#probs for another post

[fyrewalks]

bob was nineteen and drunk when he got his tattoo, a bumblebee with his sister's name an inch or so above his elbow, though he won't say that he was. bob claims young impulsiveness whenever asked. you have to know him to know it's a lie. you have to know that at this point in his life, he was showing up to lectures hungover with only vague memories of the night before. weekends were always a complete blur. regret isn't the right word for what he feels when he looks at the tattoo now; he certainly doesn't regret having such a tribute for his sister, but there's no denying the conflicted feelings knowing that he wouldn't have gotten it if things had been different - if he'd been talking to his parents or more caring of his faith. for that reason, he generally avoids the question if asked about getting another. saying no, which is the likely answer, invites too much scrutiny he'd rather do without. as it is, being the odd one out not drinking at a bar brings enough unwanted attention.

[melioristicbeast]

they're on a boat

wanted to capture the serenity of being out on the water on a warm afternoon

(they're listening to derek's playlist for once, rec under the cut)

[find this and my other sterek art on Redbubble!]

Had this on repeat while drawing it, thought the melancholic vibes fit ♥

[linterteatime]

The devil itself and some other bugs

More gijinkas here!

[thebrainrotsreal]

Was pondering how Mark’s rigid ass mask/lens is prob a Budget Thing (since squishy, bendy lens are pretty much a mandate for all hero animated series, like JL, BTAS, TNBA, Spider-Man, etc), and then I was slapped with a vision of Mark in a more JL/BTAS-ish style and I had to see it through. I am a genius btw.

[hyruling]

I've been scrolling down your blog all morning going through your drabbles and fics on my day off like you're the news channel, so if you are still accepting prompt and feel inspired by it, I'd like to submit n.21 🌞 btw your writing is incredible!!!!!

21. kissing the other’s brow & 38. stroking their leg

—

It’s late when they get home, their shift having run over by two hours thanks to a high rise fire that took the efforts of three additional houses to get under control. Buck and Eddie had scaled at least fourteen flights of stairs alone, then back down and up again when they found a few stragglers along the way, and Buck doesn’t remember ever being so tired in his life.

He shuffles into the house behind Eddie, trying to hide the way he’s limping. It’s probably no use — Eddie is too astute, and he’s sure he saw the way Buck had to grit his teeth when he took off his boots back at the station. But if he can just get into the bathtub and then into bed he’ll be fine. They have plans to take Chris and his friends to the beach tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to give Eddie any reason to think they should cancel.

Buck goes into the kitchen first to grab a bottle of water while Eddie checks in on Chris, who’s already asleep by the sounds of it. When Buck emerges, Eddie is down the hall and closing the door of the bathroom behind him. Damn.

It’s his night on the couch. He should make up his bed, but his leg is screaming and it’s all he can do to ease himself onto it without yelping in pain. He reclines and elevates it over the back of the couch with a private little wince and closes his eyes.

The next thing he’s aware of is Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him awake.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asks him.

Buck blinks, eyes bleary from the few minutes of sleep he must’ve nabbed. “I—yeah, sure.”

He moves too quickly, and there’s no way Eddie misses the way his face contorts in pain from it. He’s right there, helping Buck stand, and easily supports his weight when his leg threatens to give out.

“Sorry,” Buck hisses in his ear, gripping his shoulder for balance. “I’ll be okay in a sec.”

Eddie just tightens his hold on Buck’s waist. “Take your time bud.”

Buck stretches until he thinks he can reasonably put weight on it again, and when he nods Eddie helps him down the hall. So much for hiding it.

“Promise I’m still good for tomorrow,” Buck gets out through a clenched jaw.

“Don’t worry about that. C’mon.”

They pass the bedroom, and when Buck makes an inquisitive little noise Eddie just keeps walking him towards the bathroom.

The bath is full of warm water when they step in. Stream curls from the top of the water, slightly cloudy and heavenly looking.

