#misha's prompts

[iced-coffee-jesus]

Buddie prompt: Buck helps chaperone one of Christopher’s dates (like instead of Marisol in 7x01). Realizations are had - maybe they get blindsided because the kid assumes Buck is the cool stepdad or something?

I'm so sorry that this took a week @linus-lucy ! And what a week it's been too! This fic got a little away from at the end and definitely leans a little on the crack side, but I hope you enjoy it!

“And here is your popcorn, good sir.” Buck bowed, placing the popcorn on the coffee table in front of Christopher and Penny. “We have an excellent selection of grape or orange soda, what would the lady prefer?”

Penny laughed, while Chris looked at him with eyes that were just begging him to leave them alone already. “Grape, please Mr. Diaz.”

“He’s Mr. Diaz, you may call me Buck. Grape soda, coming right up.” He said with an air of formality, turning back to the kitchen to grab the soda before joining Eddie on the other couch. Chris hit play on the movie, an Assassin’s Creed film whose plot Buck was unable to follow. Eddie elbowed him fifteen minutes into the movie, nodding his head towards where Penny’s hand laid on Chris’s arm. Buck rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Eddie in an attempt to bring his attention back to whatever was happening on screen.

“Calm down.” Buck murmured, leaning in a little closer so he wouldn’t get hushed by the teens on the other couch.

“We should have let them watch it by themselves, this is too awkward.” Eddie hissed back, catching side-eye from Christopher at the sound.

“This is too awkward? How did you handle giving him The Talk?”

“Dad.” Chris sighed, his full attention on them now. “Don’t you and Buck still have that paperwork to fill out?”

“Paperwork?” Penny asked, pausing the movie. Buck suppressed an eye roll, already knowing it was a losing cause to fight either Diaz on this.

“Yes! We do actually, firefighter paperwork, gotta get it finished by tomorrow. Come on, Buck.” He choked on a laugh as Eddie practically dragged him off the couch and into the kitchen. “Don’t wait for us, go ahead and finish the movie!”

“Smooth, Eddie, smooth. Almost as smooth as Chris’s ‘paperwork’ excuse.”

“I don’t care, there’s no way we were sitting through another hour and forty-five minutes of that.” Eddie derided, going to a cupboard and sifting through it before pulling out vanilla, baking powder, and salt.

“What happened to chaperoning?” he laughed, seeing where this was going and pulling out the chocolate chips and eggs from the fridge.

“We’re twenty feet away, you’re gonna poke your head in there every fifteen minutes and ensure nothing inappropriate is going on.”

“Me? Why not you?”

Eddie shrugged, digging out a mixing bowl from a different cupboard. “I don’t know, I chose at random and you were randomly assigned.”

Buck grinned, hip-checking him out of the way to start measuring ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. “Coward.”

Eddie merely hummed in response.

True to his word, Eddie kept aggressively nodding at the entryway to the living room every fifteen minutes or so, silently begging Buck to check on the situation, which he did dutifully.

The cookies had been out of the oven for a few minutes now, and Buck was torn on whether or not to interrupt the teens for some warm cookies or not.

He shouldn’t have worried, the credits were rolling and Chris and Penny were still sitting on the couch, a respectable distance from one another.

“Hey, Penny, your mom said she is gonna be here in about ten minutes. Do you guys want to eat some cookies we made while they’re still warm?”

“Dad let you use the stand mixer after everything that happened last saturday?” Chris quipped, following behind him into the kitchen.

“I did not.” Eddie smirked, glancing up at the ceiling before handing over the plate of cookies to Penny’s waiting hands. “Our ceiling will never recover from the muffin batter as it is.”

“See if I ever make muffins ever again. Do you see what I put up with, Penny?” Buck shook his head in mock pity as he stole a cookie from the plate. “The disrespect.”

“Buck, why would you pull up the mixer while it was still on?” Chris giggled.

“I wish my step-dad baked, my mom isn’t the best in the kitchen.”

“Neither is dad. I mean, he’s better than he used to be, but I’m still thankful that Buck cooks dinner most nights... No offense dad.”

“None taken.” Eddie mused quietly, eyeing Buck over the tops of their heads. Buck just shrugged, unsure what the look was for. 

“Well, you’re lucky you have two parents that can cook. We eat a lot of takeout at my house.” Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Must be my mom. Thank you for having me Mr. and Mr. Diaz.”

