#jesus CHRIST this took AGES

[waywardsalt]

I finally finished Bidoof’s Wish. Only took a few hours

[evilfloralfoolery]

Damn Lilies - Part 1

It's first date time between Grimm and Indigo. There's rain. And lilies. And lots of witty banter.

Oh, and Grimm is a total allergic bastard.

____________________________________

“That was some real red carpet shit, Indy.” Grimm reaches across the distance that separates them and lays a hand atop Indigo's own. “But you don't have to impress me. I'm a cheap date.”

Indigo chuckles at Grimm's reference to the limousine . “Well, if one has the access to such things, why not make use of it?” 

Grimm smirks. “I’ll take you for a ride in my armored Suburban next time. Give ya a little Secret Service style.” 

The hand has taken to a lazy caress, something that Indigo normally would not tolerate, but the “kitchen incident” has blurred the lines between them.

“Hey.” Grimm's booted foot nudges his shoe. “Thanks again for the shoulder thing. Damn thing doesn't even hurt now.”

Indigo does not mention that sharing healing ability is a sure sign that their bond is, in fact, beginning to take hold, consummated or not.

The sky chooses the moment they step foot onto the sidewalk to relinquish its hold upon the apparent torrential downpour contained within the gray clouds and Indigo shields his forehead with one hand in an effort to save his vision from being obscured by water.

An arm loops through his own, securing him against the other man's side and Indigo finds himself escorted from the street before he can object.  The two of them huddle beneath the nearest canopy, the edges of Indigo's hair curling to wisps of ringlets with the intrusion of moisture.

"Wretched weather," Indigo says.  "One never knows if an umbrella is needed."

"Hmn, tell me about it."  Grimm has a short conversation with the hostess before turning back to Indigo. “Forty-five minute wait. Damn.” He flashes a smile to Indigo that is a pleasant, charming contrast to his chiseled features.  "Wanna do something a little less fancy? We can sit in the courtyard.  It’s covered and shit."

Despite his rather damp countenance, Indigo finds himself returning the smile before he can manage to suppress it.  "Yes, well.  I suppose that would do."  He glances up at the rumbling sky and frowns just a touch.  "Perhaps if we wait a moment or two, this mess will relent enough to grant us a drier passage."  

"It’s like fifty feet, Indy."  Grimm stiffens for a moment, expression collapsing into a vulnerable sort of desperation.  He ducks into the crook of his elbow and turns away from Indigo just enough to muffle a sudden “Hh’CHISSH!”  into the crook of his elbow. "Sorry."  He passes the back of his hand beneath his nose with a sniffle.  "Don't know what it is about rain and my damn sinuses."

"Well," Indigo says after offering him a mildly stated blessing.  “It is one of your more charming qualities." 

"Ha ha, you fucker."  Grimm offers him a crooked smile before glancing back towards the sidewalk.  "Come on.  Promise you won’t mess up your hair." 

Indigo's gaze is calm.  "Is that so?  Well."  He nods towards the slackening rain.  "I suppose this is as good a time as any, then.  Shall we make a run for it?"

Grimm arches an eyebrow.  "A run?  Indy, it’s seriously right there."

Such self-assured banter.  How strangely endearing it seems at this point.  Perhaps the barometric pressure has compressed his own common sense. 

Grimm steps aside to hold the gate open and Indigo suppresses a smile.  Casual chivalry is a most befitting quality, especially with this man, who seems trained in courtly mannerisms, yet rarely chooses to display it.  A fine treat, indeed. 

"Damn," Grimm says, one hand upon his now-growling stomach.  "Didn't realize I was that fucking hungry."  He pauses just before their appointed table, features slackening, and flinches into another “Hh’CHISSSHu!”

"Bless you," Indigo says.  "Might I suggest a bit of tea instead of wine?  You most certainly sound as if you could use it."

"Yeah?"  Grimm's stare travels the length of his body in a flash of appraisal and Indigo resists the urge to bite his bottom lip. “I'm not that wet."

Well, no.  Grimm is not soaked to the bone by any means, but the material of his dress shirt clinging to his chest in a manner that borders on obscene.  His every curve is highlighted by the pull of fabric, as if it has been painted on rather than merely worn.

Great gods. 

Grimm's attention is currently fixated not upon Indigo himself, but rather upon the rather ridiculous bouquet of lilies shoved into the crystal vase atop the outside table.  He would have to push the thing aside simply so that he could properly see Grimm's face.

Ridiculous decorative faux pas at best.

Grimm brushes a finger over the velvety yellow petal. “Hmmn, you allergic to these?”

“To lilies? No, actually.” Indigo ruffles the back of his hair in an unconscious gesture with just a hint of a laugh. “Difficult to believe, I know.”

“That's weird,” Grimm says. His lips curve into a nefarious smile. “Because I am.”

