#why was he throwing temper tantrums lol. as if he would ever. HELLO?

[johndonneswife]

why do they keep doing this to my blorbo 😢

[hxzbinwrites]

Idk if you do headcanons or one shots but either or will be fine:

Can I pretty please get a Vox x Emotionless! Reader?

Plot can be whatever you want but just to (hopefully) give some ideas… maybe Vox had no interest in Reader but then uh oh she smiled! Now Vox has a crush (°▽°)

But yeah lol thank you!! Have a good day!

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Lovestruck Fool |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is a horrible boss

10:00am

(Y/n) walked into Vox’s office, holding an folder with today’s date and Vox’s name on it.

“Mr. Vox.” She said, her dead eyes watching her boss turn around in his excessively large chair.

“Hm, what is it (Y/n)?” He said, giving her a single glance before turning back to his monitors

“You have three meetings today sir. 1:00pm with Velvette in her portion of the tower. 2:30pm with Valentino in the main conference room, and someone scheduled a 4:00 with you, a Mr. Alastor? Called in today for an urgent meeting.”

Vox slammed his hands down on the desk, his face glitching in seething anger. “THAT PRICK!! CALL BACK AND TELL HIM I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING ANY SORT OF MEETING WITH HIM!!”

“He called from a public telephone sir, I can’t trace the caller ID.” (Y/n) said, clearly unfazed by his temper tantrum.

“DAMN IT!” He said, punching a smaller monitor on his right,”DONT YOU EVER LET HIM SCHEDULE ANOTHER MEETING WITH ME OR VOXTECH EVER AGAIN!!!”

Vox turned around, pointing one of his clawed fingers in your deadpanned face.

“Okay sir, is that all?”

“UGH!!” He said, clenching his fists to his side,”WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? IM AN OVERLORD, I AM THE VOX, YOU SHOULD BE QUIVERING IN FEAR!! IM YELLING MY HEAD OFF AT YOU AND YOU CANT EVEN FORM AN EXPRESSION?? ARE YOU BRAINDEAD??”

(Y/n) slowly blinks, before looking down and rummaging through the folder she still held. “Ah, I almost forgot. Mr. Alastor requested his meeting also in the main conference room. If you need another reminder about your meetings today just call me-“

She was cut off once more by Vox, screaming and yelling, throwing things hazardously across the room. “JUST LEAVE.”

“Alright sir.” (Y/n) said, immediately turning away and walking towards the door.

————

4:45pm

(Y/n) was at her desk, taking calls and rearranging Vox’s schedule for tomorrow when her work phone buzzed.

“Hello? This is (Y/n) with Voxtech. How may I-“

“(Y/n). My office. Now.”

“Sir? This isn’t your work phone number? How can I be sure that this is-“

“MY OFFICE. NOW.”

(Y/n) could hear his voice glitching over the phone before she hung up, and briskly made her way to the door of his office.

She walked in to his Vox in his obnoxiously large chair, his hands covering his screen as he sighed in exhaustion.

“Ah, sir. You called me?”

“Yes (Y/n). I have installed safety features into your desk. Don’t except meetings from Alastor. If he comes in here, press the button under your monitor. He is NEVER allowed in this building.”

“Okay sir.” She said, making a note of that on her smartwatch,”Will that be all?”

“Can you get me a coffee…?”

“Right away sir.”

————

5:00pm

“Here’s your coffee sir.” (Y/n) said, setting it in his outreached hand.

“Thank you (Y/n)” He said, taking a single sip before doing a spit take. On one of the monitors around the city, it showed Velvette and Alastor chatting to one another.

“WHAT?!?” Vox yelled, being as “careful” as he usually is, his coffee flies into the air before landing on his shirt. He hissed in pain at the hit liquid, scrambling around before tripping on the various wires around his monitor setup (that was replaced after his previous temper tantrum) and landing on his ass.

Vox looked up in shock to see (Y/n) covering half of her mouth, revealing a smile. Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to respectfully hold in her laughter.

Vox’s face felt red hot. Out of embarrassment and admiration. Why didn’t she smile more? Oh that smile, if she could remove her hand it would reveal its full glory. Let him soak it in. Her eyes filled with life and laughter. Has she always been this….beautiful? Yes, I think she has. She has indeed.

She let out a little snort before regaining her composure, before crouching down in front of him, taking the napkins provided with the coffee, and starting to wipe off as much of the liquid as possible. He felt her delicate hands rub across his chest. He hope she didn’t feel his erratic heartbeat.

He wanted this. He’s yearned for this and he didn’t even know it. Vox’s breathing became as erratic as his heartbeat, almost in sync. He felt sweat starting to drip, wether it be from the hot coffee adorning his now ruined shirt or from the stunning woman and her hands on his chest.

Trying to get as much as she could, (Y/n) scooted even closer, not realizing her hips were hovering right over his. Vox’s mind was running wild, his screen glitching and flicking between different error signals. His hands floating near the handles of her hips. Taking a gulp, he almost put his hands on her skin. Almost. He ended up just leaving his hands there, leaving a ghostly stabilization to the assistant who was cleaning him up like a toddler who spilt his apple juice.