Oh. That was when it clicked for Buck. Penny thought- 

“It was our pleasure. Chris, would you like to walk her out?”

Chris nodded, charging for the door before Eddie could take it back. Penny smiled and waved as she followed behind him.

“Now, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Buck’s head snapped to Eddie, casually wiping down the counters. “Really? Mr. Let's-make-cookies-and-avoid-the-teens-at-all-cost?”

Eddie grinned impishly at him from across the counter. “I don’t know, doesn’t that also make you Mr. Let’s-make-cookies-and-”

“Stop, I heard it the first time. Did… did Chris tell her we were married? What was the deal with that?”

“No, c’mon, Chris wouldn’t do that. I think that was just the natural conclusion to come to.”

Buck’s face warmed at the comment. “Really? Mr. and Mr Diaz is just a foregone conclusion here?” He teased.

Eddie walked around the counter and stopped a few feet short of Buck. “Yeah. I think so, don’t you?”

Buck felt like all the air just got sucked from the room. “Eddie…”

A faint blush was rising on Eddie’s cheeks, but he barreled on. “I mean, let’s be honest here Buck, it’ll be a lot easier for you to change your name than for both me and Chris to switch to Buckley. We could always do Buckley-Diaz, but I kind of figured you wouldn’t mind dropping your parents-”

Buck didn’t let him finish, surging forward to claim Eddie’s mouth in a kiss, curling a hand around his waist to pull him flush against him. “You’re insane, you know that?” He breathed, pulling away just enough to rest their heads together.

“Hmmhmm.” Eddie quipped, a bright grin breaking out on his face.

“Hadn’t even kissed yet, and you’re already picking out china and monogrammed towels.”

“I don’t think we’re monogrammed towel people, Buck.” Eddie sighed, leaning in happily to steal another kiss or two.

“What type of people are we, Eddie?”

“Hopefully the type to get engaged before they’ve had a real first date?” 

Buck laughed as Eddie kissed him again, too filled with love to care about the insanity of it all.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

[unkindledangell]

I know Tom Hamniger (My Bloody Valentine) and Clay Miller (Friday the 13th) is a ship (same as other Jared/Jensen and Jensen/Misha characters shipping)

But has anyone thought about Tony (Girl, Interrupted) and Clay Miller?

Just thinking 🎃

[mishaesque]

… the size of the being was immense, as tall as a skyscraper. Its unearthly glow danced all around him, engulfed him, and yet Dean wasn’t scared. Because the being didn’t feel threatening, it felt… familiar. And safe. It felt like home.

“… Cas..?”

[drawyourblankas]

Draw your characters like this

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Destiel Prompt #50-something

The Magician vs the Real Thing

The question will be why is Castiel the real thing. Multiple possibilities:

1. Angel of the Lord

2. Witch

3. Psychic/Natural ability

4. From an alternative universe my where he has been implanted with a device that allows him to do his trick.

5. Superhero (Alien from another world where everyone can do this on his planet or could be just the elite)

6. Military experiment results

7. From the future, eugenically created/altered

8. Artifact/Artefact that gives him this ability to perform his illusions/tricks

If you write any of the prompts, please tag me so I can read the story! I would love to see what you creative minds think up! ❤️❤️❤️

[targaryenchester]

destiel fic prompt: In another universe destiel are badass girlies. Fem!Dean is flirty, touchy and kisses fem!cas's cheek sloppily coz she can. Most of the time, Cas sleeps in Dean's room because that is just 'super' natural for them. Somehow they stumble across spn universe and now we get to see our cowboy loving Dean having his gay panic when he sees how casually fem!cas takes fem!dean in her lap while researching for the hunt and fem!dean just leans into her like that is normal. Meanwhile our Cas just looks at fem!dean and marvels at her gorgeous sand blonde locks.

My fellow fanfic writer-warriors, please do it. Make it long, make it angsty, make it sexy, make it fun. The pie is yours, you just have to take it.

[neversetyoufree]

Christ okay, so for AGES now, ever since I first got into trying to track all the references in VnC, Mikhail's name has been haunting me.

Just about every major VnC character name is a reference to something from literature and/or history, and most of those references are pretty obvious. It's not just some of them; it's pretty much a universal thing for any character of note.

