#scholarly noodles 【✸】

[vanillashusband]

I absolutely LOVE that tang is just "some guy" and he's clumsy, pathetic, a man in a wet paper bag but at the same time he's incredibly powerful and can be badass and serious when he wants too. I LOVE THAT SO MUCH ABOUT HIM FHDGGDH I love characters like that - oh god its just gap moe again GOD DAMN IT IT GOT ME AGAIN

[rxzennia]

rare critters

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 a healthy dose of curiosity (ft. dr ratio) yall if i have to write another report i think i might kms sorry im 3 days late lol i was busy making concept art 

when dr ratio somehow acquired a few rare critters from herta space station, he thought of one person:

aventurine.

if he’s so bad at looking after himself, maybe he could take care of something else instead. and these cat cakes are pretty tame and adorable… seems just right for him.

ratio sent a text to let aventurine know he’s coming to drop off some souvenirs

said souvenirs being these critters

ratio has one on top of his head and two in one arm as he rings the bell

it’s sometime in the afternoon, and you’re not around

(you’re attending a meeting on aventurine’s behalf so he can have a longer lunch break)

(you do that pretty often, actually. that’s why your boss can have entire afternoons or evenings to himself)

nothing would’ve prepared ratio for what he sees when aventurine opens the door

one, no, two? no, three?? faceless serpents slithering around his feet

and one really huge one around his neck???

their maws, aeons, their maws. as stunned as ratio is, he’s also scared shitless

they remind him of a certain aeon and he isn’t sure if he liked the implications

though, that aeon has long since disappeared…

the very moment the serpents sniffed something in the air, they’re all right up in ratio’s face

the trash cakes are definitely scared shitless

they’re quivering and whimpering

ratio is trying so hard to hide his unease

“since when did you have pets, gambler?”

“oh, they’re my assistant’s – don’t bite, please.”

and these dangerous, dangerous noodles listened???

they backed off obediently while still scenting the air again and again

at least they’re not one hair away from ratio anymore?

wait, more importantly…

“you’re living with your assistant?” ratio can’t help but ask. “and… they brought their pets over?”

technically, the slithery creatures around the house aren’t your pets, they’re literally parts of you, but does aventurine want to get into the details? not particularly.

“doctor, it’d be heartless of me to tell them to leave their pets,” aventurine chuckled, “it’s a long story. are these…?”

“i thought pets would do you some good. seems like your assistant has the same idea.” ratio passes the three cakes over to him. “here – from the space station.”

aventurine tells the especially thick leviathan on his neck to get off so he could hold the trash cakes

more like patting its body a few times until it got the signal and slid off of him

the cakes like him!

once he’s passed the sniff test, the cakes are all over him

they do remind him of someone, with those yellow eyes and grey… trash can(?) like body…

he holds them carefully, because unlike your creatures, he needs to hold onto these little guys

else they’d fall

invites ratio in while he’s at it, and he sits down to properly examine them

ratio watches aventurine for a moment, until your serpents catch his attention

oh, he’s so unnerved by them, but also…

he’s so curious! his scholarly senses are telling him to seize the opportunity!

are they really the same creatures as the ones depicted in the scriptures for oroboros?

how did aventurine get his hands on them? or rather, how did you get your hands on them?

and why are they so, so… docile, if they are really what he thinks they are?

what have you done!? how did you get them to be your pets?

his academic interest in you might have just skyrocketed

he engages in a staring contest with a creature with no eyes

somehow, somehow he just knows it’s a staring contest

he’s debating between approaching or not

they look like they would snap his neck before he could even react

“don’t try it, doctor,” aventurine warns, reading ratio’s actions from a mile away, “they’ll probably bite.”

“huh…” ratio makes a sound of pure wonder as he stands still, staring at the few noodles slithering over each other and scenting the air around him. “how did you tame them, then?”

“i didn’t.” aventurine shrugs as he plays with the new critters in his arms. “just sit tight, my assistant should be back soon.”

does that mean you’re the one deciding who gets to touch your serpents and who doesn't???

meanwhile aventurine has taken to the cakes from the space station

they’re so delicate and adorable, with their huge eyes and how stretchy they are

such a contrast to your huge serpents

your serpents are curious about them too, it seems

they keep trying to slither up aventurine’s legs

he has to keep pushing them down, all the while their maws opened and closed

trying to get a feel for the taste of these critters

not trying to outright eat them, just trying to get a taste

ratio is itching to just… grab one of your noodles

he can’t

how devastating

just then, the door opens with a click

“i’m home, aven.” you enter and practically throws your shoes off. 

the sudden need to retain some semblance of formality in your home feels foreign to you now, but you’ve sensed someone else’s presence. it can’t be helped, even if the name aven feels odd on your tongue.

weird, aventurine usually runs out the moment he hears you

when you made your way to the living room, you see him and… some random guy?

said random guy looks like he’s into greek mythology?

is he like zeus or something

no, more like male athena or something

“oh, welcome back!” aventurine perks up as he lifts one of the cakes and shows it to you like a proud parent. “look at these little guys!”

your eyes never quite look away from the stranger, but you also dazedly take the critter into your arms. “this is…”

you immediately catch ratio’s eye – the way you carry yourself, the way the ends of your scarf seem to move on their own, and the way the few serpents find their way up your neck without so much as trying to touch the cake in your hands (even though they’ve been trying to taste it when it was in aventurine’s arms).

“veritas ratio.” he stands up before aventurine could introduce him and offers you a handshake. “you might know me as dr ratio of the intelligentsia guild.”

you stare at him without much of a reaction

his hand stays outstretched as he watches you expectantly

after a few seconds, you give his hand a firm shake and introduce yourself

you do know him, actually, you’ve read a few of his works

you quite liked his takes on philosophy and natural theology

he’s very insightful for a mortal

“can i help you?” you ask, because you don’t think ratio would bother talking to you if he hadn't been curious about something.

“your pets are most fascinating,” he gets straight to the point, “may i examine them?”

???

your pets?

the serpents? 

you look to aventurine, who just turns away like he didn’t tell ratio those are your pets

you pinch the bridge of your nose and exhales exasperatedly

then again, perhaps calling them your pets is the best course of action right now

because the other option is spilling the beans about yourself

yeah

so… nice save, aventurine

you set down the critter in your arms on a nearby table and turn to face the doctor

“here.” you pick up one of your leviathans and guide it over to ratio. “they might do… things around you, but they won’t hurt you.”

ratio tries not to flinch when the heavy leviathan slither up his arm and coil around his neck loosely, but he winces and backs away slightly anyway. “how are you so certain?” he watches the creature with so much wonder as it scents him, then lifts its head so he can stare at it properly. or the other way around; so it can stare at him properly. who knows.

a healthy dose of cynicism is always good

it’s not like you don’t understand where he’s coming from

you shrug, because you really have no better answer without outing yourself

“i have them trained.” you say, but at this point you’re just pulling shit out of your ass

aventurine immediately covers his mouth to hide a snort

you shoot him a quick glare

you run a hand along its smooth body to show ratio that yes, he can touch them

its maw opens a little wider and drools a little onto the carpet

ratio carefully puts his hand on top of its head

it turns its head on contact and nudges against his hand

trying to scent the thing touching it (aka ratio’s hand)

but it doesn’t do anything other than what appears to be purely harmless scenting

could this possibly be the subject of his next paper?

“don’t think about it, doctor.” you cut him off the moment you see the telltale glint of academic interest in his eyes. 

“i must disagree; they are of leviathan descent, are they not?” ratio asks, now caressing the big noodle with both hands and handling it with less hesitation than before, “this is of utmost significance; they might shed some light on the mystery of oroboros the voracity.”

you narrow your eyes at ratio

he doesn’t even try to prod around the subject, he just hits you in the face with it

as expected of such an erudite scholar, but still

(aventurine is watching the interaction with much interest while he plays with the cats)

(it’s like he’s enjoying the show)

(the remaining free serpents of yours has coiled up by his feet and fallen asleep)

(since they’ve realized aventurine doesn’t want them near the cakes)

you don’t want to bring too much attention to yourself, or your serpents

you don’t want things about oroboros to spread, either

in fact, you’re quite thankful to the enigmata and the ipc for heavily censoring them 

“with all due respect, i refuse.” you do not allow any room for disagreement. “you are prepared to uncover the truth. is the rest of the cosmos ready?”

that’s not all of your argument, but the one you determine would be enough to keep ratio from conducting and publishing research about leviathans for now. oh, right – you’re not against ratio’s curiosity. you simply don’t want that curiosity to spread far and wide.

ratio frowns, not expecting such a swift rejection from you, but you do have a point. he’s a little blinded by his excitement.

your rejection sounds a little personal, if aventurine may say so himself

to ratio, it is very much just you being overprotective of your pets

as all pet owners do

to be fair, it’s hard to say. ratio is a sharp man

you stare at him, and he stares at you

the leviathan hanging on his neck tilts its head in confusion

if ratio is anything, he’s persistent

especially when it comes to knowledge

he opens his mouth to try to convince you again

you beat him to it and raise a hand to stop him from talking. “you can examine them for as long as you do not make publications.”

ratio is taken aback, his brows furrowing as you give him permission for further interaction with these descendants of ancient leviathans. this is your first meeting, so why –

in fact, aventurine is wondering the same thing

like, why are you getting along with the doctor so well when you’ve only met today

he’s not jealous or anything, he just has a huge question mark on your reactions

you’re usually very, very guarded against people who ask questions

especially about your scarf

but then ratio did see your serpents slithering around

perhaps you see no way of weaselling your way out of this?

anyway

if we’re being honest, ratio also has a huge question mark on your reactions

“i am a fan of your philosophical works,” you say, guiding your serpent back around you, “hence i am willing to satisfy your curiosity… provided you agree to my terms. think of it as an invitation.”

ratio takes a moment to mull over your words. to think that someone under the ipc has read multiple of his works, and has enjoyed them… is that why you are willing to compromise? but, well… you give him a feeling of a learned person. perhaps he will enjoy debating you.

