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#fluffy writes an essay

fluffydice · 4 months

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Lol I wonder if Kusuo lost that final little bit of self worth once he stopped the volcano. Like that was his whole life goal all those years. He didn’t even give himself time to think of a future beyond that. And once he stopped it, what was there left for him to do? He’d served his purpose.

I genuinely think losing his powers at his young age wasn’t really a good idea. All of his worth is conflated with his powers, both in his own mind and in others. Think of how excited Toritsuka and Kusuke were that he was getting them back, regardless of how anxious it made Kusuo. Accepting them as part of himself was a good step in the right direction, but he needs to learn how to acknowledge that he is a person who has value beyond what his powers can do. It’s something I think that can only come with age for him. He needs time to unlearn everything he’s grown up believing.

#the rest of his self worth comes from that almost defensive ego he has whenever he’s trying to distance himself #his god complex is so fucked up because he hates himself for it #god he should be more like teruhashi…not the way she literally runs herself into the ground trying to perform #but the way she is so confident that she IS all that and that it’s a good thing #it reminds me less of two sides of the same coin and more of the tragedy comedy masks #idk just thinking #saiki k #fluffy writes an essay

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coffeeintherain · 1 year

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the way that jesper looked like he ascended when wylan started playing the piano?? those heart eyes?? i will never recover he’s so down bad

#wesper #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #shadow and bone season 2 #jesper x wylan #wylan my boy #they care for each other so much #i can write a whole essay on their heart eyes #them being happy and fluffy is so important to me #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #six of crows

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nirikeehan · 2 years

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Do Thalia/Cullen having a tactical discussion as foreplay. :) Do ittttt

Oh god you asked for it. This is dumb and awkward and they're dumb and awkward and and 🤷‍♀️

For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: E (it's smut, guys. it's ridiculous fluffy smut)

Word Count: 3209

---

Thalia sat on the floor of Cullen’s bedroom, awash in candlelight. She nuzzled her face into the fur collar of the coat he had wrapped around her to ward off the night’s chill. Before her stretched the makeshift battle map Cullen had put a surprising amount of effort into. He had been quite enthusiastic when she had requested a lesson on battle tactics. Now, the next night, he’d dragged a trunk into the center of the room and spread out an old map of Ferelden on top. He had taken care to represent all the major cities and encampments with household objects. A goblet represented a keep, and the pieces from his chess set represented the various players eager to seize it.

“So,” he said, sitting on the floor beside her. “What’s the first move?”

Thalia took a sip of her wine and squinted at the map. “Deploy the troops from the encampment. It will take them weeks to even get there.”

“Are you certain?” Cullen asked lightly. “Once they’re on the march, any element of surprise will be lost.”

Thalia hesitated. “Send scouts ahead? To assess the situation and make strategic recommendations.”

He nodded in approval. “A sounder decision.” He leaned over the map, moving the designated pieces to surround the goblet.

“What do they find?” Thalia asked.

“Their spies have already heard word you’re planning to attack. They’re setting up fortifications.”

“Hey, no fair,” Thalia protested. “I didn’t know they had spies among my ranks!”

“It’s always a safe bet the enemy does,” Cullen reminded her. “If you can spy on them, chances are good they’re spying right back.”

“That doesn’t make me feel good about the Inquisition.” Thalia glanced out the window, at the starlit sky. “Do you think there’s spies right here in Skyhold?”

“Without a doubt,” Cullen said.

His nonchalance unsettled her. “Try to sound a little more concerned, please.”

“Leliana has it covered. That’s why you employ a good spymaster. It’s a vital position, and she’s the best.”

“Why can’t I just employ a good spymaster in this scenario too?” She pointed to the offending chess pieces. “Kill the spies before they make it back to the keep to tell on us.”

Cullen chuckled. “All right, point taken. But perhaps we’re getting a little too particular about a war game.”

“Though I appreciate the effort, I didn’t ask to play a game,” Thalia said. “I asked you to teach me to think like a military commander.”