However, for a while now, Misha has seemed frustratingly like an exception. There is a serious dearth of characters named Misha or Mikhail in the historical eras and literary canons that Mochijun tends to pull from. I've been failing to find anything for a while, and I haven't seen any other fans picking out things he could be in reference to either. He's just this apparent weird exception, despite the fact that he's an important and extremely thematically relevant character.

But today I finally realized something. The spelling is different, but there is one decently famous literary character named Misha that works as a decent parallel to VnC's Mikhail—Mischa Lecter from the Hannibal series.

For those unfamiliar, in the book version of Hannibal, Mischa Lecter's entire narrative purpose is to be the younger sibling whose horrific death motivates Hannibal Lecter's violent revenge quest. The rest of the Lecter family is killed before the children, leaving Hannibal and Mischa alone in the world together with nobody else to rely on. Then Mischa is killed and cannibalized, and thus begins her brother's career as a killer cannibal.

It's not exactly a one to one parallel, but "desperate young siblings are trapped together in a horrible situation, and then the younger sibling Mischa dies, leaving the older brother alone and vengeful" does sound rather familiar, doesn't it? As remember, according to Vanitas, our Mikhail is supposed to be dead.

It's a weird and obscure enough comparison that I'm not about to declare I've solved the mystery for certain, but personally I've yet to find a better explanation for our Misha's name. After all, the French version of Michael is usually Michel, so Mochijun choosing specifically the Russian version of the name, then having Mikhail insist on going by "Misha" is a rather conspicuous choice. There has to be a reason for what's going on there.

[aroacemisha]

My prompts for Autistic Hunter Week 2023!

The original Autistic Hunter Week from 2022 was made by @/spinaroos-47, but he said he didn’t have the energy or ideas to make a new version, and others were free to use the old prompts or make their own versions [link to his post].

So here’s my version that I will be trying to do! Feel free to use these. Some have variations/options.

Day 1: Shared Interest

Day 2: Touch/Sensory

Day 3: Work/Carving

Day 4: Feathers/Free Space

Day 5: Scripting

Day 6: Blanket/Stuffed Toy

Day 7: Family/Community

I’m gonna be tagging it both as “#autistic hunter week” and “#autistic hunter week 2023”, and I’m keeping the same dates as the original, July 17th - July 23rd.

If any of y’all wanna do these, the works you make can be anything: drawings, writing, edits, etc., and feel free to use both canon Hunter and your AU versions.

[wecoudvebeenballsdeep]

Chat GPT about to be the most inspirational prompt author after that

[iced-coffee-jesus]

Drabble Prompt; Camping/ "I want to be loved like that."

Thank you @buddiedrabbles for the prompt! This little idea immediately came to mind, happy Friday!

"I want that."

"Want what?" Eddie looked up from where he'd been stoking the campfire, to see Buck staring off in the distance.

He followed his gaze to see Athena and Bobby dancing and giggling as the sun set behind them. The 118 had taken a rare 72-hours off and decided to go on a family camping trip, spouses and children included. It made something in Eddie settle to have both Christopher and Buck sharing a tent with him, the past eight months feeling like some sort of nightmare that was finally over.

Athena dipped Bobby, causing both of them to giggle as they nearly toppled over.

Buck sighed a little dreamily, leaning back in his chair. "I want to be loved like that."

Eddie bit his lip as he took in his best friend, hair curling from sweat, and a little dirt smeared on his chin.

Eddie liked to think that he did love Buck like that, even if he wasn't quite ready to show him yet.

Nevertheless, Eddie steeled himself and offered a hand out to Buck. "Care to join them?"

Buck stared at him a moment before laughing bashfully. "There's no music, Eddie!"

Eddie shrugged, nerves alight as he kept his hand out. "That's not stopping Bobby or Athena."

And for a brief, awful moment, Eddie thought he was wrong to offer, to push, but then Buck's face softened, and he took Eddie's hand. Standing up, he was close enough to smell Eddie's nice cologne that he'd packed, even after being mercilessly teased by his thirteen year old for bringing cologne camping. But Buck just inhaled deeply and smiled, his hand staying tucked in Eddie's grip as he put the other on his shoulder, letting Eddie lead as they swayed back in forth, both feeling a tingly sense of nerves and joy.

*

Chimney watched from his seat with Maddie, s'more still halfway to his mouth as he watched the two giggle as Eddie tried to spin Buck.

