#'i caught you fucker!!!'

[ghooostbaby]

i think something about daniel with armand that makes it work is the way daniel is so combative... he pushes in, forces his way in where he's not wanted, can't help himself, grabs hold of what is thorny and difficult and has to figure it out, get to the bottom of it. that's interesting too in the way in some way he's performing the process he needed to do on his own life, his own memories. he had the impulse to dig aggressively for the truth somehow knowing he was needing that but not knowing to do it for himself. armand is damaged and needs some support and love, yes, but he's never going to let someone see his true wounds so openly and he needs someone who won't buy his bullshit and will push past his facade and interrogate what is really there, what he really wants. and for who it won't be a chore, and maybe even could be seductive...

armand is also the same with the way he pushes, he can't help himself, he forces his way in to something he wants and needs to grab hold of it. but he's going to do it underground, he's never going to reveal himself fully, he will conceal his real desires and work away at grabbing hold of what makes him feel wanted in secret. unlike when louis feels something intense he wants space from it and time and distance ... which is why they just don't work.

i think if armand and daniel decide that the other one is the thing they want to grab hold of and pry open (daniel) / cling onto and hoard (armand) they could have a way of dismantling each others maladaptive self protection strategies... but it will be pretty brutal at the same time. if armand feels unwanted and rejected, i don't think daniel would be particularly good at comforting him ... and actually i don't think armand would ever come out and say "i feel like you don't want me, i feel hurt" as cathartic as it is to write/draw that type of interaction. rather when armand felt like that he'd come up with a subtly manipulative way to force daniel to give him the affection he wants to feel validated by. which works for them just fine actually. bc what daniel IS really good at is unearthing the truth of bullshit masters. he wouldnt let armand build up some grandiose narrative to disguise his real hurt and vulnerability and flaws in (as louis does) and actually would have so much fun picking the lock that is armand and whatever the fuck emotional wormhole he's entered in himself this time, and when he figures it out he'd say something like "armand you were doing all THAT bc you thought i didnt sleep over that night meant i didnt want you, are you fucking stupid??" and actually in everything armand does he wants to be found out and seen and daniel being so fascinated by him with the morbid curiosity of someone investigating a weird bug would feel glorious to him. and they'd be so happy in their emotional hovel

[jangmi-latte]

how are y'all faring now that it's canon that the leech twins' real form is 4 meters (13'2 ft/400cm) long hahaha...haha...ha....fuck

yuu's height is my height so imagine if you're smaller than 5'5 feet ◉⁠‿⁠◉

photo correction it's tweel* not twel tf

[svtskneecaps]

i'm still stuck on the purgatories so here's a list of purgatory 2 moments simply off the top of my head that deserve to be remembered:

aimsey ducking all of axolotl team alone in a cave with literally half a heart

goose gang fucking descending on the raccoon base and absolutely wrecking shop

ethan crankgameplays clutching up for team panda during the capture the flag game by being the only one hanging out in the center and periodically checking the chests, earning them a shitton of flags and clutching multiple rounds

crow team's egg taking 0 damage

pac doxxing goose gang's egg in the last second

shelby shubble as the last member of her team online writing a letter to aimsey and sharing the world's most devastating ten minutes before her team was eliminated with one of the eye creatures (coco? i forgot lol)

badboyhalo absolutely fucking DEMOLISHING the battleship event on like 2 hours of sleep and a dream

wuant(?) stealing a tv from the battleship event and then playing portuguese ice age on it for the crows lmfao

tubbo djing for his team while waiting for the time for a goose gambit

theguill CRASHING THROUGH THE FUCKING CEILING of the raccoon team's hidey hole like the fucking kool aid man in a last effort to save his team and 4v1 or 5v1 ing team raccoon; he lost but that was such an epic fucking moment

theguill and etoiles pvping and each hyping the other's skills the entire time

seapeekay escaping cellbit and baghera and then stealing their boats and rocketing past to tease them about it; that shit was iconic

kenny going mad with power collecting sand on literally day 1

the english speaking squirrels taking actual physical notes on portuguese phrases (i think)

lgbtiba

i may add more this is an off the top of my head list but like got DAMN i like these events :D i like them a lot

[evilfloralfoolery]

First Contact

Told ya I was gonna jump into the snzy romantic shit. Indigo's attempts to resist any sort of attraction to Grimm are failing spectacularly. Grimm is aware of this. Grimm is a bastard.

