#PowerPoint Presentation Images

[mylove-thresher]

Mi niñita linda

[reginaldkoettlitz]

being obsessed with polar exploration will have you making the most unhinged powerpoints and the worst jpeg edits on mspaint ever and its beautiful

[raspberrybluejeans]

I’ve been seeing some pretty atrocious powerpoints in my grad program lately, both from teachers and students. I’m not talking about like aesthetics I’m talking about the basics: Only having small amounts of text on slides (key points) and including relevant images or other graphics to help with attention.

I can remember being taught how to make powerpoint presentations on at least three different occasions from elementary school to college. Like specifically being taught how to design slides and what sorts of information to include and all that stuff.

So I’m curious

[irate-iguana]

Highlights from the Torchwood introductory slideshow I made for my friend (I'm only making her watch Children of Earth):

[nelyoslegalteam]

Trick or treat! 🎃

TRICK!! >:3

this is what comes up if you try to google search images of finrod's death. you're welcome uwu

[goodstockimages]

There has to be some freudian shit in this one idk

[kinnbig]

You have to marry the last fictional character in your camera roll: how screwed are you?

tagged by the lovely lovely @boysbeloving - thank you!!! 🥰❤️

UH. uh. i was going to say “i can explain”, but i can’t, actually. there’s no explanation for this. i’m a parody of myself at this point 🫣

UM. yeah, somehow neither of them are giving wifey material tbh… 💀💀 fjckskcjsks i could maaaaaybe see a lavender marriage with big working out - he’s gay, i’m a lesbian, we’d stay out of each other’s way and he could pine for kinn in peace - but a weird toxic lavender throuple with ken? hmmm.

not that it matters, seeing as they’re both so incredibly dead. omg, do you think the bodyguards have death in service cover? double payout babyyyy 💪😎

lmao i’m tagging: @aikinn @divorcedmalewife @kimchaybrainrot @thewholedamnboulangerie @perths @cytharat @williamrikers @agapintheskin @legendaryrooftopscene if you want to!! 💖💖

[graphypixllc]

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[homunculus-argument]

Honestly, "high art" of any kind isn't really any more or less incomprehensible or unapproachable than Tumblr meme culture. It's basically the same kind of thing, really, but with a longer time span and more reading to catch up to - things making references to things that were a thing earlier, and everyone kind of supposes that everyone who sees the work also has some background knowledge of the previous work being referred. Just imagine an art history teacher breaking down a tumblr post like

"...And here we see the next poster replying with this image. Here, this image of a statue has a very exact symbolic meaning. The figure of the statue is the Greek god Apollo, here in his role as a prophetic deity, which you may have concluded from the original post referring to future events that may or may not come to pass. In his hand, he is holding a dodgeball, raised on the level of his head, as if ready to throw it. The threatening aura of the image is multiplied by the way the statue's eyes have been edited to gleam omniously - the poster replying to the Original Post is expressing a symbolic, indirect threat, that the future that the Original Post's author described might come to pass, as if the patron deity of oracles had personally cursed the Original Poster to a fleeting gift of prophecy, as swift and brutal as being slammed with a dodgeball."

[scrolling down powerpoint presentation]

"...The second reply, here, has an image of a smiling woman wearing a helmet, standing in a row of people in similar uniforms. This reply requires some slightly deeper konwledge of Tumblr meme lore to understand - the image is a fragmet of a larger whole: a single frame of a gif, of a clip from the movie Starship Troopers. What is important here is the omitted context, which is the line that this nameless character famously says in the scene: 'I'm doing my part!' By posting this image, instead of the entire captioned gif, the replier highlights the implied obvious meaning behind it: They are not merely announcing their intention to actively work to see that the future that the Original Poster foresaw will come to pass, but wordlessly taunt them by implying 'you already know what I mean to do.' It is - in joking - a threat."

"And as you see here, the Original Poster has replied to these comments with a gif, which depicts an encounter between two robotic arms. The swift and dynamic action of the gif serves to express the OP's emotions, as the first robot represents the author themselves, and the second one is a stand-in for the two previous repliers. The way the first robot arm grabs the second one and starts beating it against the floor represents the author's anger. As surrogates for the two parties engaged in the conversation, the author is expressing their personal desire to grab the two previous posters and violently beat them against the floor."