"If they aren't engaged by the time this camping trip is over I'll propose to Buck for Eddie."

Maddie just grinned, confident that that wouldn't be necessary. Buck had admitted to her last week that he was in love with Eddie, and was looking for the right time to tell him. It wouldn't be long now, judging from the way Eddie's lips were grazing Buck's temple as they swayed to music only they could hear.

[whipitgod]

Okay im gonna be sitting down tomorrow to write these fics but i want your guy’s help picking a prompt idea for the destiel fic!

[dowagerqueenofhell]

3. Weekend at Bobby's

3. Weekend At Bobby’s

One Year Later

Much had happened since the deal. Lucifer and Michael were thrown into Lucifer’s cage by Sam who fell with them. Dean resigned himself to go and live with Lisa and Ben as he’d promised his brother. Castiel went back to heaven. Bobby got back to being the helper of all hunters around. Sam came back, but he’s been working with his mother’s family ever since. As for Lane, she worked part-time at one of the Sioux Falls middle schools as a substitute for the English teachers while living at both Jodie’s and Bobby’s. They hadn’t heard of Crowley for ages…

*•*•*•*•*•*

Lane was working a shift instead of a sixty-year-old, pervy teacher when she decided she’d go visit Bobby. She hadn’t seen him in a week and she wanted some news on the boys. She got in her car and drove to his house as soon as the school bell rang, feeling like a teenage girl who visits her cool uncle once in a while. It was theoretically true. 

Shearrived there to see a fresh patch of concrete in the backyard —she always got in by the back door. She frowned and made her way inside, feeling eerie a bit. 

“Bobby?” Lane called, somehow knowing he’d be in the basement. 

“Down here!” came his muffled voice from downstairs. 

She set my bag down on the kitchen table and went there, on my way she heard a woman scream. Lane figured he was trying to exorcise a demon. She found a girl, barely older than her, tied to a chair in a Devil’s trap.

“Yo,” she greeted him simply.

“Hey, what’d you need?” he asked gruffly. 

Lane was taken aback by his harsh tone. “Er nothing, just thought I’d say hi. Help around, maybe… Are you okay?”

He looked at her and sighed. “Sorry, I just… Can’t get anything done with everyone interrupting because they need something. Rufus even came to ask for help burying a body, for God’s sake!“ 

Lane blinked at him. "I don’t have anything going on like that, so what’s up with her?” She asked pointing at the demon on the chair. 

“I need information from her,” he replied before turning to her, “what’s Crowley’s name? Back when he was flesh and blood.”

“Does tying a girl on a chair make you feel better about that time when you murdered your wife?” She asked, surprising her. Lane didn’t know Bobby ever had a wife. 

He didn’t answer her, instead he grabbed a sack of what sounded like bones. “What’s that?” The demon asked uninterestedly. 

“You don’t recognize them? They’re yours,” he said casually before placing the sack on the table next to him such as to be able to see the bones clearly. Then he grabbed his flamethrower and lit it. 

“It won’t work,” she said smugly, “it’s a myth.”

“Then you got nothing to worry about,” he said as he threw fire at her bones, making her yell in pain. 

“I can’t!” she moaned when he stopped. “You don’t know what he’ll do to me.”

“Right now, you better worry about what I’ll do to you,” he replied. 

“You don’t understand, he’s the King—”

“King of the Crossroads, I know.”

“No, King of Hell,” she said. 

“Well, this is news,” Lane said. 

Bobby was silent as he blew off the flamethrower, and just as he was about to talk the doorbell rang.

The demon spoke. “You’ll get that or what?”

He turned to Lane. “Keep her quiet.”

She nodded and he went upstairs. “That’s the blonde neighbor,” said the demon, “hoping to tap the drunk.”

Lane threw Holy water in her face and she screamed. Crap! She’d forgotten she needed to shut her up. She had to think fast. She went upstairs and heard Bobby talking to Ms. Ward about horror movies. She went to the front door and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on, Bobby. You’re missing all the fun!” Lane said excitedly before glancing at the neighbor and smiling at her and extending her hand, “Hi, I’m Lane Carpenter. And you must be our new neighbor, right?”

She looked confused as they shook hands and said, “Er—uh yes.”