“I put in some of those CBD bath salts,” Eddie tells him, releasing him at last to dig a clean towel out of the closet. “And I think there’s still some of the cream left we can put on after. Do you need one of your pills, or did you take one?”

Buck doesn’t answer for a minute, choking back the sudden lump in his throat. Eddie’s exhausted too — he climbed the same amount of stairs, carried the same amount of people as Buck. He can see in the droop shoulders and his half-lidded eyes that he’s tired, and he still took the time to do this for him. No one’s ever known him this way, cared for him the way Eddie does, save for Maddie, and it overwhelms him at times like this.

“Buck?”

Eddie’s voice breaks him out of his little reverie. He blinks a few times, croaks, “Y-yeah?”

“Do you need your medicine?”

Buck swallows and nods. “Uh, yeah. Probably should. They’re in my bag.”

Eddie nods. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring it to you.”

Buck undresses when he leaves, and gingerly lowers himself into the water. It’s perfect, and he immediately feels his muscles relax, his leg practically singing in relief.

Eddie comes back in a minute later and crouches to set Buck’s medicine and bottle of water on the edge of the tub. Buck’s not the least bit self conscious — Eddie’s seen him naked before, more than once, and it’s not like he can really see anything with the way Buck has his leg crooked. But he wouldn’t care if he could, and that feels significant in a way he doesn’t have the energy to examine.

“Need anything else?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “No, this is perfect. Thank you Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Buck’s brow as he straightens. “Soak for at least thirty minutes. Holler if you need me.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Buck staring after him like a fish out of water.

Any chance of relaxation goes out the window. He tells himself it’s no big deal; it was probably just one of Eddie’s dad reflexes. He’s seen him do the same thing when giving Chris medicine countless times. It doesn’t mean anything, it can’t, and yet Buck feels the ghost of his lips between his eyes like a sting.

He swallows the pill and soaks until the water goes cold, and his leg is somewhat better after — he can at least put weight on it when he stands. His mind buzzes while he finishes his nightly routine, and it’s almost enough to drown out the constant diatribe of Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me racketing around his skull.

Almost.

Eddie is on the couch when he comes out, scrolling idly on his phone. He scoots over so Buck can sit next to him and pats his lap.

“Let me see.”

“It’s okay,” Buck says as he lowers himself down. “The bath helped.”

“And yet you’re still limping. C’mon, up.”

Buck sighs and swings his leg up, foot resting on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie pushes his sweats up to his knee and brushes his hand over Buck’s calf, just feeling, and Buck tries not to shiver. He knows he’s feeling for excess warmth, for evidence of a clot, and nods to himself when Buck apparently passes the test.

“Think you can handle a massage?” he asks.

Buck swallows hard. “Yeah, think so.”

Eddie nods again and reaches over to grab the bottle of CBD cream on the coffee table. He puts a generous amount in his palm and rubs his hands together, then starts massaging it gently into Buck’s calf.

It’s not the first time he’s done this for Buck, but it’s the first time since Eddie’s touch became something of a livewire; since every brush of arms at work or friendly shoulder clap made him ache for more, since he developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with Eddie’s hands. And with the memory of Eddie’s lips on his skin still fresh, it’s all he can do not to moan as those capable hands knead at his sore leg.

“Relax,” Eddie says quietly. “You’re tense as hell bud, that’s not gonna help.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, a little more breathless than he intends.

“Lean back,” Eddie instructs, and Buck complies. He relaxes against one of the throw pillows, and Eddie pulls his leg even closer. “Close your eyes, if you want.”

He does, if only so he doesn’t have to watch Eddie be so competent and gorgeous in the soft lamplight. Slowly, he does relax, Eddie’s ministrations finally taking effect. Buck’s all but a puddle of mush on the couch by the time his leg starts to feel more normal, and Eddie’s kneading turns into gentle stroking motions up and down his shin.

“Better?”

Buck sighs and nods. “Much. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a small squeeze of his calf.