“Yes, well,” Cullen said, “I thought this might be more fun than suffering through insufferably dusty tomes of war philosophy.”

“Maybe I like insufferably dusty tomes.” Thalia drew closer, her grin turning sly. “And listening to you speak of such philosophies.”

His cheeks flushed a shade redder, and he shifted his weight the way he did when he was flustered. Thalia found it terribly endearing. She put down her wine and kissed him on the nose. “I’m serious.” Cullen was the rare man who didn’t seem to like the sound of his own voice by default, which surprised her, because she was usually compelled by what he had to say.

Cullen cleared his throat. “Well…” His gaze drifted to the battle map. “I suppose I could explain what I’d do in this situation.”

“Please.” Thalia scooted backward, into the space between his legs, so that he could better reach the map.

His fingers found the nape of her neck, strayed into her elaborate updo. “May I?”

“Mmhm.” At the end of the day, Cullen had taken to unraveling the twists and braids, delicately picking out pins and smoothing the hair down around her shoulders. She liked when he did that, the way the attention made her scalp tingle, and how he looked at her when he was finished.

“All right, let’s assume the troops have decided to lay siege to the castle,” he said as he worked gently at her hair. “The best way to proceed depends on the architecture of the structure and the fortifications they’ve put into place.”

As he spoke, Thalia fell into a trance of deep interest. The higher strategies had an appealing logic to them, not unlike the moves in a chess game, just a thousand times more intricate. Along with the flagon of wine, the servants had left a platter of crusty bread pieces, grapes and cubed cheese. Thalia ate a few absently, trying to absorb all he was saying.

His gaze strayed from the map, and he trailed off, watching her.

“Hmm?” She swallowed a mouthful of cheese. “I’m listening, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Cullen cleared his throat.

Thalia bit her lip to hide a smirk. “Was I distracting you?”

“What? No!” He glanced away quickly. “Er, well, perhaps a little.”

The smile bloomed on her face, along with a blush. “Do you want any? This cheese is delicious, a sharp something or other. I think it’s Antivan.”

He laughed. “One piece. I’ve already had supper.”

She snatched a cube of cheese from the platter and held it to his mouth. She worried he might laugh and turn away, but he bit the the soft flesh of the morsel away with his teeth. His lips pulled at her finger as she slowly withdrew it. Thalia felt a jolt almost like electricity, and they held each other’s gaze, alight with surprise.

“Well, now I’m distracted.” A warm buzz swirled in her stomach. Thalia ducked her head to hide behind the curtain of hair he’d let loose.

“Sorry, that was… ah.” At a loss, Cullen swallowed. “The cheese is quite superb.”

“I’m glad. You were talking about what to do when faced with a motte and bailey castle?”’

“Right. The motte and bailey’s design is ingenious, because the artificial mound the tower is built upon protects it in tandem with the walled fortifications of the bailey. Obviously, its main weakness is the one entry point, but usually this is offset by the moat, portcullis and murder holes.”

“So what’s the best way to proceed?”

“It depends on how patient you’re willing to be. A logical move would be to surround the premises completely, cut off their supply lines — especially food — and starve them out. Torching and salting the surrounding fields helps with this, but it is, as you can imagine, brutal.”

“Desperate times, I suppose.” Thalia frowned. “But that sounds like it could take months.”

“Oh, it certainly could. The idea is to demoralize them into a swift surrender, but that is never assured. I’ve not been a proponent of that tactic myself, because of the high civilian cost.” Cullen paused. “And, frankly, time is not a luxury we could afford, which is why all of our attacks thus far have been, strictly speaking, aggressive. We’ve had the advantage of a charismatic leader at the head of the charge, which helps more than you might think.”

She nearly asked who he meant by that, until she realized it was herself. She felt her cheeks warming. He thought her to be a charismatic leader?

