#things i write

[twentymins]

tobio outgrew his high school uniform at the end of his first year. as he got taller every month, the sleeves were too short and the fit around his neck too tight, but he never really noticed.

everyone around him noticed though, especially tsukishima who never failed to snicker when he saw his whole wrists sticking out of his jacket and his stomach peeking out when he would raise his arms. you were the one to point it out to him, gently tugging at his sleeve one day during lunch break.

"you’re uniform is getting too small, kageyama."

"huh?"

the boy looks down at himself, especially at your fingers still pinching the edge of his sleeve. his cheeks reddened as a flustered frown lodged itself between his eyebrows.

"it’s not."

"it is."

tsukishima, who was watching the whole interaction from the side since the beginning, smirked in mockery at his teammate’s reaction.

"the shoulder pads are way beyond your shoulders and i can see your wrists."

"you’re not supposed to see the wrists?"

"no, you’re not."

tobio blushed even more as you tugged harder on his sleeve to get closer.

"order a new size for next month, or next week even better."

"does it look that bad?"

"no, you’re cute. and don’t let tsukishima make fun of you for it, ok?"

tsukishima, who was listening to your conversation, stopped smiling immediately as your head turned in his direction to send him a nasty glare. but kageyama couldn’t care less about tsukishima, he was blushing hard as he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you called him cute.

so when he passed through the school’s front gate with his new uniform falling right on his shoulders and long enough to cover the entirety of his arms, all happy and proud, he came to you immediately.

"did you notice? i changed my uniform."

he looked like a kid who just bought his favorite candy and wanted to share. you looked up at him and his excited grin and smiled back, before leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"nice. you’re all handsome now."

kageyama felt like he was gonna explode.

[apiratefellinlovewithastar]

hey. don’t cry. Roger’s crew found both Shanks and Shamrock in the treasure chest. okay?

[perlen-gold]

WIP Wednesday

🌹 Thank you dearest @moringottocake for tagging me a while ago 🌹

I'm very sorry to say I once again couldn't make it for Angbang Week 😭 oh well, there's always a next time i guess XD

Be that as it may, here's a small snippet from the piece that was actually meant to be finished for AngbangWeek (2025 😭)

Of course it's 🔮.... ANGBANG! 🖤🤤🔥

He thought I did not see him but he was all I saw. In those days when the nights were youthful and endless, I roamed Aulë’s halls  roving through his countless forges lit bright as braziers, often. Many a Maia of adroit  fire had woken and been drawn to his sleeping embers, slumbering in wait to be woken by them in turn, to be taught by Aulë or teach themselves, their faces bright as jewels. I walked unseen; always the shadow is quickest in the rapid melodies of endless flames. And why not? Had we not both sung to the earth to wake metal and stone, my voice so much richer, more vibrant and resonate than his? Had I not unbound iron from Arda’s veins? Had I not sundered rock and cliff to sow quicksilver and lead? Were not steel and solder molding and melting under his precious Maiar’s clever touch? Smith of the Valar they called him and I could barely hide my laughter.  Who had been first to light Arda’s fire? Alyways there had been Melkor The Mighty. Always there had been I. I strode among his forges dreamily. Numerous were Aulë’s anvils, innumerable his Maiar. Hot as bonfires, cleverly bright as the flames their glowing skins brushed unscathed, many of them were handsome and beautiful. Their movements were like prancing flames, their eyes like gems, swift-sparked. How my shadows thirsted for their inner fire. Lit and lucent, they could not hear my shadow-dyed stride. I, however, silked in darkness, I could listen to the tangy relish of fear.

Special thanks and shout-outs to my dearest @a-dwarfs-dream-of-space and my loveliest @gauntletgirlie (who has proved to be the most patient of collab partners!) 🖤🖤🖤 Thank you so much for your endless support and emboldening me to share something again 💗

🌹 Zero Pressure Tags @a-dwarfs-dream-of-space @gauntletgirlie @saintstars @sauron-kraut @cilil @kisses-in-the-void @gospelxforxthexfallenxones @dreamyshiftyaching @winds-of-zephyr416 @yewfae @lemoneyshipz @amblingmuse @angbanggangbang @dragonofmordor @akitasenseidraws and all my lovely MOOTS and fellow ANGBANGERS whom I've forgotten because my mind is so meddled these days 🙏

Also I tend to mix up who writes and/or who draws and/or who does BOTH so please feel free to share anything you feel like 🔥🖤🔥

[turbulenthandholding]

Say More Please Drabble Tag Game

Tagged by the AMAZING AND WONDERFUL @sydneys-adamu and tagging @threads-of-gold @missamyshay and @freedelusionshere !!

1. when you get tagged, write any sydcarmy drabble you like! (between 100-500 words). this can be canon, au, and most importantly sydcarmy!

2. tag any three writers you want to hear from! we want to keep it going, so tag a new person!

3. have fun!!

ETA: THE EXPANSION LIVES HERE!!

Syd breathes a sigh of relief, settling her arm onto the armrest. Boarding on her flight back to New York has drastically slowed and she thrills at the idea of there being an empty seat between her and the grandma on the aisle.