Eddie doesn’t stop touching him. He keeps up the soft caress of Buck’s shin until he’s half asleep, until the vulnerable knife’s edge of consciousness turn his thoughts fuzzy and precarious. He thinks, I love you, and you should know.

Instead, what he says is, “Did you mean to kiss me?”

Eddie’s hand stops, and Buck chances opening his eyes. Eddie’s are on him, dark in the low light, and Buck can’t pin down his expression. It’s not horror, or regret, or any of the things he convinced himself of in the bath, so that’s something. In fact, his lips curl into a closed-mouth smile aimed at his lap.

“I did kiss you, didn’t I?”

Buck laughs, a little self deprecating. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, and glances down at his hand on Buck’s leg. He rubs a little circle into Buck’s shin with his thumb, still smiling softly. “Not exactly how I meant to do it.”

Buck’s heart tha-thums in his chest. “Meant to?”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, eyes flicking up to meet his, and Buck kind of thinks he might die.

“Well, I’d hoped it’d be more romantic than while you were naked and in pain in the bathtub.”

All the blood in his body rushes to his head like he’s on a rollercoaster, world suddenly flipped on its head. He sits up, jostling Eddie’s hand on his leg, but he just trails it down to hold Buck’s ankle instead. There’s still a faint blush on Eddie’s cheeks but he’s smiling expectantly, waiting for whatever response Buck has to that.

He’s coming up empty so far. The seconds stretch on in silence, until Eddie starts to look a little unsure.

“Buck?”

“You could try it now,” Buck says in a rush, hoping for once that first thought best thought is the right move. “If—I mean, this feels pretty—pretty romantic. To me.”

“Oh does it?” Eddie teases, and scoots closer, pulling Buck’s leg fully over his knees until his thigh rests on Eddie’s lap. Eddie puts a warm hand on his knee and squeezes.

“Mhm, definitely,” Buck agrees, nodding like a bobble head. “Most romantic moment of my life. By a lot.”

Eddie laughs, and cups Buck’s face with his free hand. The leftover cream on his hands makes Buck’s cheek tingle, and he waits, hardly daring to breathe while Eddie’s eyes track over his face. And then Eddie leans in and brushes his lips between his eyebrows.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

Eddie moves to his birthmark, pressing gentle kisses to the pink skin above his brow and on his eyelid. He kisses Buck’s cheeks and nose and then, just when Buck thinks his heart might actually give out, his waiting mouth.

It’s brief, and sweet, and the best kiss of his life. Eddie pulls back too soon and Buck tries to follow, but Eddie kisses his forehead again instead and leans back.

“That was more how I pictured it.”

And that’s a revelation in itself, one that he’s going to need a few weeks to process. Before he can stutter out a response, Eddie gently sets Buck’s leg on the floor and stands, offering his hand.

“C’mon. You’re not sleeping out here on that leg.”

Buck takes his hand, and Eddie pulls him to his feet. His leg barely even protests, but he sways closer to Eddie all the same.

“Eddie, I—you should know, I—”

Eddie silences him with another kiss. “Tell me tomorrow, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

—

[lizmidfordsblog]

Not me brainstorming a fic where our Cale gets knocked out or faints idk after spitting out blood again. Everyone thinks (because they’re literally so traumatized from this) it’s gonna go as normal: Cale is going to be unconscious for a few days (maybe weeks), wake up, eat a shit ton of steak, and then promptly drop some batshit crazy lore/new information so that he can immediately go back to work.

A week passes, then two, then three. Cale breaks his record of twenty one days in a coma. Everyone is worried but they try to stay calm, since this

had happened before and the best thing they can do is keep things running in Cale’s absence.

Then Cale wakes up around a month after, with no warning.

He looks around blankly, barely processing the people in front of him nor the baby dragon crying in his lap. He touches his hair for a bit, notes the fantasy setting & and the talking cats.