(Y/n) looked up at Vox’s eyes, their eyes locking onto one another. A small smile could be faintly seen across her lips before it went back to its neutral state.

She helped him to his feet, her soft hands gently pulling on his clawed ones, slowly helping him to his feet. Handing him the remaining napkins. “I’ll schedule a trip to the dry cleaners. Does 3:45 tomorrow work well for you?”

Vox sat back down, his eyes wide in shock from what just happened. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that done, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

(Y/n) walked out, the door closing behind her. Leaving the room back in it’s inky black darkness, with the exception of the glowing monitors.

Vox looked at his reflection in the main monitor. He could see his goofy smile. His blush adorning his cheeks. His eyes lighting up like a child who knows no sin. He looked like what he was, a lovestruck fool. A lovestruck fool for his assistant.

————

Word Count: 1006

(sorry it’s so short, i’m trying to get as many requests done as i can 😭)

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Hey you! Ok how about Pedro’s characters and the first time they wink at you. ILY and thank you 🙈

Hey babes! I simultaneously love and hate you for this ask because jfc winking irl is so fucking skeezy but, as with a lot of things I previously thought I despised, when Pedro does it I get a little weak in the knees lol. So now I have an excuse to comb through every gif of him winking. You know. For research. For SCIENCE. (Under the cut, cause fucking HELL. This got loooooong.)

(Gif made by @djjarindin )

Whiskey- On your very first day as a Statesman you make the dubious acquaintance of Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels. You’re standing at the window of your new office, flipping one of your knives in the air idly, when a handsome man in tight blue jeans and a black Stetson saunters in without so much as a by your leave. His grin is lazy, charming, and you acknowledge, in the deepest recesses of your hind brain, incredibly enticing.

“Well howdy there, darling,” he greets, thumbs hooked in the front of his belt, drawing your gaze to- is that a flask on his belt buckle? His mustache twitches up on one side as he notices that your eyes landed exactly where he had intended.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing playing with those pig stickers? You could hurt yourself with knives like that.” He steps closer to you, one hand leaving his belt to brace against the window next to your head so he can lean further into your space.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing playing with those pistols you’ve got under your jacket or that lasso at your hip,” you reply coolly, not backing away from his intrusion into your space. His raises his and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Well touché, kitten.” He bends a little at his knees to catch your eyes better and suggests softly in a voice that 90% of you demands you to listen to, “How’s about you and I get outta here and I can give you a tour of the place? Maybe, show you the ropes?” And he then winks at you.

That last 10% of your willpower has something to say to his blatant attempt at getting into your pants.

You slap him.

Javier Peña- You had been warned by more than one person that feminism hadn’t really made its way to Columbia yet when you accepted the portion to field agent and transferred down to the DEA office in Bogota. It was 1990 however, and you kind of expected the Americans you worked with to at least be a little more on board with the times.

That was on you, men were men it seemed, American or Columbian.

The tall blond who introduced himself as Murphy seemed nice enough, he was friendly and a little distracted, and he sounded almost apologetic as he led you further into the office to meet the other member of your team.

“Well hello there, sugar,” a man a couple of inches shorter than Steve greeted you from where he had been leaning on a desk by the door. He stood up straight and sauntered- there was really no other word for how pants that tight made a man walk- closer to the two of you, a wide smile stretched his mustache over his handsome face and showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh lord. One of those men.

“Javi this is-“ Murphy started, clearly trying to diffuse a potential situation but the man interrupted him, and his hand reached for yours, holding it a little longer than necessary.

“A girl too pretty for your married ass to be talking to, Steve.” He still had your hand in between his two large warm ones and you filed that information away for use at a later, much more solitary time. He had the audacity to wink at you and you sighed and rolled your eyes. Ah well.

“I’m your new partner.” Guess feminism still has some strides to make no matter what the nationality of idiot male.

Ezra- You had been stuck on this interminably brown moon for a week and you were going stir crazy. You and your still new partner had landed in a manner that was less than gentle or correct on this nameless rock, and not only was your landing gear bent at an angle a university mathematician would have trouble describing, Ezra couldn’t get the damn thing to start again. 

You weren’t any sort of mechanic by nature, that was one of the things he brought to the table, so until Ezra managed to repair whatever was wrong with this hunk of junk the two of you were still paying off, you were stuck sitting on your hands doing nothing. You had no particular desire to go traipsing around this rock by yourself, protection was one of the other things the man added to your partnership, as you had learned early in your mining career that that generally did not end well for people like you.

So there you sat, bored, listening to the click and clank of Ezra’s tools as he did whatever it was that you needed to do to get an impulse engine working enough to take off and dock to an FTL vessel. And listening to Ezra’s constant talking.

He was currently telling you a rather long winded, even for him and that was saying something, story about how an old partner of his woke up every morning and sanitized the floor of their pod with antibac spray before he would let any of the other four men set foot on it.