“very well, that is good enough.” he nods, even if he still feels just a little bit disappointed, he’s anticipating a good back-and-forth with you already. “in that case…”

“i will let you know when i am free.” you sit down next to aventurine and let the critters on his lap crawl over to you and knead your thigh with their little paws. “and, doctor?”

it’s apparent to you that ratio has the same thought as you did when you decided to let your serpents drop their disguises at home. you glance towards aventurine next to you, then back at the doctor.

“thanks for the critters.”

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 10

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: Bear in mind, season 2 aired/took place circa 2006, so references like iPods are going to be dated lol. 

Word Count: 5,500 Warnings: M-rated chapter ahead—18+ only! Angst, smut, fluff, and feels. Oh yeah, and kidnapping.

Part 10: Worthy

In the months after John Winchester’s death, Sam and Dean spent even more time on the road than before. Hunting down the demon, as well as trying to find the Colt. 

You helped them the best you could with research on their various cases. However, now that you had been promoted to Library Curator at the museum, you had even more access to scholarly research and ancient texts, but even less time on your hands. 

If you were honest (and you weren’t), it was getting harder to balance your real job and Sam and Dean’s requests. But you knew if you said so, Dean would never ask you for help again. At the end of the day, it kept you connected to them. And you liked helping out.

The next time the brothers came home marked a few months shy of two years since you’d met Dean. When they were a day’s drive away, he called you to ask you something he’d never asked before… 

He wanted to take you out to dinner. 

You had cooked for him before. He had cooked for you. You two had ordered in and gone to grab dinner with Sam in tow. But in almost two years, you and Dean had never gone on an actual dinner date, getting dressed up, just the two of you. 

Needless to say, you were very excited…but you also had no idea what to wear. 

Dean had seen you in the professional blouses, slacks, and skirts you wore for work. He’d seen you in ratty old college shirts and yoga pants while slurping ramen noodles from a plastic cup. He’d also seen you in nothing but one of his old buttoned-down shirts, and then, in nothing at all.

But he’d never seen you dressed to kill. That wasn’t to say you couldn’t pull it off, because you most certainly could. It had just…been a while. 

So you dove into the shadowy recesses of your closet and searched for something you knew he hadn’t seen before. And you might’ve gone to the mall and bought a couple new pieces of lingerie, just in case the night went really well.

You were grateful Dean gave you a full day’s notice. It gave you the time to mentally prepare, but you still had to call him again to verify a few things.

“Okay, but where are we going?” you asked. “Casual dressy or dressy, dressy?”

Dean chuckled. “I have no idea what that means.” 

He sounded tired to you, but the playful note in his voice still made you smile.

“It means just tell me where we’re going,” you said with a laugh. 

“Nope,” he refused. “But here’s what I can do for you. I’ll be leaving the leather jacket at home this time.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s something, at least. Man, you really are the worst with these little guessing games.”

“I think you mean the best,” he joked. “Remember, I’ll be there by seven tomorrow.”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He was still laughing when you hung up on him. You now had a plan though. 

The next day was a Friday. You were able to get off work right at five, but that still only gave you two hours to shower and fix yourself up. Not nearly enough time, you lamented, but you made it work. 

Your dad, blessedly, was working late again. So you had the house to yourself as you played your music loudly and danced to the beat while you finished up your makeup. 

Then around seven, a knock sounded at the front door. Wow, he’s actually on time.

You swallowed a small swell of nerves in your throat. Stop being silly, you told yourself. And you were careful in your heels on your way down the stairs. You checked yourself real quick in the mirror, just to make sure your hair and everything else was in place. Then you looked into the door’s peephole.

With a smile, you unlocked and opened the door. Dean was there to greet you with a familiar grin, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of you. You crossed your arms and leaned on the door frame.

“We’re all stocked up on Girl Scout cookies, thanks,” you teased. Dean’s grin kicked up into a smirk. 

“I’m not here to sell you anything, sweetheart,” he said. His hot gaze took you in—from your softly curled hair to your dark red lipstick, to the black suede dress that clung to your every curve and fell to mid-thigh, and finally down to your scarlet red heels. Then his eyes traveled all the way back up to yours. 

“But I’ll bet you could get me to sell my soul with just those heels,” he said. 

Your brain stuttered to a halt. You couldn’t help but blush at the flirtatious depths in his voice, overlayed with a fine layer of charm. It didn’t take much for Dean to turn it on, but when he did, you could guess how many panty-dropping one liners he’d had in his arsenal before he met you.  

And he’d cleaned up nicely himself. True to his word, he’d forgone his typical leather jacket (though you were fond of it) for a solid black jacket. He’d paired it with a charcoal gray button-down and some dark wash jeans. (You suspected that Sam had given some pointers for this ensemble.)

His familiar pendant still hung from his neck though, along with his mom’s ring on his right hand. He was still Dean, but he looked good enough to eat. 

His smirk deepened, and you realized he’d likely heard that thought. 

Damn it. 

You hadn’t seen him in a long time, so you forgot you’d have to pull your thoughts back from the soul bond sometimes. Right now though, it was all you could do to stop from dragging him into the house and kissing him senseless.

Dean shook you out of your thoughts when his hands found the curve of your waist. You looked up at him, holding onto the edges of his jacket. 

“Sam’s not joining us for dinner?” you asked innocently, while knowing full well he wasn’t. Dean leaned down to brush his lips against your cheek, down to your neck where he caught the pleasant, sexy scent of your perfume. He felt you shudder a bit at the sensation of his lips across your skin. 

“Nope. It’s adults only tonight,” he said. Pressed against him as you were, you felt the reverberation of his voice in your chest. It was a very pleasant sensation that pooled warmth in your lower belly, and down between your legs. 

Dean came back to your lips, letting his ghost over yours. He didn’t want to ruin that pretty red lipstick (but he also really, really did).

You played into it; your smile brushed against his lips while your fingers dragged down his chest. “Then, maybe you should take me…”

You shifted on your feet, letting your thigh graze between his legs. You felt his fingers dig into the small of your back, and you reached back to grab his hand and unwrap his arms from your body.  

“…To this mystery restaurant,” you said. “‘Cause I’m really freakin’ hungry.”

You flashed him a smile and slipped between him and the front door. You tossed him your house keys so he could lock it. As you walked down the driveway toward the Impala, you felt his disbelief, a lance of annoyance, but also his amusement. And a hot flare of desire while he watched you walk away from him.   

You crossed your arms again and leaned against the passenger door of the Impala while you waited for Dean. He locked the front door and returned to the Impala while pointing a finger at you.

“You play too much,” he said. Your smile deepened. 

As it turned out, he didn’t take you to the most expensive restaurant in town, or just to the local diner either. It was a nice Columbian steakhouse that ended up being the perfect place for both of you: a cozy atmosphere with Latin music, a historically Columbian-owned restaurant, and an interesting culture of food for you to enjoy—and a series of revolving smoked meats for Dean. 

You noticed though, that while your boyfriend was enthusiastic about the food, he still seemed off somehow. His smiles didn’t always meet his eyes, and while he looked great, he also looked tired. He didn’t have 100% of his usual swagger going on, and that was enough cause for concern. From what Sam had told you, Dean had been doing better in working through their father’s death.

“Dean.” You laid a hand on his knee while he put yet another cheese bun into his mouth. You earned his attention regardless. “You okay? You seem…I don’t know. Tired.”

He shook his head and thankfully answered after he swallowed. “Nah, just a long drive. What, you’re not having fun?” 

You smiled. “No, I am. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

Dean smiled back. “I’m good, baby.”

But you could tell he was hiding something—from the bond, and from you. You frowned at him.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” you said in a quiet, but firm voice. “You don’t have to lie to me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You can trust me.”