Then he looks at Choi Han and frowns. He keeps frowning long enough that Alberu steps in and says his signature “my dongsaeng is driving me nuts.”

Cale goes wide-eyed, head whipping towards Alberu.

Then he whispers.

“…The Dark Tiger?”

Alternatively, our Cale gets knocked out of his body. Who else wakes up in his absence but our baby Kim Rok Soo from the Sealed God Test?

Cue chaos.

[revasserium]

know, know better

suo hayato; 3,591 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", banter, so much flirting, mentions of bodily harm (its wind breaker lol), first!kisses, semi-whipped!suo, suo will break the world for the one he loves likes, suo is a jackass gentleman exhibit 329048293

summary: the only difference between a garden and a graveyard is what you decide to put in the ground

a/n: yes, i know i've used that metaphor before in another fic for another fandom. no, i do not care. yes, i will continue to reuse this metaphor bc i love it.

001.

He sees you for the first time on the roof, and for a second, he wonders if he’s hallucinating because — well, no one else wears dresses at Fuurin other than Tsubaki-chan and he’s certain he just saw them downstairs, arm slung through Umemiya’s, squealing about a new line of glittery eyeshadows that just launched over the weekend.

“Ah — excuse me!”

“I know, I know — but I couldn’t just let the poor cherry tomatoes suffer like this! Go tell Ume-nii that he’s been neglecting — oh!”

By the time you look up, Suo is already bending over your shoulder to peer politely down into the garden trough, his single eye wide and bright and curious.

“Uwah… you seem really good at this!”

You lick your lips, tasting salt, feeling an unfamiliar heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Uhm… yeah — well —” your clear your throat and turn back towards the cherry tomato plants, reaching out with a gloved hand to flick one of the budding green tomatoes, “these lil guys need a lot of sunlight and Ume-nii let them in a patch of shade, so I couldn’t just leave them there, yknow?”

You smile as you get to your feet, Suo backing up politely, his hands tucked behind his back, his eye following the graceful lilt of your movements, the lithe, slenderness of your arms and legs. He can’t help the way his gaze catches on the hem of your skirt, the way it brushes the creamy skin of your leg just above your knees.

He forces himself to look away.

“You… must be one of the new first-years, right? I heard Kotoha-chan talking about you guys!”

Your voice is clear as a bell-chime, and almost as sweet, but its your eyes he can’t stop himself from coming back to. Irises purled with gold, limned by dark lashes that cast shadows against the round of your cheeks. He feels something inside him stutter as he tries to focus back on the way you’re reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, how the other errant strands frame your face so perfectly that he has to fight down the urge to reach out and tug the slip of hair back down.

“… your name?”

“Hm?” Suo smiles before he realizes you’re waiting for him to say something, “Ah — apologies — how rude of me. Suo Hayato, it’s a pleasure.”

He dips his head in greeting as you extend a hand.

“Pleasure, huh?” you giggle as he takes your hand in his and shakes. Your skin is warm and soft, and Suo finds — for the first time in a long while — that he doesn’t really want to let go.

002.

He sees you the second time at Cafe Pothos, laughing behind the counter with Kotoha. He pauses in the doorway and lets the sound wash over him, even as you both look over at the sound of the doorbell.

“Oh! It’s you!” your smile sets his world spinning off on it’s axis and it’s all he can do to keep it from showing. Beside him, Sakura frowns.

“You know each other?”

Suo grins, stepping over the threshold to slip into one of the bar chairs.

“Yep! We met on the school roof the other day!”

“School roof — wait, I thought there weren’t any girls in Fuurin — unless —” Sakura cuts off as he whips back towards you, his eyes wide as he looks you over once, twice — before Kotoha rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers in front of his face.

“Oi! Quit ogling my friend — and no, there aren’t any girls in Fuurin, but we do have a delivery service for the VIP clients.” Kotoha winks as Sakura’s cheeks go pink. Suo props his chin on the heel of his hand and offers you a bright smile; your mirrored smile back makes his chest squeeze.

