#also a snippet for fun

[artficlly]

Hey my dear, I am slipping in here to bring you some flowers based on this post Blossoms of Appreciation 💐💐

🌷- Send a compliment to your favorite writer(s)! Anything goes! It could be about their writing, them as a person, their blog, etc.

I just want to let you know how incredibly proud I am of you. Seriously, you are amazing. Not only do you manage to write and post so consistently, all while dealing with real-life struggles, but you also have the energy to be so sweet and kind to your readers and fellow writers. It is truly something I adore and admire you for!

And I am just so astounded by your creativity. The AUs and ideas you come up with for your writing are just chefs kiss!! I'm even a little jealous. You completely reimagine those characters in these completely different worlds, and it works so well. You build these entire worlds from scratch and they feel so real and lived-in and you seem to do it all so seamlessly. (I know that’s what writing is about lmao but you do it so effectively and it blows me away every time I read your work)

You have such a talent for taking the characters we know and love and placing them in these completely unexpected settings, while unlocking hidden facets of their personalities. And you do all that with such grace and passion. I just love that so much!! 🩷

🌹 - Tell a writer which fic(s) of theirs stuck with you the most or ask them which fic of theirs they think about the most.

Well, the first fic I got to read from you was me & the devil and I still think of it, even come back to rereading it once in a while and it always has me imagining so much about their journey ahead. I loved it so much.

I also was so hooked on A dish served cold. UGH that whole fic was just so tragically beautiful and it hit me so hard in all the best ways. I was completely captivated from beginning to end and I am still in awe at how masterfully you crafted it. The whole plot was just amazing and so fresh.

And I am such a sucker for lessons in lovemaking. GOD KNOWS THIS HAD ME IN A CHOKEHOLD HALLELUJAH. I love my men sensitive and this just fulfilled all my fantasies, I can’t thank you enough, bb!!

🌸 - Ask a writer to provide some behind the scenes commentary on a fic of your choosing.

You really do not have to give me a whole lot here, I am just so curious to know about your thoughts on me & the devil and if there are and particular directions you wanted this to go after they took her with them. Did you imagine them warming up and her forgiving Bucky at one point? Or did you think about them becoming enemies or something? I would love just a little detail or thought you had about what happens next 🤍🤍

omg hello? why am i crying in the club rn?? it's been a minute, i'm so happy to hear from you and see that you are doing well! you've been having such a productive start to your year (so many fics posted!! i'm so proud of you!!).

i'm gonna try my best to respond to this, but i fear i am a yapper (as you know lol)

i don't know if i would call my postings consistent, LMAO but thank you! i'm always filled with so much love and appreciation when people bear with me and stick around. the fact that people remember my fics and still tune in even after weeks or months of not posting is crazy to me. i think the world really opened up for me when i realised i could just write aus. for some reason i thought i was stuck writing fics only in the set universe of that fandom? idk why i thought that, but as soon as i realised i could just make up entire worlds and put those characters in that world i was like! aha! i think it's just me combining interests really, i do a lot of western aus because i love rdr2, westworld, the yellowstone shows, etc. or i do a lot of fantasy/period dramas as well (i have so many in the drafts). but yeah, tysm?! what the hell. you don't know this but it means so much to me because i've been trying really hard recently to try and improve my storytelling. basically trying to avoid lore and exposition dumping, so i'm trying to figure out a balanced way to navigate that at the moment.

yap yap yap let me move on

me & the devil & a dish served cold are like my babies... i love those fics so much. i'm so glad you also enjoyed them. i occasionally get comments on or about them and it makes my day because they never got that much attention, so people finding them all this time later is crazy to me. a dish served cold is coming up on its one year anniversary soon, maybe i'll do a little post about it. as for lessons in lovemaking... gosh. i didn't even realise you had read it. i don't know why it blew up so much, it's sitting at like 5k notes now which is insane to me. thank you so much as always for reading and supporting me ! :) you're the best.

anyway, on to your question about me & the devil.