After a moment, Dean’s pleasant expression faded. A more genuine, rueful smile overtook his features. He took your hand from his knee and pressed it to his lips. He looked down for a few seconds, just thinking, and you gave him the time he needed to do it. 

He appreciated that about you. Though you were a curious person by nature, and stubborn about it, in moments like this you never rushed him. You gave him room to breathe. 

“Do you know what a djinn is?” he asked. 

You blinked at him in curiosity. That wasn’t at all what you’d expected him to say. 

“Yeah. I mean, djinn, genies—they’re all over Middle Eastern mythology,” you said, and with a more teasing smile, “And not just in Aladdin.”

Dean inclined his head. “Very good, Professor.”

“I’m guessing they’re real too?” you asked. 

“Yeah, nasty sombitches,” he confirmed. He explained that with just one touch, a djinn could propel you into a fantasy of your own making. A dream world, where you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of—at the price of getting your blood sucked dry in the real world. 

You grimaced. “Ech. Sounds like a party.”

“Yeah, it’s freakin’ Disneyland,” Dean quipped. 

“I’m assuming you and Sam ran into a djinn?” you said. 

Dean nodded. His gaze fell away from you as his thoughts drifted back to that world. That place where his family was more or less whole. Where his mom was still alive, and his family had never been sucked into hunting. Where Dean had met you while on a road trip with his dad and married you a year later. Where his little brother had become a lawyer and Dean a firefighter.   

His father had died too soon in that world too, but it hadn’t been a gruesome, lonely death caused by a demon. The only real obstacle in that perfect world had been that he’d drifted away from his little brother. They didn’t have a great relationship in that world, but it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t overcome with a few beers and a couple of heart-to-hearts in the Impala. 

But it hadn’t been real. 

Dean explained all of this to you over dessert, and you listened with rapt attention. You felt all the emotions he couldn’t readily express. 

“I saw what my life could’ve been like,” he admitted. “And I wanted it, more than anything.”

“But this is what’s real, and you chose it,” you said. “That’s what matters.”

Dean didn’t look convinced. You were grateful that he shared this with you, but you could also tell that this had been plaguing his mind. You also didn’t want him to have to wallow in it anymore. What you wanted was to help perk him up, or distract him somehow…

So when he dipped his spoon into the large chocolate brownie in front of him, you parried his spoon with yours and stole his scoop. He looked up at you with raised, incredulous brows. 

“What just happened here?” he asked.

You shrugged, smiling as you licked your spoon clean. Dean’s lips pressed together, but in the name of keeping the night pleasant, he decided to let it go. 

Once again, he delved into the brownie. And once again, you took his piece with your own spoon, even taking a bit of vanilla ice cream with it. 

“This is really good,” you said, humming in delight. “You should try some.”

Dean quirked his head at you. He didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused. 

“I’m tryin’,” he wryly replied. With a purposeful hand, he wielded his spoon and took a nice corner piece. Sure enough, your spoon came in to intercept him. But his left hand closed around your wrist. His gaze flicked up to yours. 

“You’re playin’ with fire here, sweetheart,” he warned. You went for your glass of wine with your free hand and took a sip.

“Am I?” you asked. “I thought we agreed to share.”

He leaned in close, until there were mere inches between your faces. “I don’t share food.”

You took his challenge for what it was, and you leaned in until your lips were nearly brushing his.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sat back and sipped at your wine again. You seemed to have no further interest in dessert, so Dean nodded to himself and raised the corner piece of brownie to his lips. 

Only to have you snatch his spoon from his hand and take the bite yourself. You washed it down with some water this time. While Dean sat back in shock, you offered him a smile. 

“This’s a great place. We should definitely come back here,” you said.  

For a moment, all Dean could do was stare at his damn-near empty plate. When he gathered himself, he looked over at you and smiled dangerously. 

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed. 

You finished your wine while Dean paid for the meal. He wouldn’t accept your money even though you offered to pay half. He asked you out, so he should pay, he reasoned. (He also ordered an extra brownie to-go.)

Anticipation ran down your spine the longer it took to get back to the car. You could feel his silent simmer, but also his patience. You knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with teasing him, but you also knew he was waiting for the right moment. Most likely when you two had some real privacy. 

But before you could open the passenger side door of the Impala, Dean’s hand stopped you. You let him maneuver you around and press you against the door, and you held onto his jacket for balance. You grinned when he bent down and claimed your lips with his own, demanding, sensuous, and greedy. 

You clung to his arms as he basically devoured you in the restaurant’s parking lot. His hands were hot on your hips, then kneading your butt, pulling you flush against him as your fingers curled into his hair.  

You hadn’t taken Dean for a PDA kind of guy; he was very private about who knew you were together. But then again, it wasn’t too often that you two went out in public, considering this was the first proper date you and Dean had ever been on. 

“You’re in so much trouble,” he said against your lips, but the effect was kind of lost when you could feel his amusement and searing desire. You giggled against him. 

“Okay,” you agreed. “I can deal with that.”

He pinched your butt, making you yelp and tighten your hand in his hair on reflex. He groaned into your mouth. 

“Take me home,” you said. Dean nodded, but he was reluctant to let go of you. Eventually he withdrew his hands and opened the passenger side door for you. 

First, you smoothed down his jacket and wiped away some of the lipstick from his mouth and chin with your thumb. His charming, full-watt Dean grin was back, and it warmed you up from the inside out. 

That night, in your bed, you and Dean made up for months of separation. You were starved for his touch, and Dean realized that with no small measure of guilt. 

He tried to focus on being here with you, but in the back of his mind, he still felt like he was somehow taking something from you when he made love to you. Like that hit and run you once accused him of.

This is what Dad warned me about, he couldn’t help but think. 

You both laid on your bed together afterwards, dewy with sweat and a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. But as great as it had been for you, you knew that Dean was distracted again. 

The moment you heard him think about his father, it brought you back to that day in the hospital. 

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” John had said. 

But why? You sat up against the headboard, bringing the sheets up to cover yourself. Meanwhile, Dean was coming back from freshening up in the bathroom. He then started tinkering with your iPod and speaker on your nightstand. But he frowned while scrolling through most of the songs. 

Ugh. Avril Lavigne. Really? You heard him think to himself. A smile threatened to curve your lips as he continued to grumble at your playlist. But eventually he settled on “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin. That was neutral ground you could both agree on.

“Dean,” you found yourself saying, before you could think about it. He joined you back in bed, sitting beside you. 

“When I was fourteen, I remember it snowed the day of my mom’s funeral,” you continued. “I was standing there in the cemetery when it started. I was…well, a wreck. I looked up at the flurries, and I heard something.”

It’s not fair!

“I didn’t realize it then, but I think I was hearing you for the first time.” You looked over at Dean, and he met your gaze. 

“Sam and I were carted off to Bobby’s a few times when we were kids,” he admitted. “It’s possible.”

You gathered your courage, and you asked the question you had been holding onto for almost a year. 

“Did you ever…hear me? Before last year.”

Dean sensed that this was a leading question. You already knew something, or at least thought you did. He sighed.

You sat up straighter and faced him.

“Talk to me,” you implored. Dean hesitated, but after a moment, he answered. 

“It was around seven…eight years ago now. I was working a case with my dad near your school. That university.”

You thought back, and it must’ve been when you were getting your bachelor’s degree. Dean explained that he was about twenty-three, making you twenty at the time. And he started to feel you, hear you. It freaked him the hell out. 

“A killer dog nearly took my head off because…anyway, the point is, I figured out what it was,” he said. 

“But you left,” you said, both hurt and angry. “Why the hell didn’t you reach out to me?”

“My dad told me something,” Dean said. “He said I shouldn’t bring you into my life if I couldn’t hang up my gun. You know what…he was right.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “How can you say that?”

“Look at what’s happening,” he said. “I’m on the road with Sam tryin’ to hunt this demon, pulling you away from your job with research, dragging you out in the middle of the night because I’m on death’s door. It’s enough!” 

You didn’t like the sharpness in his tone, or the stubborn look in his eyes. That was another thing you’d learned about Dean. When he got an idea of something in his head, a conviction, he wasn’t going to let it go in a hurry. 

Too frustrated to remain in bed, Dean got up and started dressing. You watched him put on his underwear and jeans in disbelief. But you stole his gray dress shirt before he could put it on. He wasn’t about to leave you like this. 

So you put on the shirt yourself and stood in his way. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he told you.

“Who says?” you challenged. “We’re doing what works for us.”

“That’s my point. It’s not working. And it’s not fair to you.”

“When have I ever asked for fair?” You wanted to know. You had never complained, never asked anything of him except for two things: to keep in touch with you, and not to lie to you. 

“This WiFi connection goes both ways, remember?” he countered. “You can try hiding it all you want, but you hate this long-distance crap. Pretty soon you’re gonna start hating me…and shit. I wouldn’t blame you.”