“The gentleman in question was a rather odd duck, badger,” he called out to you from half way inside the pod. “Why, in all my years and in all my travels in the black, I must avow never having seen someone so resolved on keeping the extremities of his associates so unsullied. I never cognized if his time running the stars had finally fractured his wits and this was the inevitable concomitant of a life lived as we do, or if it was a tic peculiar to him for all of his life. Still and all, one advantage I did discover at the conclusion of that particular venture: the bottoms of my socks never have been cleaner.” 

An unexpectedly loud guffaw punched its way out of your mouth and you dropped the flat rock you had been attempting to balance on a piece of the aforementioned broken landing equipment. Unfortunately, Ezra decided at that exact time to shimmy his way out from under your craft and instead of falling harmlessly back to the ground where you had found it, it bounced off of his rather distracting ass on its way down. 

He stopped moving and you were about to apologize, you really hadn’t meant to basically throw a rock at him, no matter how much he annoyed you at times, when you heard his voice float up to you again, a little amused, and a little something else that you had had occasion to notice a few times before but had never thought to classify.

“Badger, did you just take your hand to my ass?” You felt your face flush and wondered if this planet’s atmosphere wasn’t as hospitable to humans as you had thought. 

“What?!” You squeaked, voice cracking when it hit a pitch normally very much out of your range.”No! I just dropped a rock!” You heard him chuckle from your feet and refused to look at him as he shuffled all the way out from under to pod and stood to his full height in front of you. He chucked you under the chin and finally you looked up into his eyes. 

“Because darling, I strongly advocate any physical contact that you might desire to have with any part of my body you so wish, at any time of your choosing,” he told you with a wink.

Catfish- You had moved to Texas to take up residence on the ranch your grandfather had left you, not out of any real desire to take up the cowboy life. You hated how hot it was, you hated how slowly everyone talked, you hated how big the entire goddamned state was, and if one more goddamned truck managed to take up three goddamned parking spaces at the grocery store one more time you were going to throw a temper tantrum that would make all their southern asses wish they had managed to secede. 

That was how you had met Catfish (”No that isn’t my real name; no one but my mama calls me Francisco”). He had been the next asshole in a truck to take up more than what your space conscious Yankee ass had deemed his due. 

“Listen ma’am-”

“Don’t you “ma’am” me, how old are you implying I look?!”

“Sorry, miss, if you’re gonna holler at me, could we step a little further away from the truck? I just got that baby to sleep, and if she wakes up starts cryin’ again, I think I’m gonna start too.”

After a meet cute like that, it was inevitable that the two of you would hit it off as well as you did, and so a year later saw you still in a state that you were convinced was trying to kill you (hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Republicans, and rattlesnakes???), stretched out on Catfish’s beat up couch, more than a little drunk, and a lot happier than when you had left New York to come here. 

Catfish set both new bottles of beer down on the coffee table in front of you and smiled down at you with that big grin that summoned both the dimples in his cheeks and made you feel like your heart was growing four sizes larger inside your chest. He took off his ever present beat up baseball cap and tossed it on your lap. His hair was simultaneously flattened and a mess and you were sure he couldn’t look more handsome in this moment if he had an army of Hollywood stylists attack him. 

He reached down to he hem of his grey Henley and started to pull it up. 

“Whoa there cowboy!” You exclaimed with a grin, sitting up and plopping his hat onto your head for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize I was getting a show when I came over here!” He stopped with his shirt half way off his torso and looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked. 

“It’s hot as goddamned balls in here, baby, and I’m wearin’ two of these things. One of ‘em at least is comin’ off.” He pulled it off the rest of the way and straightened his first layer that had attempted to escape with its compatriot before reaching down and grabbing his hat off of your head and flopping onto the couch next to you. 

“Hey Fish, how long do you think we have before the baby wakes up?” He shrugged, his head rolling on the back of the couch o face you. 

“I dunno, darlin’, why do you ask?” You bit your lip and smiled up at him, playing with the fingers of the hand he had settled on your thigh. 

“Oh, well, you know how watching you nearly get stuck in your shirts really does it for me.” He groaned and slapped your leg lightly as you laughed. 

“I think we’ve got time for whatever you want baby. Helicopter pilots can go straight up pretty fast you know.” He told you with a wink that you were sure was supposed to be alluring. 

Oberyn Martell- The first thing you consciously noticed about Dorne was that it was hot. This was a kind of inescapable heat that permeated your entire body and made you feel like you were cooking from the inside out. You had never before given much thought to what it would feel like to be put into an oven and roasted alive, but without a doubt this is was that feeling. When you went back home to White Harbor you weren’t ever going to complain about the cold ever again.

The second thing you noticed when you put into port in Sunspear- a city quite a bit smaller than most of the cities of the upper six kingdoms the Manderlys sent your father to trade with- was that no one seemed to be wearing a lot of clothes. Which you supposed made sense because you were positively dying in yours.

You quickly changed into a pair of your brother’s breeches and a loose shirt before practically running off the ship and into the dusty warrens of the Shadow City below the walls of the Martell’s castle, eager to stretch your legs after weeks at sea and eat something other than hard tac and salted meat and fish. You figured you had at least a few hours before you would be expected to accompany your father to the castle to haggle about prices for wood and iron and silks and citrus.

