#things i write

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."

Jon yawned widely. He hadn't managed to get much sleep last night, still not used to having a roommate. A roommate who snored. One would think, with Jon's ability to hear everything, that someone making a loud noise nearby wouldn't make that big of a difference. Turns out it made sleep nearly impossible.

"Rough night?" Cindy asked sympathetically. She was in his morning class, and had run into him outside the main building. "We have time to go grab a coffee before class if you want."

"Thanks, but it's okay. Damian's bringing coffee," Jon said. "He should be here any minute now."

"Oh," she said, looking surprised. "Who is Damian? Your boyfriend?"

"Nah, my best friend," Jon said, scanning the campus for any sign of him. "He's-"

"Already here."

🌹 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 🙏

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!!

Which is insane, I know, but believe me I have seen these takes on tiktok... a whole other fucking world out there. I have seen people react with disgust toward Destiel because of this precise reason. Because for these people, Cas is much older than Dean, (which he is, aeons old angel, obvs, but I'm talking about the people who come to this conclusion because of Misha's appearance more than any factual element of the show), in a way that for them it's easier to perceive their bond in an almost "father-son" "guardian angel-divine charge" capacity and could not fathom perceiving them as what they pretty much actually were by the end of the show, an old married couple. Basically.

I think this stems from how Jensen has such a pretty, almost feminine, youthful face. He definitely does look aged, in par with Misha, but his features are so soft and just, pretty, that I understand why some people think he's considerably younger than Misha. He also does style himself a lot more fashionably and takes measures to keep his appearance, like dyeing his beard for example, which I notice Misha doesn't care to do much for his own appearance (and that is okay, obviously), which can also make people believe he's a lot younger. Tl;dr:

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: La'an Noonien-Singh/Number One | Una Chin-Riley, Spock & Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel/Erica Ortegas Characters: La'an Noonien-Singh, Number One | Una Chin-Riley (Star Trek), Christopher Pike, Erica Ortegas, Christine Chapel, Nyota Uhura, Spock (Star Trek) Additional Tags: the coffee and the angst are paid actors, Post-Canon, resentfully canon-compliant Summary:

The crew of the Enterprise figure out how to deal with the end of an era

or

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.”