#they have 1 braincell

[haveihitanerve]

Never forget the moment Peeta blustered onto the whipping block and tried to defend Katniss too and Haymitch just went “nope! You absolute fucking nutter I cannot have another child put themselves in harms way omfg you guys crave the bullets don't you.” and just yanked him back behind him 

[mikaikaika]

Bad almost kills Lukey for trying to use his charlatan ways on Foolish

[goffilolo]

*crosses ”zanka being forced to wear an ACAB shirt" off my list of things to draw*

[jelly-guiro]

Viktor didn't realize how much of a heavy sleeper Jayce was until he had to go to the bathroom on their first night together. So he had to just:

[aterfish]

How many of team phantom do you need to change a lightbulb?

Three! One Goth on the lookout, one Tech Guy who knows which way to screw out the bulb and one Ghost to lift (your spirit).

[littledemo0n]

In honor of killer of killers finally out (and my brokeass not planning on buying any supscriptions anytime soon which means imma have to wait to pirate it) here's more of my Yautja's OC crew + the kids of red boy

[f1version]

you already have one?

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[sickosdotjpg]

i admit i've never really been much of one for the, like, giantess type of scenarios. but that said? the big fairies from b//ot/w? yeah.

[lilacbowz-artdump]

Huzzah, art upon thee!!

I keep posting at 12AM in my timezone, I need to stop this madness 😔 (haven’t even brushed my teeth yet bruv 😭 🙏)

But yeah, this is FFS!Shadow (from an AU of mine) with Lil Guy and Pipsqueak! Sounds familiar? Then you’ll know!! ;) Everything got a little messy sadly, but felt too lazy to clean it up. Been brainrotting about yeeting my Shadow into the blindingly white room full of silly nuisances (/aff) and give him the time of his life (can be seen in a good or bad way).

(Psps it’s the @asksonicverse ❤️)

omg I’m gonna implode why’d I tag uggghgdhgdhgdghd is this social anxiety or idk 💔💔💔 <- just so you know how I struggle with tagging people 😙👍 /lh

[skibasyndrome]

hiiii 🫶 squealing because your ficlets give me life!!! can I request prompt 55: “turn around for me”??

Hiiiiii, ahhh, you're so lovely 😭🫶 Thank you so much!!! and thank you for sending me a prompt, and such a fun one at that! I really hope you and everyone else reading will enjoy :) 💜💜💜

cw: nsfw. like. a lot.

Floaty, that's what it feels like. Like Wille's body is fizzling out at the edges, like he weighs nothing, like-

When Simon pulls his hand away, all of a sudden and just as Wille thought he was going to let him come, all air leaves Wille's lungs at once. He's panting, heavily, the sound only just cutting back in through the deafening rush of blood in his ears. Slowly, like his body is only just coming back alive, nerve endings only just starting to work again, he blinks against the velvety fabric on his face. The fabric feels damp, wetted by one, two, tears of frustration just now or earlier, Wille doesn't know. All he knows is that he is going to die if Simon touches his cock again. And if he doesn't. Somewhere, a plea is trying to force its way out through the jumble of thoughts and sensations zapping through him at lightning speed, quicker than his body can keep up with. Instead, Wille just opens his mouth, closes it again, stutters out a desperate noise. But it's enough. Simon is right with him, a warm palm on his cheek, brushing up and into his hair. Wille feels dizzy with how needily he leans into the touch. "It's okay, baby... ," Simon murmurs, quiet, calm, reassuring, gently scratching Wille's scalp as if Wille's world isn't tilted on its axis with how fundamentally and violently he needs Simon right now. Everything, something, anything he is willing to give him. "I'm-" The words won't come out, even when Simon's fingers brush over the side of his neck, where his pulse must be jumping out against Simon's touch. Simon just hums, laying more and more gentle touches on him, a startling contrast to the way he was jerking his slick fist over Wille's cock just moments ago. Where he's lying heavy and sensitive against his stomach, Wille twitches at the thought. Simon's hand brushes past his jawline. Wille jumps a little when he feels Simon's thumb land on his bottom lip, warm and rough, making heat pulse behind his sternum and his mouth water in anticipation. He wants to moves up, wrap his lips around the digit, feel it press down on his tongue. But even more than that, he wants to be good and only do as he's told. Still, he mourns the touch, when Simon pulls away after lazily tracing his lip for a moment.