[a-really-cool-blog-name]

Alright, here ya go! Warning long! Will probably be in multiple reblogs because of photo limits so check the reblogs

There should be a part two in a little bit I reached the photo limit

Funny thing hyper fixation is making me do, I'm literally making a PowerPoint presentation about The lore of Cookie run Kingdom to explain it to my sisters. (I'm simplifying a lot mostly because I don't know all the Lore) it's already at like slide 65 :)

[athenalvss]

SECRET LANGUAGE ( circus! batmom )

summary: Batmom and Dick have a different connection than with the rest of the family, they even have their own language, causing the rest of the family to become exasperated.

pairing: batmom x batfam

open request — batmom masterlist

Although Batmom loves and protects all members of the Batfam equally, she shares a special bond with Dick Grayson. It wasn't about favoritism or privilege —there never was— there was simply something different about the connection between them. And while the rest of the kids understood (more or less), that didn't stop them from raising a fuss whenever something clearly exclusive happened between batmom and Dick. How dare they have inside jokes about their past lives right in front of them? Give each other those silent glances that sparked entire conversations without saying a word? It was outrageous!

Except for Bruce, he had given up a few years ago, he could never win his wife, and he wasn't trying either.

── .✦

Between them, they have a sort of visual code developed over the years: raised eyebrows, half-winks, tapping the table... any excuse to silently mock some absurd situation. The rest of the Batfam pretends not to notice, but they're fed up. How could they be left out of this?

That's why everyone was there gathered in one of the rooms of the big Wayne manor, well... "everyone" is a way of saying, everyone was there except you, Bruce and Dick, but the rest of the family was there sitting on the armchairs while they watched Tim enter with his computer.

Tim walked into the room with a confident stride, and with a satisfied smile, he projected the image, showing his hard work. "Welcome to the secret meeting of the marginalized children" he reached the center of the room, causing everyone to look at him, leaving a PowerPoint presentation titled "Spy Project: Sign Language According to Batmom" in the background.

"Does it have an index?" Steph asked, already taking mental notes.

"Of course it has an index" Tim replied, opening the first slide. "Section one: The gestures. Section two: The looks. Section three: Revenge on Dick."

"Shouldn't we call Bruce too?" Duke asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Bruce? Bruce gave up years ago," Jason said. "And he can't help, he doesn't even try to guess what they're saying."

Tim changed the slide. A slow-motion video showed a kitchen scene from two weeks ago: you, pouring coffee; Dick, leaning on the island; both of you shooting each other a quick glance… followed by a synchronized laugh. No one else was laughing. Just the two of you.

"See that? That was a complete, wordless joke! Wordless!" Tim exclaimed, pointing the laser pointer at the screen.

"And right after, Dick told me he was laughing at the dog on the news. Blatant lie!" Jason shouted indignantly.

Just as Tim was getting into the most important part of his analysis—a slide titled “The Raised Eyebrow: Criticism or Mockery?”—the door softly opened.

"And what are you all doing together? I like it, but it's weird," you asked with a relaxed smile, walking in with several recyclable paper bags in your arms.

Dick appeared right behind you, also laden with bags, and said with disarming ease "We went to get things for dinner. Mom wanted to make her lasagna, you know…"

The entire room froze. Everyone stared at the projector screen, which was still showing a snapshot of the two of you in what appeared to be an intense telepathic conversation during a gala.

Jason was the first to react, standing up from the chair with his arms raised. "I TOLD YOU WE HAD TO GO SOMEWHERE ELSE."

"What's all this?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick looked at the screen, then at the group, then at you. "Were we being spied on?"

"Spying is a very hard word, it's just a deep analysis of your gestural conspiracy," Tim exclaimed normally.

"We call it... emotional connection" you said, calmly putting down the bags.

"And we call it 'betrayal,'" Damian muttered, arms crossed, visibly hurt.

"It's not treason if we've always been like this," Dick added with a smile.

"That doesn't make it better!" they all shouted at the same time.

You and Dick looked at each other. Raised eyebrow. Smile. And then you burst out laughing without saying anything.

Jason covered his face with his hands. "Of course they're doing it again. In our faces. No shame whatsoever."

Bruce watched silently from the stairs, nursing a cup of coffee. "I told you not to try to decipher it."

── .✦

The Wayne Manor dining room table was, as always, a battlefield disguised as a family dinner.

"You have to accept that Red Hood is a better public figure than you!" Jason bellowed, pointing his fork at Tim, who barely dodged it.