The air only got hotter the further from the sea breeze you walked, and as you meandered the twisting and winding bazaars all you could smell were foreign spices and perfumes. Your head was on a swivel trying to take in the sights and sounds of a market radically different from any you had seen before when you walked into a silk covered shoulder. The shoulder belonged to a man nearly a foot taller than you and you wouldn’t have stood a chance at remaining on your feet if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and wrapped around your waist, dragging you back from your rather embarrassing descent to the dusty street and into a warm solid chest.

“I normally have to put in at least some effort in order to sweep someone off their feet, it must be my lucky day that you seem to have decided to do all the hard work for me,” an amused, accented voice said from above you. You felt every word from where your ear was plastered to the bare skin of his chest, his yellow and orange robes belted loosely enough to leave most of his golden skin exposed. You felt your face flush as you shuffled your feet, trying to get them back under you in a way that would allow you to stand and not fall on your face. The man set you back from him gently and you finally looked up

Your savior was beautiful. There wasn’t any other word to describe a face with deep set, smiling eyes that were so deep a brown you really had to look to distinguish his pupils. His nose was curved and prominent, his jaw covered with the same black hair that was cropped closer to his head than you were used to seeing in the North. And his lips were too pretty for a man. They spread into a smile as his eyes met yours, dimples appearing in his cheeks and you were smiling back before you realized it.

“Now,” he said, eyes still laughing. “You are either the worst pick pocket I’ve ever encountered or clearly too taken with the sights around you to be trusted to walk unescorted.” You hoped he never stopped speaking. His voice was deep and rich and at the same time soft and musical and no one in the woods and wilds where you had grown up spoke like he did.

“Uh, yes,” you stuttered and felt your ears burn as he smiled wider, eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hair. “I mean, no, I’m not a pick pocket! I just, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, my apologies.” You stuttered stepping further back from him, hoping maybe some more distance would restore your ability to not make an ass out of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. “Thanks for you know,” you featured vaguely at the ground.

“Oh, you’re very welcome for ‘you know’,” the man replied, somehow injecting a completely different meaning to your innocuous words than you had intended. Your face could have been used to light a campfire by now. You needed to get back and get changed before you did something truly stupid.

“Okay, well, um, sorry, again, for walking into you,” you said, backing away. “But uh, I’ve got to, uh, go...” You sort of waved and took off back the way you came, taking care not to run into any more handsome strangers.

You made it back to the ship in time for your father to lecture you about how dangerous it was to just run off in a “city full of wild Dornishmen! Don’t think that because you’re dressed like a man you’d be safe! That ‘sort of thing’ is common here, daughter!” while you dressed in clothes more suitable to both your station and a meeting with the ruling house of the kingdom.

It was somehow cooler within the sandstone walls of the castle, and you amused yourself on the walk up to the raised dais by listening to the different sounds your company’s boots made on the marble floor.

There was a woman sitting on a carved wooden seat and a tall dark haired man standing behind her, leaning indolently against her chair at the top of the steps you and your father stopped at. You listened to your father make the appropriate greetings, hoping that they could come to favorable terms of trade for items and goods they all wanted. And you felt someone staring at you. You looked up at the young woman in the chair as your father introduced you and you smiled and curtsied less gracefully than your mother would have liked. Your father turned his face to the man behind the chair and began to repeat the introduction when a familiar laughing voice interurrupted,

“Oh, I believe we’ve met already, haven’t we, little pick pocket?” Your eyes snapped up from the marble floor to lock onto those dancing brown eyes from earlier this morning. You felt your jaw drop and your face turn what you were sure was a very unattractive shade of crimson as Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne grinned and winked at you.

Din- You had been flying with the Mandalorian and his tiny green baby for about a month when you decided that hyperspace was boring and if you wanted any amusement you would have to take a page out of the little man’s book and make your own fun. You knew that stealing pieces of the ship and hiding them would not be as cute as when the baby did it, so that was out. You weren’t a tall person, but you were still bigger than the green terror so playing hide and seek was pretty close to useless. You were grasping at straws until suddenly it hit you like one of the utensils that the tiny monster liked to levitate around the cabin.

You were going to get Mando to laugh.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to accomplish this, or even any idea at all what a near silent warrior monk that you were still not a hundred percent convinced wasn’t a droid would find funny, so you decided to just do what you did best; you opened your mouth and let the word vomit out. 

You didn’t shut up. If you were awake and not actively hunting someone, you were talking. The baby seemed to enjoy the new amount of noise and animation, but thus far you had only gotten a few sighs and what you thought were exasperated glares from your adult companion. At least, you figured they were glares. His helmet turned to face you and frankly, you were beginning to even get on your own nerves, so he was almost definitely glaring at you under that beskar. 

This went on for four days straight until one day the three of you were sitting in the cockpit, watching the stars zip by, and you decided to narrate yourself drinking a glass of water. You had just gotten to the swallowing part and were attempting to put into words what that felt like when he turned around to face you. 

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I will cut into into small enough pieces that the baby won’t notice it’s a human that he is eating for dinner tonight.”