“So… how’re the cherry tomatoes doing?” you ask, reaching out to set a traditional tea service in front of Suo, your fingers light as they pluck a tiny porcelain cup from a shelf to place it on a small, bamboo tray.

“They’re getting really ripe! I’ve been checking on them like you asked…” Suo’s voice trails off as you go about the work of putting loose leaf tea in a tea bowl and warming it before pouring out the first wash of liquid.

“How… did you know I’d like this kind of tea?”

You grin, shrugging, “I just… had a feeling.”

“It’s her superpower,” Kotoha leans over with a sly smile, “she can usually guess a person’s favorite kind of food and drink within… about five minutes of getting to know them!”

“Oh stop it — it’s nothing like that! I just… had a hunch is all.” You glance up to catch Suo staring, his gaze so intense you almost fumble the teapot in your hands. It clinks against the empty cup, but before the cup has a chance to tumble off the table, Suo reaches out with a deft hand to catch it, placing it smoothly back onto the tea tray.

There’s a faint stutter in the fluidity of your movements as you blink at the cup now sitting innocently, perfectly centered, on the tray. And then you’re reaching out to fill the cup with a steaming, golden liquid, fragrant enough to fill half the room. Even Sakura leans over with a curious sniff.

“Whoa. Smells good,” he says, “smells like…”

Suo smiles, reaching down to trace a finger along the razor-thin rim of the tiny glass, “Smells like flowers.”

003.

You are young in all the ways that teenage girls can be young, and old in the all the ways that people have to be in Makochi. Your ribs hurt, your lip’s split, and there’s an ache settling over your right eye that tells you there’s probably an incredible bruise blooming into existence there.

“Ouch… damnit… I’ve really… done it this time…” you groan as you try to push yourself up off the dark alley wall. You wiggle each of your fingers in turn and say a silent prayer when you find that they all respond. Good, you think, so nothing’s broken. **

Not yet, at least.

Footsteps to your right. Light, but hurried. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for the worst but instead — there’s only warmth, and a soft palm cupping the curve of your face.

“Hey… it’s okay — you’re alright.”

“S-Suo…kun?”

“That’s right — it’s me —” a soft, exasperated sigh, “we were looking for you afternoon —” arms wrapping around you, lifting you up. You hear the soft rustle of bags and groan as you try to reach out but a firm hand stops you.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

He doesn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounds just as measured as he usually is. But pressed up against his chest like this, you can feel the wild, racehorse hoofbeats of his heart, feel the shakiness in his every breath. His fingers are tight as he cradles you to him, carrying you from the alleyway.

“I wanted… yokan…” your voice is hoarse, and a bit ragged. Suo casts his eyes up toward the sunset sky and counts down from ten.

When he’s certain his voice won’t shake, he says —

“Eh? But the Minami tea store always sells really good yokan — why’d you… ah… you wanted to get the famous mizu yokan from across the tracks, didn’t you?” Suo sighs, gently adjusting his hold around your body, pressing you ever closer to his chest. Your breathing is shallow but even; like this, he can almost hear the faint fluttering of your heart deep inside your chest, see the soft quiver of your lashes as you shift in his arms.

“Silly girl,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips into the seam of your hair, “next time, just tell me and I’ll go with you.”

He can sense your consciousness fading, and though the logical part of him knows that you’re in no immediate danger, he still hastens his steps, his stomach twisting inside him like a wrung-out towel, dry and aching.

“But…” he leans in; your voice is barely a whisper. He almost jumps as you reach up to trace a finger along his eyepatch, “Then it wouldn’t have been… a surprise.”

004.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Wow! Thank you!” Suo blinks for a second before his expression breaks into a bright smile. He’d had an inkling, after the “yokan-incident”, that this might’ve been the reason. But still, it twists something deep inside his gut to know that you’d gotten so hurt because of — well — something to do with him.