“So, first, you must consider how to break down the defenses. There are trebuchets, of course, and battering rams…” Cullen leaned over the battle map, arranging the pieces in an intricate pattern to represent the army’s formations. Thalia brought her head close to his, watching with interest. He paused, glancing sideways at her, clearing his throat. “And then we have… er…”

He seemed to be losing his train of thought, his other hand lingering on the small of her back. Thalia tried scooting back to give him more room to see, but she only wound up brushing against the inside of his trousers, and suddenly it was quite plain why he was again growing distracted.

“Oh!” she yelped with unhelpful surprise.

Cullen’s face went as red as a tomato. “Ah, well, I admit this is… terribly unprofessional…”

Thalia burst out laughing, which seemed to mortify him even more. “No, no! Please, don’t give me that look.” She turned and kissed him, her hand lingering on his stubbly chin. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s… flattering.”

He shot her a look of utter mortification. “Flattering?”

She leaned against him, unable to control her giggles. They’d made love a few times by now, but the nerves hadn’t quite left them yet. “Of course. I never thought I’d be more enticing to you than a battle map, to be honest.”

Cullen let out a laugh. “You’ve no idea how much more enticing.”

It had grown quite hot in the room, despite the chill. Thalia leaned forward and circled her arms around his neck. “You do know how to woo a woman when you put your mind to it, you know.”

“I confess anything of the sort is purely accidental, but if it’s working, who am I to argue?” He reached up to brush the loose hair from her face. “Perhaps we ought to take a study break?”

Thalia took a slow breath, then made a decision. She wriggled into his lap. “Actually, I told you already. I like when you talk war strategy.” She inched a thigh closer to the bulge in his breeches. “And apparently, so do you.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’d like me to… while we…?”

Thalia wrinkled her nose. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“That’s certainly not the problem,” he said, all in a rush.

“Is there a problem?”

“I suppose I’m worried I’ll make a fool of myself. As usual.”

“You haven’t so far,” Thalia said. “You’ve sounded very eloquent and erudite.”

“Erudite,” he repeated, a little breathlessly, and kissed her.

She leaned into the embrace, kneeling in the space between his legs. Cullen sat back, watching her with eyes half-lidded with desire. He took a quick, shaky breath. “All right. If we’re to storm the castle, weaknesses in the fortifications need to be found.” He reached up and removed the coat from her shoulders. His fingers hooked around the waistband of her trousers. “The options are the towers and the… the…”

“Are you going to call it the ‘cellar’?” Thalia asked, smirking.

“No! Maker, I’m terrible at this.” He let out a burst of nervous laughter.

Thalia joined him, leaning her forehead against his. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said in-between chortles. “Check the towers first.”

His hands slid under the hem of her tunic to the flesh of her stomach. Thalia let out a surprised gasp. “Cold!”

“Sorry,” Cullen said, yanking them away.

“No no no,” Thalia cried, snatching him by the wrists. Lyrium withdrawal often left the sufferer with lowered body temperature and poor circulation. “It’s fine. See?” She pressed her palms over his and rubbed vigorously. Once the body heat transferred from her to him, she replaced his hands under her tunic. “There.”

She shivered as he took back control, his fingers roving higher until they reached her chest. She felt him hesitate, then cover her breasts. Letting out a slow breath, she arched her back, sliding closer to him. He caressed her gently, circling her nipples with his thumbs.

“Good?”

“Good.” During their first lovemaking sessions, he’d seemed terrified of hurting her. She’d grown weary of telling him no, she was fine, and sought to work out a more affirmative system. The sliding scale of “good” was pretty effective. “You could go a little harder.”

“Harder?” He sounded dubious.

Sometimes she wondered if he thought her made of glass. “How badly do you want to penetrate this castle, Commander?”

He pinched her nipple, and she cried out with a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. Heat swelled in her groin. “Better,” she breathed.

He leaned in and planted a line of kisses on her neck. “It’s unlikely a keep would be seized without any enemy retaliation,” he said low in her ear. “One would expect a counterattack.”

She shivered. “What sort of counterattack?”

“I suppose that’s your call to make, Inquisitor.” His hands moved to her shoulder blades, to the small of her back.