Lane smiled again, trying to abate tension. “So I’ll go rewind what you missed,” she told Bobby, “and we’re out of chips—”

He handed her the tray she’d brought and said, “Take this to the kitchen while you’re at it.”

Lane grabbed it carefully, “Alright,” she smelled it and felt her heart leap, “this smells terrific! Don’t scare her off, Bobby.”

He glared at me while she looked more confused than ever. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be, kid?”

“One question, did you use walnuts when you made this?” Lane asked her. 

She shook her head. “No, I’m allergic.”

“Awesome! You’ll be lucky if you even taste this, Bob’,” Lane said walking away.

He glared at her again. “Go, for God’s sake!”

“Okay dad!” Lane sighed heavily, “Bye ma'am, thanks for this!”

She went to the kitchen and heard them talking. “Well, this is awkward,” said Bobby embarrassed. 

“So, you two..?”

“What? No! No, nothing like that she’s got a twelve year old’s brain,” he said with a chuckle. 

“And you could be a hundred years old, for all I know!” She retorted before going downstairs.

“That was the worst sitcom ever,” said the demon as soon as she caught sight of her. 

“Spare me your third grade teasing,” Lane sighed, sitting cross-legged on the floor outside of her Devil’s trap. 

Then, they heard Bobby’s heavy footsteps down the stairs. “Are you gonna make sweet love to her and stab her to death? That is your thing, right?”

He didn’t answer, but lit up the flamethrower and burned her bones more. “I want Crowley’s name, now!” he yelled over the noise. 

She was nearly completely consumed so Lane caught Bobby’s gaze. “She’s nearly done…”

He nodded at me and stopped the fire. “Last chance, you black-eyed bitch.”

“Okay, okay!” She panted desperately. “His name's Fergus MacLeod, we call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back.”

“MacLeod is Scottish, dumbass,” he remarked before turning the flamethrower on full blast.

“No! we had a deal!” She protested frantically before bursting up in flames like ghosts did. 

Lane gave Bobby a look of pity and he scrunched up his face at her saying, “We’re hunters, Lane!”

*•*•*•*•*•*

Lane decided to spend the night at Bobby’s, and help him find leverage against Crowley so he got back his soul. After some research he had found out that demons were sort of like ghosts, and that they could be completely destroyed by burning their bones. 

She went to my room and curled on my bed, tired from the week at school. The night was short but she felt rested. She washed up and went to see what Bobby was making out of that information, but she found him washing blood off his clothes instead.

She frowned and murmured in a still-sleepy voice, “’D'I miss something?”

He saw her and nodded before replying with, “Thing Rufus had me bury escaped and went on a killing spree. At the new neighbor’s.”

“Ouch,” she winced. “Must’ve been me jinxing you when I told you not to scare her off, sorry.”

He shook his head. “Nah, you were right. I do scare them off.”

She leaned against the kitchen’s threshold. “Not Jodie,” she said, trying to make up for it. 

“She’s better off without me. Y'all are, except I’d like to see you try,” he told her maliciously. 

“Meaning?" 

"You’re all dependent on me, whether it’d be for hunting or other things. When you’re stuck, Bobby’ll help and never say thanks or ask how he’s doing!” He complained loudly.  

“I’m sorry, what did I come here for yesterday, Bob?” Lane asked a tad too exasperated for the matter.  

He looked straight into my eyes and seemed like he didn’t know what to say. She spared him the trouble of fishing for words by grabbing her keys and jacket and heading toward the closest diner for breakfast.

*•*•*•*•*•*

She was reading in her car, parked in front of a lake when she started feeling guilty about what she said to Bobby. Maybe he wasn’t complaining about her but rather to her. She’d just been a total douche to him, not the friend he needed at that moment. 

It was nearly sunset when she slapped her book shut and decided to go help Bobby some more and apologize to him. It took her little more than twenty minutes to get there, she ran inside feeling a rush of anxiety. She never knew how to apologize. 

“Bobby?” She called, and just like yesterday the reply came from the basement. 

“Here!”

She went downstairs and felt a ghost-induced chill. She saw a man, barely younger than her, talking to Bobby in a strong Scottish accent. 

“Who’s the stiff?” Lane asked pointing at the ghost. 

Bobby looked proud of himself. “Gavin MacLeod!”

Her eyes widened with shock. “MacLeod as in—?”

“Yep, very same,” Bobby said nodding, “and he gave me interesting information about daddy.”