you say i don't have to give you much buuttt i have a disease called i can't stop talking about my projects. i literally think my love language is people asking me questions about my projects. i get so mf excited. me & the devil is so special to me. it's one of the fics that made me really fall in love with writing again. i used to write a lot as a teen, so coming back into it was kinda daunting. i wrote it while i was in a really low spot, i had just finished my fine arts degree . i think that degree really ruined my creativity because they were so restrictive and kind of... unkind? towards me and my ideas. i know fanfics aren't always seen as 'proper' writing or whatever the fuck but writing fanfics has really given me back a lot of the confidence that was crushed. i have lots of non fanfiction related projects that have benefitted (or might've not even existed) because of me finding my creative spark again. i have actually written a bit for a sequel to me & the devil. no idea if I'll ever get around to posting it, it's been so long since i wrote it all. maybe one day i will just post what i have and call it a day ahah. i just haven't worked on it in a long time and i kind of forgot the direction i was going in and my initial vision for what would unfold. the reader and bucky are on bad terms for a time, but eventually work it out. natasha and the reader develop a hesitant friendship. i believe my end goal was to have the reader, bucky, steve, sam, wanda and natasha team up and leave the gang. i think the reader presence creates a lot of conflict within the gang, with her hating characters like tony and peter and there is a bit of a civil war (hah) between them all. i would go more into detail but? spoilers? ig? i think typing this all out now has made me realise the plot is kinda reminiscent of rdr2? i love that game so makes sense. bucky is kinda arthur morgan coded in this au as well, means well but just in a bad crowd. as a treat i'll just straight up show you the first section of the second part because why the hell not LMAO. if anyone else has read my yappings this far, firstly, what the fuck, secondly, enjoy! it's a bit all over the place because i wrote it like nearly two years ago i think but who cares.

devil on my back (p2. me & the devil) snippet

In the west, freedom was the only thing that people ever looked for. The wide-open plains and desert gave the impression of freedom because it seemed uncontrollable. Laws and towns could be built, but nothing outside of its boundless skies was everlasting. Life and civilization were perched precariously on shifting, uneven sands, and even the slightest breeze could easily blow their foundations away. You could now see the cracks beneath the surface – the true horror of this place. Freedom eluded you; the wilds had become your ball and chain. 

The sunrise before you was one of beauty, with hues of crimson and orange flooding the skies and bathing the plains in a soft, pink light. You dodged and weaved through the horses huddled near the outskirts of camp, fingers skimming over coats as you moved. Even as a young girl, you loved animals, and moments like these reminded you of being back on the homestead, careless with adventure in your soul. 

The past few weeks had been hard, and finding moments like these was all you had left. 

As had been expected, the group of outlaws didn’t always need your medical skills. You had continued your duties, albeit with reluctance, caring for Stark and any other wounds that arrived at your tent. There was only so much time you could spend sorting herbs and folding bandages before the thoughts took over. 

One of the first lessons you learned was to never stay idle; always keep your hands busy. There was no more whiskey to drown out the memories. Instead, only hard work silenced your mind. You would push your body to the point of exhaustion, so when you found yourself alone in your tent, only the sound of your own heartbeat was present. You would stitch the wounds, clean the clothes, and brush the horses. Wanda, one of the other women in the camp, had allowed you to help with cooking, mindlessly stirring stew pots and gutting rabbits. 

You moved like a ghost through the camp – you were there but also not at all. The desire to work until exhaustion stemmed not only from a desire to drown out the memories, but also from a fear of Stark's threats. You were too afraid to consider what would happen if you were deemed too useless to keep around. You could feel the men watching you like hawks, waiting for the slightest slip in your movements. 

There were good days when Steve would try his hardest to make you smile, when Sam would bring you herbs, or when Wanda would help you wash the dishes and the two of you would laugh together. But sometimes there were bad days and nightmares that plagued your nights. You would find yourself staring at the canvas of your tent for hours, catatonic, as the sun rose and fell. On those days, you would think of Charlotte and Crowley. You would picture their twisted, slouched bodies and the blood-stained saloon floors. Sometimes, you would think of your uncle. You would recall how the bull had blinked his thick eyelashes, oblivious to his fate, before your cousin put a bullet into his skull. You would think of the clients, twisted, nasty men with pinching, bruising fingers. 

Most of all, you would think of your father. The unknown was what undid you most. 