If you wanna know more about what's going on with them, I wrote a summary HERE.

*Note: You will find content warnings in my tags, if there are any. If you have concerns, be sure to look before you read.*

_______________________________________

Get to know him before you make your decision.

Reginald’s words ring in his ears as Indigo resists the urge to retreat back to his own room in the Victorian estate.

But he has given his word to his superior and that is a thing that must be honored. And if he is being honest with himself, watching Grimm explain the process of cleaning his gun is actually quite interesting, given the fact that Indigo has never used that particular weapon.

Not to mention that the man does, admittedly, look quite fetching in his gray cable knit sweater.

“You gotta get all of the shit out of here,�� Grimm says as he finagles a dry brush. “Chamber to muzzle.”  He points to a small, sooty pile accumulating on the paper towel. “See that? It's all gotta go.”

The man is methodical in a way that even Indigo can admire. He sprays a bit solution onto a small patch of fabric and swabs the inside of the barrel by pulling it through repeatedly and switches to a clean one to finish the job.

“I hadn’t any idea there were so many components to a gun,” Indigo says.

“Yeah, there’s more to it than people think.”  Grim began cleaning some other mechanism, wiping down every crevice. 

He’s just finished the last piece when that familiar unsteady haziness clouds his expression, an action Indigo has come to know all too well. 

Grimm winces, bracing his body against the counter one hand and a staggering heave of breath.

“Uh-SSCHuh!”  He hisses between clenched teeth, his breath quickening to a sharp, almost gasping pace, if only for a moment. “Goddamn. . .”

Before he can stop himself, Indigo lays a hand on Grimm's uninjured shoulder. “That sounds as if it pains you.”

“Hmm, it does.” Grimm shudders against another ragged inhalation, choosing instead to cross his good arm over the still healing one, as if to hold it in place. “UhhSSSCHiiu!”

“Gods, bless you!” Indigo says. “Sit, before you give yourself an aneurysm.”

Grimm smirks, a trickle of sweat ebbing from his temple. “Or before I give you one.”

Indigo huffs. “Hardly.” 

But he helps guide the other man to the nearest chair  just the same. 

As Grimm sinks into the weathered cushion, Indigo offers the other man a handkerchief.

“Thanks,” Grimm says with a grunt of discomfort. He pauses before using the thing, eyes lighting upon the embroidery near the corner. “You have your initials on all ‘em, Indy?”

“Of course I do.” Indigo glances at the cocky behemoth over the rims of his glasses. “And do not call me ‘Indy’.”

A low rumble attempting to call itself a chuckle emanates from somewhere within Grimm's chest. “Okay.” He wipes his nose with a smirk. “Indy.”

Moments pass and Indigo can feel the studious gaze of the other man upon him, watching. Cataloging his every breath. Analyzing him into the ground.

Indigo's irritation mounts. “Why in the name of the gods are you assessing me in this way?”

“Because it bothers the shit out of you that I've got your number,” Grimm says.

Indigo shoots him a glare that would make a paper man crumble, but Grimm is no wisp of a person. The man is a fortress of steel.

“It is your very presence that irritates me,” Indigo retorts.

“And yet, here you are, watching me swab out my barrel.”

Was that some manner of crude innuendo?  Difficult to tell with this man, as were most things.

Indigo turns on his heel and forces himself to walk into the kitchen rather than stalk away in a fury.

Much to his utter annoyance (and with a bit of dismay), Grimm “forgets” the handkerchief resting beside him and chooses instead to press curled fingers beneath his nose, wincing against a powerful “-UHCHISSSHCHuu!”

And Grimm follows him. Of course he does.

“What is it that you want from me?” Indigo's voice is a low hiss of sound, his eyes flashing brilliant blue but for a moment before he cinches his tight control back into place.

“Want?” Grimm arches an eyebrow. “You’re so fucking hot and cold, you’d make a goddamn hurricane confused.” 

He invades Indigo's space without physically inserting himself. Simply standing there is enough.