You didn’t know what to make of that resigned look on his face, but it struck at your heart. 

You hefted a sharp sigh. “Didn’t you say that this was just temporary? That after you and Sam killed the Yellow Eyed demon, then you could come home?”

“It took Dad our whole lives just to track Yellow Eyes down,” Dean said. “Then it killed him.”

So he was saying this could take his whole life too. Part of you knew that, but you didn’t want to accept the reality that you could be living half a life with him forever. 

You didn’t realize it then, but Dean took your silence as a sign.

“Look, I get it,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like we can just…cut the cord here. But I’d understand if you don’t want to keep doing this.”

For a moment, you stared at him uncomprehendingly. But if he’d just taken half a second to look at your face—to read the truth in your roiling emotions, he wouldn’t have kept running his mouth.

“Truth is, you deserve better than what I got to give,” he said. His hand raised to card through his hair, an anxious gesture. You knew in the way his eyes shifted away. 

A tremor of disbelief and dismay coursed through you.

What he had to give.

A man who'd first offered his protection while barely even knowing you. Who comforted you when you needed him, and celebrated your achievements instead of belittling them. Who believed in you when you told him about working yourself up at the museum. Who empowered you to hold your ground, and speak up for yourself.

A man who'd rather be alone than keep hurting you.

“Baby,” you tried, grasping his arm. Still, he didn’t quite meet your gaze.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. 

You pushed him back with both hands on his bare chest when he tried to get around you. “Stop!”

He said your name in a sharp warning. You shook your head stubbornly. 

“Do you want me out of your life?” you asked. “Is that really what you want?”

Dean finally looked down at you, his mouth pressed in a firm line, his brows crunched over his eyes…but he couldn’t answer you.

“Then stop it!” you said. “Just fucking stop it. I’m tired of hearing you think that you’re not good enough.”

Dean’s expression slackened. 

“Stop lying to yourself,” you said sternly. “I don’t care what you think I want. Whatever ‘together’ means for us is what we’re going to do. Because you are worth it.”

That was your conviction. He'd been fighting for his family his entire life. And now for you, in a way. So the least you could do was fight for him.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hard right now. On both of us,” you said with a nod. “But if you think I’m going to let go just because of that, then you don’t know me at all yet, Dean.” 

Your frown solidified into a look of determination. 

“But goddamn it, you’re gonna learn.”

His mouth fell open a bit, and his soft surprise gave way to shock when you rocked forward, taking his face between your hands. He accepted your hard kiss, the uncharacteristic way you demanded from him, claimed his lips and his tongue, and the frustrated pace of removing each other’s clothes again. 

For once, you took control and pushed Dean down to the bed. He let you do it too. It was an electrifying turn on—to have your hands be firm instead of gentle, but still purposeful in how you touched him. 

And you did. You straddled his lap, and between fierce kisses, you mapped out his body with your hands. He held you by your hips, but you soon pushed him down onto the bed. With wet, nipping kisses, you burned a path from his neck, down his chest and sternum, down the defined “V” between his hips. 

His breathing deepened the further you went, because Christ had it been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him. He supposed you weren’t the only one starving.

Your lips grazed and nipped the inside of his thigh, getting ever closer to where you knew he wanted you. His hand raised to tangle in your hair, but you moved his hand away and trapped it onto the bed. Your challenging gaze met his, and Dean raised his brows. 

No touching, unless I say so, you said through the bond. A smirk raised the corner of his lips. 

Yes, ma’am, he replied, making you smile. You then renewed your attention to the task at hand. You settled between his legs lowered down, where the object of your focus was standing perfectly at attention. You let your lips graze his dick. Careful touches, and really, a bit teasing. Dean sucked in a breath when your hands joined your lips, just soft caresses along its length, underneath, over its sensitive head. It was both exactly what he wanted and nowhere near enough.

His hand fisted into the pillow behind his head and the comforter underneath him. Your name fell from his lips—both a prayer and a plea. He felt the shape of your smile in a kiss, pressed against his thigh. 

I’ve got you, baby, you said. Finally, your lips descended on him and you took as much of his dick as you could into your mouth. Something between a moan and a grunt fell from Dean’s lips as you worked him over, with your hands joining your warm, wet mouth. He itched to touch you, but you were relentless and held his wrist down onto the bed. 

With his free hand, he grabbed onto the headboard as his back arched involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go. You had him trapped, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

But just when he felt that crest of pleasure nearing and thought he was going to see black on the edges of his vision, you let him go with a soft pop. You leaned your arms on his raised knees and wiped your mouth. You looked down at his incredulous face with a mischievous little smile. 

Dean made a sound of both shock and frustration as he tried to catch his breath. His head hit the pillow while his hand went to his wildly beating heart. 

“Well, that’s just rude,” he uttered. When he was able to speak, that is. You stifled a laugh and moved up to cover that hand on his chest with yours. He flinched, but you were able to offer apologetic kisses. He reluctantly accepted them. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” you whispered against his lips. You took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm, then brought it to your cheek. Despite the playful, annoyed suspicion in his eyes, he stroked your cheek with affection. He saw your game, and he begrudgingly admired it—and you.

Smiling, you sat back on his bare thighs and brought both of his hands to your body, grazing down your neck to cup your breasts. You sighed as his thumbs brushed over your pert nipples and kneaded the soft flesh. 

“Is this for me, or for you?” he teased. You shot him a playful glare. For that, you lowered his hands further down your body and guided his hand to the very wet folds between your legs. 

“I’m letting you touch me now,” was your cheeky reply. 

Dean smirked, but he sat up and obliged, gathering your wetness with his fingers and stroking your clit with deliberate movements. You shuddered a breath as he slipped a long finger inside you, followed closely by another. All the while, his thumb drew wet circles around your sensitive clit and brought you to the edge of your release. 

From that very first night together so long ago, he’d been learning how to play you like a five-string guitar. Tonight was no different, and despite how you’d edged him earlier, he had no qualms about making you come all over his hand. 

Your fingers delved into his hair, and you mentally praised him while you caught your breath, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He held you to him as you shook. But after a few moments, he leaned back to look into your eyes. 

Through your connection, you felt his playfulness grow and you just knew he was about to say something smartass. But right now, you were still in control. So you stopped his smart mouth with yours and claimed his lips with another deep kiss. 

You slipped a hand between your bodies, and this time you took a firmer hold of his dick. It was still a bit wet from your earlier treatment, and you stroked him a few times. His grateful moans sounded in your ear as he gripped your arms tight. You closed your eyes for a second, inwardly preparing yourself, before you sheathed him inside you. You both breathed hard as you adjusted and settled on top of him. 

He grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Fuck, baby—”

You nodded, soothing down his back. “I know. Damn, you feel so good.”   

You pushed him back down again so you could find the right angle that would serve both of you. Then you started to move over him. Dean dropped his head hard against the bed. To help him out, you gave him something to grab onto and guided his hand to your hip. He squeezed the flesh there, hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises later, you were sure. But the brief pain was a good motivator—it let you know when he was close to his breaking point. 

You reached down with your fingers to further part your folds and rub hot circles around your already sensitive clit again. You felt a flutter in your lower belly as that familiar, inexplicable thread of energy within you stuttered; the part of your soul that recognized its equal, its match. The bond hummed and grew hot and pulsing. 

Finally, its warmth washed over you. 

You gasped and grabbed ahold of Dean’s arms as you almost got lightheaded at the feeling. Dean was going through the same tumble of sensations as he uttered a strangled sound, spilling inside you. 

But he had good reflexes; he steadied you, with his arms wrapping around your frame and holding you to him. He eased you over back onto the bed, and then slid out of you.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The frenzy of your earlier argument had fueled what just happened, but now that tension had dissolved into a hard-won peace. 

When he was able to move, Dean reached out to hold the side of your face. He tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile for him was soft. You sensed he was thinking, searching for what he wanted to say. So again, you waited, slipping a discarded blanket over your naked body. 

��Okay, I think I hear you,” Dean said. “I love you, you know that?”

Your smile grew. He’d repeated the words you confessed to him when he was in the hospital all those months ago. And it was the first time he’d said what he felt for you.

You held a hand by your ear. “What was that?” 

Dean’s lips raised into a smirk, but his eyes were soft. He slid an arm underneath you to pull you against his side. 

“I love you,” he said, “so damn much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, but not without some exasperation. All this craziness, just to finally get on the same page. You grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed his cheeks. “That's my point.”

You made a sound of frustration before you released him. Dean laughed a bit, closing his eyes. You enjoyed his more carefree smile as you rested against his chest.

This man, you thought, is damn lucky he’s adorable.

He cut into your thoughts dryly, Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.

You rolled your eyes. 

At least we made it through our first real fight, you said. In spectacular fashion, I might add.

Yeah, but you played dirty, said Dean. 

You just smiled. 