She can't wait to get back to school. Break was long. Her dad was so intense. And she still thrums with inspiration at the memory of eating the paupiette of hamachi with a blood orange reduction before heading back to Chicago for Christmas break.

And as she pulls out the small, worn stack of culinary magazines from her backpack to study as she flies, even though she has them almost entirely memorized, someone drops onto the seat next to her, just as they announce that the doors to the aircraft have been closed.

“Fuck,” she thinks to herself. She really wanted that space for her elbows, and her brain.

“Fuck. Sorry," the man says, bumping his elbow into her arm as he grasps for the buckle end of his seatbelt. He smells of cigarettes and woody soap and kitchen, a scent she knows intimately herself.

Syd’s eyes follow his hands as they attach the buckle low over denim-clad hips. Her eyes trace the black lines covering his fingers and the backs of his hands. Her heart launches its fluttering self firmly into her throat.

“Oh, fuck,” she says aloud, the words falling unbidden from her lips as she finally traces her eyes over his face, meeting impossibly blue eyes.

“Sorry,” he says again, his eyes lingering on her face. The tip of his tongue peeks out, swiping across his lower lip. “I'm sure it was better when this seat was empty.”

She shakes her head. Again. And again. And when she finally speaks, as the plane starts to pull back from the gate, she stutters, “I…Fuck me. You're Carmen Berzatto.”

“Even if you are a frequent flyer, please listen to the safety demonstration as each aircraft is different…” an announcement says.

“How do you…?” he asks, intrigued, eyes sparkling.

“I love you,” slips from her lips, unbidden.

“What?” he asks, his cheeks instantly ignite to a blushing scarlet, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs.

“Fuck me. I…fuck. Your food, I mean. I ate at Empire a few weeks ago,” she begins to babble. “It was amazing, it was all amazing, like, the meal of my fucking life. I go to the CIA, so…but the, uhm, there was this paupiette of hamachi? And just…the blood orange reduction. I can't stop thinking about it. Like, I dreamt about it the other night.”

“Blood orange?” he whispers. “You…the reduction? It was blood orange?” he asks just a little louder so she can hear him over the hum of the plane and the drone of the safety announcement.

She nods.

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I'm Carmy.”

She slips her fingers into his, less of a handshake than a true connection. “Sydney.”

“Nice to meet you. Syd.”

[hopeofnienna]

The Window

a/n: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing LMAO.

Dallas Winston x Reader

“Dallas Winston!”

You scolded yanking up your bedroom window so that he could climb through. He was grinning, eyes scrunching in the corners, and you had to force your own smile not to creep out. It was late and to be honest Dally wasn't sure if you'd be awake until he saw the lamp on the desk alight casting a warm glow across the side of your house. You had been at the desk working on homework that probably should've been done long before the stars came out and your parents went to bed, but something had come up. The same something that was currently attempting to untangle his leg from the windowsill.

“You're gonna fall and break your neck one of these days.”

He only scoffed and shrugged off his jacket. You said the same thing every time he climbed the tree to get into your room. He wouldn't admit that he had almost slipped the first couple times he'd done it, but by now the old tree was so familiar he had no issue maneuvering it even when it was raining. You watched as he plopped down on the edge of your bed taking him in. He was sporting a new bruise along the left side of his jaw that looked particularly sore and his lip was busted as well.  Without saying anything you took grabbed his right hand in both of yours, pulling in up so you could inspect his knuckles. Cracked skin confirmed the obvious and you felt the corners of your mouth dip into a frown.

“It's noth-”

“Don't say it's nothing!”

Both your sentences overlapped and despite your best efforts you felt the fear that clung to your chest evaporate enough that you laughed. Just as Dally climbing through your window wasn't a new occurrence neither were the battle wounds and you knew better than to scold. Being friends with Curtis brothers had helped you become less surprised with the lifestyle of most “greaser” gangs. Though they hadn't prepared you at all for the types of mischief that Dallas Winston not only found himself in but actively went looking for. You had no doubt that the injuries he carried tonight were deserved but that didn't stop you from giving him what the boys called the “disapproving mother look”. Though Dally called it your “worried for nothing” eyes.

“You're the reason I keep band aids in my room, you know that right?”

“Why else would I come here? I mean other than to see your lovely legs in those shorts.”

That made you scoff and roll your eyes, but there was a smile attached to it.

Dallas wasn't sure if he would ever tire of how you smiled at him. Overall your smiles were a gift, he was sure, but there something about the ones reserved just for moments between the two of you that he felt were particularly special. Those were ones he enjoyed the most and he tried his best to get at least one out of you each time he saw you. He watched as you gathered the band aides and the alcohol wipes.

“Move over, Winston.”

You had taken his hand back into yours and nodded your head to motion for him to scoot further onto the bed. Instead Dallas closed his fingers around your hand and tugged so that you had to rest a hand on his shoulder, knees bumping his. “Have a seat.”

Those damn brown eyes of his paired with a wink really were enough to make any girls heart explode and you were no exception. You also knew that there was really no other way to get him to hold still while you worked. Not that you were complaining as you sat on one of his legs, your own legs dangling slightly above the floor. His smirk and the proud twinkle in his eyes was burning a hole into the side of your face as you dabbed his bloodied knuckles with the wipes but you ignored it in favor of focusing on the task at hand; his hand.