“My call.” She looked him over: hair falling onto his forehead, stripped down to a simple tunic and jerkin, foregoing the heavy armor he wore all day long. That would make things easier; she’d helped him out of that breast plate before, and it was always a production. “The enemy seems less prepared than he might otherwise be.”

She pressed her hands against the flat of his chest, feeling the contours of muscles through the fabric. Her fingers skittered to the lacing of his breeches. “Hit him where he’s most vulnerable?”

He let out a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp. “A bold move.”

“Should I pull back?” Thalia asked doubtfully, but his hand shot out to hold hers in place.

“No, it’s all right. It’s better than all right.” His eyes held a sheen of lust.

“Show me,” Thalia whispered.

He moved her hand to the strain of his erection, his breathing growing labored. Her own desire mounted, and she pulled at the laces of his breeches, catching his mouth in a desperate kiss as she worked. “Tell me,” she murmured. “Tell me what to do.”

This was difficult for him sometimes, she knew: difficult to articulate his own desires, difficult to believe he was worthy of them. She often felt similarly, and at times wondered how they even functioned together at all — the blind leading the blind.

“Just — touch it. Hold it. Hold me.”

They chipped away at the walls, piece by piece. His desires felt simple, in the end. Maybe hers were too.

She plunged her hand into the loosened space and took hold of him. Cullen groaned, and his own hand plummeted from her navel to her pelvis.

“Keep going,” she urged, her voice hitching.

He pressed under the waistband of her trousers, down to where she felt hot and swollen. Thalia let out a gasp, rocking against his fingers on impulse. A snake of pleasure slithered through her as he stroked.

“Good?” he asked.

“Incredib— oh.”

She wanted him to feel the same way, so she ran her hand along the length of him, slowly at first and then with increasing speed. He matched her pace and soon they were both panting, leaning against each other heavily.

“I want you in me,” she gasped at last. “Right now.”

Cullen flashed an impish grin. “Is this a tactical surrender?”

“Oh, shut up.” She leaned back and yanked her tunic over her head.

He watched her bared chest with interest, but his voice was concerned. “Here, on the floor? The bed is right there, you know.”

“Says the man who wanted our first time to be on his desk.”

“And you recall the disaster that was.”

Yes, there was nothing quite like being trapped under a heavy breastplate that proved impossible to remove. They’d slunk upstairs in giddy embarrassment after that, though she’d graded him high on the effort.

“Your knees must be killing you,” he said softly.

She hadn’t been particularly thinking of her knees, but now that he mentioned it, there was a dull ache in them that suggested she might regret this position later. “All right, we can move to the bed.” She paused. “But I want to be on top.”

“You say that like I would object,” Cullen said, laughing.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Of course not. This has been the most thrilling evening of my life, why would I try to interfere?”

“Of your life?”

“Kirkwall was a surprisingly boring place, for all the things that happened there.”

On the bed lay several pillows. Thalia stacked them against the headboard while Cullen stood behind her, removing his jerkin, then his tunic. “Here,” she urged, unbuttoning and peeling off her trousers. He sat and reached over to stroke her face. She froze, the urgency stayed, the tenderness in his touch and eyes radiating deep inside her.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

She didn’t know what to say, so she kissed him instead. Their lips explored each other’s necks and chests, the only sound their quickening breaths. Thalia straddled him and set to work removing his breeches. He leaned back against the pillows she had arranged. His breath caught as she took hold of him again. “My love?”

“Hmm?” She caught his gaze; in repose, framed by the pillows, she had never seen a man so exquisite outside of paintings.

“Now is the time for a little magic, perhaps?”

She sat back, impatient with arousal. “Oh. Yes, of course.”

“Unless you’d rather…” He raised an eyebrow.

Thalia snorted. “I am not fighting Corypheus pregnant, thanks.”

He laughed, kissing her forehead as she muttered the contraceptive spell. As she finished, she took a deep breath. “We ready?”