Even unsolicited. Even then. He detests the thought of it.

Nearly the entire first year class is there, and a good few students from the second and third years, crammed into Cafe Pothos. There’s a full traditional tea service set out on the tables, pieced together into the center of the room, and an array of tea snacks enough to make even the most ascetic eaters take pause.

“Suo-kun! C’mon, you shouldn’t keep everyone waiting, right?” Kotoha waves him towards the center table, where a multicolored display of mochis are placed in a barely legible “Happy Birthday”, each with a matching colored candle shoved into the middle.

“Sakura-kun did the mochis!” Nirei offers, pointing, seconds before Sakura smacks him upside the head.

“You don’t have’ta single it out!”

Suo takes his time, moving from person to person, chatting and laughing and thanking them in turn. There’s a softness pulsing inside him, something warm and growing, purring, curling up with a creamy, spine-deep contentment. Until he gets to you, busy wowing a group of first-year boys with your kung-fu tea skills, pouring the steaming water from higher and higher, never spilling a single drop.

“— the water can’t be too hot, or else the tea will get burnt — and that’s why sometimes —”

“Sometimes, when you make tea at home, it tastes awful and bitter, right?” Suo sits down, smiling even as he purposefully encroaches on the personal space of the freshman closest to you. To his credit, the freshman boy laughs, inching back as Suo props his chin on his palm and turns to look at them.

“A-ah… that’s really uh — cool! Wow — those shortcakes over there look really good — guys, let’s go grab some before they’re all gone!”

They scurry off, dipping their heads in your direction before ducking away.

“Mm… you’re lucky its your birthday,” you say, placing a warmed cup of tea in front of him, reaching over to slide over a glistening piece of mizu-yokan.

“Hm?” Suo takes a sip of the tea, savoring it’s depth of flavor, before taking a bite of the tea-snack.

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice to someone who’s driving off all my best customers,” you say, flashing him a knowing, indulgent smile. Suo doesn’t miss a beat.

“Your best customers?” he makes a show of pivoting towards where the clueless freshmen boys had run off to, now crowded around Sakura, laughing all too loudly, “if I didn’t know better… I’d say you need to raise your standards.”

You cock your head, hands pausing over a fresh pour of tea.

“But you do, don’t you?” you ask, resuming your movements. A second later, you place a fresh cup of tea in front of him.

“Don’t I… what?” he asks, playing at innocence.

“You should,” you parry, propping open the lid of the tiny teapot with two fingers, bending down to take a deep breath of the fragrant leaves.

The lid snaps back onto the pot with a solid click.

Suo blows at the surface of his teacup, pausing at the sound. He looks up to meet your knife-sharp gaze.

“Know — better.”

A shiver kisses up the length of his spine, and he nearly drops the fresh cup of tea. He clears his throat and takes a long sip. The heat drips down his throat, unfurling in his stomach, setting his whole body ablaze with the kind of fire that refuses to go out.

“Mm… this tea is delicious! Where’s it from?”

You shake your head, the motion just on the other side of innocent. But as you said — he knows better now.

“Somewhere… over the rainbow, I suppose.”

In a flicker, faster than a flash, he reaches out, fingers skimming along a thin line marring the perfect skin of your left cheek.

“This wasn’t there two days ago,” he says, almost casually, before his voice drops in register and his eyes go dark beneath his curtain of too-long lashes, “where’s it from?”

You make you shake off his hand but he’s too quick, catching your chin between two fingers.

“Don’t know. Must’ve been an accident.”

Suo tugs you towards him, his grip now bordering on too tight, “Ah… pretty girls like you shouldn’t make a habit of lying so much.”

You lick your lips, breath caught in your chest as you tug your face from his grasp, flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder.

“And pretty boys like you should really know better than to ask questions they don’t want to know the answers to.”

“And if I don’t?” Suo’s voice is sweet and soft and low. He sets down his empty teacup; you reach out to refill it.