Bucky would bring you food, and sometimes Wanda would too. The redhead woman, whom you had come to know as Nat, would drag you from the cot and scream in your face, hoping to elicit a reaction on the days you did not move at all. She would leave in a huff as you stared blankly, having not even flinched when she threatened to strike you with a raised hand. 

Those were the worst days – the days where nothing mattered at all. 

You rested your brow against the neck of Bucky’s horse, the one you had grown most familiar with. The ears of the stocky gelding twitched at the sound of movement, and the herd behind you shifted in place. You sighed quietly, tilting your head as Bucky came into view. 

Even if Bucky had kept his promise to watch over you, the two of you had barely spoken. You would occasionally exchange good mornings and good nights, perhaps a brief thank you, but nothing more. The days of tucking yourselves away in The Diamondback's upstairs were long gone, as were the hours of meaningful conversation. All of those words were lost to the wind, a mere ghost of what once was. 

In your brief moments of clarity, you would wonder if any of it was ever real and if the stories and feelings he spilled were anything more than deception. Bucky's role had become clear after watching the outlaws' dynamic. He would scout out towns with Sam and Steve to gather as much information as they could. They would con whores with their good looks and charms and buy drinks for the loud-mouthed men. Then, when they knew enough, they would strike, wiping the whole town clean and leaving bloodshed in their wake. You could not tell if any of it had been genuine, but you frequently found yourself yearning for the rugged man's affections. 

Bucky now had a bale of hay perched on one shoulder, his broad chest free of a shirt, and suspenders dangling down by his hips. Even though the morning was cool in comparison to the scorch of the midday sun, a sheen of sweat had developed across his skin, with his longer hair sticking to the side of his neck. You took a moment to shamelessly stare at the side of his face as he lowered the hay to the ground, watching the muscles under his stubbled jaw tense as he noticed your gaze. 

You averted your eyes, pressing your brow again to his gelding's neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you tangled your fingers through his mane. 

“Still ignorin’ me?” Dirt crunches beneath Bucky’s feet as he approaches, his voice echoing into the silence. You peer out at him, watching as his strong hands stroke down the gelding's face. 

“Can’t a girl get some peace?” You question him with a sigh. His brows furrow as he finally locks his gaze on you, and a quick, harsh laugh escapes him. 

“Peace? I think you’ve had a whole ‘lotta peace these past weeks.” He remarks, his voice cold. “I ain’t never seen those boys more respectful, sittin’ ‘round waitin’ for you to get over whatever this is.” His hands motioned back to the camp of outlaws. 

“Whatever this is?” You repeat his words with a scoff. While still petting the gelding, the outlaw gives you a hard look as the animal happily leans into his touch. 

“I know you’re upset, hell, I would be too. But ya can’t keep goin’ on like this, sweetheart.” Bucky's voice is as concerned as it is cold. You understand his worries but can’t find the heart to believe in his sincerity. 

“You’re a liar.” You finally speak up, your voice small and weak. Your attention shifts to the mane in front of you, your fingers combing through the strands as Bucky raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“A liar?” He asks, sidestepping so he is next to you. Your eyes remained fixed forward, and your heart thundered in your chest. You had stopped crying weeks ago, guilt and shame giving way to emptiness, so why did you feel like crying at that moment? Maybe it was being under his scrutinizing gaze, or maybe you were truly broken. 

“You told me…” You mutter, turning to face him as you fight back tears. “You told me you didn’t hurt innocent people. On that day we met, when you told me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

With a long, frustrated exhale, Bucky runs a hand over his face. “If you’re blamin’ me for what happened to your friends… I am sorry for what happened, but it weren’t me who shot ‘em.” 

“Weren’t you…” You mutter with a shake of your head. “But it was your friends, weren’t it? It was you and your friends who killed how many innocent townsfolk? And now you just sit around and laugh like nothin’ happened?” 

“Half those folk weren’t all that innocent from what you told me.” Bucky comments callously. “And those boys in camp are my family. Hell, they might be cruel bastards, but they’re all I have, sweetheart.” 

You scoff at his words, spinning around to march off, but Bucky moves faster. His hands grasp your wrists, gently but tight enough to keep you in place. You cower backwards, pressing your back against the gelding's side, who stands firm. 