“Like?” She asked excitedly. 

He looked at her, no resentment due to earlier today visible on him, and said, “Don’t wanna spoil the surprise, there’s more to come.”

He continued to interrogate Gavin and asked Lane to gather the ingredients for demon summoning. She did so and when she was done, he drew a Devil’s trap on the low ceiling. Was he going to summon Crowley right then and there? She was sure of it but part of her hoped not. 

She didn’t wanna face the bastard because each time it reminded her of what she had done for Sophia, and that she had eternity with him to spend. She couldn’t even take back my soul because Sophia would get sick again and she wouldn’t allow it. Bobby summoned Crowley who appeared right under the Devil’s trap. 

Crowley sighed after he looked up to see the Devil’s trap, “Don’t we already know how this ends?” Bobby was going to talk but Crowley interrupted him, “Let me play it for you.” he pointed at Bobby, “‘Want me soul back, idjit!’” and then to himself, “‘'fraid not.’” to Bobby again, “‘But I’m all surly and I got a beard, gimme!’” to himself again, “‘Blah blah blah,’” to Bobby, “‘Bad joke on this and that,’” to himself, “‘Witty retort from yours truly.’ Bottom of the line: you get bubkes. Are we done here?”

Bobby wasn’t phased by Crowley’s obvious uninterest as he said, “Just getting started.” Gavin reappeared. 

Crowley looked surprised as he said, “Gavin? So-Son it’s been so long… I love you so—” he was acting like a human father would until he broke into a chuckle, “I’m sorry, this is your leverage? I loathed the little bastard, you wanna torture him I’ll pull up a chair and I’ll watch. Hell, you can even burn his bones and we’ll have a family reunion downstairs.”

“Surprisingly Gavin hates you, if possible, just as much as you hate him,” announced Bobby. She was not expecting that kind of reunion, “meaning that he was more than glad to spill on you. Like how you used to get drunk and beat him to the blood.”

She winced, never pegged Crowley for the drunk abusive father. Hell, barely even for a father. The King looked like he’d just noticed her so he said, “Oh hello Poppet, didn’t see you there. How’s it going? Enjoying life, I hope?”

Lane stiffened before Bobby resumed his speech. “He also told me of how you sold your soul for an extra three inches below the belt.”

She lost it at that. The King of Hell, former King of the Crossroads, became a demon because he wanted to be better-equipped? 

She snorted and of course, he noticed and looked smug as he said, “Just tryin’ to reach double digits.” Which made her laugh out loud and made him look her up and down before saying, “Tick tock, Poppet.”

She didn’t stop laughing, though her laughter went from amused to nervous as she shook her head in a Stop, he doesn’t know! way. What was she hoping for? 

He pressed on. “I’ll love having you as a guest.”

“What’s he talking about, Lane?” Bobby asked.

“Later, keep going,” she said before sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

He grabbed his phone and when whoever it was picked up, he put it on loudspeaker. “Hey Crowley,” said Dean’s voice, “guess what, the Winchesters have gone international now.”

She raised an eyebrow and Bobby said, “Gavin was kind enough to tell me where old Fergus was buried.”

Lane had just then realized that his real name was Fergus and she suppressed a smile. Until she realized that those assholes went to Scotland without her! 

“You went to Scots without me?!” She bellowed at the phone. 

“Lane? Hey, how’s it going?” Dean greeted. 

“Without me?!” She bellowed again. Crowley was poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek, obviously bored and impatient. 

“You really think this is the moment, Lane?” Bobby asked exasperated. 

She hadn’t realized that she’d stood up, so she sat back down with a huff and folded her arms over her chest, sour. “This isn’t over, guys!”

“Anyway, guess what we got here, Crowley?” Dean asked. 

“A quilt?” He asked in a monotone voice. 

“Your bones, and—” we heard a click, “—this is my lighter ready to turn you into ashes.”

Crowley gave Bobby a dirty look before waving his hand and making fire writing appear on Bobby’s arms, another wave and it disappeared.  

“I think we’ll go ahead and leave the part about my legs,” Bobby suggested as some of the writing appeared again on his arms. 

“Can I go now? I’ve to be overseas,” Crowley said conversationally. 

Bobby took his shotgun and broke the circle of the Devil’s trap. “Pleasure doing business with you, Crowley.”