“Don’t what?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

He catches your wrist, pulling up your sleeve before you can protest to reveal a series of dark bruises scattered up the length of your arm. The air around him seems to condense and cool as he stares for a second before his expression fixes itself back into one of detached sweetness.

“Know — better,” he answers, simply, letting his hand fall as you snatch your arm back, massaging the place where his fingers had been.

You narrow your eyes, but before you can say anything else, a group of boys all stumble over, singing loudly as they pull Suo back towards the center of the room, where yet another cake has materialized out of god knows where. He laughs, clapping along, blowing out the candles on instruction.

But for the rest of the night, you can’t help feeling the weight of his eyes on you, though you never again catch him staring.

005.

“They’re doing well, aren’t they?”

You jump, jerking upright even as Suo approaches you on the rooftop garden, hands laced behind his back, his earrings fluttering in the light breeze.

“Y-yeah. They really are.” You turn back to your cherry tomato plants, a few of them ripe to bursting. You reach out to pluck one off a vine, turning to offer it to the boy crouching down next to you.

He takes it from you, examining it for a second before popping into his mouth.

“Mm… sweet!”

You laugh, reaching out to tug another one off the vine. You bite into the soft flesh, feeling the explosion of flavor on your tongue.

“So much better than the ones from the supermarket, right?”

Suo sighs, nodding, but his expression sobers a second later.

“You shouldn’t have done that — just for my birthday.”

You pause, hands halfway towards another tomato. Suo reaches out to pluck it for you. As he presses it into your hand, you sigh, shaking your head.

“I didn’t do it just for you.”

“Oh?”

You roll the bright red fruit between your thumb and forefingers, holding it up to the light.

“Do you know what the difference is between a garden and a graveyard?” you ask, dropping your hand back down, your eyes trained on the plump little tomato now sitting in the palm of your hand.

“Tell me,” Suo says, watching you intently.

You turn to glance at him, a sad little smile on your lips.

“What you choose to put in the ground,” you say, before reaching out to press the cherry tomato to his lips. Suo blinks at you for a second before slowly opening his mouth to let the tomato slip through. He bites down, doesn’t reach up to wipe at the thin streak of juice slicking down his chin. He watches as your eyes flicker down, feels the pad of your thumb swipe across his skin.

He’s tugging you forward before he can stop himself; you taste the bright burst of sweet and sour on your tongue seconds before he pulls back, eyes wide. You lick your lips, expression half-shocked, half-satisfied. He opens his mouth to apologize —

“S-sorry, I should’ve asked — mmphf!”

You reach up and pull him towards you by the collar of his school uniform. It’s all he can do to catch himself against the rough ground of the rooftop garden, bits of gravel biting into his palm.

The kiss is sweet, is savory, is tentative — and then, suddenly, it bursts into something more — like a bite of over-ripe fruit, with juice sluicing down it’s seams — he surges forward, catching you around the waist. He savors in the friction of your lips against his, the teeth-aching sweetness of your warm breath as you gasp open for him, and only him. And by the gods, he tries to be a good man — a respectful man, but the tiny noise you make as he curls his fingers into the bend of your waist threatens to render all his flighty codes and morals to ash.

It is a noble pursuit, he decides later on, this of all things — to kiss you until there is no other way for you to be kissed. To kiss you just like this, until your mouth is ruined for all other tastes but the one of his tongue. He’s never thought himself a greedy man, but like this — with your body pressed to his on this rooftop garden, he thinks he might’ve learned a few more things about the depths and widths of why greed is considered such a cardinal sin.

When he finally lets you go, he’s satisfied to see there’s a dazed, unfocused haze to your eyes as you blink up at him, fingers fisted into the front of his school uniform.

“You still haven’t told me —” he leans down to press his forehead to yours, reveling in the way you gasp, the hitch in your voice as you lick your lips and he fights back a thick groan.

