#bro if its that deep i’ll send you the $1 of gas you used to get there and back

[strmpt]

me when my brother flips his lid because i asked him to pick up a medication at a pharmacy three (3) miles from his place of work versus the 15 miles from our house that i would have to GET AN UBER TO.

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Pogues x OC, Eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Changed my update schedule to two times a week (probably Sunday and Wednesdays) because three days was kind of overwhelming hahah. Again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews and feedback!! I appreciate every single one!!!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Being shot at?

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3

The Pogues come over later to hang out like usual. No one mentions last night's party. I don't know whether its because they don't want to talk about it or we're pretending like it never happened. I'm fine with either.

I sit next to Kie who taps her fingers on a bongo and bobs her head to her own beat. Pope's shuffling a deck of cards to my right and JJ sips on another beer across from me. It's hard to concentrate on what they're talking about. I'm too busy locked in my own head, thinking about what Peterkin said - foster care - what life would be like if we were taken away. Would I ever see my friends again? Would John B and I be in the same foster home? The thought of being separated makes me sick.

"Look, I'm calling it off. All right?" John B pulls me out of my thoughts. JJ rolls his eyes at my brother and glances at me. "Peterkin said if we stay out of the marsh, she'll help us with DCS."

"And you believed her?" JJ asks. "An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop."

John B sighs. "All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days, and she'll help me out. It doesn't help that your ass was the one shooting a gun."

Here we go.

"You know what I should have done? Just let Topper drown your ass."

"Topper was gonna drown me?"

"Sure looked like it."

"Funny," John B deadpans.

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Tell me some more. Come on." I can tell by the look on John B's face that he's getting annoyed. It's pinched and he keeps rolling his eyes.

JJ steps closer to him. "They always win, don't they, man? Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win!" He turns around and punches one of the small volleyballs we have tied in a string like a decoration.

"Look, it's okay!" Kie tries to calm him down.

"No, it's not okay! It's not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh." JJ comes back. "That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it." He turns to me and points. "I know you do." Then he looks at Pope. "I know you do. And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk. And you -" He turns to Kie. "I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother? But you and me, and Marleigh, man, we got nothing to lose! We really don't all right?"

"JJ -" I sigh.

"And I know it didn't use to be that way for you -"

John B shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it!"

"So that's it?"

John B shoves past JJ. "Just get out of my way, bro."

"John B, listen to me. I have a plan." Well thats never good. "You got the key to Cameron's big boat right?"

"No," John B says, already knowing where JJ's head is at.

"There's scuba gear. We borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon, and that is what's gonna save you, man. You don't see rich kids going into foster care, do you?"

Here's the thing about JJ. He can be really convincing, which is usually the reason he and I get into the most trouble. Because I always fall for what he's saying. He gives me hope when I don't think there is any. He can be surprisingly optimistic sometimes. And when he is, I fall for his charm and agree with everything he says. If he told me to jump off a bridge, I probably would.

When he looks at me, my lips tug upwards into a smile. This creates a domino effect, and soon the other Pogues get excited. John B looks at me, trying to look disapproving but I shrug in response. I mean, JJ's right. What do we have to lose?

                                                       ~ ~ ~

I light a match and ignite my gas stove to make myself lunch. A can of chicken noodle soup that's been in my food closet for who knows how long. John B left to grab the tanks from the Cameron's boat, so the rest of us are waiting here until he comes to pick us up.

"You're eating soup? Its like a hundred degrees outside." JJ walks into the kitchen and lifts himself up on the counter next to the stove.

I stir the liquid around with a wooden spoon and smirk. "Do you see any other edible food around here?" JJ chuckles at that. He knows better than anyone how horrible John B and I are at food shopping. "I meant to go to the store today but..." I sigh. "I've been busy."

JJ pauses, causing me to look up at him. He's usually so quick with his wit and humor. Something I admire and love about him. How he always manages to put a smile on my face with some dumb remark or a sarcastic reply. Only now he's staring at me with curiosity. "Are you okay?"

"You mean other than the impending doom that is foster care that's going to hit me and John B in the near future?" I say sarcastically. I turn the stove off and grab two bowls out of the cabinet behind JJ's head. He ducks for me and my waist presses against his thigh. I pour half the soup in each bowl and hand him one with a spoon.

"Yeah, I mean other than that," JJ says. I blow on the liquid on my spoon to cool it down. The steam that comes up from my bowl already makes me feel hot.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

He gives me a look that says he's doesn't believe me, but I ignore it and he doesn't press me on it. Truth is, I am fine. I just have a lot of my mind but I'm going to do my best not to let it ruin my summer. JJ got me excited again. He's promising an adventure and possibly a fortune. He's right. John B and I have nothing to lose. If we don't go on the marsh today, DCS will find another reason to snatch us. So why hold ourselves back?