You choked. And you definitely spat water all over the visor of his helmet. 

You coughed and stared at him, terrified, not sure if these were going to be your last few seconds as a breathing creature, but sure that if they were you at least had the image of the Mandalorian with water and spit sliding down the front of his helmet to console you. 

All three of you sat in silence for at least a minute before he leaned forward very slowly. You leaned as far back as your seat would allow. 

“That was a joke,” he told you, voice warm despite the crackle of his modulator. “You can’t see it, but I just winked.”

Screw making him mad. You were going to kill the Mandalorian. 

Tovar- This was officially one of the worst ways that you could think of to die. You sure that if you were given a few more minutes, and a few less spears pointed in your face to distract you, you could surely come up with at least five different ways that were, in fact, worse, but right now, this seemed pretty awful and didn’t seem likely to get any better. 

“I need you to trust me,” your companion murmured in your ear, his hand on your wrist, stopping you from drawing one of your long knives. You cut your eyes quickly to his normally laughing brown eyes and then back to the soldiers in front of you. 

“That never works out well for me, Tovar,” you remind him in a quiet hiss. He moves his arm from his side to around your shoulders and draws you close and tight against his much taller body. 

“Good day, gentlemen!” He calls jovially to the five armored men blocking their way on the road. You can hear the wide grin that must be plastered on his stupidly handsome face and you send up a fast prayer to God that he doesn’t manage to get you into worse trouble than you were in already. Or that at least William can manage to get you out of it again. 

“Halt,” the spear man in the middle orders, and Tovar stops walking, forcing you to as well, still tucked into his side. His left hand strokes your arm casually (you note its not his preferred sword hand which gives you some hope that he might actually have a plan), and he leans a bit more of his weight on you than you think is really called for. Is he pretending-

“Why whatever are you fine men doing in the middle of the road? Don’t you know there’s a war on! Shouldn’t you be off fighting that fierce some mercenary army?” You want to stab him. His entire left side is open and unguarded mere inches away from your favorite knife, you could slide the blade in right there between his ribs, you could have the pleasure of puncturing his lung and watching him slowly suffocate. Maybe he would finally stop talking. 

“No one is allowed past this point,” the spear man informed you, still glaring. “Who are you and what is your business here?” The other four soldiers inched closer and you stiffen. 

“Don’t,” Tovar ordered you through his clenched teeth, smile still in place. “I can get us out of this, I just need you to play along.”

“If we get out of this I am going to personally castrate you,” you inform him, a clenched tooth smile of your own on your face.

“Anything to get your hands on my cock, eh?” You elbowed him in that unprotected side you had been eyeing before he tried to bargain with the guardians of the road.

“Oh but surely sir, you wouldn’t hinder a poor man trying to get home to his farm?”The soldier looked extremely skeptical.

“If you’re a farmer, I’m the King of England.” Tovar shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m not a farmer. This rather attractive filly is, however, only paid for for another hour, and I had meant to have my way with her at least twice before my time was up. Surely you can understand my need to make all haste now?”

Nope, not castration. Castration and then you were going to make him watch as you fed his balls to goats.

“Don’t bite me please,” was all the warning you received before Tovar looked down at you, winked, and kissed you, lips surprisingly soft, and incredibly distracting. Maybe the castration could wait for a few hours.

Max Phillips- When the higher ups bring in a handsome new manager to boost sales and productivity you aren’t entirely surprised that every employee gets called one by one into his office for a “chat”. He’s new, it tracks that he’d want to get to know everybody.

You are both anticipating and dreading your own 2:30 appointment with the new boss man, you’re positive that out of all your coworkers your performance has been the most consistently decent since you were hired two years ago, but who knows. This was a new unknown element. His goal might be to shake things up to keep people on their toes.

You hear a ‘come in’ after you knock firmly on his closed door three minutes earlier than your scheduled time, and you find him working at his computer, jacket off, a pout on his lips that were frankly too pretty to be on such a distinctively masculine face, and his shirt sleeves artfully rolled up.

He doesn’t glance at you as he waves at a chair in front of his desk. You sit as instructed, and try as you might, are unable to help staring at him as he finishes whatever it is that requires such attention. You take in the tiny tattoo on his left hand with a little surprise. And you try very hard to ignore the shift and play of the muscles of his forearms under his lightly tanned skin. This is your new boss get a grip, you scold yourself, tearing your gaze away to rest on the shelves behind his head.

He sits back with a sigh and his palms hit his desk.

“I am sorry about that. I honestly hate computers, they’re just so impersonal, don’t you think?” He asks with a winning smile, eyes and attention totally on you now. You return his grin with a small, polite twitch of your own lips and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get to know everybody here, you know? Know the real person behind your employee file! Find out what makes you tick, what gets you excited!” You’re only half paying attention to his spiel, but he garners your full and complete concentration when as he utters the word “excited” and he grins salaciously and winks at you.

You’re a little taken aback. You know you should call HR. At the very least that was thoughtless and at the worst, utterly inappropriate.

You are unfortunately intrigued. You know you won’t be calling anyone about this.