“More than.” His hands, warmed from their efforts, gripped her hips. “Good?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, wondering the best way to proceed. Hoping she wouldn’t regret this, she grabbed the headboard and used it for leverage as she lowered herself onto his erection. His hands guided her, and she tried to move slowly, but she was slick and a little awkward and it all went faster than she planned. They both gasped as he entered her.

She leaned her forehead against his, entwining her fingers in his hair. “Okay?”

“Amazing. You?”

“Very good,” she murmured. She planted a kiss on his face and moved slowly, rocking against him. His hips rose to meet hers with small, sure thrusts. A moan escaped her, and she arched her back, exposing her throat. Her long mop of hair fell over her bare backside and brushed his legs. He cupped her breasts and squeezed, making her moan.

She stepped up the pace. She pressed hands to the sculpted contours of his chest. His fingers tangled in her hair, traced her jawline and her collarbone, back to her nipples, navel, and thighs, where he groaned, held tight, and thrust hard upward.

“Maker,” she cried, “you’re eager.”

“Too much?”

“No, no. Go on.” She gasped as she bounced. “Harder.” She clenched her teeth against a moan. “Harder.”

Their movements grew frantic, their breaths shuddering. He was not much for speaking, but his hitched breaths and low noises of pleasure fed her own desire. Soon his groans came with every breath, and Thalia again gripped the headboard with whitened knuckles. The bed creaked from the force of them.

She came suddenly, with a loud cry that startled her; her knees buckled and she toppled forward. She rode it out against his chest as he continued to move inside her in quick, confident strokes. Soon he too gasped and spent himself, and they slumped down onto the featherbed in a tangle.

They lie still, panting until at last their pulses slowed. Thalia felt an ecstatic sort of overstimulation; everywhere their skin touched felt electric.

He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her. She rolled on her side with her arms tucked in front of her chest; her hair felt like a tempest, strewn all over pillows and sheets and limbs. She smiled up at him.

Cullen bit his lip, as he watched her. “Well.”

Thalia curled a lock of hair around her finger and pressed it shyly to her mouth. “Do you think the siege was successful?”

They clung to each other and howled with laughter until neither could breathe.

#IT'S SMUT #I WROTE IT #be the smut you want to see in the world #thalia trevelyan #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #awkward and cute and fluffy #idek #i could have just written a whole essay on medieval siege tactics #dragon age drunk writing circle #fics

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hellogirlslikegirlslikeboysdo · 4 months

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And the lights are not fluorescent, and there are no words on the page. - Imitatio Essay

Author's Preface and Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

Description: My final portfolio for one of the creative writing courses I took based around exploring the creative nonfiction essay in its many literary forms, with any and all identifying names or signifiers censored out.

My dad has the feel of the texture of the angler, ugly little minimalist-style loveseat in the corner of our living room practically inside him at this point, and it's all my fault. But mostly his.

This certainly doesn’t come as a surprise, in my case. He’s the one who paid for my room and board, who always said to follow my dreams and gave me “Sure, that’s great!” the day I first shoved the fanfiction.net homepage in his face and said I wanted to make one too. He sounded confused as he said it, the way he does whenever I show him a particularly offbeat show, like he couldn’t follow my way from singing to dancing to acting to writing creative fiction in his head. But he knew he held my tiny hand along the cobblestone walkway, so he added an audible optimistic tilt to the corner of his voice and is always the one to sit across from me in that damn chair when my mother refuses to watch any “dumb cartoons”.

I don’t particularly know why I make him do this, but I know that the fact that I don’t gives me claim to ignorance, making it probably his fault as the only other party in this recurring scenario, and he always likes whatever I pick anyway, so there.

It’s usually been that way, since I started placing myself in charge of family movie night. First because I wanted the three of us to trap ourselves with approx. 2 hours of media we all enjoyed, and then it was in efforts of exposing my family to what I had deemed “quality art” (or, at the very least, art that wasn’t the same 3 crime and/or medical shows, low budget comedies where everyone involves only signed up for the project for a free vacation, or generic action thrillers) in hopes they would enjoy media as much as I did after growing some standards. Of course, my mother had a tendency to kick and scream her way to the couch for these viewings, but my heart was in the right place (or, at the very least, somewhere within the left hand corner).