“I see you watching me.” Grimm levels his stare at Indigo with a slight dip of his head, much in the way a wolf considers its prey. “Especially when I do that.”

“You see no such thing.” Indigo runs a hand through his hair, the soft layers tangling against his fingers.

“You don't think so, huh. Hmn.” Grimm scratches at his stubble in that irritating, know-it-all fashion of his and Indigo doesn't even try to disguise his annoyance.

The sweater-clad behemoth shucks one arm out of the corded cable knit and, having mastered the art of doing so with his injury, pulls the entire garment over his head. 

“Hot in here.”

Indeed.

But Grimm does not fare well in a colder environment, a fact which Indigo knows on an inherent level. Despite his denial of the accusation, Grimm is correct.

Indigo has been watching. Observing. Even indulging in enraptured listening between the paper thin walls.  

And it doesn't take long for the chilly air to incite a very specific type of riot within the absurd bastard.

Grimm’s expression collapses into helpless vulnerability, one hand poised in wavering expectation.

“Hhhuh. . . hh-uhhh. . .! UHCHISSH!”  

The sneeze is a full body affair, from the hitching stall of breath to the shudder that begins at his shoulders and ricochets down his spine. 

“UHSSCHuu!” 

More volume than the first, but still that same surprisingly soft manner of desperation, that utter surrender of himself to it. 

“Bless y–” Indigo starts to say, but Grimm holds up a hand in a halting gesture, his breath caught in a hitching battle between relief and torture.

Indigo doesn't even catch himself leaning towards the other man until he is forced to right himself with a calculated step forward.

The desperation in Grimm's expression morphs into a sly smile of triumph. “Gotcha.”

“Bloody hell!” Indigo snaps, fully prepared to storm off in the other direction.

Or at least he would, were it not for Grimm's hand clamped over his wrist in a grip that will not be broken.

He does not struggle and Grimm does nothing further to inhibit his departure. 

“Unhand me.” Indigo's voice is cold steel on black ice. “Now, Grimm.”

“You can break my grip easy.” Grimm tilts his head. “So do it.”

Indigo stands rigid, strands of his silvery hair sticking to his temples, but he makes no move to do so.

“Uh huh. That's what I thought.” Grimm releases him, but maintains his position.

Sniffling wetly. Doing nothing about it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Indigo says.  Out loud. 

Gods be da—

Grimm's hand lingers atop his own, the deliberate brush of calloused fingers sending a jolt of heat through Indigo's body. 

“Haven't heard you swear.” His voice drops into an even lower register. “That's fucking sexy.” 

And that does it. Indigo closes the distance between them, sinking a hand into that silky black hair, fisting it between his fingers.

“And what of you, hmm? Watching me. Listening to my every move through these paper-mâché walls. Do you not think I see what is transpiring here? Do y–”

Grimm crushes him against his chest with his good arm. “Shut up, Indy.” 

The kiss is a sensual affair, not the fervent tangling of tongues one might expect for first contact, but rather a controlled possession. 

Indigo may have very well faltered in his ability to stand, had Grimm's massive arm not been holding him aloft.

He walks Indigo back until his shoulders connect with the wall near the kitchen door, pressing him against it, the roughness of his palm cradling one side of Indigo’s face. 

The thin material of Grimm's jogging pants leaves little to the imagination as he shifts his body against Indigo's much leaner frame. 

The hand travels down his cheek, over his chest, and rests upon his belt buckle. 

He should stop this. He must stop this.

But he doesn't.

Grimm's tactical fingers make short work of both the buckle and the button on his pants. They toy with the waistband of his boxers, slide over the bare skin, and slip into forbidden space.

Indigo gasps. Shivers against Grimm's body, and fails to suppress the moan that escapes him. 

“Mmm, Indy.”  Grimm's rumbling bass against his ear. “You're so fucking hot.” The hand grips him with a stroking squeeze. 

Indigo tries to respond, tries to do anything other than shudder with a stammering breath, but this stupidly alluring brute of a man holds his every weakness prisoner. 

Quite literally.

“Gr-Grimm. . . I'm. . .I’m. . .”

Teeth nip at his ear. “Yeah?” A thick, congested sniffle. “You're what?” 