“Now you listen, darlin’,” Bucky starts, head tilted to look down at you. “I ain’t saying they’re good men, I am saying they’re all I have. You think if I went into a town lookin’ for work that any of those rich bastards would hire me? You think that when I was starvin’ on the streets as a child that anyone looked out for me? Nah. But those boys…those boys did. There’s no point in leavin’ folk who I know will look out for me.” 

You remain rigid, eyes cast down as you listen, shame and guilt still burning in your chest. You feel your composure begin to crack as the final wall you had built crumbles, a few tears sliding down your cheeks as you feverishly try to blink them away. Even if you screamed or sobbed, you knew that nothing would make you feel better. So many times in your life had you been left with a hole inside of you, a darkness where light had once resided. Now it felt as if only that darkness was left – a swirling void of grief and loneliness. 

Only when Bucky’s thumb smooths over the skin of your wrist do you look up, his grip releasing, and he frustratedly runs a hand through his brunet hair. Looking at him leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. 

How many times in your life had you been here? Another existence spent alone among unfamiliar people? You watch the outlaw's movements with your fingers curled into a tight fist, he was grumbling and righteous as if he had not torn your entire world apart a few weeks earlier. For so long, you had experienced a sense of emptiness and numbness. There had been nothingness; only now were you reminded that there was another type of feeling festering within you.

It was there when your father abandoned you and when the bull killed your uncle, and it was there again now. Every time the men sneered and circled, every time Nat gave you a dirty look, and especially every time Bucky rode away to go coning, you could feel it. You would stare up at your tent canvas and feel that mania crawling beneath your skin. It was not just the images of Charlotte's bodies sprawled across the stairs that triggered it; you had been carrying around a rotting feeling ever since you were a young girl. 

You were unable to place it; instead, it took the form of the crashing of piano keys in your head, the rumbling of a stampeding herd, or even a wildfire devouring everything in its path. As it clawed at your skull and throat, pleading and screaming to be let out, you feared you would no longer be able to block out its cries. 

“I had a family once.” You grit out through bared teeth, Bucky watches cautiously as you take a step back. “‘til they all died or abandoned me. So I did what you did – I found a new family. Those girls had darkness in their souls, that place was evil, and we all suffered because of it.”

Your chin lifts as you begin to circle the outlaw, your hands trembling as you grow unsure if you are ready to cry or scream. “Then you took that from me, and what, you expected me to be grateful? To forgive your beloved family after they murdered my friend? Murdered my family?”

Bucky’s gaze holds steady as you pause in front of him, squeezing and unsqueezing your fist as you dig further with your resentful words. “And now you act so righteous, like everythin’ you do is right, that you and your friends are so much better. You act like I am weaker than you folk because I have a heart.” 

With your finger pressed to your chest to emphasize your point, you stalk towards Bucky while tilting your head up to face him. His chest rises and falls unevenly as he stares down at you, unmoving. “You took everythin’ from me.”

As you hiss out the words, Bucky’s eyes narrow. You watch as his eyes dance, scanning your face with an irritated expression. 

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, his voice lower than normal. You can feel the vowels as they rumble in his chest, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “I have apologised, and if you want me to apologise every day, I will. What I can’t do is kill my friends, what I can’t do is take you back to that damn saloon. You think after everythin’ you told me about those bad men, I would let ya go back? Nah, sweetheart. That ain’t how it works.” 

“You say that like you wouldn’t have left me there if Stark hadn’t been hurt.” You snarl at him, and the outlaw visibly rolls his eyes. 

“What do ya want me to do? Tell me. You want me to get on my knees and beg for you?” He asks, his words grinding out in frustration. 

“I want…” You begin, but pause. Did you want to sob, scream, shoot the vicious outlaws, flee, or go back to that depraved saloon? Did you want to punish Bucky for what he had done? There was so much anger inside of you, yet sometimes you felt it had no purpose at all. Sometimes all you wanted was to be held, to have something to fill the emptiness inside of you. Bucky hadn’t killed Charlotte; Parker had. Yet could you forgive him for standing by and following orders mindlessly?  

You couldn’t find the words, instead stalling with a scowl as your levels of frustration rose. You so desperately wanted something to make this all better, but you were unsure if you would ever know what it was until after it happened. You blink back tears, teeth grinding as you shift in place, thwarted for the moment. 