Indigo blinks. Sits up straighter. “What. . . did you say?”

“Yeah.” Grimm toys with the tip of one petal. “Hella allergic.”

“Grimm.” Indigo levels his stare at his deviously smirking companion. “If this is your idea of some manner of joke-”

“Hmn.” Grimm sits back in his chair, casually sips his water as if this is not a highly concerning development. “Guess you'll just have to see for yourself.”

Indigo certainly isn’t laughing, especially when Grimm brushes a finger beneath his eye and sniffles.

“Somethin’ wrong, Indy?” Grimm leans back in his chair, a pilfered petal between his fingers.

“Grimm, I swear to all of the gods . . .”  

“All of them?”  Grimm arches an eyebrow.  “Sounds excessive.” 

Indigo adjusts his glasses as he leans forward to touch a finger to Grimm’s glass of water, the liquid sizzling to vapor before frosting over to ice, the glass itself cracking down the center.  “You have yet to see excessive.” 

“All I’m seein’ is dramatic,” Grimm says. 

But he flicks Indigo’s fork off the table with a decisive ping just the same.

Indigo narrows his eyes.  “Did you just . . .”

“Yeah, I did.”  Grimm lays an arm on the table and leans closer.  “I ain’t afraid to flick your knife, either.”  

One silver eyebrow arches high.  “In public?”

Grimm stops salaciously groping the nearest lily for a moment.  “I’ll stroke your stamen, too.” 

Indigo’s tone and stare deadpan. “Floral fondling is not my particular predilection.” 

Grimm doesn’t just laugh.  He throws his head back and guffaws without concern for any attention such a thing might draw.  An admirable quality, if Indigo is being honest with himself.

That and his absurd ability to sneeze at the most inopportune of times.  Mid-laugh, perhaps.

"Again, bless you," Indigo says.  He props an arm on the table and glances at the man over the rims of his glasses.  "Should I spare you the sentiment or are you just going to keep at it?"

Grimm flashes him a crooked smile that is both disarming and cocky.  "Thanks. I think."  He cants his head to one side and strokes the fine mesh of hair that edges his chin.  "Anything else, smartass?"

"Not at the moment," Indigo says.

The smirk curves into a sharper angle as the man leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.  "You're a real piece of work." 

Indigo allows his gaze to linger on the swell of Grimm's bicep through his shirt and follows the line of muscle down his torso.

Speak for yourself, he thinks.

"That's quite an impressive piece of art," Indigo says, nodding towards Grimm's exposed forearm.  "How long does something of that nature take?"

"The tatt?"  Grimm glances at his arm with a shrug.  "Forty hours maybe?  Not all at once, of course."  He pilfers Indigo's water without asking and takes a sip, winking at Indigo over the rim of the glass.  "Tattoo artist can't hold a machine that long."  

"Of course," Indigo says.  "I can imagine piercing that thick skin of yours takes more patience than one man can muster in a single session."

A hand lights upon his own and Indigo startles, flicking his gaze to where Grimm's meaty palm covers the tops his fingers.

"I enjoy this, you know," Grimm says.  "Us giving each other shit."  Golden brown eyes fix him with a pointed stare.  "I enjoy you. "  

Color threatens to rise in Indigo's fair skin, but he manages to quell the sensation with a soft clearing of his throat as he moves a finger beneath Grimm's hand in subtle reciprocation.

"I enjoy this as well," Indigo says.  "It's been quite some time since I--"  He pauses, doing his best to affect a bland stare as Grimm withdraws his hand and flinches into another sneeze with far less warning than before.  "Oh, bloody hell, Grimm."

"Heh, sorry."  Grimm rubs at his nose with a sniff.  "Damn lilies."

Indeed.

Their conversation turns to filling in the gaps of the past week, Indigo sharing the details of his trials with “book editing” and Grimm explaining the significance of the tattoo.

"So, knives, huh.” Grimm takes a bite of his steak and chews thoughtfully.  “How long you train for something like that?"

"Not long," Indigo says with a laugh.  "Just my entire life.” 

“Same,” Grimm says.  “But if you ask my dad, I was born for shooting shit.”

Indigo sips his water out of the far too fancy glass in which it had been delivered.  “And what of your hand-to-hand skills?”

"I’ve got ‘em."  One booted foot nudges his ankle.  "We should spar sometime." 

Indigo sets his glass down with a smirk.  "You think so?  I would so hate to embarrass you, Grimm." 

The other man snorts.  "Asshole."

Indigo chuckles.

They eat in silence for a moment, neither feeling the need to fill the void with conversation. Strange how Indigo had never noticed his level of comfort with Grimm until this moment.

“I gotta finish this damn tatt,” Grimm says at last.  “Just having linework here bothers me.” 

He tugs at the fabric for better access to his shoulder, runs his palm over his collarbone.  "See that shit? Looks weird just sitting there."

