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I liked it after reading a couple sentences because - well - it’s perfect. And then I read a couple more sentences and found Dean ONCE AGAIN so damn relatable that I like it again and then this super cute end happened and I liked it again. Why do I keep forgetting I liked something already? But also I love this and I relate so hard it’s not even funny but this melts my heart.
mug in my hands, your lips on my lips
word count: 900
the rest is under the cut with the tag list, or on ao3 :)
Dean has never liked tea.
He can remember being four years old, crawling up next to his mom on the couch where she’s sitting down with a steaming mug cupped in her hands.
“Do you want some?” she offered.
Dean spat it back into the mug while she laughed.
He’s tried it a few times since then. Usually when he misses her the most, but quite frankly, it’s still just as disgusting to him now as it was before his life went up in flames. It’s a constant, though, which he can at least appreciate.
A new constant is catching Cas sipping tea out of one of those novelty mugs he started collecting when he fell for the last time. Dean has no idea what he sees in it, but every day without fail, Cas wanders around the bunker with a mug of tea.
The domesticity of it is jarring at times. It makes Cas seem more human when he’s grimacing at the taste after he’s left it steeping too long, or when he blindly closes a hand around his mug while he pours over something or other in the library. It makes it so much easier to imagine little things he doesn’t get, like dropping a kiss on Cas’ cheek as he gives him a mug, or curling up against him while they watch a movie. Dean doesn’t like tea, but he loves Cas with it.
It’s a beautiful, beautiful torture. He inflicts it on a daily basis.
Today, Cas’ mug says spill the tea. Dean shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does, but when it comes to Cas, he’s a goner. He tamps down the smile that comes with Cas’ beadhead, electric blue eyes blinking back sleep, and fingers curled around a mug.
“‘Morning,” Dean says.
Cas’ eyes flick up to him. “Good morning, Dean.”
Dean takes his usual spot by the counter, futzing with the coffee machine. It takes a minute for it to get going, and then he moves to rummage through a cabinet, pulling out one of the mugs that has made itself at home in the bunker (one of Cas’, this one says don’t be a prick with a picture of a cactus). They sit in comfortable silence backed by the quiet hum of the coffee machine.
Soon enough, there’s a shrill beep, and Dean is pouring himself a mug. He sits down across from Cas.
Cas takes a sip of his tea and Dean watches him swallow. Goddammit. It’s too early in the morning for his feelings and shit.
Halfway through his cup of coffee, Cas speaks.
“That’s disgusting,” he says, squinting at Dean’s mug. “How do you even drink it?”
“This?” Dean raises his coffee and Cas nods. “Buddy, you don’t get to talk, you’re drinking hot leaf juice.”
Cas frowns at him. “You’re drinking hot bean juice,” he argues.
“At least it’s not gross hot leaf juice,” Dean says.
Cas raises his eyebrows over his mug as he takes a drink. “Tea isn’t ‘gross,’” he says, using his free hand to make air quotes.
Dean scoffs. “Hell yeah, it is.”
“Dean,” Cas says.
“I’ve got thirty years of experience that say so,” Dean says, “You’re not changing my mind.”
Cas looks at him. Really looks at him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and, for the love of god, Dean, stop looking at his lips!
Dean jerks his eyes back up to Cas’, but it’s too late.
Cas leans fluidly across the table and then Dean’s brain goes offline.
He tastes like earth and honey, crowding into Dean’s space. Hands come up to cup his face and the back of his neck. It’s a moment before Dean gets with the program and presses back. The flavor intensifies, and he’s suddenly drunk on it. He wants more, and holy fucking shit, Cas is kissing him, and—
Cas pulls back, slightly out of breath, lips pink, pupils blown and looking far more awake than he was a few moments ago. He manages to sound almost unaffected when he asks, “Did that change your mind?”
Dean can’t answer. He can still feel the phantom texture of Cas’ lips against his, and seeing Cas like this is doing things to him. How the fuck is he supposed to talk about tea when he can’t even think coherently?
“You kissed me,” he manages. “Cas, you—“
“Yes,” Cas agrees. “Did it change your mind?”
Dean gapes at him. He’s been wanting to do that for so long, and Cas just kissed him, out of nowhere, over an argument about tea. A lot of strange things have happened to Dean, but the domesticity of this particular moment might make it one of the strangest.
Cas takes pity on him after a minute or so of Dean failing to string together a sentence.
“Do you need to try it again?” There’s something light and hopeful in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Dean says, “Uh, yeah. I don’t think I got enough of a taste to decide. Maybe a few more times?” Maybe a lot more times?
Cas smiles. “Of course, Dean,” he says.
Dean’s words may not be working like they should right now, but leaning back in is easy. Right.
Dean doesn’t like tea, but this? His lips against Cas’, he thinks he could get used to this.
tag list: @ccstiel @starrynightdeancas @fellshish @floral-cas @castielsbeeslippers @dune-echo @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie
let me know if you want to be added or removed!