“God, I ain’t never seen you like this…” Bucky speaks into the tense silence, his hand reaching to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the skin. “So riled up, it’s…”

“And what do you want me to be like?” You gaze up at him with a hard look, your voice close to a hiss. “Ya want me to be a sweet, docile lady, a whore that opens her legs at your command?”

You draw your face closer to his, watching as his pupils dilate, jaw muscles tensing beneath your gaze. “You’re a bastard, a sick, twisted bastard. I want back the man I first met – the one who would tell me sad stories and stack double my rate on the dresser. I want the man who was kind and gentle and who would protect me instead of hurtin’ me.”

Bucky’s thumb traces along your lower lip; a shudder runs down your spine, yet you do not pull away. 

“I can be that for you, darlin’. If you give me the chance.” Bucky whispers; his voice is guttural and strained. Your palm comes to rest on his chest, and the muscles beneath twitch under your touch. With heavy-lidded eyes, you feel the energy wash off him in waves, pent-up and ravenous. 

His large hands found your waist, and for a moment, there were no thoughts, no emptiness, and no anger. There was only him, his hot breath, and his hands against the fabric of your dress. Selfishly, for a moment, you forget all that has happened. 

Only as Bucky’s head dips in a desperate plea to capture his lips with yours do you react, using your palm to push yourself free from his touch. Bucky pants, as if wounded, and you stalk back a few paces. 

There was a dangerous line between hate and desire, and you were deathly aware of how closely you toed it. You could not let what had happened between you or speculation about what it could have become blind you. You realized that you were grieving not only those you had lost, but also those who might have been. You mourned who Bucky could have been to you; you mourned the outlaw you met that first day. But the worst part was that, as much as you grieved, he was never real in the first place. Now, there was only the present, and you knew if you were to survive, you would have to grow a thicker skin. 

“I don’t forgive you.” You mutter bitterly and are met with an irritated growl.

“I didn’t expect anythin’ different.”

***

tysmmm again, so much love to you! so sorry for the rambles but i hope you enjoyed the random snippet. this response got so long, i'm so sorry bahahah. but i honestly appreciate you sm.

[eggwishing]

I ONCE TRIED TO WASH THAT SCUFFED OLD THING WHILE HE WAS TAKING ONE OF HIS NAPS, BUT WHEN I TOOK IT OFF HE WAS WEARING ANOTHER IDENTICAL ONE UNDERNEATH! AND ANOTHER! I GOT THROUGH TEN MORE LAYERS OF THE SAME THING BEFORE HE WOKE UP. I WAS SO FRUSTRATED! WHERE DID HE EVEN GET THOSE FROM? THEY ALL EVEN HAD THE SAME STAINS!!

[salamispots]

wip wip wip

[nyancrimew]

that recent matrix rewatch did some shit to my brain and now im goated at music

[wildstar25]

Honeymoon finale - Solution Nine

[G'raha] : "So you have been asked to fight for Solution Nine's entertainment... My love, it's not that I doubt your judgment, but are you sure this is something you should get involved in?" [Arsay]: "If I can use my skills to uplift the people of this place, don't see why I shouldn't, yeah? Plus, I'll need to find something to do while Shtola's investigating the gate." [Y'shtola]: "And here I've been preparing for your inevitable begging to join." [Arsay]: "Even I can admit there's work you do better alone. ..That said, I'll miss you every tick." [Y'shtola]: "I'll be but a call away, dear. What of you, Raha?" [G'raha]: "Likely continuing our in-depth report of the golden city; for the Student's records. Should the opportunity present itself that I may spectate a match featuring my most beloved star however..." [Y'shtola]: "Then you shall ensure you cheer her on with enough fever for the both of us." [Arsay]: "Heh! I'll be sure to keep you apprised of my schedule. ... <sighs> I guess this means our vacation is over. It's been fun, ay? Every moment I share with you both is a memory I will forever treasure; but these past two weeks... I've no words for how wonderful it's been. Shtola, Raha, I love you." [Y'shtola]: "And I, you." [G'raha]: <nods> "Beyond measure." [Arsay]: "Now, with this being our last night of fun and all; I've an idea in mind on how to spend it."