Indigo swallows.  Gods, the gesture is positively obscene somehow, even more so when yet another button pops open, which Grimm does not seem to notice.

Grimm’s lips curve into that self-satisfied smirk.  “See somethin’ you like, Indy?”

Indigo frowns. His concern, however, is not with Grimm’s teasing.  It is when that saucy grin dissolves into a hitching excuse for breath that he ceases to find humor in the situation. 

Grimms gaze becomes an unfocused, long-distance stare, his lips parting, eyes drifting to half-mast.

Oh. Oh gods.

"Uh'CHIISH!" A staggering inhalation. A helpless gasp.  "Uh--CHISSHu! . . . Hhuh'CHISSH!"

Indigo swallows past the lump of incredulity in his throat and manages the beginnings of a polite "bless you" before Grimm interrupts the sentiment with another sneeze.  And another.  

"Huh--CHISSH'u! . . . Hh'CHIISSH-uh! . . . Hhhuh . . !"  The corner of Grimm's lip curls into a snarl of desperation and he switches from ducking into the crook of his elbow to steepling both hands over his mouth and nose with a shuddering flinch of shoulders.  "Uh'CHISSHu! . . .Hkg'CHISSSH'u! . . . Huh . . ! Hhh . . !  -uhCHISSCH'iiuh!" 

A handkerchief.  He is definitely in dire need of one.  Indigo pats the front of his pants with a frown.  Where had he put the blasted----

At last, he remembers that he has the ability to actually conjure one and does so with a fumbling of fingers, nearly dropping it before he manages to hand it over to his still struggling companion.

"H-here," he says.  Stammers.  

For fuck's sake, Indigo.

"Thanks, Idii--iiih . . .!"  Grimm buries his nose in the half-folded cloth with a sharp, shuddering inhalation.  

"Hkgg'CHIISSSHu!"  He leaves the fabric clamped there for a moment before straightening with liquid sniffle and a roll of his shoulders.  "Well, damn."

Indigo blinks.  Well, isn't that just the understatement of the century.

"Bless you, Grimm!" he says after far too many heartbeats of hesitation.  "Are you quite finished, then?"

"Mmmm, dunno."  Grimm wipes at his nose with a sniffle.  "Hard to tell . . hheh . . .! Huuh . . .!"  He squints into the distance before the helpless slackening of his features reforms into a tired semblance of normality.  "Hnn, fuck."  

A trickle of sweat edges its way down the back of Indigo’s neck and he straightens into a rigid posture. 

The bastard.  The absolute bastard.  

This was more than purposeful, that’s what it was.  This was planned.  Surely it must be.  

But when Grimm wipes at a trail of allergic tears, the frantic turbulence of Indigo's hormones comes to an abrupt halt and his demeanor softens from cordial to concerned in a mere instant.

"Perhaps that is enough of your nonsense," he says.  He adjusts his glasses and tilts his head, eying Grimm over the rims.  "Despite your antics, you sound as if you are truly suffering."  

"I might be."  Grimm shrugs a shoulder.  "Doesn't matter, though." His expression switches to coy expectation.  “Not if it gets you off.”   

“Honestly–”

"I said what I said.”

"Hmn," Indigo says.  "Well, far be it for me to tell you what to do, Grimm--"

"But you will anyway," Grimm finishes with a smirk.  

“You shall regret your allergic mischief later,” Indigo assures him.

“Yeah?”  Grimm runs a booted foot up his trouser leg like a wandering, lascivious hand.  “Wanna borrow my handcuffs?”  

It is now Indigo’s turn to smile in a manner that is both chilling and sinful, a pale hint of blue fire encircling his own wrist.  “I prefer other methods.” 

Grimm runs a hand through his hair and smirks. “Kinky.”

[corpocyborg]

(⊙ˍ⊙)

[ao3fujoshevik]

rock lee isn't the only one who instantly falls in love with a pretty girl at the chūnin exams

[bloomingdead]

“You’re telling me it’s fine that the choices don’t matter?!?” No, we’re telling you that you’re wasting your energy being angry because it’s already decided.