Maxwell Lord- You’d been working for Lord Enterprises for about a year before you were moved up to the top floor. You liked to think you were good at your job, you were a quick typist and resourceful, and you were excited about the bump in pay that accompanied your new position.

After a week of following one of the other girls around and learning the ins and out of the executive offices, you were turned loose and given your own duties and assignments. The very first of those were to take a pile of files from the desk of the most senior of the secretaries and make sure it ended up in the possession of Maxwell Lord himself. You hadn’t heard much about the the big boss one way or another, so you squared your shoulders and after knocking firmly, opened the door and entered his office.

Lord was seated behind a dark wood desk that you thought was probably a bit bigger than strictly necessary. He was in his shirt sleeves, waistcoat stretched over a bit of middle aged spread that he nonetheless wore well. His hair was thick, blond, and immaculately styled, and he was talking animatedly on the phone, gesturing with his free hand and you could see his body vibrating slightly as he bounced his leg up and down quickly.

He was a handsome man, and a lot younger than you had expected him to be. And when he looked up at you as you walked further into his office and smiled brightly at you his attractiveness only increased. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and they shone when two dimples appeared in his cheeks with his grin.

You held up the stack of folders in your hand and raised your eyebrows in a question. He gestured to the desk in front of him and you moved closer to set them gently down in front of the man. You observed him check you out from your hair down to you shoes as you walked closer and were a little surprised when no chauvinistic comment popped out of his mouth. This might have been the 80’s, but you were a secretary and knew that women’s rights only meant that you could earn your own paycheck now.

You nodded at him as you set them down and he mouthed ‘thank you’ as he continued to listen to the droning voice you could now hear over the telephone.

And then he winked at you.

Maybe this job would turn up some opportunities for you after all.

[im-basically-logan]

welcome back to the routine of me yelling about the latest sander sides vid! everything will be under the cut but just know there are obviously spoilers.

see you on the other side lmao

they all did that intro all at once???? damn!

MARCO 2.0 FOLKS!!! LOOK AT JOAN’S BEANIE!!!

ALSO KYLE DOING THE THING!!! FOR THE INTRO?? AMAZING!!!

thomas... what are you doing. also Joan’s line of thought is what i thought of first lmao

shoehorn

“... just how weird that was” indeed. look at the nerd risin on in tho!

“feeling it...”

Logan’s groan of frustration to thomas saying “motivated” is a big mood

“now you’re just pandering to my fondness for being told that im right” lmaoooo

logan’s sass is great

i love logan too, thomas

DECEIT HE’S BACK AT IT AGAIN

S L I M E Y B O Y

deceit flipped them off jdkshgjkfdhs

i sure hope he doesnt excrete slime jfc

they actually looked at the painting on the wall omfg. logan being confused by it’s abstract look is hilarious imo

existentialism ACTIVATED

DUSHGJKFDLS THE SIDES ACTUALLY PULL EACH OTHER UP TO SUMMON THEM OH MY GOD

when they were trying to get virgil to come out?? roman was literally pulling him omfggg why

also patton and logan just sorta told him to come out but pulling could still be a thing in that regard but rOMAN TUGGED ON HIM

back on topic--”YOU PULLED MY HAIR”

roman back at it again with the weird phrases!

“I would talk about you in another room” “...fair enough”

YESAAAAAAHH UNDERSTATEMENT MUCH

roman’s facial expressions are amazing

“i think you’re just being a jerk” hgjksd roman’s pouty face lmao

I LOVE TERRENCE’S HANDWRITING??? A LOT???

yay roman complimented logan!!!

“myth of the great manbaby” what the hell roman

when you break the fourth wall column and make everyone uncomfortable

i love the drawing things for roman’s thinking. he is creativity after all

the thing about financial perception is great-- i love listening to logan talk kgdfhgkdfl give us a podcast. (jk jk)

THOMAS TALKING ABOUT THE WITCHER 3 YES

the fact that logan indirectly acknowledges he’s a nerd lmaooo

virgil spawning in and saying “i’m listeninnnnng”

“hi virgil” “sup thomas”

ngl roman, that idea is pretty... bad sorry

“but you just called me a little bratty baby--” “A- DUB DUBGFBBFJK THOMAS”

I LOVE LISTENING TO LOGAN TALK ABOUT EXISTENTIALISM AND QUOTING ALAN MOORE

“holy sh-” THOMAS

is aunt patty a real person??

constantly circling the answer lmao

windshield of diamond...? i mean diamonds can be clear but-

“we’re talking about a car, not a horse” lo... logan it’s a metaphor

“i hope you know that my agreeing to a point i made is not a win for you”

once again i love the little animations

thomas playing an elongated word association game is me tbh

“a.. scripted series” “nods in agreement” KJEHGJDFK THE FOURTH WALL HAS BEEN DESTROYED

WHAT IS ROMAN’S FACE AT 12:00????

nexus... instrument??? oh wait nvm

“quixotic, quarreling. quaaaaaaaaaaaah” and the little shake as he said “im not good at nicknames” lmao

circadian rhythm? who’s she???

ok listen i know logan is right about the sleeping schedule but also??? no?? thanks??

