterious stain he’d never admit was salsa.

“Hey, Leo,” you said, like you owned the place. Like this wasn’t a sanctuary of gears, grime, and chaos but your own personal studio.

And just like that, he was done for.

You weren’t supposed to stay long. You’d said something about “inspiration” and “sunlight and steel” and how his workshop “had good vibes,” which sounded fake—but also suspiciously like a compliment.

So Leo just blinked at you, watched you pull out a battered paint palette and start sketching, and then spun on his heel and marched back into the clutter muttering something about “boundaries” and “how hot people always get away with stuff.”

That was, like, an hour ago.

And Leo liked chaos.

Not the dangerous, world-ending kind—he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime—but the fun kind. The kind that made your hair smell like smoke and your hands stained with oil and laughter. The kind that made sparks fly from metal and from the stupid little grin he always gave you.

Now? You were still there. Legs crossed on his bench, covered in smudges of gold paint and soft humming, your brush swishing across a canvas that rested against a toolbox labeled “DO NOT OPEN (seriously this will explode).”

You were a walking contradiction: warmth in a place built on fire, elegance in a place built from metal, and chaos in a form Leo somehow didn’t want to throw out the door.

So, naturally, he had to bother you.

For balance.

You sat on the workbench, surrounded by scattered sketches, sunbeams, and the faint scent of oranges. Your fingers danced across the canvas like they had a secret to tell. You looked out of place in the middle of scrap parts and smoke—but somehow, you belonged more than the blueprints ever did.

Leo peeked around the wall, a smudge of grease on his cheek and a screwdriver still behind his ear. He tried not to smile. Failed.

“Hey, sunshine,” he called, leaning on the doorway like he was auditioning for the role of "most annoying boyfriend alive." “Don’t mind me, just checking if the goddess of light came to bless my extremely important tinkering with her divine presence.”

“You mean I came to save your mess of a workspace with actual taste?” you said calmly, flicking your paintbrush with a flourish. “I should charge for the aesthetic upgrade.”

Leo gasped, staggering back like you’d stabbed him. “You wound me, art girl. You really do.”

You didn’t flinch.

“You know,” Leo continued, peering dramatically over your shoulder, “this whole art-in-my-space thing… very bold move. Should I be worried? Is this how invasions start?”

“You’ll survive,” you said, not looking up from your painting.

“Debatable,” he muttered. “You’re sitting directly on my wrench stash. That’s a war crime.”

You tilted your head, dipped your brush into a bright streak of orange, and replied calmly, “I’ll move if you say something that doesn’t sound like a bad pick-up line.”

Leo gasped. Clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “You insult me. That was a great pick-up line. It had flair.”

“It had grease stains and poor delivery.”

“Oof.” He collapsed against the bench, sighing dramatically. “You wound me, Apollo girl. First, you break into my temple of fire and invention, then you destroy my ego.”

You just kept painting. Which, frankly, made it worse.

“What are you even painting, anyway?” he asked, craning his neck to get a peek.

“The way sunlight moves across metal,” you answered simply.

Leo blinked. “You mean like… a shiny toaster?”

You smacked him with your paintbrush. Gently. He grinned anyway.

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “No toaster metaphors. Got it.”

There was a pause. A soft one. Your brush slowed, catching the light. Leo found himself staring—not at the painting, but at you. Your calm, your focus, the tiny smile you tried to hide whenever he teased you too much.

His heart did a little thing. Probably a short circuit. Or something poetic. Gross.

He looked away.

“You know,” he said eventually, “you don’t have to come in here just to steal my lighting.”

“Oh?” you replied, not missing a beat. “Then why do you keep turning the ceiling mirrors to catch the sun where I sit?”

Leo paused.

Then groaned.

“Ugh. Busted.”

You smirked.

Later—much later—he found himself sitting beside you, both of you on the floor, surrounded by paint-splattered rags, half-disassembled gadgets, and the soft buzz of quiet companionship.

Your painting leaned against the wall, golden and warm. His half-finished invention sparked beside it, humming softly like it didn’t mind sharing the space.

“You know,” Leo said quietly, “I always thought this place was too chaotic for someone like you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”

“Y’know. All light and soft colors and poetic metaphors about sunshine.”

You nudged his leg with your foot. “You’re all sparks and fire and grease stains. Guess we’re both chaotic in our own way.”

Leo smiled, small and real. “Yeah. But you’re the pretty kind of chaos.”

You looked at him for a moment—really looked—and then leaned your head against his shoulder.

“And you’re the kind that makes a mess and calls it a masterpiece.”

“Rude,” Leo muttered. “True. But rude.”

And for the first time in a long time, the workshop felt complete.

Not perfect.

Just… warm.

— 💐 Req: Heyyyy could you maybe write Leo and an Apollo reader, with him tinkering and her doing art in his workshop? Then maybe he comes to bother her with bad jokes and teasing?

[evilminji]

You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?

Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?

The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.

And it WANTS?

To be a HOME™.

To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.

Come live in me~

I am a good home.

I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.

I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.

But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!

But... instead?

They are hurt.

Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.

It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.

When? Who should come along?

But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...

He's TIRED.

He wants to cry.

Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?

"Free House!"

Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!

Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?

Is he really gonna do this?

......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?

Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.

The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.

House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.

He probably SHOULD have.

Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.

No one can get near it.

It's been getting BIGGER.

Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.

Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.

Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes

[lultimagoccia]

where does your soul rest?

deep, deep underwater

if your body wasn't made of flesh and bones, your soul would dive deep down below, under the sea, where the waters are cold and the sunlight is a mirage. i think it's a peaceful place, for a troubled soul like yours; i feel like you're an introvert who works best alone, with your thoughts and your habits, but i also know how much you crave soft touches and reassuring words. to someone you're a comforting presence, a hidden treasure buried in the sand. i like how inside you're just as soft as velvet; your heart is pure, and i wanna remind you that your past mistakes don't define who you are today. you're not what hurts you. if your soul had a color it would indeed be teal, a shiny kind, and it would smell like the salty sea breeze. i know someone is dying for one of your salty, bittersweet kisses. 

tagged by: @mariotime, thank you!! tagging: @crvptd, @pizzadoff ( for all three of ur muses ), @phonypizza ( for pino n vigi!! ), @thetravelershub ( omino! ), n' @asterismas ( for noisette! )