"I'm almost done with you, promise." A moan, half relief, half protest, rips from Wille's throat. He has been teetering on the edge for what must be hours at this point, a steady buzz of arousal sizzling right under his skin, getting almost unbearable whenever Simon worked him close to the brink of falling, before violently pulling him back. Wille wants to come, he wants to be done, wants to feel soft and pliant and breathless, wants to nuzzle up to Simon, have Simon hold him and praise him and get him back to earth. But there's a nagging feeling, a nervous little voice, telling him that it's not enough, that he needs more still, that, despite the shocks his body has gone through, he hasn't felt him enough, hasn't- Wille hasn't even gotten to touch Simon at all, hasn't tasted him, hasn't been able to look at him either, feels devastatingly robbed of one of his favorite parts of this. He tries to push the voice away, feeling shamefully ungrateful. But somehow, Simon seems to sense there's something off. "Baby?" His tone is clearer now, needing to get through to Wille. When Wille takes too long to answer, Simon's hand slides back into his hair and tugs. Wille's "yes" blends with a desperate moan. The sharpness of the tug travels right down to his cock. "What's wrong?" Simon's breath is hot, suddenly close to his ear. Wille wonders how far he would have to reach out to be able to sneak a touch, just one. But he doesn't. Instead, he sucks in a deep breath, hoping that Simon will grant him the moment to get the words out. And he does, fingertips now gently pressing into his aching scalp. "Want to... ," Wille pauses to lick his lips, figure out a way to sounds less... greedy. "Wanna feel you..."

The silence that follows has Wille digging his toes into the sheet under him. Then he hears Simon: an amused huff, not quite taunting, not quite not taunting, either. Wille's pulse quickens. Simon slides his hand down again, fingers settling against the back of Wille's neck. Wille feels each fingertip like a brand. "I said I'm almost done with you." It's clear, precise, that tone that Simon sometimes gets, that lets Wille know he's about to be taken apart piece by piece. He swallows hard, tries to keep his mind from spinning wildly. "Yes," he answers, as if on instinct, and maybe it is, maybe it is with that tone. For good measure, he nods. But when he feels the mattress dip, feels Simon move, up and away, the disorientation creeps up on him, overriding the sweet spell of obedience. "Simon wh-" "Turn around for me." It's so clear, fuck, Simon knows, oh he knows what Wille wants, what he needs what he hasn't allowed himself to even wish for. Wille feels the renewed arousal surge through him with a force that's hard to take.

But he nods, quickly, eagerly. With his heart beating out of his chest he rolls over, tries to stabilize himself on his arms and knees, tries to blindly find the middle of the bed, where Simon usually takes him like this. Any other time, with less of a burning need, with less of a steady buzz inside, he would be more hesitant, would fight the urge to present himself like this, shameless and open, but the comforting darkness is helping, is taking off the edge, as is the startling speed of the blood rushing through his veins. Somewhere behind himself, towards the end of the bed, he feels, hears movement. Assumes it's Simon getting on the bed on his knees, behind Wille. Fuck. Wille tries to pictures it, tries to draw from memory, tries to imagine his beautiful, wonderful Simon, muscular thighs and lightly heaving chest and slicking up his hard cock for Wille. And the thought alone breaks Wille. He lets his upper body sink down, moves his head to the side, cheek against the soft fluff of his pillow, and reaches his arms behind him. His face feels red and hot when he uses his hands to hold himself further open, spreads his knees further apart to, hopefully, look extra pretty for Simon. He has no time to doubt himself before he hears Simon's low groan, hears the tell-tale slick sound of Simon's fist flying over his erection.