Indigo clutches handfuls of Grimm's absurdly tight tank top and all but convulses in his grip, shuddering and crying out, despite his efforts to contain it.

“Yeah.” Grimm kisses his parted lips, swallows his unstable, shallow breaths. “That's nice. Heh.”

“You've ruined my attire,” Indigo says with false indignation.

“Don't care as long as I ruined you.” 

Well, he had certainly done that, much to Indigo's chagrin. Or was that amusement? All manner of lines were suddenly quite blurred. 

Grimm kisses the side of his mouth before moving to the sink to wash his hands, or rather his hand, and freezes mid-rinse.

“. . .uhhh! UHCHISSHu!”  He sneezes against an arched shoulder, a most ineffective method of cover, but excruciatingly appealing just the same. 

“Sorry,” he says with sharp hiss of breath. “Didn't do it on purpose.” 

“I know.” Indigo buttons his pants, leaves his shirt untucked. He crosses the distance that separates them with slightly unsteady steps. “And bless you.”

“Thanks.” Grimm wipes his hand on the kitchen towel. “Hope I don't get you sick or some shit.”

“Nonsense.” Indigo rests a hand upon his back, away from his still healing injury. “Your shirt. . . “

“Soaked in sweat?” Grimm sniffles with a sharp, liquid sound. “Yeah. Just walking fucks me up sometimes.” 

“You are still healing,” Indigo, aka Captain Obvious, says. 

Good grief. 

“Yeah. I'm – huh. . .!”  Grimm snatches the towel from the counter and buries his nose in it. “--uhhSSSCH! UhSCHHHt!”  He glances at Indigo with bleary, unfocused eyes. “Fuuuuck me,  I'm done with this shit.” 

Indigo, meanwhile, is just plain done.

“Bless you, Grimm,” Indigo says, but the words are so full of such purring appreciation that he briefly considers taking a dagger to his treacherous tongue.

The other man smiles in that cocky, unnecessarily attractive way of his and sniffles. “That do it for you, Indy?”

Honestly. . . 

Indigo huffs. Tosses both hands in the air in what is most certainly a comical gesture of frustration. 

“Yes, for gods’ sakes, yes! Yes, you positively infuriating bastard!” Indigo rakes a hand through his disheveled hair, further displacing the long layers into wild disarray.  “Yes, that ‘does it for me.’ You do it for me! And I despise that fact with every fiber of my. . .”

Indigo's tirade trails into abrupt silence, as if shocked into awareness by his own absurdly impassioned outburst.

Grimm blinks. Tosses the towel who knows where. “Well, shit. I'm hard as fuck now.”

Indigo doesn't just laugh. He cackles in an almost hysterical manner.  

This infuriating, absurdly attractive, incessantly obnoxious–

“Hey.”  Grimm slides his fingers through the belt loops of Indigo’s pants.  “Whatever you’re thinkin’, shut it up.”

“You haven’t the faintest idea what I might be thinking.”  Indigo doesn’t realize he’s backed himself into the connected corners of the counter space until there is no room left for escape. 

Grimm nuzzles his ear, his breath a hot, lurid counterpart to the rumble of that impossibly deep voice. “Mmm, I might have an idea.”  

The other man is kissing him again, the slow, passionate exploration of his mouth like something romantic and lurid at once.

Beneath the touch of Grimm’s hands, Indigo trembles. “Grimm, I . . . do not know if I am ready for . . . “

More kissing.  More bending him to Grimm’s will by simple touch alone.

“You know what you need?”

Well, he could certainly think of a few things, all of them quite heated. 

Grimm pulls back to a respectful distance, one hand lingering on Indigo’s pale cheek.  “Let’s do the dinner thing.  I’ll put on a decent shirt, call up Rex and make some kind of deal with him to drive us somewhere.”  He smiles in that cocky, sensual way of his.  “How about it?” 

Indigo blinks.  “Are you . . . asking to court me?”

The back of Grimm’s hand brushes the line of his jaw.  “Isn’t that what you want?”

Grimm shrugs his good shoulder.  “Whatever gets you off.” 

“Well, I—” Indigo stops himself from automatic, practiced refusal and inhales with a steadying breath.  “Alright.  But please, allow me to make the travel arrangements for the evening.” 