The next morning, you and Dean woke up after your dad had presumably left for work. You were grateful. It spared you from the awkwardness of a “morning after” in your father’s presence. 

I really need to get my own place.

So you made coffee while Dean made some toast and eggs for breakfast. But he got a call just as he was plating the eggs.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he answered. The more your uncle spoke, the more serious Dean’s expression got. You sensed a flare of his panic and you turned to him in concern. The plate in his hand hit the table with a clatter. 

“Where?” Dean said. His tone was sharp and worried. “I’m comin’ now.”

Dean ended the call and abandoned the food to grab his jacket. He explained before you could ask the predictable question. 

“Sam went missing this morning on a coffee run,” Dean said. “When Bobby got to the diner to check on him, the whole place had been cleared out, except for the bodies of the brunch crowd.”

You gasped and raised a hand to your mouth in shock. “What happened to Sam?” 

Dean’s face became grim and angry as he grabbed his wallet and keys. 

“Bobby found sulfur all over the place. He thinks Yellow Eyes took him,” he said. “…I’ve gotta go.”  

It was late fall, so you grabbed a coat from the rack and your purse. “I’m going with you.”

Dean halted at the doorway, and that stopped you short behind him. He turned around and gave you a firm look.

“No you’re not, damn it!” he said. “You’re staying here.”

“Are you kidding me?” you said. “The last time you faced this thing, it almost killed you!”

“You’ve got a job, remember?” he pointed out. You shook your head.

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have to be back to work until Monday, upon which I’ll take a couple of sick days if I need to.” Your words were both a warning and a promise. “Just let me help you find Sam. I’m handy with research. You know I can help!”

Dean didn’t like it. He had half a mind to keep arguing with you, but he really didn’t have time for this. He made a sound of aggravation and rubbed a hand over his face. 

He then levied a finger at you. “You’re staying in the car. When we get there, you don’t argue with me. You do as I say, got it?”

You nodded. Normally you would take issue with being ordered by your boyfriend, but in the world of dark and evil things, you would follow Dean’s lead. 

So you hid a triumphant smile as you locked up your house, then followed him to the Impala.

AN: Whew! Well, then lol. The reader finally gave Dean a piece of her mind (among other things). How'd you like their first date? 😉

Dean definitely gives me Joey vibes from Friends when it comes to sharing food. 😂

But as the chapter title implies, we also dug in a bit on how Dean sees himself vs. how his soulmate sees him.

So a lot of drama this time, but ending on another good ol' cliffhanger. AKA: Where the hell is Sam?

Next up, some action! Heading into 2.21: All Hell Breaks Loose (Pt. 1).

To keep reading: PART 11

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[manicali]

Synopses for my stories!

Twisted Daydreams Envy’s Angel

Last Reign of the Sol King Free Therapy

Project 001

A young woman named Ash stumbles upon a magical world of dreams she like many before her stumbles upon this fantasy world, meeting a number of bizarre people along the way, Including but limited to, A mysterious grinning creature at a play pretend tea party inside a broken home made of cardboard(Smiley), a lovely lady who knows everyone and her pet snake Noodles(Camilla), and an antisocial eccentric toymaker with a habit of giving his creations life only to take it away. (Clover). On the particular day she stumbles upon this world, Day, an impulsive deity, decides to let her keep her memory. of this place. Once Ash falls out of this place, she desperately tries anything and everything to claw l way back in. Little does she or Day know that her moving between worlds is shaking the thin veil tha separates the codependent worlds or dreams and reality. Now the two worlds are entangled in a web madness that Night herself cannot untangle.

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With the north islands ruled by a corrupt dynasty, a millennia long bloodline marred by illness and insanity, the council government is based among the elite academics at the renowned Institute of Knights in the country’s capital, a city known for its rich history and mysterious disappearances of students. Despite this reputation and the urban legends surrounding the prestigious school, many scholars dream of attending. And three of those students are the main focus of this story.

Meet Rowan, David and Emilee. Rowan wad raised at the Institute never a glimpse of the outside world. David is from a small island in the southwest, gifted with a genius mind and cursed as a pariah. And finally, Emilee is a practical apothecary mage from the far side of the mainland, past the mountains, who has never once been alone from her family. These three scholars of the supernatural are roped into political dispute, high society and dark secrets!

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Envy’s Angel is a romcom comic about an Angel falling in love with a human. Envy is a young man obsessed with demons, and so he tries to summon one, a pacifist scholarly demon to converse with and further his studies. Buuut he gets the runes wrong, he doesn’t summon a fallen Angel, he summons an Angel of sins, Haziael, who, annoyed that Envy isn’t impressed by them, starts to follow him. Chaos and romance ensues.

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Seven students who wake up with no recollection of where they are, looking like they definitely shouldn’t. Physical appearances warped and minds foggy they must find a way to escape the spire, a seemingly endless tower of nightmares, all while discovering new and horrifying abilities!!! Horror stories look back from the mirror and ghosts haunt them in this dysfunctional comic! What lies beneath them, outside the spire? Only time will tell! Tune in for more!

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With the outbreak of powered humans, superhuman beings, the world is in global chaos, even after decades of advancements. They’re mostly normal people who live average lives. But the high risk powerful beings are contained by the world government and continuously fought over by federal governments who want to control the superpower that is the beings. Living in containment away from their families for their whole lives, the captives are a well trained machine, a singular force of destruction under control. Control breeds injustice in this political sci-fi comic. What side will win? Stay tuned to see!

[tang-aus-by-quill]

WAIT TANG WRITES OUT HIS FANFICTIONS ON PHYSICAL PAPER????

THIS MADMAN. APPARENTLY ITS NOT ENOUGH TO HAVE FANFICTION ON THE INTERNET, HE ALSO HAS TO PRINT IT OUT AND WRITE IT WORD FOR WORD ON PAPER. HE HAS MORE DEDICATION THAN I WOULD HAVE IF THERE WERE 71 OF ME

EVERYONE AT THE NOODLE SHOP IS CK VINCED HIS SCROLLS ARE SCHOLARLY KNOWLEDGE, BUT NO. IT’S HIS AUTISTIC ASS WRITING A FIX-IT FIX FOR MACAQUE ON PAPER CAUSE HE HATES HOW KEYBOARDS SOUND.

[randomingoftherandomness]

Hi! ALoN fic prompt: Zhang Ping x Lan Jue, post canon. Zhang Ping meets Lan Jue's child.

HNNGH NONNIE HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS FLIRTING WITH THE IDEA OF WRITING LAN HUI

We have no canonical TV portrayals of Lan Hui and therefore, my personal fanon is that Lan Hui looks like Lan Jue as a child with just about the same level of determination.

(may write headcanons about this we shall see)

~*~*~*~

When Lan Hui finally crosses the threshold into the manor he once knew as home, he starts to pick out the differences between the here and now, and the way these walls used to sit in his memories.

The first is that it smells different.

Sure, it does still smell like the orchids that his father used to cultivate, but it's fainter. And the smell of his mother's perfume is nowhere here. Instead, Lan Hui can smell cooking.

Noodles. Dumplings. Roast. He doesn't remember his father ever being extravagant with his meals, so he doesn't know who this food is for.

But then again, it has been years since he has stepped foot in this manor. Things might have changed.

Perhaps he gained a stepmother? One who delights in cooking?

It wouldn't be out of the ordinary and certainly, Lan Hui knows that even with all the danger that comes with being married to him, many men and enterprising societal mamas would not hesitate to push their daughters and nieces to his father's side.

The second thing that strikes him is the sound of the house itself is different.

He had left home under the guise of darkness, sleep still crusting his eyes, with the mourning clothes on his back the only things he could bring with him. Yet, the most important thing he remembers about that night was how the air of his home clung in such a heavy way in his lungs.

It was an air coloured by the sounds of mourning.

The sound of the monk chanting sutras in the hall, the way the servants quietly bustled through the house preparing for the funeral. In his memories, it was the fluttering of the banners in the nighttime breeze, and the sound of his father's breath against his cheek as he tells him to be good and listen well to the uncle and aunt he was sending him to.

In those dreams he has had since then, it is the sound of the carriage wheels rumbling on the road as it takes him far, far away from everything and everyone he has ever known.

Now, the halls carry a sound of chatter and laughter.

The third, and perhaps most important change, is when he takes a turn with Uncle Xu Dong guiding him, he sees the man seated with his father.

Lan Hui is still too far away to hear what is being said between them, but there is a clear note of amusement trembling in the mid-morning sunlight.

There is a steaming bowl of noodles on the table that his father is taking bites from. It looks... delicious. The man has an apron wrapped around his thin waist, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and flour on his wrists. Clearly, this bowl was his doing.

Said man has a scholarly bearing and there's a sense that he is laughing about something that only he's seeing, but what arrests Lan Hui's attention is how his father is leaning against him, pale diaphanous robes spilling over the man's, face tilted up to his, eyes soft and fond.