"Public figure? Please, your reputation is half a step away from an arrest warrant," Tim replied quietly, but with venom in every word.

"Tch. He's got it, Pathetic," Damian muttered from his spot, not even looking at the others, busy cutting his steak with surgical precision.

Bruce sighed. He said nothing, as usual. Alfred, stoic, poured more water with the elegance of someone who has seen a thousand wars at that table and survived them all. Amid all that noise, you leaned back a little in her chair and looked at Dick, who was sitting across the table. He wore a stoic expression, but when he felt your gaze, he raised his eyes. And then it happened: that knowing look.

It was barely a second. A meeting of eyes with a restrained smile, a slightly raised eyebrow on your part, and a slight nod from him. A silent gesture that said:

"Same thing again?"

"Always the same."

They both held back their laughter at the same time, as if they'd rehearsed it. No more need be said.

"Are you laughing at us?" Damian snapped, his fork in the air.

"No," you and Dick replied, perfectly in sync.

"Here we go again..." Tim muttered, "This isn't normal!"

"We're not doing this on purpose," they both said, again, at the same time.

Jason brought his napkin to his face. "Okay, this is disturbing."

"Have you been practicing?" Steph asked.

"No" you said in unison, and this time they looked at each other immediately after, holding back their laughter.

"Enough!" Tim shot up from his seat. "They literally have a secret script! It's like they share a neural chip!"

Alfred, unperturbed, poured more water. "I must say, master Tim, this has been going on for so many years that I'm surprised you're still alarmed."

"Thank you, Alfred," both said at the same time, without even looking at each other.

Bruce sighed and muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "I never had a chance to fight."

Damian, arms crossed and looking annoyed, grunted. "This is unbelievable."

"No," Jason said, "It's a cult, and we're not part of it."

Dick shrugged at the same time as you. "We're not that predictable," you chorused.

and in unison they all shouted: "YOU SAID IT AGAIN!"

── .✦

It was a quiet night. Miraculously quiet. Everyone was sitting in the living room, no missions or alarms. Even Bruce was relaxed—relatively so—with a glass of wine in his hand. It was one of those family reunion nights they had every Friday night.

Tim was lounging on a beanbag with his laptop, Jason was flipping through a magazine without really reading, Damian was trying to teach chess to Steph, who was just moving the pieces around to annoy him. Alfred was passing by with a tray of cookies, ignoring the chaos with his trademark dignity.

But on the main couch, away from the rest, Bruce, Dick, and Batmom were surrounded by photo albums. They'd started under the guise of "organizing memories," but had clearly fallen into a nostalgic spiral.

Suddenly, a photo caught my eye: You were younger in that image, dressed in your iconic illusionist outfit, black top hat, black and white suit, with a shiny cape that reflected the light, and Dick, barely ten years old, in a tiny trapeze artist's outfit, smiling as he hung from a rope. The image showed a moment in the circus, when they were a different family, before Bruce came into their lives.

"It was fun living in the circus," you looked at the photos with a touch of nostalgia. "Except when the tiger escaped."

Dick immediately burst out laughing. "That was just one time! And technically, he didn't run away…"

"It's true, he didn't escape, you let him out."

The laughter shared between the two of you filled the room like an echo from the past. Bruce watched you with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.

"Were you always like this?" he asked, half joking, half serious.

"So how?" you asked with feigned innocence, while sharing a quick glance with Dick.

Bruce frowned as he watched from his seat, confused. "Was that a sign?"

"No," you and Dick answered in unison, with the same smile, that tone that made it clear it wasn't the first time they'd done it.

Bruce sighed. "But what does that tap on the arm just now mean?"

"Nothing" you said again, while Dick tried not to laugh.

"Liars" Bruce said with a resigned smile.

Then, very slowly, Bruce raised both eyebrows, tapped the table, and looked directly at Dick. There was a second of silence. Dick looked at him, you looked at him. And you both blinked, surprised.

"I've been practicing," Bruce said, with a hint of satisfaction.

"You did well, darling," patting him gently on the arm that was around your shoulders.

At that moment, from across the room:

"What's going on now?!" Jason yelled, throwing up his arms as if he'd just been betrayed.

"Bruce speaks your secret language too!?" Tim almost choked on his popcorn.

"This is... unacceptable," Damian muttered, squinting.

"Welcome to the club," Dick said, raising his glass to Bruce.

"They'll never understand," you whispered in Bruce's ear, smiling.