But then I didn’t know. And I couldn’t explain myself as I tucked myself into the side of that couch, glazing back at my father to find his reaction. The captions on, to make sure he caught all the words. The “Are you paying attention?” and the pausing, the shushing and shushing back.

He’d playfully shove my head to the side, and I’d giggle, and finally he’d ask why I care about his impressions of a webtoon pilot I found off the backwaters of Youtube, and I could justify myself just fine, but I couldn’t answer him.

I figure, faintly, in the recess of my gaping mind, I could wave at the recent scientific discovery that my father would never understand me on the carnal level I hoped he would when I got old enough.

A myriad of reasons dangled behind my actions. Maybe I’d get to probe him for first impressions afterward (Just first—My dad wouldn’t sit through a rerun), not have to worry he won’t get the full picture of my 40-minute character analyzing info dumps, the hopes that he likes it. Really, I’d just wanted him to bear witness to it too, for my own sake. To see if it tugged at him enough to turn to my mother, carefully setting the coffee machine for tomorrow, and go “Hey, [REDACTED]. Come check out this thing [REDACTED] found.”.

I guess I suppose I think I figured that, as long as he was experiencing the same thing I was, he would figure it out then and there, he would call my mother over like that for my TV debut.

#creative nonfiction #essay #art #family dynamics #sharing art #nonfiction #creative writing #light fluff #fluffy #fathers #writing

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fluffydice · 3 months

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Did a Kusuke analysis about his relationship with his brother, it’s not very friendly toward him so be warned about that,,,

TW for mentioned abuse, everything except the physical parts, funnily enough

Honestly, I really wished I actually liked Kusuke because he’s an intriguing character and represents a developed villain whose whole being isn’t just “he’s evil.” He’s other things, and among them is caring toward Kusuo, even if it’s really fucked up. But I just can’t comfortably read his scenes because of the things he does to his brother. Everything is so normalized, even by Kusuo himself. Kusuo’s reaction to his brother literally getting off to him is one that speaks to just how normal it is to him. And that’s not even speaking about how Kusuo sometimes almost regurgitates the things he grew up hearing about himself and takes them as truth.

I think Kuniharu fucked up both his kids (and Kurumi did too, inadvertently), but I really believe Kusuke was the one who made Kusuo believe his powers made him unlovable. Like:

Come off of it, Jesus Christ.

And he fucking weaponized it is the worst part. He knows Kusuo won’t step out of line because he’s always holding the threat of exposure over his little brother’s head, and exposure = abandonment.

The reason Kusuke would never go after Kusuo’s friends is because the threat of exposure still works in that case: none of them know about Kusuo’s powers, ergo Kusuke can still leverage it. And I think that’s why Toritsuka gets roped in during the Cat Tank arc. Threatening to tell Toritsuka about Kusuo’s powers doesn’t work in this case because he already knows. So he goes bigger. He tries to brainwash him into hating Kusuo.

I really think the Cat Tank was meant as a punishment for Kusuo trying to have friends. The reason Kusuke backed off was because Kusuo threw his chance at a normal life away once he saw the trouble ‘he’ brought to them. He hates feeling like a burden, hates being indebted to people. Once Kusuke realized his usual way of incentivizing Kusuo was done (and also that he technically ‘won’ by Kusuo taking out his limiter), he realized that was the end of it.

Of course, Kusuo offering to still be his playmate opened up a new world to Kusuke. Now, he wouldn’t have to force Kusuo into it (besides maybe the occasional bribe). It opens up new avenues for their relationship to actually improve, perhaps.