The same sort of softness and fondness that Lan Hui only ever saw when his father was looking at his mother.

"Lan Hui?"

His father's deep voice startles him out of his observations. Coming to a stop, he bows, suddenly quite unable to speak. Emotions churn in his belly as he straightens himself.

Did you think of me? Did you get any of my letters? Have you taken care of yourself? Can I not leave again? Can I stay, please?

None of which he says.

Because before he can shape the words on his tongue, his father has swept him up in a hug. "My son..."

"My apologies for not sending word ahead of our earlier arrival, Daren," Uncle Xu Dong says from over his shoulder. "The Young Master was eager to press on."

Careful hands cup his face, and Lan Hui feels a small spark of warmth grow in his chest when he looks up to see that his father's cheeks are as wet as his own are.

Father's smile is everything. A homecoming. The way a warm room feels after a day in the cold. All the embraces he wished he had every time he felt alone or sad with those thousands of leagues that kept Lan Hui away from him.

It is hopeful, even when his father pulls away, hands running over his shoulders, marvelling about how he has grown.

"Come, Lan Hui, sit with us," He declares after telling Uncle Xu Dong to go get some rest. With one hand on his own, he guides Lan Hui back to where the scholar is gently smiling as he greets him with a nod.

"This is Zhang Ping," Father says, folding himself onto a seat pillow and letting the man pull a set for Lan Hui. "He's..."

They exchange a look with Zhang Ping ducking his head to hide a smile, quickly moving away to the side as two serving girls come with trays of snacks. Father quickly fills his plate, telling him how all these were made by the man net to him, while Zhang Ping works in tandem to pour him a cup of water.

They work like clockwork. As if this is a dance with secret steps that only they both know the movements to.

This leads him, perhaps with a little less tact than he should have in a situation like this, to ask, "Mr Zhang Ping, are you my new stepmother?"

Predictably, Father chokes mid-chew of his noodles, face going a ruddy red as Zhang Ping pats his back with one hand and pressing his cup of tea into his father's with the other.

"Lan Hui...!"

"It's not an incorrect assumption," Zhang Ping admits softly, cheeks tinged pink when he meets Lan Hui's eyes. Casting a quick glance at Father before pouring him another cup of tea and offering him a handkerchief.

Looking between Zhang Ping and Father, Lan Hui sees the careful way Zhang Ping switches out the empty cup for some water, the quiet thanks in Father's eyes when his coughing dies down to a rasp.

Lan Hui also spies the small smile that Father gives Zhang Ping, the moment that lingers between them when their hands brush over the cup.

Picking up the soft bean cake on his plate, he takes a bite. It's sweet without being overpowering. Lan Hui lets the taste linger on his tongue, waiting for Father and Zhang Ping to turn back to him again.

"Lan Hui, Zhang Ping is--"

"My new stepmother, I get that," Lan Hui says, smiling a little. Father gapes at his words, but Zhang Ping is tilting his head, looking a lot like a puppy he once had when it found something interesting.

Lan Hui takes another bite of his cake, gratified to know that his home life from here on out will be nothing less than interesting.

[dominarianplowshare]

Fragment of some writing I’m noodling around with—

Many believe that it is an immense task, perhaps an impossible burden, to know all that can be known. This is true. But there is one task harder.

There are scholarly disciplines for every topic on earth, save one, which we will touch on in a moment. Geologists plumb the earth’s hidden depths, whilst geographers array before our eyes the manifold marvels spread across it. Botanists diagram the inner lives of plants, phlebotomists diagnose the infernal flows of blood, physicists master the manner of the cosmos, and physicians manage the mortalities of our bodily matter. And this is to say nothing of the magical arts! Allomancy, cryomancy, pyromancy, illusionism, duplimancy, hieromancy, keuranomancy, mimeomancy, lumimancy, oneiromancy, necromancy, thaumaturgy, viromancy—a mere triskadecaton of the manifold numerosities found in the study of magic, most of all our native Shandalar, infused as it is with our native magics.

But whether we name sciences of the body or earth, alchemies of fluid and chemicalism, or magics of ice, flame, death, or light—in all these disparate sciences we may grasp a common thread weaving amidst the chaos, which is this: the vocation of unveiling, that is to say of making the unknown known.

But I invite you to imagine the reverse. Can there be such a science as makes the known unknown? That is to say, a science that mystifies that which we take without faith, that clouds those sunny days of our intellect, that casts over our knowledge a pall of obscurity and allows us to know nothing but this: that our world is not what we believe it to be?

Such is the science I propose to you. Such is cryptohistory.

[hyacinthian-chateau]

Hello!

Congratulations on 200 followers!!! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ ♡

Can I request a matchup please?

I’m gemini, ISFP and i can describe myself as a person who have trust issues, so it’s hard for me to open up to people at first. Despite of this i love affections in various expressions. Compliments, hugs, smooches - I really like to show attachment to my family and friends! Even if it seems so clingy tbh.

Sometimes i'm overwhelmed by emotions and i became rude and harsh in communication, for which I later regret. Let's says my mood always changes by unexplained reasons, yeah…

I'm a bit sarcastic and also unconsciously criticize myself by making self-destructive jokes, thanks to my past, but however my small circle of closed friends says that I mostly looks like a chihuahua - just as small, chaotic and bitey in a good way tho. Even if i more on introverted side i'm eccentric and active in some ways. I mean who one day came to work with invoices mustache and beard just because wanted to? Yep, me. A little weird me.

I have specific tastes in everything from eating french fries with ice cream as sauce to non-standard combination of clothes and colors. It maybe sounds oddly but i like strange and absurd memes, dumb puns and black humour, and i quite often use them in conversations.

I adore astrology and mysticism. Some kind of mystery of the world attracts me, gives me ground for reflection, thereby forcing me to spend almost all my free time on it, and I find it really interesting. I also like everything related to maritime culture and mythology. Warm rainy days, autumn season and evening time of day when the sun slowly sets over the horizon. And I also really like such simple little things as cute pebbles that can be found not only on the beach, but also on an ordinary street, key rings and other seemingly unnecessary trinkets.

What about dislikes? Well, at first it’s wasps. Thank God that I didn't have to come into close contact with them. In my opinion, it's better to run from a flock of geese than from a gang of wasps. The second is acute. I can't and don't like too spicy food and dishes. One day I ate very spicy noodles and my lips cried from burning for half an hour. Not a very good feeling, especially when they are cracked...

When I was a little girl, I attended every school circle, but I didn't stay in any of them due to my frequent variability in both character and interests, and it's a little difficult for me to understand which hobby has sunk into my soul more, heh. I knitted, drew, and excelled in sports - everything in a row, but a little. If singing in the bathroom is considered a hobby, then this is one of them that stayed with me throughout my growing up, ha ha. I will give preference to drawing and writing more, perhaps.

I'm sorry, if it came out quite a lot, but I was happy to share! Thank you for your work, I hope you have a lovely day! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

Kaeya, ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You and Kaeya unintentionally become entangled with each other.

The Cavalry Captain is an admired figure within the City of Freedom. People who have had the pleasure of either meeting or working with him would describe him as a charismatic and skillful man who could charm anyone. And yet behind the handsome face and flirtatious smile lies much more once when you dig deeper.

Kaeya would have mistaken you for an adventurer when you first met as you dressed so differently--stylishly, if he says so himself--compared to your scholarly counterparts. In the beginning, the eye-patched man barely had the opportunity to speak to you as you were mainly either conducting an experiment, assisting both Albedo and Sucrose in the lab, or busy collecting data in the field.

At first, you've remained cautious of the eye-patched man and maintained a cordial relationship with him like everyone else, that is, until you finally snapped one day. The said man enjoyed stretching your patience as he constantly pokes fun at your shorter stature, which earns him a sarcastic response. At the same time, you attempt to avoid his attempt to use your head as an armrest. From there on, Kaeya decides that you are someone he wishes to banter with more often; He's found another person to annoy, next to Diluc.

Despite all your ribbing, the two of you get along quite well, and the navy-blue-haired male has taken the initiative to become your close associate. He is mindful and learns of your tendency to be moody, leading you to become agitated. He exercises patience and tries to cheer you up in various ways: From treating you to some Sticky Honey Roast, to telling an outlandish story that leaves you doubting the credibility of it all, or inviting you to go for a walk along Cider Lake when twilight approaches. At some point, you had suspected that he had left the Windwheel Asters on your workbench after a hectic work week.

It's sooner rather than later that Kaeya becomes a kindred soul and dubs you a 'Genius' when he gets to taste the mix of alcohol you had been concocting. The two of you also tend to frequent the various taverns with either Rosaria or Venti within the city walls. Despite his relatively high tolerance for alcohol, the sword wielder tries his best to listen when you go on a tangent about Ancient Maritime countries within Teyvat. Still, he can't seem to concentrate on your words when you look so animated under the dim tavern lights; He can't help but think you're absolutely striking as he shoots you a cheeky smile.