When he hears then immediately feels Simon drop a fat drop of saliva right there, right onto his hole, right where Wille needs him most, Wille nearly doubles over from gasping moaning groaning so hard. He holds his breath, then lets it all out at once when he feels Simon's slicked up finger rub over him. "Almost done," he hears Simon mumble, voice thick with desire and arousal and reverence. Wille groans and further buries his head in the pillow.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[orumoru]

Minimum wage au what do we think chat

[wishyoudwell]

They’ve given me too much power

[fishhateme]

So... LinkedIn au part two, anyone?

this morning @adimouze got an actual linkedin notification while reading part one and a sign is a sign, so here goes part two of the linkedin au (btw if you think there's suspiciously not enough linkedin in here it's because i genuinely hate that capitalist hellhole with all my heart <3)

“Don’t worry, mate. People on LindkedIn are a bunch of cunts, anyway”

Max would have gasped, if he’d had less dignity, as he watched the man - Daniel, Daniel, Danyul in the flesh, the little icon from his LinkedIn feed, now sitting in the shitty bar, in front of him - swirl his $12 glass of rosé and sip it, scrunching up his nose the same way Sassy did when Max didn’t get her those little overpriced packets of turkey flavored wet food.

“Uh- I would say of course not everyone on LinkedIn is a cunt, maybe” Max said, completely and utterly dumbfounded, half because he was more than a little buzzed and half because he’d spent so much time thinking about finding Daniel that he hadn’t actually thought out what he’d do then (didn’t think he’d get this far, really). He could almost picture Lando laughing maniacally at the blush that was spreading all the way from his chest (thankfully hidden by his plain, black tee) to the very top of his ears, and he thanked whatever God was out there (Sir Isaac Newton, can you hear me?) that the younger engineer was too busy trying to pick up some Spanish car designer on the other side of the convention.

Max could blame the blush on the g&t’s, and not on the fact that his little virtual networking crush (what had his life come to) had the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen, staring him straight in the eyes.

“I would say that they are, then, if you don’t have the balls to” Daniel, who still hadn’t introduced himself, responded with a cheeky smirk, “They’re all stuck up pricks. They act like they only care about furthering physics and science and the greater good when all they want is their name on a plaque somewhere and a couple of sports cars so they can wank off to the airflow of the diffusers or some shit”

Max thought that was such a ridiculous notion, that respected aerodynamics engineers would spend their entire careers longing for a luxury car (and- okay, yeah, his desktop was an Aston Martin Valkyrie, but that was different, he knew that was just as out of his league as the guy standing in front of him right now). Furthermore, a pesky voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Jos was telling him that this guy was an ingrate, a disrespectful, unprofessional man who’d get nowhere, but Max bit his tongue and then washed it away with a gulp of his g&t, letting Daniel speak because he clearly wanted to rant.

“I’m serious, mate, all these people ever come to do to conventions like this is flaunt their achievements. Like-” he adjusted his stance, wiggling his body so he could move the shitty bar stool without actually getting up, suddenly getting very, very much in Max’s personal space, his thick, meaty thigh (who wore shorts to a networking event? This guy was crazy) almost brushing against Max’s knee as he leaned over to whisper and point, “See him? That’s Zak Brown, he owns McLaren Aerodynamics.”

Shit, wasn’t that Lando’s boss? Now Max felt ever so slightly guilty for nodding along to the Brit’s rants about his work, without actually ever hearing anything. “If you talk to him, he’ll invite you to a game of golf, and if you say yes he’ll take you there in a Lambo and offer you a round of Chandon or some shit, his treat. You know how he gets all that money? Because people love to spend it, shit, I love it too, but don’t you ever stop to think about where it comes from?”

Daniel leaned in even closer, his hot breath against the scorching heat of Max’s helplessly flushed ear, his words ever so slightly slurred like maybe it hadn’t been his first rosé. Maybe he’d started off with something stronger in his car (was pregaming work conventions... a thing?), and now he was trying to look semi-dignified and failing.

