Hello, darling. Name's Amanda.
Holy Hell. Mom. Eternal Optimist. Devil's Advocate. Prophet. Trickster's daughter. Hufflepuff. Greyjoy. They just told me to get up there and cause trouble.
My daughter is the Princess of Hell.
One day, I met Mark Sheppard and it was the single greatest moment of my life. Our eyes locked across the table and he stole my M&Ms.
I like demons, minor characters, badass women, doomed school boys, dinosaurs, zombies, and Mark Sheppard. Sloths confuse anger me. Sandshrew is the best pokemon fight me.
Always here for people who need it.
OT3: Assholes with a Reputation
Art by Kadabbs
They Never Asked For It
Summary: A short fic-thing about what might happen if Chuck met Andy.
Words: 930
Warnings: None
Gabriel and Crowley show why the last people you would want for neighbors are the King of Hell and a trickster archangel. I apologize for how bad this is in advance.
Words: 1,364
Warnings: None, really besides a brief mention of violence
Getting into the holiday spirit, Growley style.
Words: 1,176
Warnings: Standard warning about my lack of proof-reading.
ladyfangirl submitted:
It had already been a long day and now Amanda sensed a sore throat coming on well if that wasn’t just the cherry on top of the sundae. A few red lights later and she spotted a sign for a coffee shop just down the street, “The Crossroad’s Grounds.” She wasn’t really in the mood for a coffee and frankly coffee shops always tended to put her on edge, but maybe they would have tea. Tea’s always good for the soul on a bad day and she thought she’d heard something about it being good for colds too.
The little bell above the door jangled as she stepped through the door. It was a warm room, which was nice after the cold walk from the parked car. The decorations seemed to be in competition with each other, some were elegant and dark while others were kitschy and garish, but somehow they worked together in a way she didn’t quite understand but thoroughly enjoyed. She made her way toward the counter at the back of the store through small tables with comfortable looking chairs and couches and only a few patrons sitting quietly here and there most on their laptops and one couple playing cribbage in the corner.
She stood at the counter looking up at the menu, they had an impressive list of desserts for such a small place and she could smell some delicious sweet chocolate-y scent drifting out from the kitchen along with some not so impressive opera singing. She rang the bell and a well dress man in black came around the corner out of the kitchen, his apron had “Mr. Crowley” stitched in dark red on his chest.
“What can I get for you pet?” he said with a smile that had more charm and trouble in it than any one man should be allowed to have. He lifted the apron over his head and set it down on the counter while he waited for her answer. In all honesty Crowley and his smile had put Amanda into something of a daze, so when he asked her, “Would you like me to recommend something?”
All she could manage was “Tea.”
He gestured to his right and she realized they had quite an impressive selection, she wondered if that had something to do with his British accent. “Wow, that’s a lot of teas,” she said with a bit of a cough. “What would you recommend for a soar throat?”
“Lemon and honey is a traditional choice or perhaps Echinacea. Would you prefer a sweeter or a more herbal taste?”
“Oh sweet please.”
“Honey and lemon then. For here or to go?”She looked around, she had planned on just grabbing something and running but she was finding the shop more and more inviting. And she thought to herself she really could use a break. “Here please.”
“Alright love, that’ll be $2.50. I’ll get that made right up for you. You have yourself a seat and I’ll bring it out to you.”
“Thanks.”
She settled on a couch near a window with the sun pouring through the frosty panes. She could still hear the bad opera singing coming from the kitchen. She was drifting in a daydream and tracing circles in the frost on the windows when Crowley arrived with a little tray with a teacup, a little pot of honey and a small teapot on it.
“He you go darling,” he said setting it all down on the coffee table in front of her and poured her first cup. “Watch out it might be very hot and there’s extra honey if you’d like it,” he said with a flirty wink tapping the honey pot on the top.
Just then there was what could only be described as an explosion in the kitchen. Everyone jumped with a start and peered up from their laptops like prairie dogs peeking out of their burrows.
“GABRIEL!” Crowley shouted with evident anger and stormed off back into the kitchen. A sort of hush fell over the shop but after a few minutes everyone went back to what they were doing apparently content that they were in no real danger. Amanda picked up her teacup and felt the warmth spread through her hands as she blew on the contents to cool them down.
Amanda was on her second cup of lemon and extra honey tea when Crowley and another man emerged from the kitchen still in what sounded like an argument. She couldn’t catch all of what was being said but she was pretty sure she heard the man who must be Gabriel say, “What do you mean it’s not suppose to erupt? Then why would they call it chocolate LAVA cake?” At that she started to giggle which caused her to go into a minor coughing fit that caught the attention of the arguing men.
Gabriel gave a whistle and said, “Who’s the red head?” elbowing Crowley in the side.
“She’s a costumer. Leave her alone,” Crowley said failing to grab Gabriel’s arm before he started to make his way over to her. Crowley rubbed his face with his hands as the other man approached Amanda.
“Hello sugar,” Gabriel said wiggling his eyebrow at her. “Maybe you can settle an argument for me. You see I say that chocolate lava cake should erupt,” he said gesturing to himself. It was only just now that Amanda realized his silky red apron, white hero shirt and even his flips flops not to mention his face and hair were covered in a splattering of what she could only guess was flour, chocolate powder and chocolate frosting. Crowley had now come to stand beside Gabriel. “But my friend here” he said as he leaned against Crowley resting his elbow on Crowley’s shoulder, “says that’s just a reference to having gooey stuff in the middle,” he said poking Crowley in the stomach with his free hand.