The slight change in the Cavalry Captain doesn't go unnoticed. Jean has caught her subordinate staring at you from a distance while you were busy speaking to Mona, a frequent visitor who became your fast friend. She's glad he's taken a liking to you but gently reprimands him when he takes too long to focus back on the task at hand. The resident librarian is also well aware of the fondness Kaeya has for you. Lisa, being the prodigy that she is, has roped several female members of the knights, which even included Outrider Amber and even Captain Eula, into creating a secret couple name if you two ever decide to get together.

The tanned man always offers to let you work within his office when he discerns the first signs of exhaustion on your pretty face. You've always been a lively person, but it's during this time that he doesn't talk much but instead lets you share what's on your mind--Whatever the circumstances are, the said man is more than happy to receive you if you ever decide to visit. By the end of your visit, he finds himself enveloped in a brief hug and a light peck on his cheek as you give him your thanks….If you ever bothered to look back, you would have been greeted by the sight of the usually confident Cavalry Captain's ruddy cheeks as he attempts to process what exactly had just happened.

It is somewhere along the line that Kaeya can't help but feel an odd sensation bubbling in his chest when he thinks about you; He's been experiencing it constantly nowadays. He's observant and calm, but he can't help but dive head first when it concerns you. He knows that despite building a façade, he unconsciously drifts toward you and doesn't understand why exactly. He's also somewhat changed as he allows himself to be genuine with his words and actions while wishing to be the closest to you. Slowly but surely, he's unsure when exactly you started to become a part of him.

There are a lot of hurdles to overcome, but your slight air-headedness whenever he tries to flirt with you somewhat dampens his spirits. Maybe he'll invite you to watch the stars at Starsnatch Cliff tonight. And perhaps even adopt a more direct approach this time around?

Huh? You say he's been acting a bit odd lately? Oho~!☆ Then you should speak to him about it if you're so worried.

Oh, but don't worry. You don't need to search too hard…

╰ ☆☆☆☆╮

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

001 the Gorillaz

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

sure, thanks for the ask!

• Favorite character:

I am so bad at choosing! I love them all. I dunno who to choose.

• Least Favorite character:

Paula Cracker for cheating on 2D.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

none. I don’t ship anyone. I see them as a found family. I don’t know anyone outside Gorillaz characters to ship with except for Ace and I don’t ship him with anyone either.

even Murdoc see his band as his family. I got this source from reddit.

• Character I find most attractive:

phase 4 and current Noodle! have you guys seen her? she’s so stylish !!! and also Ace! uhh, he’s cool too.

• Character I would marry:

none! they look like they’re too busy with their career!

• Character I would be best friends with:

all of em!

• A random thought:

• An unpopular opinion:

2D when designed in 3d doesn’t work with black eyes. when drawn in 2d he should have black eyes and in 3d he should have white eyes.

• My Canon OTP:

none! is there even a canon otp?

• My Non-canon OTP:

none!

• Most Badass Character:

okay I don’t have the source but it was confirmed by Murdoc that Noodle shaved her legs with a sword. how cool is that?

• Most Epic Villain:

Boogieman! (i think he’a the only villain)

• Pairing I am not a fan of:

basically any Gorillaz band mate shipped with Noodle even she is older! shipping adoptive family members makes me legitimately sick. they're like her brothers or dads. they’ve known her since she was a kid, it's weird.

• Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

hmm, none. I like all the lores. the only thing that screwed is netflix cancelled Gorillaz animated movie.

Favourite Friendship:

2D and Murdoc! (source from official Gorillaz)

• Character I most identify with:

gotta go with my main man Russ! he just seems like a really nice guy! scary or weird on the outside, but then then turns out to be a very shy, scholarly person, who I can relate to. and I can tell that he is a good friend.

• Character I wish I could be:

ooo, I would love to be Del cuz he's f-ing dead.

[rockinlibrarian]

For the writing ask game: 2, 6, & 7 ^_^

Yay! An ask from the actual AUTHOR of The Happy Fic Writer Ask Game reblogged here, who is famous for also once, see question 13, guessing my TUA Masked Author submission by title alone!

So let's start with 2. Talk about a favorite comment you received.

I think the one that jumps out at me is from a "Guest" who I believe I've since come to know as "hc-silver" on the Summerland Discord, on "Two (or Three) Mutant Freaks and the Strictly Scholarly Collaboration":

"Your dedication to the interpersonal relationships shows; I would go as far as to say its your strong suit! The interactions are true to the characters and not contrived. For me it makes your work a pleasure to read."

That just gave me all the warm fuzzies! Such a genuine compliment about something I always try hardest to get right!

Runner-ups to Lovely_Number_7's "Reread this is amazing" on "On Soul Mates and Nemeses" because it's what it says on the tin-- someone is REREADING this because they think it's AMAZING; and to this guy in @destinyandcoins's reply to the aforementioned Masked Author submission "How to Catch Up with your Therapist after a Couple of…Busy Months":

I just like looking at that guy, he makes me laugh.

6. Describe what you do and your feelings after posting a chapter.

Well. I link it in relevant social media locales, and then usually end up clicking through the link and rereading it immediately, just to get the experience of reading it like other people will be reading it. Then I refresh to see if anyone else has found it yet! They inevitably haven't, so I noodle around on the internet for awhile, then keep refreshing and/or checking gmail to see if anyone has commented yet! This probably still hasn't happened! But I keep doing it! Then the next morning at about 6:45 is when AO3 sends the "You've Got Kudos!" email notifications, so I attempt to keep my pants on until then. If no one has Kudoed it by that first morning, I get down, but then immediately start going through my other WIPs to decide which one is closest to being publishable so that I can hurry on to the NEXT source of potential validation!

7. What do you love most about being a fic writer for your fandom?

I don't know, I guess I just love playing with characters. It's like that scene in one of the Anne books, maybe Anne of Avonlea, where she's like "It's just a string of fancies! I enjoy writing such things, but editors insist on PLOTS!" which I have always identified with. It's ACCEPTABLE to write fanfic that's basically just "characters do stuff" without any world-stopping plot-building on my part!

Fandom-specifically, which the question seems to be leaning toward, I don't know, because I'm a multi-fandom writer anyway. Legion I am one of the ONLY writers for, so there I feel a bit, um, knowledgeable I guess? So, confident. But it makes me a little sad that "The Magic Man of Oz," possibly the coolest fic I have ever written, therefore has like no audience. And it also makes me sad that, being pretty much the only person in the fandom writing about the Summerland founders, I always have to write it in order to read it, which is why I requested it on the Yuletide exchange!

My fandom with the second-highest number of fics written (and highest number of fics READ), Umbrella Academy, I still feel kind of like the dork on the sidelines saying, "Hi, I'm here too!" And currently the only other fandom with more than one fic posted at all is the MCU, and two fics in the MCU, one of which is really more of a Wrinkle in Time fic anyway and which I swear has not been abandoned, is like one molecule of salt in the ocean.

I have been enjoying browsing all the requests for Yuletide, because there are so many ITTY BITTY fandoms that make me go wow, I never thought of fanfic for that, I can't wait to read it! One prompt was so brilliant I'm writing it as a Treat even though it's not my official assignment. My official assignment is actually for a fandom I was surprised is even eligible for Yuletide, but I'd better stop talking now. I'm very bad at writing surprises.

[vanillashusband]

so many kisses for my precious zucchini! <3 (this ship is queerplatonic btw!)

🧡TAGLIST: @selfshippinglover @sunstar-of-the-north

[sanguinifex]

There has absolutely got to be a fire, water, ice-type or Audino Constitutional Law healing signature move evolution Pokémon that does evolve while holding a burn heal and/or using it with or without a healing move (in more or less the intravenous radiological contrast sense) in the latest edition or console of the next Johto DSM doorstopper coding reference manual.

This is, of course, in direct scholarly, scientific, legal, government insurance (who do you think runs the public access Pokémon centers? Joint funding from the jurisdictionally applicable NHS/CMS/Applicable MAC locality fund NOS United Nations issue alphabet noodle soup pot, that’s what.) Kanto WPATH standards. And, of course, even more so with approaches towards billing codes related to gender identity, and whether or not eccentricities thereof are a disease state, a syndrome (like some form of acquired immune dysregulation), an environmental or occupational disorder (like pneumosilicosis, a rock-type bane as wily, adaptive, and resilient as Bugs Bunny, anime ninjas, and mycobacterium tuberculosis.

Professor Oak runs straight into this, full tilt and unawares, when he emails a slightly blurry late-90s digital camera color photo of a water/fighting amphibious clade of Kantonian geographic border transition zone ethnic persuasion, to three or four of his international colleagues, asking for a second opinion on species identification of both the poor amphibious creature who was about as in focus as a contemporary supermarket tabloid’s Bigfoot pictures (not to mention that both were likely taken by the same or similar models of Kodak or Samsung cheap journalist’s camera models largely held together by duct or electrical, brand recognition and prayers, and the spiky bits of their native marketing territories’ Katakana characters, as a causative factor in the [lack of] image quality), and said poor creature’s likely contagious and differentially chytrid fungal skin disease.