"Mar, JJ, he's back!" Kie calls out to us from my yard.

JJ sips the last of his broth out of the bowl and I shovel in the last couple of scoops into my mouth. We throw the bowls in the sink and run to the dock where John B and the others are waiting for us.

Pope directs John B to the part of the marsh where we found the wreck. I sit next to Kie in the front of the boat. She's looking at the two tanks that John B was able to snag off the Cameron's boat. Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she studies the gear.

"This is empty," Kie says, looking up at my brother who stops the boat when we find the sunken Grady-White. "You took empty tanks?"

"I..." John B says slowly. He definitely didn't look at it before he took it.

"Okay, this one's a quarter full," Kie says, pulling the tank to her left closer to her. "Its enough for one of us."

"Love it when a plan comes together," I say sarcastically and pass a look to JJ who rolls his eyes.

"Does anybody know how to dive?" Kie asks.

I purse my lips and look around at my friends and brother. None of them speak up.

"Uh..."

"Anybody?" Kie asks.

"It's kind of a Kook sport," I say.

Pope raises his hand. "I...read about it."

"Great, Pope read about it so someone's gonna die," Kie says.

JJ walks towards us and picks up the mouth piece and shrugs his shoulders. "Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?"

Pope answers, "If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends."

JJ glances between Pope and the rest of us. "Bends like..." JJ bends forward, purposely sticking his butt out, "bend over and..."

Pope cuts him off. "The bends kill you."

JJ snaps straight up. "Right."

I roll my eyes and stand up. "I'll do it."

"Uh, I don't think..." JJ starts to say but my brother cuts him off.

"No. I'll do it."

"What, why?" I turn to my brother and send him a glare.

"Because Pope just said it can kill you and you don't listen to instructions very well." My brother glares back at me. I roll my eyes. He does have a point and evidence to prove it. I usually follow my own gut and ignore others' directions. And because I don't want him to bring up past events, I decide not to fight him on it.

"He has a point," JJ says, earning a punch in the bicep from me. He looks at my brother. "You can dive. I'm cool with that."

"Since when can you dive?" Kie says not liking the idea any more than me.

He shrugs. "I'll do it. It's fine."

"Let me do some calculations real quick," Pope says as John B starts putting on the scuba gear.

"You serious?" JJ asks.

"That boat's about thirty feet down. Okay? So it'll take twenty five minutes at that depth. Twenty five. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about...ten feet."

Contrary to popular belief, I do the actual listening to instructions, I just don't always follow through. But I process everything Pope just said and think of a way to make this easier for John B.

I shimmy out of my jean shorts and pull my top over my head, leaving me in a purple and white striped bikini. Without saying anything, I jump into the water with my shirt.

"Uh..." Pope says, looking into the water where I just disappeared. "What was that about?"

"I don't know. But I liked it. A lot," JJ says, staring at the same spot. John B slaps the back JJ's head and glares daggers in his direction. JJ pretends to clear his throat and turns away from John B.  "Uh, so..."

Pope pretends to focus on his calculations again, not wanting to get caught by John B for staring at his sister too. "Yeah. Uh, when you uh, when you're down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?"

I guesstimate how deep ten feet is and tie my shirt around the chain attached to our anchor. I look one last time at the blurry image of the sunken boat and pull myself back up.

"Hey," I say to grab their attention. They all look at me. "I tied my T-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down. It's where you need to do your safety stop."

John B nods. "Cool."

I stay in the water, loving how the water feels around me like a protective blanket. I listen to Pope explain the important parts of diving. There's some kind of meter he has to pay attention to to keep track of time.

"Okay, how much do I need?" John B asks.

"Unclear," Pope answers. "Breathe as little as possible."

JJ slaps John B on the shoulder. "Zen. Think zen, you know?"

John B turns to the water, preparing to jump in next to me.  "Yeah. Got it."

"Hey," Pope says, stopping him. "If we get caught in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so better get a move on."

"No pressure or anything," I add.

"Copy that," John B says.

Kie approaches my brother and stands in front of him. She's really close to him, almost inches away from his face. Then she leans in and kisses his cheek slowly. Way more intimate than usual. My eyes widen in surprise and I look at Pope and JJ to see their reaction. They mirror mine.

"Diver down?" Kie says softly.

"Diver down." John B says just as softly.

"See ya, dude," JJ says.