“He gets it from defense contracts”

Max blinked owlishly at that, like maybe he’d heard it wrong. Surely he didn't mean to say what it sounded like he was, at the very least, implying. “Uh- what? I thought they made, like…” he tried to concentrate, genuinely wrack his brain to remember what Lando had mentioned “Uh, trains? High speed trains, don’t they- isn’t that what they make?”

Daniel laughed at that, a honky, unabashed laugh, throwing his head back and showing off those pearly whites as his curl bounced. “That’s what they’ll tell you on their website, mate. That they care about the environment and are working with the UK government to make-” hic, “Make uhh, a- a greener future or some shit. And- yes, they’ve got contracts with the UK government, plenty of ‘em, but most of them are defense”

At Max’s shocked expression, at his gaping mouth, Daniel sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, and yeah, he was definitely more drunk than Max, somehow.

“Missiles! They make missiles, Maxy”

Max didn’t think Lando was capable of even designing a missile for a fruit fly, much less for… actual humans. Fish, maybe. But humans seemed odd. “How are you so sure?”

Daniel seemed to deflate at that, like everyone had said the same thing. He pulled back, elbows on the bar and head hung low between his sagged shoulders, and Max found himself missing the warmth of his tattooed thigh against his knee, even though he still felt feverish from the alcohol and the flusteredness of it all.

The Aussie hiccuped again, blinking a couple of times. “Worked there” he said, and he sounded almost beaten down as he added, “Then I quit. Eeeh, not true, actually, got fired. Publicly it was a mutual agreement. Doesn’t matter” he stopped to down what was left of his rosé, grimacing although it must have been quite a pleasant, sweet taste, not at all a man’s drink, like Jos would say. “Now I make about a tenth of what I did and I teach the next generation of missile designers how to maximize… missileness”

Max hummed, quietly. He didn’t quite know what to say at that - he made a mental note to ask Lando about some things on the drive back, sure, but other than that. He got a sense that maybe the funny LinkedIn man had turned into a sad, hot, somehow still funny LinkedIn man.

Maybe he just needed a friend. Someone to listen.

Max grimaced at that last thought, scrunching up his face and staring down at his g&t with hatred, like his favorite drink had been tainted with feelings, and they were rapidly making his way into his bloodstream.

What was he even thinking?! Sure, the guy was funny and clearly had had some success at some point of his career and he was kind of possibly the hottest man Max had ever seen but he was also clearly a loser. Besides, they were strangers! They hadn’t even introduced themselves to each other! Daniel didn’t even know Max’s-

Wait.

“How do you know my name?”

Daniel’s eyes, previously fixed on a poster of a cowboy that advertised some sort of insurance Max couldn't care less about, widened almost comically. He stared at him for a beat too long before chuckling awkwardly. “Uuuuh, what?”

“You called me Maxy. You said, they make missiles, Maxy” Max said, finally feeling the expected effect of his g&t’s, that was, some fucking courage. “How do you know my name is Max”

A second passed.

Then another.

Then a third, and by the fourth Max had just now noticed the convention was blasting some shitty, outdated jazz music, which worked more as a sleep inducer than a mood setter.

By the fifth, Max was thinking maybe Daniel wouldn’t answer, so he doubled down and looked eyes with him, but Daniel immediately looked away, flustered and biting down on his plush, pink lip, frowning as if deep in thought. “Uuuuh” he stammered, rubbing his face with the heels of his palms again, chuckling awkwardly, “Would it be too lame to say I follow you on LinkedIn?”

part 3

[platypaws]

What if Pinky hasn’t been an agent the whole time and only recently got recruited sometime after the sash incident? He was still on all fours and shaky when the reveal happened. Could mean he’s relatively new and nervous to the situation

THAT COULD ALSO BE AN EXPLANATION Now i wanna know who in their right mind at owca saw this little sash consuming shakey guy and went “lmao i want this one, let’s get this one”

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

Kenji, messing around with synthetic makeup: how do you think fake blood tastes?

Ben: bad. it tastes bad.

Darius: and why the fuck do you know that, Ben?