#this isn’t even everything there is to say either #there’s other stuff I could talk about especially the physical aspect of it #at his core kusuo really wanted to connect with his brother again #he wanted to believe so bad that Kusuke had changed after four years #he only hated his brother because his brother hated him #its honestly tragic. for both of them #all this to say I hate him. any analysis I give is likely to be biased because of this #but I see his appeal. all the more power to his fans #especially those who accept and embrace wholeheartedly how messed up he is #saiki k #fluffy writes an essay

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fountaincas · 2 years

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Sunshine

dean wakes up, squinting at the hint of sunlight coming from the window. he tilts his head up, conscious of the sleepy furnace wrapped around him, and sees the digits '7:21' blinking at him. he sighs, and slowly turns around to face cas, promptly feeling himself melt at how adorable he looks with and his eyes squeezed shut and his wild hair scattered all over the white pillows. dean leans down and pecks his forehead to smooth out the wrinkles there, and wills himself to get up.

he untangles himself from cas' limbs and the several comforters stacked on their bed and pulls on one of cas' knitted sweaters before quietly leaving their bedroom.

dean walks into the newly repainted kitchen and fills water in cas' tea kettle before making himself coffee. once the water is done boiling, dean pours the water into cas' favorite mug - it's a wonky cat mug with ears pointing out of it. he puts a ginger tea bag in it and lets it steep while he walks out to the front porch and sips his coffee.

it's been a year since they got together. a crazy year filled with kisses and warmth and house hunting and - dean snorts fondly to himself as he looks down - knitting. almost every surface of their house is covered in yarn and needles. dean would be mad if it was anyone else; it truly is everywhere. but dean doesn't mind. cas has already taken over his heart; he can take over his whole life if he wants to.

after dean's done with his coffee, he goes back in and puts his mug in the sink. he stirs one and a half spoons of honey, just the way cas likes it, and takes the mug back up the stairs to their room.

gently opening the door, dean sees cas glaring at the sunlight peaking through their window curtains. he smiles and walks into the room, setting the mug on cas' bedside table. he sits on the bed near cas' legs and just watches cas fondly, veins filling with warmth as he watches the ex-angel rub his sleepy eyes with his fists and sits up against the headboard. once he's swaddled in all the comforters up to his shoulders, cas pokes one hand out to take the mug and cup it with both hands as he sips it.

cas closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the warmth that ran through him at the pleasant burning taste of ginger. he opens his eyes, seeing dean's eyes still on him, "moon eyes" on full display. cas flushes, looking away and sipping at his tea again.

dean's smile widens. "happy anniversary, sunshine."

cas' smile is so bright dean is convinced cas is the sun. "happy anniversary, beloved."

and so their morning goes, just like that. with dean and cas' hands intertwined, their rings glinting in the sunrise.

#i wrote this instead of writing my essay #um...i feel bad i didn't come up with this three days ago it would've been thee perfect way to celebrate their anniversary :(#anyway enjoy this cute anniversary fic <33 #i hope it's actually fluffy bc there's a lot more description of dean making stuff than of deancas being deancas but again idc #ill delete this and report after editing if it flops #spn drabble #drabble #destiel #deancas #destiel drabble

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cowgurrrl · 10 months

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would you ever write a college joel au? maybe with a little tommy? 👀

OMG YES

I think there’s so much potential there especially with Joel having Sarah so young (22 according to canon) so I could totally see an angsty/sweet type of drabble or even a series!! Now my brain is going brrrrrrr with ideas

If you have something specific you want to see, feel free to send in a request and I’ll get it to as soon as I can!! I’m at a leadership camp rn so I haven’t been writing or doing much of anything lol but I’d love to hear more!!

#college!joel would be so fucking cute #and charming #he’d def flirt with you while you’re trying to tutor him #I feel like he’d be so good at math because in my head his dad owns a contracting company or something like it #so he’s always built stuff #therefore he’d be good at math and dimensions and shit #but the poor boy hates English #he tries so hard but can’t write an essay to save his life #“baby can you please just write it for me #“That’s literally grounds for suspension from the university #please :(#he’d be so fluffy and cute #canonically goes to UT Austin #and by canonically I mean in my head #june screams on the internet

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