“Likewise… Both of you,” he said looking straight at Lane.

“Shoot,” she breathed as he disappeared in a snap of his fingers. 

*•*•*•*•*•*

The air in the Singer house was thick with tension, the kind that settled deep into the walls and lingered long after the shouting stopped. Lane stood her ground in the living room, jaw tight, arms crossed, refusing to let them see her hands shake.

Bobby sat in his armchair, exhausted but very much alive, his soul back where it belonged. Sam stood stiffly beside him, arms folded, lips pressed into a thin line. Dean, though, was pacing—back and forth, jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides like he was barely keeping himself from putting a fist through the wall.

Finally, he stopped, leveling a glare at her that could’ve peeled paint.

"Tell me it’s not true."

Lane swallowed. "Dean—"

"Tell me," he growled, voice low, dangerous, "that you didn’t make a deal with Crowley."

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

"Son of a bitch." Dean turned away, running a hand over his face before spinning back, eyes blazing. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Lane’s fingers curled into fists. "I was thinking my sister was dying."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "And you thought handing your soul over to the King of Hell was the solution?!"

Lane’s temper flared, pushing past the guilt. "What was I supposed to do, Dean? Just sit there and watch her die?"

"You should’ve told us!" Sam cut in, his voice sharp with frustration. "We could’ve found another way!"

"There wasn’t time!" Lane shot back, looking between them. "You really think I wanted this? That I just jumped at the chance to chain myself to him?" She took a shaky breath, lowering her voice. "I didn’t have a choice."

"You always have a choice," Bobby muttered, and that—that stung more than it should have.

Lane turned to him, eyes burning. "Do I? Because as far as I can tell, the people I love tend to end up dead if I don’t do something about it."

"Yeah?" Dean snapped. "And what happens when Crowley comes to collect, huh? What happens when your time’s up?"

Lane set her jaw. "I’ll handle it."

Dean let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And what’s the plan there, genius? Hope he changes his mind? Newsflash, Lane, demons don’t just let people walk away from deals."

"I know that!" she snapped.

"Then what the hell is your endgame?"

Lane didn’t answer.

Dean shook his head, anger simmering just beneath his words. "You know, I thought you were smarter than this."

Lane flinched, but she bit back the hurt. "I saved her," she said instead, quieter this time. "That’s all that matters."

Dean let out a sharp exhale, like he was trying to force the rage out through his teeth. Sam just looked tired. Bobby, disappointed.

And Lane—Lane felt like the ground beneath her feet had never been more unsteady.

Because they didn’t get it. They couldn’t.

And maybe they never would.

Right then, they heard slow claps coming from the kitchen. They all grabbed the closest gun until they could find and saw Crowley come out. 

“Very touching,” he commented as they all sighed, put their guns back down and got back to eating.

“Most people ring the doorbell,” she replied. 

“I am not ‘most people’, Poppet,” he murmured. 

“What’re you doing here, Crowley?” Dean asked. 

“Dropped by to visit, or is that a crime now?” He feigned honesty. 

“Knowing you, it is,” Bobby grunted. 

Crowley stared at him and then at me. “You told them, then?”

“What is it to you?” She asked, taking another slice of pizza. 

“Don’t eat that much, your soul won’t fit in your cell,” he said. 

Lane surveyed him from head to toe as she took the biggest bite she could, enjoying every inch of flavour.

She swallowed before saying, “Do you know how I don’t care? And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I find you interesting, that’s what it is,” he replied. She raised her eyebrows. 

“Interesting? Just that, well I should feel honoured. Oddly, I don’t,” she retorted. 

He pressed his lips before saying, “Really, best investment since the extra inches.”

“You must’ve had crappy deals all these years, then. Does it even beat French kissing Bobby?” She asked, making the brothers snort and Bobby sigh heavily. 

“By far,” Crowley said, “might want to do it again, some time?”

Dean frowned. “You can’t make two deals with the same person, Crowley.”

He raised his hands. “King of Hell, Squirrel.”

“Squirrel?” She repeated.

“Fitting, don’t you think Poppet?” Crowley teased before turning to Dean, “Although I wasn’t talking about the deal itself, more of the sealing of the deal.”

Dean raised his eyebrows while Bobby looked like he wanted to burn Crowley’s bones. “Really Crowley?" 

"What? Gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d be a good kisser, Poppet.”

