#ft. drabble

[misscalliopecruz]

The entire course of activities was laughable. Is this what people thought active was? What a joke. If only they knew what Chad went through on a daily basis, this would be like a nap. Which for him, it was. He was being put to sleep and he was bored. He wasn’t being challenged and after the whole ‘sharing feelings’ bullshit they just did, he felt like there wasn’t enough attention on him. This whole thing was horrible. Letting out a huff of aggravation before he grabbed all the objects and threw them to the ground before he started stomping on them. “This is the most activity I’ve been doing all day!” Chad yelled before he began laughing like a maniac breaking all the objects without a care, he just wanted attention to be on him and he wanted to let them know this was a horrible time for him.

the following activity had just been announced but before calliope could get settled into the activity, the sound of objects being thrown, caused her to look up from the paper, her eyes following on their brat, chad. her eyes widening at the unfolding scene and the meltdown of a fourteen year old; a sight to which she was not accustom. the outburst completely unsuspected, her gaze leaving momentarily to look at ches, like wtf, before blinking slowly at his manic laughter, unsure of how to handle such a thing. “i’d say he’s demonstrating smashing..” responding to the activity rather than chad’s behavior, “and i think we’re done with the activity” calliope concludes awkwardly, seeing as their objects had been destroyed, scattered among their feet, looking at ches once again, as if to say your turn, looking back at chad, who seemed more than thrilled to have the attention on him, 

at calliope’s intrusion of words, he rolled his eyes, a dark chuckle leaving his lips, “the best thing a girl can wear is silence, yeah?” not even allowing himself another moment to indulge in her, as he continued to destroy the objects at his feet, “this is what boredom looks like!” he yells once more, smashing yet another object with a menacing laugh, having zero intention to stop until he got his way and or the attention he deserved since he stepped foot on campus, did they not know who he was. 

@littlestcheshire​

[pcrseverance]

so i hc cullen has the utterly useless skill of being able to walk on his hands- something he would do more as a child and teen because it doesn't really have much place in his work life

and according to my google docs 6 years ago i decided to write:

Cullen can’t quite remember how they got here, or the intricacies of it at least. A discussion regarding the progress in the Western Approach had turned to cups of wine in Josephine’s office, bundled before the fire on couches and cushions as the conversation took a turn to the casual. A fourth bottle is being opened and Josephine’s stockinged toes are tucked beneath his thigh as Leliana transparently goads him. He thinks he should be offended by the lack of effort put into her attempts, but they both know he’ll cave. 

“Fine,” he gets to his feet, passing his cup to Cassandra who’s the only one he trusts enough to not steal the rest of its contents, and even then it’s not guaranteed. “Fine.” 

He makes sure his shirt is well tucked in, and briefly considers whether the wine in his stomach is inclined to make another appearance. He suspects he’s safe enough, and rolls his shoulders as he assess how much space he has, and just where the fireplace is. He meets Leliana’s eye briefly, the corners are crinkled with her amusement and a hand gestures for him to proceed. 

If he doesn’t think too much about it he’ll be fine. 

It’s not something he’s done in years, but the movements are still familiar enough. Hands on the floor and the careful shift of weight until his legs are in the air his head previously occupied. Cullen gives himself a moment, checking his balance and the likelihood he’ll send himself careering into the fire, and how charitable Cassandra is feeling as to whether she’ll put him out. 

He takes one tentative ‘step’, then another when he sways ominously and seeks his balance once more. 

“See?” A few more tottering steps as he becomes accustomed to the movements. “I told you I could-” 

His shirt untucks itself abruptly and loose linen falls over his face, muffling his words and scattering his concentration to the point he doesn’t even mind how ungainly his return to the floor is, he’s simply relieved he didn’t kick Josephine in the face. 

“Not quite routine training,” his face is pink with blood flow and his hair ruffled from the brief wrestle with his shirt. “But it entertained us well enough as teens.” 

He accepts the cup Cassandra returns to him, settling back onto the couch. He turns back to Leliana with a grin. “I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to attempt better?”