The warmth radiating off of his body and the familiar weight of his hand in yours was comforting in a way you had tried to describe before but failed. As you settled in and inspected his knuckles Dallas sighed quietly. He wouldn't want to admit to anyone else that your gentle touch and smell of your shampoo made his heart jump to his throat while at the same time calming it's rapid racing until he felt as if he could fall asleep with you perched on his lap. Both of you remained silent, the only sound coming from your tape player across the room, and even that seemed distant. You spared him a glance from the corner of your eyes and suddenly wished you hadn't when you noticed how softly he was watching you. Dallas had the uncanny ability to go from wolfish ladies man to pure puppy dog in an instant, you had seen it a hundred times. But there was something in the way he looked at that was different. It was genuine. Just as your truest smiles were reserved for him, his softest looks were reserved for you.  

“You staying here tonight?”

You inquired as you placed the last band aid across his knuckles. You didn't make a move to get off his leg, instead twisting slightly so you could properly look at him. The bruise along his jaw looked darker up close and you could see the slight indent of where someone's ring had touched his skin. Even when he had cleared his throat his voice was still hushed as if he was worried the atmosphere would shatter around the two of you.

“Yeah.”

Moving around each other in a familiar dance you pulled the covers of your blanket back as Dallas kicked off his shoes, the two of you crawling into the bed next to each other. He would have to be gone by the time your parents were up in just a few hours and he knew he'd have to talk to Darry about the  Socs that had tried to get the jump on him earlier, but he pushed those thoughts away. Your arm was wrapped around his waist, face pressed against his chest, and Dally was more than content to hold onto you.

[fangirlingpain]

Betelgeuse and marriage theory

A Beetlejuice head-canon/theory I have (It's somewhat "Beauty & The Beast" coded 🌹🥀).

Having died poisoned on his wedding night, Betelgeuse's soul is bound by the ritual of marriage.

We already know he will be able to reenter the mortal world if he marries a living person (due to the rules of the afterlife and whatnot), but here's where my head-canon starts:

Bound to the ritual of marriage, if he marries someone he loves, who truly love him back, dead or alive, his soul will be freed and he will be able to pass on to the great beyond next to his beloved (once his beloved passes away as well, assuming she happens to be currently alive *hint hint*). This person has to wear Delores' ring and accept and love Betelgeuse as is. She has to fall in love with his soul. Only loving him truly, wearing the ring, and sealing the deal with a kiss will release him, and that way, in the end, both his soul and his beloved's (it has got to be Lydia, please) can move on peacefully into the great beyond and exist without curses or attachments.

Totally a fantasy in my head because there's no way something like this would happen in canon much to the sadness of my little heart lol, but I thought I'd share it with you all. And who knows, maybe if there's a third movie they will explore what it is about Betelgeuse's character that is so attached to the concept of marriage. Because, listen, maybe the ritual where a ghost marries a living person and can materialize in the living world is something that is bound to the rules of the afterlife, and detailed in the Manual for the Recently Deceased, but the symbols and ritual of marriage is something intrinsic to the character of Betelgeuse itself.

He died on his wedding night, for starters. He was tricked by Delores and fell for her immediately. One could argue he fell quickly because she is so gorgeous and no doubt manipulated him into believing she loved him, and that's definitely part of it, but also, (and I have no doubt about this one), he believed her and fell for her immediately because Betelgeuse wants to be loved. He's a romantic underneath it all, and he wants to love and be loved. He might have been desiring it for a long time, failing to find love throughout his life until he met Delores.

He may exude self-confidence (maybe even to a delulu extent lol) and present himself in this very raunchy way, but inside, I'm sure he desires a genuine love; he wants to love someone and be loved truly. And he died, murdered by his bride on the night of his wedding. Betelgeuse was murdered on the night that should have been the happiest of his life, and his desire for love and a wedding stayed with him beyond the grave, now stained with blood and betrayal and a curse that can only be broken, in my head-canon/theory, by marrying someone who truly loves him, whom he truly loves.

Marriage is definitely a very important theme in Beetlejuice, so it'd be interesting if there's something more underneath it, which could be explored in the next movie if we are so lucky to get it.

[buckrogers]

steve feeling uncertain and a little bashful sharing a tent with bucky after the rescue because it was the first time they'd really be alone and steve still felt so out of sync with his own body, how bulky it now was, the very fact he had to stoop to enter the tent it's such a strange and disconcerting thing feeling like a traveler inside your own skin that he almost wants to hide away from his best friend's eyes when typically bucky staring at him the way he had been all night long would have been enough to make his stomach do some interesting somersaults and a slow tide of color warm his face -- instead he finds himself stripping quickly with an almost military precision and sliding onto his cot with his back to bucky, telegraphing anticipated rejection with the tuck of his shoulders up near his ears when he feels the weight of another body dropping down beside him and a familiar voice in his ear, hand warm on his hip saying alright skinny, shove over what you get all big and you got no room for me all of a sudden?