“but twitter!” “tumblr?” “tinder?” “twinster!” JDFKJDS

“my twin kinda looks like you, logan!” REALLY ROMAN?

and then all the remy fans went insane...

“copulating” LOGAN

pancake and pillow fights jffkhgsf

tHOMAS DONT FIGHT PEOPLE WITH PANCAKES-

“BRO-gan” JDSKHASJK didnt thomas say that in a tweet lmao

“okay dad” “y’called?”

“love you patton” “love you thomas”

“BUT A BIG MEAL MAKES ME SLEEPY” oh jeez i’ve never tried doing that and i probably wont-- thanks logan lol

“this snack over here is wondering if you’re finished or not!” roman..?? what??

i love logan’s face when he’s about to start rambling again lmao

i just noticed the amazing sound design for the handwriting effects, kudos to you guys!!

ROMAN NO IT’S NOT-- IT’S NOT ALCOHOL YOU FOOL

“shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots i endorse, are vaccines” agreed but also logan n o

look at his face tho he looks sorta proud of himself

“why are you drinking... out of a blender” "this is the biggest container that i have” th-thomas..??? my god lmao

“but how is it good for you?” “how?” logan is slytherclaw tbh

“CORN! ... to eat”

nice pie chart

roman’s face at 16:06 is a mood

“and health...! facts!”

logan being a literal encyclopedia is amazing... also fairly robotic wouldnt you say (hahaha)

but also roman brushing his teeth immediately after dlsjgdfkl

roman throwing a little temper tantrum lmaooo

“elms need tending..”

i like to think roman just has imagery dancing around for thomas and logan to see in his hand or smth. or he’s awkwardly projecting it idfk

17:43 logan is a mood (i say this a lot bear with me)

once AGAIN! I LOVE THE ART STYLE OF THE ANIMATED PARTS!!!

roman, sorry buddy, but shakespeare plagiarized a lot of things and frankly i believe thats a big no no for you? (remember the originality episode oof)

“FORGET SLEEP” same roman

“then you will care for your friends more than they have ever been cared for in their. entire. LIFE” “yES”

THE CLICHE WESTERN MUSIC JDKF

“i dont know the meaning of the word...” “it means ridiculous” “oh really?” ROMAN??? HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT?

all the other times logan has used preposterous just went over his head????

hasnt roman USED the word preposterous?????

mANTICORE CHIMERA?? OKAY THEN

i go straight to logan’s thinking. roman get the heck out of there? dont fight a chimera with a broken leg plz

“how can you be teaching me so many things but also be so wrong today?” WOW ROMAN LMAO

20:09 Logan...ok listen, somebody just send me a bunch of screenshots of their faces in this video plz

NJKDSFFSJAHKS I LOVE HOW THEY PUT PATTON AS THOMAS’ DAD IN THE FAMILY TREE

“pardon me while i laugh! .... ha” ok the motions before he “laughed” looked oddly like deceit...

ROMAN WIGGLES A LOT

hello yes?? can we get a sander sides soundtrack??? the music while logan explains the worth of living is great

“uber yawn” im sorry roman, w h a t

“rOMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-” y’gonna... stop....?

ok there we go

DID LOGAN JUST CALL ROMAN A PREP FJKDSHGJFDHK

aww logan’s little smirk

“that sounds cool..” roman is such a dork jkdshfs

DING DING DING IT’S THE LOGINCE TRAIN. also! i want the music SO BADLY

logans little bounce at 23:43 gives me life

awww they’re getting along

the next video thomas was hinting at... the puppet show

also i would’ve mentioned this earlier but i forgot but I THINK THATS A NEW SHIRT? :O

MOXIETY MOMENT!!!

“every dog has it’s day” Virgil: patton n o

“may the force be with you” lmao

patton sounds oddly... solemn? it just sounds slightly lower than patton’s usual voice??? i dunno im reading into things

take it easy guys, gals, and nonbinary pals!

we’re at the end! im so proud of thomas, talyn, and joan! amazin as usual. Also best wishes to Joan’s recovery. they better rest after this

[countessofsnark]

Snarky Recap - Thunderbirds Are Go: ‘Brains vs Brawn’

The One Where International Rescue Answers The Call... To Play A Game of TAG.

The episode starts out on a very Star Wars-esque note - or maybe that’s just my imagination? A person on a hover bike of sorts, wearing what could be scavenging gear, zooming across a desert? 

No? Anyone?

Anyway, never mind, that giant hole sure doesn’t look like a mini Sarlacc pit, eh? Also, that’s one big ass satellite.

IMMA FIRING MY LAZAR. (sorry not sorry) Imagine the Mechanic using this as a high tech toy to fool his cat. ‘Catch the laser, Fluffy, go on.’

Look at this Fearless Noodle jumping out of his bird to save a life. *fans self*

'John, where am I exactly?’ Uhm isn’t that something you’re supposed to ask before you jump down a giant hole in the Sahara?

Scott follows his life sign tracker to a door that suddenly opens to reveal... the Hood. Talk about a mystery shopper you didn’t hope would ever show up.