She narrowed my eyes at him. “Didn’t think you’d refrain from touching my ass either.”

He bit his lower lip and winked at her. “Now I think I should have.”

“Don’t you have a hell to raise?” Bobby asked him bluntly. 

“Jealous?” Crowley teased. 

“Just go, please,” she sighed, “I’m freaking exhausted. See you guys tomorrow.”

She stood up and went upstairs, not even bothering to check whether Crowley was gone. Although he wasn’t there when she got back to grab her shotgun. She closed my bedroom door and when she turned around, she found a package on my bed. She held the shotgun with her underarm while she inspected the package. It was a minimal nightgown made of black silk, or what felt like it, and it had lace all over the bra part. She looked further into the package and found a word:

Like it?

There was no name but she somehow knew who it was from.

"Fugly,” she muttered, scrunching the paper in her hand and tossing it in a can. 

Lane picked up the package, it felt heavy, so she inspected further in it to find a fancy chocolate box. Her teen self would’ve torn through the box to get all the chocolate but she knew better. Ninety percent of the time she saw Crowley, he either smelled of alcohol or he was drinking something. She was too tired to inspect every single chocolate so she put the whole package on her desk and started undressing for bed. 

“I would appreciate a response on my gifts,” murmured Crowley’s voice when she was halfway through taking off her pants, which made her jump and fall on the floor gracelessly. 

“Everything okay, Lane?” Lane heard Dean ask. 

“Yeah! Just fell!” She answered, glaring at Crowley. She extended her hand to him whispering, “A little help, maybe?”

He chuckled as he motioned upward with two fingers and she was up before she knew it. “I don’t like lingerie, and that chocolate has a spell in it, I’m sure.”

He pressed his lips. “You underestimate me, Poppet… As for the lingerie, I’ll give it some time.”

“If you knew I was sober you’d’ve known that I don’t have sex,” she commented, as she grabbed a large t-shirt. 

He saw her pyjama pants laying discarded. “What about those?”

“What is it with you and not your business?” She asked exasperated. 

“Well,” he began, “I like my investments to be—”

“Stop calling me your 'investment’ I just did what I had to do to save my sister. I’m not your business partner or some crap like that. Just-- leave me alone,” she sighed, exhausted and frustrated with him.

He didn’t flinch or look like he was paying attention to her. He traced his chin with his thumb saying, “Until next time, Poppet.”

[inky-duchess]

WTW PLANET PROMPTS - PLANET NAME: Day 7 - Uranus - History or Science

King Pyotor ruled over Vastia for fifty three years, the third longest reigning monarch in history. The grandfather of the current Crown Prince Mikhail, he stands as the standard of all what a monarch should be. But Misha always remembers him as his Grandpapa.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Destiel prompt #3

https://x.com/corrupt_touch/status/1699950950977286315?s=61

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Dean Winchester's life is no fairy tale. Forced to give up his dream of a degree in political science to work in the family business, he's relegated to janitorial duties at a Pirate Pete's burger joint by his absent father's business partner Azazel and his two unbearable sons. But a newly elected president in nationwide search of a political advisor and a mysterious stranger who stumbles into Pirate Pete's late one evening have Dean exploring new possibilities for both his professional and personal future.

Cas Milton is the newest and most reluctant US President - feeling shackled by his responsibilities, he sends out a nationwide call for an advisor to help ease his professional burdens. His hunger for escape - and burgers - leads Cas to a Pirate Pete's in Lawrenceville, Kansas, where he meets an enigmatic janitor who's unaware of his real identity. Upon hearing Dean's aspirations for his future, Cas encourages him to chase his dreams. He returns to his office to find those dreams include an application to the very role he's looking to fill, making a relationship between them impossible.

A Destiel love story inspired by Cinderella and a prompt by Misha Collins.

[glamrockcas]

title change!! still the same president!cas/custodian!dean shenanigans though so pls don't let that throw you

Chapters: 12/25

Current Wordcount: 106,106 Summary:

“It’s like being chained to a comet,” the man explains, as Dean leans his elbows on the edge of the table and watches the man devour what Dean would call, at best, a third-rate cheeseburger.

The man is describing how it feels to be the one in charge of the entire country, responsible for the safety and wellbeing of the free world.

Or,

Dean is a custodian at a fast food restaurant, and Castiel is President of the United States.