“Told you what?”

“Why you’d go out of the city bounds to get all those things for my birthday.”

You sigh, pursing your kiss-swollen lips.

“Because… those stores, like the earth, they… they might just need one good seed — one nice interaction —” your lashes flutter and Suo has to physically bat down the urge to lean down and kiss you again. Perhaps, he thinks, this is how dragons are made of fairy tale princes — perhaps, all the dragons ever needed was just one more kiss from their fairy tale princess.

“So… you thought to take it upon yourself to be that one nice interaction? To turn all those graveyards… into gardens?”

You crinkle your nose, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as he pulls back to stare down at you.

“It’s a stupid thing to do, I know.”

Suo nods, “It is. But… only because you thought you could do it by yourself.”

He shifts, tugging you up into his lap as he readjusts himself to lean back against one of the taller planter boxes, his arms now comfortably looped around your middle.

“Well, if I’d told anyone… they would’ve tried to stop me.”

Suo tuts, reaching up to flick your nose with a gentle finger, “Oh ye of little faith,” he admonishes, grinning as you swat at his hand. He catches you by the wrist, pulling it in to press his lips to your palm, sighing as he nuzzles into your warmth.

“Do you really think we would’ve written off your feelings that easily? That I wouldn’t have at least tried to listen?”

You make to look away, embarrassed at your own oversight, but he tugs your chin back, forcing you to face him properly again.

“C’mon now… smart girl like you… should know better than that, shouldn’t you?”

You narrow your eyes, a feline glint alighting behind your eyes as you reach up to lace your fingers through his, leaning in with a challenge clear in your voice.

“And… if I don’t?”

Suo meets your gaze, a wide smile splitting his face as he tugs you closer, shifting your legs to settle on either side of his hips, his fingers now digging into the plush of your thighs, inching up to tease at the hemline of your skirt.

“Then I suppose… someone’ll just have to teach you better, won’t they?”

[dr-mohan]

CRIMINAL MINDS — as text posts

[fumifooms]

Dad always said I was like him

Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.

[adamsrcnan]

It's official. I have finished The Sunshine Court. I have so many things to say and yet have no idea what to possibly say. It was perfect. It was absolutely perfect and heartbreaking and gut wrenching and an insane emotional roller coaster and everything i could possibly have asked for from Nora. Like she really truly delivered and i'm so fucking INSANELY grateful she has shared this story with us after all these years. We do not deserve her.

[imvec]

Study from Severance s2e7

[tracys-slumber-party]

im mixed on how this turned out but hiiii smth for the mark fans out there happy summertime i guess

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[feng-shui71]

happy moms day

[galedekarios]

i am unwell again about act iii gale and the variations the astral sea/boat scene can have:

node context: genuine, vulnerable - the player just told him they loved him in a way no one else has gale: i conjured this illusion often during my confinement in waterdeep. an escape for the mind where there was none for the body. it was easier to stare at the celestial abyss than recognise the emptiness within myself. easier to pretend my destiny lay among such stars, than work to salvage a life on solid ground. you changed all that.

[raayllum]

thinking about the post-dragon demise dynamic of Amaya, Janai, and Miyana.

Janai and Miyana, who are Technically sisters-in-law but there was no marriage and Karim is both what brings them together and a wedge apart. Janai mourns in her own way, as does Miyana but she's more bitter about it, and knows her children will be looked at with even more mistrust. Janai throws herself into rebuilding and revamping Lux Aurea now that it's been so thoroughly destroyed it's come back around to being cleansed...

But Miyana is lonely, and Miyana is pregnant, and Amaya was there through both of Sarai's pregnancies and does not have the same complicated history with Karim and loved her first nephews so... Amaya stepping into hold Miyana through the morning sickness, to get Janai and Miyana to a point where they can feel more comfortable around one another, and feel like family

Just... three very different women with very different perspectives learning to grow and foster love with one another amid the loss and pain and hope they've been given