"I know. And it's glorious," he replied, his expression completely serene as chaos erupted around him.

[arealflame]

say the line, rin.

a year ago i did a sketch of rtgame in rin penrose's outfit, and ladybugsheep lined and colored it. recently rin penrose used our image in her powerpoint presentation, so i decided to revisit the idea

(this drawing is fully made by me)

EDIT: someone on reddit suggested adding galaxy print

[dcxdpdabbles]

I reread Dauntless Matchmaker recently and I love it, could you please make another part? Either that or another part for One Hell of a Bellhop, Legal Compensation, or Mr Flavors Soda, any of the above would be great, your choice ^-^

Danny skips up the stairs towards Wayne Manor's front entrance with a binder, a few notebooks, and his laptop tucked away in his carry bag. Humming under his breath, he raises his hand to knock. Before he can touch the wood, the door swings open to the beaming face of his fake boyfriend, Tim Drake.

"Hi!" The other gasps breathlessly. He adjusts his cardigan from where it had fallen off his left shoulder. Danny has noticed something about Tim. He was always so nervous and clumsy. The poor thing was taking his heartbreak badly.

"Hi, Tim." Danny grins. He holds up his NASA theme bag with pride. "I brought the stuff!"

His boss' brother lets out a string of nervous chuckles that slowly dissolve, coughing when he chokes on his spit. Alarmed, Danny started smacking his back in hopes of helping. He wishes he could say this was a one-time thing, but Tim, unfortunately, does this often.

"Master Tim?" Alfred calls from down the left hallway.

"I'm fine! Everything-cough-hack- everything is fine!" Tim screams back, entirely red and looking a tad bit mortified. Clearing his throat, he straightens to full height, back pin straight and looking every bit the young gentleman of his standing. "Shall we move to the viewing room?"

Danny knows he's only trying to save face, so he only smiles and steps inside. As they had agreed on two weeks ago, Danny loops his arm through Tim's, pressing himself close to the other's side, just as Alfred walks by.

The aged man seems pleased to see them so affectionate, which Damian said Danny had to play up because otherwise, it would not be believable. Tim only dated men and women who showed their care through physical touch, and he was often seen holding hands or looping arms with his partners.

As it is, Tim does his part well, beaming up at Danny. He was taller after hitting a second growth spurt, but sadly, he seemed to take after his mother rather than his father. Danny was only two inches taller than Tim.

On the other hand, Jazz grew like a weed. Once it became apparent, she took after Jack in height. Dan's appearance gave Danny hope that he would break the six-foot mark in a few years—you know, if the madness and devouring Plasmius didn't affect his development too much.

"What are you showing me today?" Tim asks as they stride past Damian. The younger boy makes a face, the same one Danny made whenever Jazz brought over a boy, and they were being sickly sweet. He offers his boss a smile in return, watching those intense green eyes roll.

"I brought evidence of why Yetis' healthcare is far superior to ours." Danny pats his bag with a satisfied smirk. "Nothing beats Frostbite."

Tim melts. "That's amazing. I can't wait to hear all about it. Then we could go get dinner. How does Divine Palace sound?"

"The upscale restaurant? I would need to change before I'm allowed in there. It has a dress code, doesn't it?"

Tim snuggles closer. "You can borrow one of my suits."

"You know it's bad luck to wear someone else's clothes?" Danny tells him they have just arrived at the viewing room. The projector is set up, and Danny is waiting to plug in his laptop. A sizeable plush couch is pushed in front of the large empty wall, where Tim plans to curl up and watch Danny's presentation.

Meeting someone who adored all the educational information about Ghosts and their culture was lovely. Danny's parents were more interested in the aspects of biology and anatomy than the sociology and anthropology he studied.

After he finished his slide show—sadly without pictures as ghosts disrupted the camera—he would show Tim his notes, which the two could flip through together on the couch. Since his PowerPoint lacked images, Danny settled for some drawings and blurry photos he had stored in his binder while exploring the Zone.

He started it when he was fourteen, gradually growing over the years.

"Why's that?" Tim asks, throwing himself on the couch and crossing his legs underneath him. He places his elbow on the meat of his thigh and leans his head on his hand, his eyes never leaving Danny.

They seem to be shining, utterly captivated by the Halfa.

"It makes it easier for ghosts to overshadow you," Danny answers promptly, unzipping his bag to take out the materials from his bag. He had to look away from his friend because the way he was staring was making him a bit flustered.