The resulting controversy, forest’s worth of academic slugfests/incisive and thought-provoking journal articles which, with a single public health building, are the only thing keeping a small local print shop in business, Kami avert any major earthquakes; repeated incidents of felony vandalism of a commercial hunting blind from the Saffron City Pokémart Supercenter a zoological research station with class 3 chemical carcinogens otherwise known as washable art supplies from the same vendor, rated for fingerpainting by grades K-3, has been compared to the “WE! DON’T! TALK! aboutthe RAGE! FIST!! PRIMEAPE!!! infamous addendum to Roberuto’s Rules of Order by the 19th century literary gothic scholars, those hailing from the same roughly similar cohort of acclaimed state colleges and universities. Specifically.

Bad thoughts can’t touch me . I know so many Pokémon facts to replace any possible bad thoughts with.

“I’m a loser” —> the gen 2 moon ball was supposed to work better on Pokémon that evolved with the moon stone but the item ID was programmed wrong and so it only works better on Pokémon who evolve with a burn heal. Which is none. So it’s a normal pokeball, functionally

[meowtalhead]

How much I trust you based on your favorite star wars

13. Some shit on disney+

HISSSS!!! HISSSSSS!!!

12. Sequel Trilogy

Listen. If you got attached to one of the characters from the first one I don't blame you and you get a free pass ok

11. One of the spinoff movies like solo or whatever

Idk what's going on in there does anyone even watch those?

10. The Mandalorian

You're either extremely cool, a dad, or a disney adult. Very inconclusive

9. Pre-disney expanded universe

Also pretty inconclusive. I seek the vast knowledge of the scholarly lore wizards and their million billion books and comics, but loathe the annoying elitist guy who has a weird thing about hating star trek

8. The original trilogy

Just a regular guy

7. The prequel trilogy

Either you're very dedicated to lore and character analysis or you have a good sense of humor and don't take yourself too seriously

6. The metal band Galactic Empire

Meet me in the mosh pit with a pool noodle and we shall have the lightsaber duel of the century

5. Clone Wars (2003)

You have good taste. Unless you're that one animation professor I hated in college

4. The Clone Wars (2008)

You have very good taste

3. The Star Wars Holiday Special

>:3c

2. Jedi Fallen Order

Hell yeah!

1. Lego Star Wars the Complete Saga for the Nintendo wii

We are getting married

[seraniii]

New year’s I think, we’re all pretty busy

-Baji

that was so long ago, kei! they probably miss you. *i move to make the dipping sauce as i take the noodles out of the pot and divide it between two bowls* it’s cute watching you get all scholarly and professional.

[virilight]

he’s trying his best

(image desc under cut)

image description begins: a five panel comic. the first panel shows jon sims from the shoulders up, a dark skinned man with short but fluffy dark brown hair with touches of grey at the temples. he is wearing square glasses and a pink work shirt with a dark green tie. behind him stands martin blackwood, full body and smaller than jon to suggest distance between them. he is colored entirely blue-grey and is holding a stack of papers to his chest. he is smiling, and a blue speech bubble next to him reads “oh--jon!” the second panel is a close up on martin, shown in full color from the shoulders up. he has light tan skin dotted with freckles, round glasses, and fluffy orange hair, and he is wearing a cream colored work shirt under a dark yellow jumper. he is smiling, eyes closed and saying “a pink shirt? how adventurous!!!” the third panel shows martin again, this time blushing and looking to the side as he says “...looks good on you :)” the fourth panel shows jon with an annoyed look on his face, saying “colors mean nothing to me. I am far too busy to worry about such things.” in a green speech bubble. the fifth and final panel mirrors the placement of the first, except martin is now looking away from jon sadly and saying “oh.” and jon is looking sheepishly and uncomfortably off to the side, with a grey speech bubble above his head reading “washed a red shirt in with his whites and didn't think it would do anything” accompanied by a red arrow pointing from the speech bubble to jon. end description.

[readbentweenthelines]

"Shall I call you dearest, then?" Ben murmured, a smile curving up his lips, playing into it. "Because there is none more dear or darling to me than you." He took one of her hands, giving it a soft kiss before looking up and winking. "Better?" he asked, leaning into the chivalry of it all. He laughed. "I'm a professor, not a poet. My job is to analyze poetry, Bri, not compose it. I fear I haven't made an attempt at that in years." He used to dabble. What aspiring literature major didn't dabble in poetry or prose? He had liked it, had taken his amateur hour to coffee shops and small time lit magazines. It had been fun, but it wasn't anything he thought he could make a career off of. Now, books? Reading and deciphering and writing all about it? Ben knew that he could do that, and he enjoyed it, too.

"I think it's a bit closer to thousands, actually," he said, no hint of embarrassment in his tone. "I have more in my home office, my office on campus, my bedroom." Classics and dime novels, scholarly text and penny dreadfuls, he liked to read it all. He liked to have it in his possession, too, not filed away on a tablet or computer. He liked the feel of the pages in his hands, and he liked to mark things up with a pen; not the first editions, of course, and nothing that was considered antique. He shook his head. "You're asking me to pick a favorite child. I can't possibly be expected to pick a favorite book out of such an extensive collection." He hummed, though. "I have a copy of Pablo Neruda's Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair from when it was originally published in 1924, in Spanish. Which, my Spanish is nothing to write home about, but I love the poetry, and I have the English translation, too, but it's most lovely read aloud in Spanish." Ben couldn't say whether or not it was his favorite, but he certainly went back to it all the time. And he did read it aloud, too, even if it was just him. "We'll refrain from further mention of the v word for the night. And you have heard of Swedish meatballs, haven't you? You know, the ones not in spaghetti with red sauce? Typically, they're served over egg noodles or a mash, but I'm certain they'll work just fine side by side with mac and cheese. A bit heavy, but mac and cheese and chocolate cake usually are anyway," he teased. "Does that answer your questions?" He raised an eyebrow at her questions about meatless balls, unable to properly decide if her innocence was an act or if she was being facetious. "They're made of bulgur wheat, chickpeas, and cremini mushrooms. It mimics ground meat without being meat. And to... just call them balls wouldn't be particularly informative, now, would it?"

Bri pressed her lips together in a poor attempt to stop the smiling that was beginning to form at the corner of her lips. "You're forgiven. Though darling? You can't pick a pet name a bit more personal than that? And here I was under the assumption this date was supposed to be romantic," She teased, feigning a tsk. "Good, you should do that. I want to be able to really take in the full Benjamin Anak Bandi experience," She started to say only for her eyes to widen at the mention of him insulting the quality of his cooking for all she knew. "You're really selling yourself here. You know that, Mr. Leader?" She bite down on her lower lip as she shook her head lightly back and forth at the thought. "And here I was under the impression you were a poet. One who could craft stanzas full of captivating charm and wit. My mistake," She countered at the mention of not being able to use his charming wit to rope bids in without that of his face. Her gaze all the while taking in the various books and antiques scattered all over the place. Ben's house was as different to Bri's as it could be and yet a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as her fingertips glided across one of his many bookshelves. His place oddly reminding her of her home back in Bandon, Oregon where she used to spend the summers with her aunts and Jonah, ditching her Prada bags for a dorky pair of wide rim glasses and a book. So, rather than passing some backhanded or undermining compliment Ben's way, she found herself humming softly out, "What's your favorite book?"

"It's just that you clearly have hundreds. You very well may qualify as having your own library here," She admitted, not bothering to hide her impressed tone as she continued to peak around. "So, out of all the books you own, especially the paperbacks that leave quite a lot to be desired, what's your favorite?" Bri asked curiously. "You're a terrible liar, Ben Anak Bandi. A true gentleman, like yourself, should work on that, but," She eyed the hand he extended out to her. Rolling her eyes lightly over as she accepted it, allowing him to lead her over to the kitchen. "Thanks. You better and... maybe not? But, maybe we can also not talk about how inferior I am as a... a v word? I just... I don't exactly like being reminded of how much of life I'm never going to be able to experience now? But-" She lifted her chin up to him. Her eyes widening at the mention of Meatballs of all things. "I'm sorry, did you just say Meatballs? What? Did I miss the moment when we morphed into Lady and the Tramp are eating Spaghetti?" She blinked over at him in confusion having never had Meatballs and Mac and Cheese together in her whole life. "Do the Meatballs go in the Mac and Cheese or are they served as a side dish? I have so many questions. And you make meatless Meatballs? Wouldn't those just be balls? Logistically speaking? And what are your meatless balls made out of exactly?" She asked innocently, looking up at him with wide and doe-like eyes.