seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Maldives
Tiny Lost Story #3
Good Night
The only cloud in the night sky is the scattered dust of the Milky Way. It’s easy to pick out familiar bright spots: The North Star, Mars, Venus. Somewhere out there, Saturn floats surrounded by its icy rings, cold and quiet.
Cold and quiet, just like here. No sound of sails rippling in the wind. No oars pushing through the water. Just the lapping of waves against the small hull. Maddeningly ceaseless, stretching out into eternity.
“dean, how long have you known you’re bisexual?”
dean inhales sharply and shuts his eyes, managing to count up to six before settling for gritting his teeth. the only reason he doesn’t pour his coffee down the kitchen sink and leave to hide in his room for the next, oh, fifty-odd years so he doesn’t have to deal with this shit, is that he just filled it before jack meandered in. dean’s already close to snapping, and it’s not even 11am.
it’s gonna be one of those days.
he turns to face jack. “what.”
jack looks at him patiently, head tilted, resembling cas as he squints a little, like he’s focusing harder on dean’s face. “when did you know? or how did you?”
“piss off, kid,” dean says offhandedly, tired of this conversation everyone seems to keep having with him. “did sam put you up to this?”
“well— not exactly. he talked to me about it, but i came to you on my own.”
oh for fuck’s sake—
dean sets his coffee on the counter, needing both hands to rub his face as he says, “he did, did he.” looks like dean is gonna have to break sam’s knees now.
“yeah, i think he was trying to give me ‘the talk.’” dean can hear the quotation marks jack puts around the words, and while his face is covered, he doesn’t need to see to know that jack did the actual gesture, too. if it was any other time, dean would be suppressing a smile at the very cas-like mannerism, but right now, he’s not feeling it.
he lowers his hands to cross his arms over his chest. “how’d that go?”
“it was… unpleasant, for the both of us.”
dean snorted. “yeah, i can see that.” when jack continues to stand there, staring at him, dean lets out a breath that turns into a displeased groan at the end. “you’re not going to let this go, are you.” jack stays silent. “fuck, i dunno. when did roadhouse come out?”
“1989.”
“sure. yeah. that sounds about right, give or take a year.” he’s not being entirely serious — though roadhouse was a sort of awakening for him — and he wasn’t expecting jack to give him the actual year. part of him is proud that the kid knew the answer, but as he starts to imagine patrick swayze, he gets lost in thought. “swayze, hmm. and jennifer grey. demi moore….”
“who?”
oh. right, they haven’t gotten to ghost and dirty dancing during their swayze watch. and dean’s not sure if he’s ready to show jack to wong foo just yet — not with the way sam’s been acting. he swears his brother is gonna start hanging up pride flags around the bunker. “never mind. point is, a long time.”
“so… almost all your life?”
“i guess you could say that, yeah. didn’t always have a term for it. i just knew what i liked, better yet who i liked. that’s never been an issue for me. it was the-the…” he shifts his weight on his feet, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “the love thing that took me a while.”
“why is that?”
“jesus, kid,” dean says. he can’t help but laugh a little. “i dunno, i thought i was no good, that i didn’t deserve it. pick a reason, i’m sure i had it.”
jack gets a contemplative look on his face — and again, dean can’t help but be reminded of cas. “cas says we all deserve love, even when we don’t feel like we do.”
well, shit. jack just tosses that out there, his steady gaze on dean containing multitudes. his eyes are young and well beyond his age.
“yeah,” dean breathes, hit unexpectedly. just what this morning needs. he’s not gonna fucking cry now. “yeah. yeah, we do, especially then.”
“i’m… not sure what i am,” jack says. “is that okay?”
is that okay? as if dean could be upset with him for not knowing. dean feels his heart twist. goddammit, maybe he is gonna cry. he’s surprised — and grateful — his voice doesn’t come out a little strained. “'course it is.” to cover up the fact his eyes are stinging, he quickly adds some levity. “just— use protection.”
“protection? what would i— oh.” jack scrunches up his nose. “i don’t think i’m ready for that.”
dean picks his coffee back up, giving a lazy salute. “you and me both, kid.”
—
a companion piece to the crackfic taken seriously
Not today {request fic for @vdffirefighter }
It was times like this when Brand felt like he could truly let down his guard for a time. To relax, and let his usually whirring mind ease. With Deprankova laying across his chest, breathing steadily as the credits of the movie they had just watched rolled up the screen and shone light into the dark living room and onto the couch where the two lay.
His hand gently combed through the combed through the woman's hair, feeling her shift slightly before yawning and blinking blearily up at him. She smiled slightly, her eyes twinkling up at him.
"Alexander." She said.
"Viktoriya." He responded, not bothering to hide the upward twitch of his lips. Deprankova turned her head to watch the last of the credits roll by, her eyebrows furrowing.
"When did I fall asleep? What did I miss?" She asked, a slightly huffy tone in her voice at missing the rest of the movie.