<<prev.

[cherryapplefish]

Summer Thoughts

Caleb x Reader

Rated: E for everyone

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: yah you call Caleb ge/gege in here. no, it's honorifics because your character starts off as 8! view this in the way you guys read about girls calling older guys "oppa" please. it's not meant to be anything more than that. caleb and mc are written as children here half the time. hope this helps.

You never actually learn how to ride a bike. 

And you don’t figure this out till you’re 13. 

At this point in your life, you’ve only gone bike riding with Caleb. He was the one who taught you so of course he’s the one who takes you.

“Why do you need to learn,” he asks, brows furrowing together half in confusion and half in annoyance. You huff and stomp your foot. You’re eight and all the other kids in the neighborhood know how to ride a bike but you’re still sitting on the back of Caleb’s. 

“You can just ride with me. I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” he continues. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you try to seem serious. Like a grown up. 

Caleb just stifles a laugh as he tries not to look away but you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes and it makes you want to reach out and smack him for being so mean to you. You want to be taken seriously and: 

“The other kids left me because they didn’t have a seat for me and I didn’t know how to take yours. Teach me, gege.”

You whine, switching up tactics and latching your arms around his in an attempt to act cute. Caleb usually always gives in if you’re cute enough and when he doesn’t react, you press your cheek to his arm, squirming against him like the child you are. 

“Please. Please. Please.” 

Caleb sighs before a soft smile spreads across his face. He reaches out, fingers ruffling your hair before agreeing. 

That had been then. 

Now, you’re thirteen and stomping back inside with scraped knees and tears tracking down your cheeks. You purse your lips to keep them from quivering and head straight for Caleb. 

He pokes his head out of the kitchen when he hears the door slam and alert him of your presence, his eyes bright. 

“Hey pipsqueak- woah, what happened to you,” he says, setting down the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the pot of braised pork he’d been making for dinner. He can see the way your cheek is redder on one side compared to the other and immediately makes his way over to you. 

You meet him halfway there and before he can get another word out, you sock him in the arm. You barely leave a mark but Caleb hisses in surprise, rubbing the spot. 

“Hey! What was that for? What happened,” he asks. There’s concern in his gaze as he reaches out to pull a leaf out of your hair. It’s clear you’ve taken a pretty bad tumble and for some reason, it’s his fault. 

“You’ve been using your evol on me when we ride bikes haven’t you,” you ask and he freezes. You can see the guilt flash across his face before he schools it into a practiced smile. The jerk! That was confession enough! 

“You caught me,” he answers, a cheeky grin on his face. He anticipates your movements before you do, fingers wrapping around your wrist that threaten to punch him once more. His grip is tight but not bruising and you huff as you try to pull away but he doesn’t let go and so instead you try the other one. 

Caleb knows you inside and out so he stops that arm too and now, the both of you are standing in the middle of the living room. You, huffing with anger and embarrassment, and Caleb, guiltily smiling with both of your hands in his. 

“Caleb! Do you know how embarrassing it was? I fell. As soon as I got on and tried to push, I fell because you didn’t bother to teach me properly,” you argue and you see the guilty look on Caleb’s face before he pulls you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, patting the back of your head. 

“Aw, I’m sorry pips,” he says but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “I just got scared every time I saw you leaning to one side so I used my evol. I didn’t think you actually couldn’t ride a bike without my help.” 

It’s a half truth, he thinks as he bites back a laugh when you begin to hit his back. It’s fine. He’ll let you get out all your anger as long as you rely on him for help. 

“It was so embarrassing, ge,” you complain before slowly you fist your fingers into his shirt. “I scraped my knees and fell on my face. It hurt a lot.” 

Caleb knows. He’d seen it all when you came in and pursing his lips together, he pulls back to examine you properly. Normally, he’d cup your face and get a good look but he doesn’t want to risk hurting you more than you already feel. 

With a soft sigh, he strokes your cheek. 

“I’m sorry pipsqueak. I really am. I’ll make it up to you and actually teach you how to ride a bike okay?” 

You look away when he pulls back, fingers still fisted in his shirt but you nod anyways. 

As long as he actually taught you. 

-

Caleb is a liar. 