I’m back with more Basil and Dorian doodles! I managed to complete a full page of doodles in one night which I haven’t done in a while. Felt good lol. It was super late when I was drawing all of these so 🫢
Okay PLEASE don’t look too close at Lord Henry.. I haven’t drawn him in a very long time and I’m still trying to develop a look for him.
But anyway- so I like to imagine that Lord Henry takes on the role of Cupid between Basil and Dorian, doing anything in his power to get these two together. They like each other and they try to show it, but the other doesn’t pick up on anything, so Harry stepped in to help. (They’re so oblivious it pisses Harry off). He leaves them alone in rooms, he helps one or the other build up enough courage to ask the other out, the whole nine yards. In result, I imagine Basil and Dorian tell him EVERYTHING that happens, and sometimes they get a little too personal 😶 but it’s because they’re excited and have no filter when they’re excited (I included a little funny at the end)
Harry is doing the lord’s work for these two I guess🤷♀️
🥺
The Lucky Batch ☘️
Cold Lullabies
With the information that Raffle delivered, Kenlha wanted to hear their side of the story. However, she struggled to muster the gut to do so, knowing the pain they must feel.
Every day, Kenlha misses Morast, wishing that she’d never been their padawan. Maybe the Clawdite would still be alive if Kenlha was dumped with another master, someone like Kit Fisto or Ki-Adi Mundi, the latter being a sociopath. Mundi was better than Mace Windu, the prick.
She has an idea how they feel. Though instead of losing one, they’ve lost many. Not only their batchmates but prior mother-figure, Master Bastet.
Master Fisto, Master Koon and Master Kenobi believed that she was best for this squad, they trusted her to care for them. In order to do that, she needed to know as much as possible.
Not only that, but share as well. They’ll be fully open to each other, no secrets between them. That’ll build trust and maybe make them almost competent.
The twins, however, are crafty bastards.
Foxy would direct the conversation in one of his many attempts to flirt. Thumbs would egg him on while Ballast laughed.
Pepper, being the only medic, could say that he was busy with one of his idiot brothers. Given how often this lot gets injured, she can’t argue that he’s was a busy guy.
It was a waiting game. She’d have to ambush one of them, get them comfortable with her.
This togruta space witch is even craftier than these twins.
While trying to mentor Brisk and Luna, she’d wait.
Eventually, Kenlha’s time came, just not how she wanted it to.
On one of the missions, Pepper was hurt, the fool more focused on protecting Foxy. He got an infection from the wound, even contracting a virus. Foxy was adamant that they not go back to Kamino, leaving them to follow Pepper’s fevered orders.
It inspired her to start practicing medicine, only for her to realise how complicated it was.
With perseverance and a visit from a clone named Kix, Peps was on his way to getting back on his feet.
Since he couldn’t run away, Kenlha would take advantage of the only moment she had.
“Looking better by the day,” Kenlha complimented, sitting next to Pepper’s bed. “You’ll be giving out stickers any day, buddy.”
“Goose will be thrilled,” the medic continued, wondering how high it’s body count was now. “Ryder needs a new Nexu sticker. Then I can make the hot Cheetos dipped in mashed potatoes scratch and sniff for him.”
It was sweet to see the new Ryder bring such a gift to Pepper, he adored it.
“Is it alright if I ask you something?”
“You can always confide with me, Ken. Doctor patient confidentiality ensures your secrets are safe with me.”
He was a soft boi, a good brother to her and an excellent doctor. When she looked into those mismatched eyes and his soft smile, it was easy to forget what he’d endured. What both twins went through together.
“I’d like to know about before me and before Master Bastet. I’m a Jedi, I can sense your instinctive caution around me, even though you don’t show it. As your General, your sister, I want to be there for you as you are for me.”
Perhaps it was the fever, maybe it was exhaustion, but he gave somewhat of a summary of what transpired with Master Laverna. She could feel the trauma, especially regarding the force-choke.
He had to hold his neck, recalling the events as though he was re-living them again.
Raffle forgot to mention that the Jedi’s death was an accident, but in her opinion, he deserved it. While she’s biased, being their sister, she can’t stand people mistreating the clones.
Being so close with the twins, she’s disgusted by that dead Cathar.
“I… sometimes I don’t think Foxy should’ve gotten involved,” the medic sighed, like a weight was lifted from his chest.
Understandably, Kenlha was surprised, though she wouldn’t voice it. He was sharing with her, she can’t ruin this. She can understand him more, and by doing that, she can be a better sister.
“He had a padawan, a girl, possible 11 or so, named Teles. I cut off her leg, but didn’t cut high enough, and she died, likely septic shock. I held her hand as that light fell away. Nothing he could’ve done to me would compare to feeling her going limp and cold.”
He felt responsible for her. He did everything he could and she still died. It’s a pain that Kenlha empathised with more than she wished she did. Her eyes burned as salty water seeped through her ducts, dribbling down her yellow skin.
“I often feel that I killed my master, Morast Tane. They were strict, but they were better to me than anyone before. They tried to guide my energy onto something productive and constructive, kind of like a parent to me,” Kenlha started, recalling the events herself.