"Overshadow?"

"It's another way of saying possession, but it's more politically correct." He responds, plugging in the wires to his laptop and watching the lock screen of his computer appear on the wall. "My sister's first boyfriend attempted to do that to her. Gave her some of his girlfriend's stuff so she could form around her and use Jazz as an anchor to stay on this plane."

"And you saved her before he could succeed," Tim sighs adoringly.

Danny puffs out his chest. "I did!"

Tim pressed a button on the side of his couch. At once, the thing expands, pushing the backrest down and expanding the bottom until it forms an even flat surface. Danny initially thought it was a recliner, but apparently, rich people had couches that could turn into beds in seconds.

He lays flat on his stomach, kicking his feet and leaning on both hands as he smiles like a loon at Danny. "That's amazing."

Danny bites his lip, trying to be modes,t but it's hard when he's being praised by someone like Tim Drake.

"Well, it's just what a good brother does. All I really had to do was use his bad luck against him, and really, Jazz sort of snapped out it when he tried to punch me," He babbles while scrambling to log into his account. He needs to do something before he bursts from all the giddy, mushy feeling in his chest. "It was nothing compared to when I had to win a pie-eating contest against Baker."

"Hmm?"

"Baker is a pasty theme ghost that is shockingly powerful. He locked me in a battle for five days before I convinced him to switch to a food theme contest." Danny laughs, shaking his head at the memories. "I was stuck in bed for a day with the biggest stomach ache, but I won that day. And victory was sweet."

Tim swoons.

Just as Danny is booting up the presentation, his superhearing catches the whispers of Tim's other siblings from the hallway. Damian had instructed him not to let anyone else in the household learn the truth of his contract because it would eventually get back to Alfred.

After meeting the man, he completely understands the paranoia.

"Who is that?" He's pretty sure that's the oldest Dick.

"Tim's new obsession." Answers Steph with a smirk in her words. "Apparently, he's some paranormal-obsessed conspiracy theorist."

"Why does he always go for the crazy ones?" Jason sighs dramatically.

"Have you seen Danny's biceps? Were it not for his health issues, I would have thought Tim found a secret off-duty hero."

Danny hastily focuses on his first slide, trying not to show his fear. Tim continues to watch him kick his feet and play with some of his hair. He has a habit of twirling his hair. Tim almost always does that whenever Danny sees him.

[the-flaneur]

dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me

dont go insane (lh44)

pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader

summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits

warnings: suggestive mentions

wc: 1243

a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man

[masterlist] [request]

“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.

the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag. 

"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"

he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,” 

"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.

“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”

more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.

“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.

“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.

on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…

"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."

the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"

oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.

you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously. 

george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"

the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"

undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?” 

your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.

max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”

"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.

max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."

as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."

"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.

"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.

there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.

being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @nina-or-anna-or-nora

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[simplywrong]

I am stressed so I decided to distract myself with something silly so here it goes: F1 drivers with useless superpowers:

Max - can turn into a lion but can't control his changed self

Sergio - can summon tequila at will but only one shot every 30 minutes

Lewis - can make flowers grow but only one at a time and very slowly

Valtteri - seeing his naked butt brings luck

Charles - has the ability to stand on the perfect background to create symbolic images

Carlos - has the worst luck in the world

Lando - can teleport but only by 1,5 centimeters

Oscar - can make other people invisible to himself but everyone sees him

George - has the ability to project PowerPoint presentations from his eyes

Esteban - can locate where rat nests are but can't do anything about it

Pierre - can make his chest shine in the dark

Daniel - has the ability to imitate perfect animal noises but the animals ignore him

Zhou - can summon a little bunny made of clouds

Nico R. - can see the future but only in very unconnected pieces

Nico H. - has super strength but it lasts only 5 seconds

Kevin - can speak every language but only in profanities

Fernando - can make sparks while snapping his fingers but they are cold and can't lit anything

Lance - has the ability to read minds but it works at random

Yuki - can move things with his mind but only if the thing is in a 1 meter radius of him and if it's smaller than him

Liam - can pinpoint the exact location of Helmut Marko anywhere on Earth

Sebastian - can summon bees in the grand number of two (2) and they are allergic to violence

Alex - attracts cats but they just walk behind him with no other purpose

Franco - can talk with cows but only in large groups and they won't help him even if he asks

Logan - can do the mighty eagle scream but it has no effect

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 1

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

content warning: It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were, how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

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