“It’s not suppose to explode Gabriel,” Crowley said through clenched teeth, “Now please leave the nice woman alone.”
“It’s alright, I don’t mind. But I think your friend is right,” she said looking at Gabriel, “Lava cake isn’t suppose to explode and if it did you probably didn’t make it right.”
“Didn’t make it right!?!” Gabriel said with mock outrage. “Here give it a taste and tell me I didn’t make it right.” He looked down at his apron found a big glob of chocolate frosting wiped it off and stuck his now chocolate covered finger out to her. “Go on taste it,” he said with a naughty sideways smirk.
Crowley immediately grabbed Gabriel’s hand, “She’s not going to lick your finger off,” he growled. The two men stared at each other for a few seconds. Amanda thought that Crowley might break the other man’s wrist for the amount of anger that seemed to rolling off him. But then he took Gabriel’s chocolate covered finger and put it in his mouth. He very slowly sucked it clean and pulled it back out. If she hadn’t been so shocked she might have noticed the low moan that came from Gabriel. Once again the two men stood staring at each other. Only now it wasn’t anger that grew between them.
Amanda’s breath caught in her throat and caused her to go into another minor coughing fit, which brought the men’s attention back to her. Crowley let go of Gabriel and poured her another cup of tea, “Sorry for all the disturbances pet, next time the tea’s on me.” And with that both men went back toward the kitchen whispering back and forth between each other.
Amanda turned back to the window and smiled to herself as she sipped her tea. She was definitely going to have to come back here; maybe not all coffee shops were quite as bad as she thought they were.
Reason #457 why I have the best followers.
Just a bit of hate-sex between Crowley and Miczariel, based on RP happenings.
Words: 1,239
Pairing: Crowley/Miczariel
Warnings: Smut, obviously
A little bit of smut involving Crowley wearing a kilt.
Words: 1,160
Warnings: None besides the fact that it might be terrible and I didn’t proof read.
Since I was updating the links on my blog, I thought I would go ahead and make an actual post for reasons that are now alluding me. I’m sure I had a reason though.
The Rainbowshine Story This is the first Supernatural fanfic I ever published and it was based on all the Twitter shenanigans I got into with my friends and the brilliant RP accounts on there. It’s very cracky. All about zombie dinosaurs and time-warps. WIP
A Christmas Carol: The Rainbowshine Way A Christmas story I completely rushed through. Filled with shenanigans and exploding reindeer.
You’ll See The very first serious fanfic I ever wrote. Written after Crowley died in ‘Caged Heat’. Growley
A Demon Snaps His Fingers, An Angel Gets His Wings A Growley story I never posted on tumblr about Gabriel teaching Crowley to snap his fingers.
A Very Growley Tea Party First attempt ever at writing smut which didn’t go very far. Gabriel throws a tea party for Crowley.
When Archangels Breathe Fire The fic that got me started doing prompts. No smut, just Gabriel, Michael, and Lucifer shenanigans.
The End Is Only The Beginning A Growley fic set before ‘Hammer of the Gods’
This Isn’t The End Companion piece to the previous fic. Growley
Gabriel’s New Pet Crowley gets turned into a cat. Growley
Holy Hell Growley fic containing first time wing!kink.
It’s All A Game Growley rough sex fic.
Untitled A Growley fic with angry shower sex and a slightly sad ending.
Up Against A Wall Growley fic with wing and wall sex because all I write is smut, apparently.
More below the cut.
It was the end and Dean knew it. Castiel’s grace had already faded in blinding flash of light and it had been the only thing that allowed him to tear control of his body back from Michael. He thought that if they made it out of this (and he knew they wouldn’t), he would never think lightly of what Sam had done that day four years ago. That moment was all he needed to drive the angel blade into his brother’s chest. For a brief second, it was Sam looking back at him and not Lucifer and Sam smiled. Then, before Michael could regain control, he turned the blade on himself.
Everything went black.
They were standing outside the Roadhouse and instinctively they reached for one another, grasping the other’s arm, as they looked around. It wasn’t the first time the Winchester brothers and had died but they both knew it would be the last time.
Sam opens the door to the Roadhouse and steps inside, followed by Dean. From behind the bar, Ellen smiles at them, asking “What took you boys so long?” Before they have a chance to answer, though, Bobby is crushing them both in a hug, Rufus standing behind him. He steps aside and there’s John and Mary. Mary looks just like the images Dean held in his mind after all these years; she looks just like Sam imagined she would. Jo is there, too, standing next to Pamela and they’re laughing. Ash has looked up from the game of pool he was playing with Gabriel who winks at both Sam and Dean. Balthazar is standing next to a slightly confused looking Andy.
The bar is full. Even Adam is there, by some miracle. The Roadhouse shouldn’t be able to hold this many people but it does. Then a familiar coat is pushing its way through the crowd and Castiel is smiling at the two brothers, his arms open wide. After a moment, they break apart and it’s just the three of them standing there amidst of everyone that touched their lives and spurred them onto this path. In the end, they had saved the world together.
One last person came up to them then, smiling broadly. The three looked at the small man.
“You guys did great,” Chuck said. “I’m so proud of you.”
All my best writing is either gay fanfiction or role-playing smut like I don’t think this is what my creative writing teacher had in mind.
Crowley was trying to study. ‘Trying’ being the operative word here. It was a little hard to concentrate on your coursework when your dorm-mate was standing on your bed, thrusting his pelvis in your face, and singing Britney Spears’ ‘Criminal’ as loud as he possibly could which was very. Finally, Crowley flipped the book shut with a sigh.