“It was on a hot planet called Nevarro, magma and volcanic ash littering the ground. While fighting an army of droids, some damned flyers shot from above, causing the ground to become unstable.
I didn’t think. I jumped into the air, slicing through those bastards. One that I bisected fell, crashing into that unstable ground and causing Master Morast to fall. I tried to pull them up, but they fell into the lava.
The only word they could muster was Run before the cries started. Being outmatched, outgunned, we had to leave. There wasn’t even anything to bury them,” Kenlha sighed, the sensation of something clawing at her throat adding to the tears. “I know the pain of being responsible, even when others tell you it wasn’t your fault.”
The medic absorbed her tale, allowing her a few moments to recollect herself. The togruta held his hand, supporting herself and him in the emotional moment.
There were days she wished it was her instead of Master Morast.
“Do you remember the Endeavour, that ship that crashed down, killing two-thousand troopers?” Pepper started, his voice trembling. “I… could’ve stopped that from happening.”
She waited, feeling his grip tighten around hers.
“At Geonosis, while Foxy, Mozzarella, Springer and Locke were fighting droids, I and a few others were sent back to look for surviving Jedi. Instead, I found someone with my face, only far younger.
I knew who he was, everybody did. The Maker’s chosen child, the payment for his involvement in making us. The one that he named Boba, raising as his own.
If I’d just taken him in or hell, even shot him, then all of those clones would still be alive. Master Windu and Master Skywalker wouldn’t have been hurt. Instead of that, I let him go, lying to my fellows that I didn’t find anybody.”
“While the Endeavour was a tragedy, I think you did the right thing. They were only a child, weren’t they? Even by Mandalorian standards, he was a kid, right?”
“Master Bastet said something similar. And she’s dead too. I tend to have bad luck regarding Jedi.”
He was afraid to get close to her in case she died. It’s an understandable fear, she was terrified of ever having a master again.
Kenlha was scared to even be a Master, worried that she’d never live up to Morast with her young girls. Brisk and Luna were outliers too, so she had an advantage there, but still.
There are days where she wondered if Morast would’ve been better for them.
“I won’t promise that I’m not gonna die. We all die eventually, many earlier than they should. What I will promise, Peps, is that I’ll be here for every day that it gets hard. During the days it feels like there can’t be a tomorrow, I’ll be right here to listen. All of us, even Goose.”
“Foxy’ll need an ear, too. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”
“He was adamant that we steer clear from Kamino. Would I be pushing it if I asked why?”
She watched those green and brown eyes ponder, thinking over her question. As with before, he chose to share.
“Foxy and I aren’t just twins. There’re loads of twins, Echo and Fives from the 501st for example. We, however, are literal twins. Our clump of cells split and we grew attached at the shoulder,” he explained, motioning to his tattooed shoulder. “The Kaminoans, having not seen it often, experimented on us to prevent it from happening again. Our earliest memories have made us dislike them, especially the one named Nala Se.”
It made sense and she could agree with it.
“Then to ensure that we don’t go, I think I’ll have to learn some doctor lessons from you. I’ll be your, um, what’s that dumb thing Jackal says?”
“P-to-the-wan?”
“Yep, I’ll be your medic padawan,” she smiled, earning one from him as well. It was a beautiful thing, given his experiences. “Have a sleep, pal. We’ll give you a few minutes of peace.”
“There’s tape in Boots’ room,” he chuckled. She smirked, knowing that it would be for Ballast. “It… was good talking with you, Ken.”
“You too, Doctor Bro.”
Kenlha will talk with Foxy as well. She’ll talk with all of her siblings, assuring them that she’s there for ‘em. Not just her clones but her padawans, too.
She wasn’t going to lie, it felt good talking to Peppy about her feelings as well.
Feelings aren’t accepted in the Jedi Order, so he made her feel valid. It was something she desperately needed from someone, and she was happy it was from Peps.
This is a good family she’s found.
Love you guys!
Tags: @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr @maygalodon @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @foxlock @lusiawonder @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @monako-jinn-stories @namesmox @generaltano @lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice
I am evil, yis 😈😈
PS - it’s 3:23am lol brain is working overtime!
I love this. It’s gorgeous. And I second that love for The Gift of Kindness, btw. My number one, favorite fic of all time. Go read it if you’re into Snarry. Heck, go read it anyway. It’s the best. (Sorry. I can’t help myself. I love it so much.)
SNAM Day 6: POC Snape
Hey comrades, it’s another Snape Appreciation Month drawing! This one’s theme is POC Snape. I’ve actually seen a lot of fantastic portrayals of Snape as a person of colour, like Elenianz’ art and his portrayal in The Gift of Kindness by hippocrates460 to name a few. I was actually someone inspired by the latter because it includes scenes of Snape sharing an aspect of his culture with his choice of date. I ended up drawing Snape as Vietnamese, and he is taking Harry on a date to have Phở :3 It’s late in the evening at an outdoor cafe<3
- webcomic - patreon - ao3 -
ITZY | Hwang Yeji - 내 생에 복날은, (One Summer Day) | EP03 (240912)