HELLO AND WELCOME TO MY HIGH TECH SEX DUNGEON SEKRIT UNDERGROUND HIDEOUT.

Cue a series of gasps. And Scott’s temper growing hotter than the Mechanic’s space laser. 

The Hood: ‘International Rescue, my life is in your hands.’ Oh boy he’s going to regret that statement in a few moments. *grins*

‘Oh this is gonna be fun.’ Depends on who you’re asking.

Brains explaining to Alan why flying Thunderbird 3 up to the laser would be a terrible idea. It would require a small craft and a highly trained engineer to get the job done. Cue Grandma: ‘Now who does that sound like?’

LOL. The look on Brains’s face is priceless. Looks like you’ll have to suit up, bespectacled buddy.

The game of Hood TAG is taken from the ocean floor back up to FAB 1. MAGNETS, HOW DO THEY WORK.

Brains manages to sneak past the satellite’s auto defence systems and enters the craft. So far, so good. Because surely nobody’s home. Right?

OOPSIE-DAISY.

Get ready for a round of awkward interrogation.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I asked first?’

‘It’s my satellite.’ 

‘Good point.’

Brains: the awkward gift that keeps on giving.

And so it is revealed that the Mechanic is not as purely evil as he is made out to be. Turns out the Hood really is in charge and the Mechanic simply wants peace and quiet. 

However, the means by which he aims to get that are not really that pure or mature for that matter... The Mechanic: throwing more tantrums than Kylo Ren.

Thank you for choosing Tracy Airlines. Sorry we couldn’t get you the luxury velvet-coated edition, please buckle up and enjoy the ride. Also, we may experience some turbulence and oh yes, we’ve run out of barf bags.

Brains finally shuts down the laser’s firing controls. But he forgot to disable the laser itself. Oh dear.

‘You’re coming with me!’

‘You want to arrest me that much?’

‘I’m not arresting you. I’m saving you.’

I AM NOT CRYING.

Brains hands over the Mechanic to the GDF. He willingly boards their ship as Brains promises they’ll keep in touch. Oh my I really do feel sorry for the Mechanic right now. I hope he may prove to be a future ally of IR rather than a fearsome foe.

Also:

The Hood capsule has landed. Please remain seated while we take you to a GDF prison. On a scale of 0 - 10, how would you rate your in-flight experience?

Looks like the Tracy brothers might get some good ol’ rescues from now on. And how’s that for some fourth wall insertion, eh? Yeah, we also like some good ol’ fashioned rescues, Scott. We sure do.

Aww look at this gang of brave souls and nerds. Too precious - as they all line up and mention their favourite kind of rescues. *squish* Not included here: John’s rescue preferences. (Though they may include space and fellow astronauts. Or maybe one particular astronaut - hush)

Meanwhile, on one of the GDF ships... Well guess we really shouldn’t have trusted the Hood’s little charade after all. Good to know season 2 won’t be entirely devoted to good old rescues then...

Aaaand that’s it for season 2. Although I did enjoy this episode, I do believe the previous season finale was a lot more intense. Then again, I suppose we’re due for many more Hood misadventures and I’m sure season 3 will give us just that and more. But until then... you’ve got ONE more recap to look forward to. Prepare for a Boxing Day gift in the shape of that long-awaited Inferno snark. *rubs hands and cackles*

[themusicsweetly]

Is it just me?--probably so...But, I so don't care about willie's character at all. I mean seriously! What's the point. He shows up in 1 or 2 pages in each book and well.---I wish they did not include willie in the t.v. version. Frankly, this is when I would STOP following DG books. I mean there's some things in each book I liked but what the heck--why don't they just throw them all in one season and improve the stories. Before I get any hate letters, I decided to leave the country;)

Hello my now fugitive Anon! I’m glad you came by before your escape outta here xD

You are most definitely not the only one, but I think we’re by far in the minority here LOL. Of all the stand alone side-character chapters, I probably enjoy his the least. It seems that boy exists to get lost in the woods and throw temper tantrums. Okay, okay so I get the tantrums part, but honestly why is he always getting lost? Someone please buy that boy a compass! LJG, where you at my rich friend???

I will say, I like him to some extent, but that mostly is in relation to other characters. Like a I like how quickly he takes to Claire. I’m sure it was more standard courtesy of the times, but I adore the fact that he called her Mother Claire. And I do enjoy seeing him with LJG, if only because LJG is such a great father(-figure) to him and with Young Ian. But I would also like those parts infinitely more if they were shorter lol.

As far as leaving him out of the show goes, I don’t think that would ever have been a possibility. His character affects Jamie’s far too greatly and has such long-lasting repercussions that I don’t see the writers, as book readers, wanting to ever leave him out. And it wouldn’t be possible to add him in later seasons. Overall he is quite a popular character among most, too. You and I are just Sassenachs to that, I suppose, Anon... Got an extra seat on the flight out of the country? xD

That said, I’m hopeful that the show will be able to turn his character around for the better if and when we get to him. I mean, they’ve done it to Murtagh, Fergus, and now Mr. Willoughby. I’m sure they can do it again!