Great gods.

“So it is, then. Six p.m.” Indigo says.  He taps the tip of Grimm’s nose with one finger.  “Do not make me wait.” 

“Fucking bossy.”  Grimm kisses the side of his mouth and gives his backside a playful swat.  “Now, get out.  I gotta finish with this gun before I can polish my damn self.” 

In spite of himself, Indigo chuckles.  

Well, then.  A most unexpected turn of events.

[galaxytoons]

more Passive Noot Noot because I love him

This man needs a hug so bad

nightmare belongs to @jokublog

[umbrace-rambles]

Doflamingo's creep factor to find out the most intrincate ways to mentally fuck you up are off the roof

[kedreeva]

Keep your FUCKING cats inside your FUCKING houses. Period. Some asshole outdoor cat just killed one of my birds, on MY property, inside of MY barn, inside their own caging. Not one of the peafowl, thank fucking god, but I'm LIVID right now

[front-facing-pokemon]

[disastersteps]

they're watching anita gaming (itsalanwake2shhh) + julia giving theory commentary and mortum's just there for the ride!

[starswallowingsea]

woah....

[anemia-rp]

x

[citrus-sours]

thinking soooo hard about him. hes so cute. i need to go thru the manga and all the other shit and compile a Honenuki folder. because im normal.

[kingkenji]

if i wasnt in a happy and straight up fantastic relationship with @the-realnazeera i would start hitting on some of these bots because my god are they fine

[natsmagi]

FOR REAL I GET SO MAD WHEN I SEE POSTS LIKE "eww why are ntsmg fans such weirdos!! They dont deserve to have natsume/tsumugi as their favs!!" Like first of all we're not hurting anybody pls let us LIVE, second of all Have You Seen the Characters in Question. Like if we're freaks then what does that make THEM!??!? If they were real theyd be the freaks ur complaining abt!!! TL;DR natsumugi loser weirdo freaks canon and im here for it. Also that alice natsume is so CUUUUTE

ITS KIND OF ODD TBH ?? like obviously i get that not everyones going to like the same stuff but like. if you dont like characters being weird, why do You then also like ntmg.......? if its someone who doesnt ship them thats complaining then fine whatever but its so weird to me when people who claim to ship them make these complaints bc its like?? then why do you ship them???? do you Only like the bits where the two of them are being sweet to each other? do you only like their angsty backstory? do you only like the comedic relief? i have a hard time grasping the idea of dedicating yourself to a pair or character without loving (or at the very least tolerating) every aspect of them........ have these people read the stories? or are they being deliberately oblivious? i have no idea

it makes me really sad how people are so afraid of being seen as "weird" though. too often that word comes with negative connotations when that doesnt need to be the case at all, and i wish these people would stop living in fear and surrounding themselves with those who judge people based off how Socially Normal (according to a christian society) they are

also i just get annoyed seeing ntmg get watered down to some idealized couple completely stripped from their complexities to better fit what we're taught is Morally Correct (according to puritanical beliefs) or reduced to a comedic duo SHDKJFHD

[suckinitup]

i desperately want to know how tide and wavelengths powers interact. and i CANT, because we still dont know the specifics of wavelengths power, and thats Agony. hes some sort of power source. he can exert that externally, at least a little, which we know from his little show in the prison the first time we saw him again in s2. then its just bad memory and theory work. his name is wavelength. oxford defines wavelength as so: “the distance between successive crests of a wave, especially points in a sound wave or electromagnetic wave.”

the sound wave thing is EXTRA interesting, considering that trick he pulled with ashe in s1 that let him keep the sound confined to a specific room, even with the door open. that may not have been a gadget that may have been Him, or some quirk of his suit that enhanced that ability. The distance between successive crests of a wave… agat the fuck would that even Look like. would it look like anything. would wavelength be able to affect water waves at all?? he cant affect light- not on his own, anyway, unless im misremembering him needing a gadget to keep the hologram up when he took down lightspeed. does he just electrocute the fuck out of the water?? how the hell would tide deal with that. i wanna watch them kick each others asses so sososo badi want to watch them go HAM

[mask131]

Twice in a row. I am so fucking tired.