i'm a nerd

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Stiles and his Emissary uniform. [Triskelion added once he–loudly–joined the Hale pack.] Special kudos to anyone who recognizes the symbolism on his jacket. XD

*The Hale family jacket for the more extravagant evenings or meetings with other pack leaders.  [Usually taken off almost immediately after said meeting so Derek can sulk in comfort. ]

SO someone in the nature forums brought up what each breed of dragon might call it’s young. And I went a little overboard? TAXONOMY IS MY PASSION I GUESS...

All credit to nature user soshiki for the idea!

COATLs
YOUNG: Chick
FEMALE: Hen
MALE: Cockerel
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Pit (a pit of coatls)

FAE
YOUNG: Nymph
FEMALE: Queen
MALE: King
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Colony or Swarm (A colony/swarm of Fae)

GUARDIANS
YOUNG: Pup
FEMALE: Cow
MALE: Bull
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Convoy (A convoy of guardians)

IMPERIALS
YOUNG: Prince/Princess
FEMALE: Regina
MALE: Rex
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Court (A court of Imperials)

MIRRORS
YOUNG: Cub
FEMALE: Dam
MALE: Sire
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Mob (A mob of mirrors)

NOCTURNE
YOUNG: Pup
FEMALE: Hen
MALE: Tom
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Family (A family of nocturnes)

PEARLCATCHERS
YOUNG: Fawn
FEMALE: Hind
MALE: Stag
COLLECTIVE NOUN: String (A string of pearlcatchers)

RIDGEBACKS
YOUNG: Pup
FEMALE: Cow
MALE: Bull
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Battery (A battery of ridgebacks)

SKYDANCERS
YOUNG: Chick
FEMALE: Hen
MALE: Drake
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Troop (a troop of skydancers)

SNAPPERS
YOUNG: Snapling
FEMALE: Sow
MALE: Bull
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Thunder (A thunder of snappers)

SPIRALS
YOUNG: Spindle
FEMALE: She-Spool
MALE: Spool
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Knot (A knot of spirals)

TUNDRAS
YOUNG: Lamb
FEMALE: Ewe
MALE: Ram
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Herd (A herd of tundras)

WILDCLAWS
YOUNG: Fledgeling
FEMALE: Cow
MALE: Bull
COLLECTIVE NOUN: Pack (A pack of wildclaws)

Ol' Blue Eyes
ao3

Dean is a painter, both the artistic kind and the kind that paints houses, he only really makes money doing the latter, but what can you do. He meets Castiel one day when he literally turns his world upside down. Castiel, this passionate professor of comparative literature at the local university who nearly walks right into Dean’s ladder while walking with his nose in a book. Dean luckily hears the guy coming, he’s muttering to himself and he kinda scuffs his feet while he walks, and shouts at him to watch out. It’s too little too late and they both end up on the ground, Dean on top of Cas, the can of paint- “White on White,” Dean recalls- upended on Dean’s head and splattered all over Castiel’s clothes and, most tragically, his book. 

He apologizes profusely to Dean who shrugs it off- “Hazard of the job, what can you do?”- and helps Castiel to his feet. Castiel smiles sheepishly all while cradling his tarnished book. Dean offers to make it up to him, politely disregarding Castiel’s complaints that it was completely his own fault, and asks Castiel to lunch the following day at a little book shop cafe that they both coincidentally frequent with the promise that he will purchase Castiel a new book. 

The date- though Dean swears to his brother, Sam, that it’s no such thing- goes off without a hitch. The conversation goes smoothly and Cas accepts the new book with only a little protest. It’s at that small little table in the coffee shop, the surface stained with the evidence of a coaster-less establishment and the leg that’s a little too short so the table wobbles every now and then, that Dean notices the color of Cas’ eyes. They’re blue, but he can’t figure out what blue. He cycles through the paint chips in his mind, he’s memorized them all, trying to find the best one. At the end of their meal, Dean gives Cas a hug and, trying one of the paint chip names on for size, says, “See you later, Ol’ Blue Eyes.” Cas’ face screws up in confusion, but Dean laughs and walks away. 

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Freckles

    “Is it true?” Sam asked, his head resting on Gabriel’s chest.

    “What’s that?” Gabriel hummed, absentmindedly running is hand through Sam’s hair.

    “Are freckles really from angel kisses?”

    Gabriel chuckled a bit. “That’s your burning question?”

    “Forget it,” Sam mumbled, blushing. 

    “Give me your hand, Samsquatch,” Gabriel requested, untangling his hand from Sam’s hair and holding it out. Sam reluctantly gave Gabriel his hand and the angel pulled it to his face. Lips pressed against Sam’s wrist and he gasped a little when the area turned hot and a tingle shot up his arm. After a moment, Gabriel’s lips moved away and he let go of Sam’s hand. When Sam brought it to his face to see the injury, he instead saw a splatter of freckles on the inside of his wrist.

    “Does that answer your question?” Gabriel smiled, letting his hand slide down Sam’s back as the hunter sat up. 

    “I have a follow up,” Sam said, rubbing his thumb over the new freckles on his wrist. “This isn’t just an archangel power, is it?”

    Gabriel grinned. “Nope. All angels have it.”

    “Have you noticed Dean’s new freckles?”