"Don't worry, you didn't miss much. Just the car chase, the point when they finally kicked the villain off a cliff, and when the man finally gets the girl. Cliche, really." He replied. She hummed, letting out another yawn before sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
"We should get to bed, it's late. Mind putting the popcorn bowl away?" She said as she stood up and stretched herself out.
"Of course, Lisa." Brand responded as he grabbed the large bowl on the coffee table.
However he froze for a moment as he realized what he had said, seeing Deprankova give him a look. He swallowed as he quickly made his way to the kitchen, pretending to not notice her leaning onto the doorway with crossed arms.
"You always get shifty when you call me that. When are you going to tell me why you are so tense about it? I already know it's about someone else, and I can't understand why it's so hard for you and help you unless you tell me." She asked. Surprisingly, her voice did not seem accusing or frustrated. Rather calm, even gentle. Brand was thankful for that. He always was.
"I know......I'm sorry. I will tell you someday. Just......not today. It's just....very hard to explain. And it does not bring up very good memories." He finally replied, hoping he didn't sound as quiet as he thought he did. He heard Deprankova sigh, her footsteps drawing closer until he felt her arms wrap around his chest and her head rest into the middle of his shoulder blades.
".....I know you aren't. I'm sorry for prying. But I want you to know that I'm here for you once you are ready." She said gently. Brand sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly and finally turning to face the woman.
He leaned down, softly pressing his lips against hers for a brief second before pulling away.
"Thank you. You....will never know what it means to me." He said, still stumbling slightly over the kind words. She chuckled at him and shook her head with a smile that made his heart swell.
"It's what I am here for." She replied, pulling him in for another, slightly longer, kiss. And once again, Brand found himself relaxing.
No, he wasn't quite ready tell her about the events that had brought her back to him. But at least he knew he didn't have to. Not today, at least. Because for now, he was sure that they were both happy to simply be in each others arms.
(Okay! So! Sorry about it being a bit late, I got a little distracted. But I hope you enjoy regardless!)
I don’t know if you are doing more drabbles but I found this gem and well…please?! Love you wifey! 😘😘😘
@dean-winchesters-bacon Only for you wifey lol. I need a break from my manuscript anyway. Love you <3
You were sitting off to the side of the stage watching Jensen and Misha’s panel at JIB Con. You loved watching their panel because Jensen would usually loosen up more. Everyone would get a small glimpse of how Jensen was on an everyday basis at home.
As the shenanigans continued you were in full on stitches your abdominal muscles hurting from laughing so much. At one point Misha had come off stage trying to pull you up there to create more chaos.
You shook your head adamantly as Daniela tried to shoo him away. That is when Jensen realized Misha was missing and looked around for him.
“Misha? Where the hell did you go?” he asked looking everywhere but where Misha was.
“Oh I’m just hanging with your woman on the side of the stage. I was trying to get her to come up here and control you but she said I was supposed to be your handler for the this hour.” Jensen looked pointedly over at you.
You waved your hands shaking your head and grabbed the mic from Misha, “I said no such thing. You know I love handling you. I mean... wait...”
Now Misha and the audience were laughing uncontrollably as you successfully stuck your foot in your mouth. Jensen raised his eyebrow as a smirk spread across his lips.
He whispered, “I love you too.” He finished you off with a wink and you felt like your cheeks were on fire.
From that moment on you vowed to never watch their panel again unless Jensen specifically asked you too.
Tiny Lost Story #4
Choices
“Oh, come on! Lola, where did you hide the remote?”
Round green eyes blink silently in response.
“Useless.”
Finally, beneath a couch cushion, the remote is located, and beside it a single red Skittle.
She picks it up and eyes it, “Huh, must have dropped this during movie night on Saturday.” There’s a quick nervous glance around the empty apartment before she shrugs and pops it into her mouth.
Lola meows.
“Don’t give me that. You lick your asshole.”
Tiny Lost Story #8
. . .
She writes text messages that’ll never be sent. Sometimes they’re angry. “Fucking hell! Just tell me why!” Sometimes sad. “I miss our talks. You always knew what to say.” And sometimes just the everyday. “I saw a sticker today you would have loved.” Then she deletes each word, one letter at a time, sets her phone down, and walks away.
Tiny Lost Story #5
The One That Got Away
“I got it! I got it!”
“Alright, now reel it in nice and slow. Don’t put too much tension on the line.”
“I think I can see it! God, look at the size!”
“It’s making a run! Let out the line! Hold on!
SNAP
A few quick flicks of its fin and it’s gone, down into the depths and into legend.
Tiny Lost Story #2
Going Home
Finally, it's fall. Time moves slowly, not like the thick molasses of deep summer, but instead with the laziness of a gentle swirling breeze.
The sun sets just as he makes the final turn towards home, a shortcut through the last patch of remaining woods, following well-worn and well-traveled paths. Emerging on the other side is street that he knows.
Knew.
Someone calls his name and a small voice answers. He doesn’t need to see the child’s face to know what they look like.
A moment of uncertainty. Should he go when called?
Slowly he backs into the woods and turns to retrace his steps, wondering if he’ll end up where he started.