He still never actually taught you how to ride a bike and now, you’re 22 and staring Caleb down as he pats the backseat of his bike with a grin. 

“Jump on, pips,” he tells you and you cross your arms, huffing as you turn your nose up. 

You think back to thirteen and scraped knees and immediately get mad at him. 

“Don’t wanna,” you argue and Caleb laughs. You’re tugged in by nothing but you’ve been around Caleb long enough now that you know he’s using his evol to pull you closer. You don’t even yelp as you’re lifted onto the seat but you do look away as you cross your legs. 

It has Caleb laughing even more. He took pleasure in watching you be an absolute brat. 

“You’re not still mad I never taught you how to ride a bike are you,” he asks and there’s that same sparkle in his eyes from all those years ago. 

After he had promised, he had made excuses. 

He was too busy to teach you. He was too tired to go outside and they could build models instead. He would just take you on the back of his to save time. 

It’d been excuse after excuse and before you knew it, Caleb had gone off to Skyhaven for college and you still hadn’t learned how to ride a bike. 

Could you have learned on your own? Yes but…but it was scary when you didn’t have Caleb around to catch you. And so you’d never learned. 

Now, that unfulfilled promise comes back to mind when Caleb suggests a bike ride along the river. 

When you huff in response, his grin widens. 

“I’ll teach you next time,” he promises and you glare at him and he loves it because at least your gaze is back on him once more. 

“You said that last time!” 

“I mean it this time,” he replies, his grin wide and full of delight. You have to look away in case you melt and agree like you always do. 

He leans over then, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Promise,” he whispers softly into your skin. 

You smack him away, a complaint on the tip of your tongue but you hold back and instead, your fingers curl into his shirt. 

“Just pedal,” you grumble, forcing him to face forward as you press a burning cheek to his back. Your eyes glance over the glimmering river as the last of the sun's rays sparkle across it but you’re too focused on how warm Caleb’s back feels, the sound of his laughter vibrating in his chest. 

You press closer, hold him tighter just as he had wanted, and inhale. 

Somehow, even after all these years, Caleb still smells like home. 

i don't know how to ride a bike and if caleb were real, this is exactly how i imagine caleb would react lmaooo

"You don't need to learn. Just ride with me."

excuses because he wants you to hug his waist hahahahah

[b0nelessdoodles]

i keep thinking im gonna like actually finish these but that ain't happening so have some gay people

[racingghost]

Moodboard Week | Day 7

University AU

Finally done with this! I have no snippet this time, but I have a new chapter of the ongoing fic of this AU here.

It's mostly comedy. A touch of horror. Was supposed to be a romance instead.

Anyway, the writing skills may not be there, but the story is fun for me to write anyway because everyone's is a jerk in it. This chapter has a lot of Lewis in it, which is not the standard and who I don't know all that well, so I apologize for the probably crappy characterization. Hope I didn't butcher him too much.

[aliferous-ly]

False was shooting apples off of a mannequin's head when Ren approached.

"What're you doing?" he asked conversationally. He hadn't quite realized the facts of the situation at this point.

"Target practice," False said back, matching his blasé tone. She let loose another arrow and it landed on the backboard with a thud, apple juice dripping down the painted canvas.

"Huh." Ren squinted at the distant mannequin. His eyes widened. "Wait, is that me?"

"Hm?" False was lining up her next shot - she'd set up apples all over the mannequin, so she didn't have to reset after every success.

"The - the target you got there. It looks like me."

"No it doesn't," False denied.

"It absolutely does!" Ren insisted.

"Maybe if you squint," False allowed. She let another arrow fly. The next apple slammed against the target, arrow feathers wobbling from the force.

"I... I don't really know how to take that," Ren said.

"You could put an apple on your head and take its place," False offered.

"Absolutely not!" Ren said. He shook his head strongly enough that his sunglasses skewed. Then he looked at False, who hadn't reacted beyond extending an apple in hand. He scrunched up his nose, glanced at the target, and sighed like she was seriously putting him out.

"Fine," he huffed. He snatched the apple. "Don't miss."

False grinned. "Don't count on it."