[semi-entropy]

image base of a poster for the government inspector

[fingertipsmp3]

Why has skincare got to be so… much

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Having someone in the comments of one of my fics accuse me of using AI to write my fics by admitting that they had an "identical" conversation on the platform they spend hours on is a wild experience

I almost feel bad that I told the two lovely angels that beta-read my fics about it and therefore gave them the opportunity to yell at a rando on the internet

... Almost

[dullahandyke]

And that's another thing. I reckon I've done a pretty decent job of excising the culturally Christian values from my mind (obvi not fully but getting there) but if theres one thing I do hold out hope in, it's a very obviously Christian angel swooping down from heaven to be my caretaker and hold my hand. I miss her where is she. Cant look at historical art of angels bcos I'm reminded of her and I get sad

[spn-lesbian]

Misha's voice acting in the new Bridgewater episode is so amazing damn

[skrunksthatwunk]

not to doomer post. but. american politics is like here's a conservative warmonger who wants to burn you alive personally and here's a different conservative warmonger who definitely wouldn't stop someone from burning you alive BUT who might raise the minimum wage by $0.30/hour for you, but only like eight years from now (so re-elect me please!! >w<). yes one of them has to be president they are the only two options we'll let you have. no neither of them will stop the government from killing you or anyone else, but at least one will say "it's kind of bad to kill people :( someone should really do something about that..." while giving the people-killers $20,000,000,000,000 to keep doing it then saying they can't afford to help you at all, but oh shucks, maybe next cycle, if you vote for me again! and also everyone will pretend as though they are extremely different political entities covering two highly polarized ends of the political spectrum despite nearly identical policy views obscured by their slightly different ways of addressing their target audiences, many of whom are also conservative warmongers. and also if you don't vote or vote third party the other guy will win and you will watch as they burn everyone you love alive in the same way they've burned so many strangers so you kind of feel like you have to vote for the other warmonger because even though they both have blood on their hands you'll take a handshake over an uppercut. even if you can still see the bodies piling up behind them. even if you can only save like five people you know and not the thousands of people who are dying in the other room. because you believe the difference between 30,000 and 30,005 is still worth it even though no one needed to die in the first place and no one seems to agree with you. you have to keep living in this world every day. if anything changes it will take decades and it will never be enough. if this takes a toll on you good fucking luck surviving off the generosity of the warmonger state that claims to serve you. happy voting!!

[yea-baiyi]

I’m not on twitter but I see this type of sentiment commonly on here and I have to ask - what are they posting over there that gets people here in such frustration??

mpreg. animal hybrids. omegaverse. really weird and ooc modern aus. the worst most surface level character takes you’ve ever seen in your life.

things i listed above are in descending order of frequency by the way. (why is there so much mpreg on there. why. why are they so obsessed with men getting pregnant. it is inescapable.)

[bioswear]

Imagine being so young as 22 and having a Light Yagami level breakdown when faced with the concept of human mortality while publicly reblogging your over the top, utterly hysterical responses without picking up that people are trolling you

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley with a user who basically kidnaps herself. CW : Masturbation, mentions of oral

It started with the little things. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise more frequently. You heard heavy breathing and a slick sound at night coming from your slightly open window. A blank account following your public instagram account.

You then started seeing him. A tall burly man that seemed to always appear In the corner of your eye. You never saw his face because of the balaclava he wore. And that frustrated you.

Hell, if a guy is going to stalk you, the least he can do is not hide his face.

Eventually, you got sick of it. You let the brute of a man follow you home as usual. Let him watch you 'sleep' through your window while he fisted his cock. And then when he went home, you followed him.

You honestly thought he'd catch you. Feel you watching him. Following him home. But it seemed that his post orgasmic haze rendered him vulnerable.

You followed the man to a nice looking home. Not huge or anything, but It was cozy.

You then watched through a window as he drank a glass of whiskey, before walking through the home to his bedroom.

You quickly rushed to the bedroom window, glad the blinds weren't fully shut.

The man then sat down on his bed, pulling something from his bedside drawer-hey wait, are those your fucking panties you lost? Sneaky bastard. Those are your favourite.

And now he's fisting his cock again. Only this time, he's taken off that stupid balaclava to sniff them and-oh.

Oh.

Fuck, he's hot.

Those scars, the dirty blonde hair, the slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, Jesus H Christ.

Yeah. To say you were thinking of this mans face between your thighs was an understatement. He might genuinely be one of the hottest men you've ever seen.

You quickly went home, going to the blank account that had followed you, and with a few clicks, you found the guys private instagram. Simon Riley. He's not the only person who's good at stalking.

You then found out that he was in the military. A Lieutenant. Seemed to be really private. No matter though, you already knew where he lived.

The following day, you took the day off work, and broke into Simon's home. Moving almost all of your stuff in. He wouldn't mind.

Then, when Simon walked into his house he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you, sipping from one of his mugs, on his couch.

The woman he'd been stalking for nearly a year.

"I-what-what are you doing here?" He muttered, eyes wide as he took off his balaclava.

"You should have shown me your face earlier. I would have moved in ages ago" you shrugged.

"Moved in?" Simon almost squeaked.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

before you all panic, yes. There will be a part two :p

Edit! ~ there's a part 2 you thirsty animals ⟢ right here! ❤︎

[okcoolthanks]

How to stop feeling like an awful person after accidentally crossing someone’s boundary even though you talked to them about it and apologized and know you won’t do it again and they understood it was an accident and it’s fine and you two are still on good terms

[29121996]

.