[unhingednobsessive]

excerpt from my tim x reader wip currently just labeled "car guy tim drake" - i have barely edited it so be warned

_________________________________

Riding in his car was one of their favorite moments. Spending time with Tim was always enjoyable of course, but there was something different about being in his car as he practically flew around. They loved how fast he went and how he’d rest his hand on their thigh. The way he acted as though that was exactly where his hand was supposed to be. 

They looked out the window while resting their head on the back of their seat. Head tipped back with the wind blowing across their face and through their hair. They looked up at the sky before closing their eyes for a few moments, feeling as though they were floating just a little. 

Oh yeah, they adored this. 

Grounding themselves with the weight of Tim’s hand they settled back into their body again, just existing. They let the constant flow of air and Tim be the only thing they focused on. 

Tim switched gears and hit the gas. As it sped up, the car rumbled louder underneath them. They let out a gasp snapping open their eyes at the sudden change. It always stole their breath away when the car changed to expose how much more of a beast it was. A beast that he easily had total control over.

They breathed heavily, their heart pounding out of their chest. The adrenaline rush always caused them to feel a bit lightheaded. Either from the air flow changing or the speed itself, it felt almost like the air around them was being sucked away.

Of course, it couldn't last forever and seemingly all too quickly, Tim switched gears again allowing the beautiful beast to return to a more normal state. 

[stevebabey]

She moves her gaze back towards Eddie and then says, in a voice far softer than expected, “He’s why the gates don’t close.”

Eddie blinks. What?

“What?” Steve voices his thoughts exactly, leaning forward an inch. “Wait, how can you know that?”

El finally turns his face an inch towards Steve, though her calm eyes swipe back to Eddie every couple of seconds assessingly. She nods, as if she’s explaining something Steve should already understand.

“He’s not from here.” She says. “He’s why the gates don’t close. The—” She holds up a hand and rubs two fingers together. “—material between here and there is already thin.”

He’s not from here. Eddie’s mouth dries up and his heart rate hikes up a couple beats, a sliver of anxiety carving through his tiredness. He feels wide awake now.

Her words carry a sense of deja vu and it takes Eddie only another moment to figure out why — a nightmare he wants so desperately to forget.

Is she…? No, that voice had been different. But either way, Eddie knows intrinsically that the voice from his dream and the girl before him are very much alike. Eddie swallows.

At least she’s on their side.

excerpt from the final chapter of you're not from around here, are you? coming 31/10 for the @steddiebang2024

[absolute-ferret]

My fave frames so far of the animation remake

I love you low effort Cynessa

[barelybalthasar]

long as amber of ember glows

chapters: 6/6 ✅ | rating: teen | word count: 18.8k

Five times Scott gives Isaac a ride + one time Isaac returns the favor.

Isaac’s hand around Scott’s wrist.  It’s just a moment. Just a raw, primal instinct in Isaac, reaching out for anything, anything, and landing on Scott.  It doesn’t mean anything, and Scott doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it, except— His hand was so cold. And his grip was so tight.

little 5 + 1 fic in celebration of @scisaacday 🕺🕺

planning on uploading a chapter every other day! you can read chapter 1 here if you're so inclined :))

[schoolchaos]

Mythology and history based musicals are my true love.

[bmpmp3]

RECENTLY IVE BEEN really into the idea of making up "fanunits" for vocal synths akin to what we do with love live characters, like fanmade duos, trios, other unofficial groups and like playing with what kind of names and outfits they could have and what kinds of songs would fit their vibes..... ive got a bunch of sticky notes all over the place full of little unofficial groups like this now.... holds out my hand. play toys with me.

[wordsofwilderness]

I'm obsessed with this scene, like I'm pretty sure I've peaked with it, so have a tiny snippet:

“This wouldn’t be a such problem if you would stay out of my life,” Regulus scowled, flexing his fingers around his wand. At least it wasn’t currently pointed at James. Progress, you know? “But oh no! Let’s bother Regulus at every chance you get. What a fun little game,” Regulus continued as he made a wide gesture, “Is it then, Potter? Are you having fun?” “I—” James started, his voice nearly a whisper, “Is that really what you think?” “Yes, it is.” James took a half step closer, his eyebrows furrowed. “And what if I just like your company?” “Then you are truly a fool,” Regulus scoffed with a shake of his head. The corner of his lips lifting, James insisted, “Well, I do.”