John B jumps in the water and sinks down below me. I lay on my back in the water and bathe in the warmth of the sun above me. I even close my eyes, letting relaxation overcome me. I could probably sleep here if I wanted too.

"Shit, JJ," Pope curses, catching my attention.

"Guys, that's the police," Kie says.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," JJ says, glancing at me.

My eyes go wide with anxiety. I swim closer to the boat and look up at JJ. "JJ, they can't know I'm here. If they find me-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's gonna be okay. They're not going to, just stay there."

I nod and press myself tighter against the boat.

"Just act freaking normal," Kie says through clenched teeth.

I can hear the sirens coming closer until I feel their boat bump against ours. I flinch against it and kick my feet faster to stay afloat. I look down at the water, but I can't see John B. My heart races at the thought of him running out of air.

"Evening," I hear one of the cops greet my friends.

"JJ, tie it off," Pope says.

"How you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?" The officer asks them.

"No."

"No. Wow."

My friends play dumb. I look up, finding comfort in seeing JJ's long hair. I can tell he's trying hard not to look down at me.

"Why - why is it closed?" Pope asks.

"Well, we're conducting a search out here. Boat went down." The officer explains.

"Oh."

"See anything?"

"No." JJ purses his lips and shrugs.  

"No boats," Kie says. "No."

There's a pause and for a split second I think he's gonna call their bluff. But he doesn't. "Where are the other two kids you always hang with? The twins? They here?"

I bite my bottom lip hard in anticipation for what's to come. He knows we're here. He has to. I can tell by how suspicious he sounds. I look back down in the water, John B still invisible to me. I don't know how much time he has left, but he's definitely running out of it.

"They both had to work," I hear Kie answer.

"Hm," The officer hums. "I'm gonna check your little boat out."

Shit, shit, shit, shit. I look around for a place to hide, but the only thing surrounding me is water. I'm going to have to go under.

"Yeah." JJ coughs, risking one last look at me before pretending to help the officer into the boat. "Yeah, hop aboard."

I push myself under the water and swim directly underneath the boat. I open my eyes, ignoring the sting of the salt water. I can see John B's silhouette by my T-shirt and the blurry light of his timer.

Thirty more seconds pass. I swing my arms upwards, pushing myself deeper into the water. The shadow of the cops' boat is still next to ours. My lungs are screaming at me for for air like they're tearing into my chest. Just like John B, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to last down here.

My body reactively gulps for air, forcing myself to swallow the salt water. It feels like a stab in my chest, my throat on fire. I've got to pop back up to the surface or I'm going to drown.

Just as I'm about to reveal myself, the shadow of the boat drives off. I push myself up, coughing up the water I swallowed and gasping for air. Less than a second later, John B pops up next to me.

"Oh, god! Jesus Christ," Kie says with her eyes closed and her head looking up.

"Don't scare us like that!" Pope says.

JJ watches me instead of John B, concern laced into his features. As I feel my heart go back to its normal pace, I smile at him and laugh the anxiety off. "You good?" He asks me. I nod and let him help me back up to the boat. "How'd it go down there?" He asks my brother. "Did you find anything?"

"Did I find anything?" John B scoffs and holds up a dark velvet bag.

"Yeah, there we go!" JJ claps his shoulders. "That's my boy!"

"Jeez, dude," Pope sighs.

"You okay?" Kie asks John B.

John B pants as he swims closer to the boat. "Yeah, I ran out of air."

"You and me both," I tell him.

John B pulls himself up. When he stands, he's met face to face with Kie who shoves him back playfully. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, the cops were up here, but, uh...we took care of 'em." Pope says, trying to act like he wasn't going to piss his pants the entire time he was talking to them.

"My bad," John B laughs.

"You're all good."

"Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother," JJ says.

I move to the back of the boat to ring my wet hair out when something catches me eye. Its another boat, but it doesn't look like the one the cops were just using.

"Hey, guys? Guys!" I call louder to grab their attention. "Bogey, two o'clock."

"What?" JJ comes up next to me and eyes the boat that's making its way closer to us.

"Do you recognize the boat?" Pope asks.

"I've never seen it," I answer.

A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I can make out two people, I think men, standing in the front. They keep their eyes straight on us. No laughing or talking like a couple of buds would on a boat day in the marsh.

"What are they doing here? The marsh is closed," Kie says.

"Let's not stick around and find out." JJ places his hands on my bare waist and pulls me to the side so he can pull up the anchor.

"JJ get the bowline," John B says, not realizing that JJ was already on it.

"Yeah."

"Should we wait on 'em?" Pope asks.

"No. No. We should leave now. Right now," Kie says, looking directly at John B.

"Go get the stern," John B tells me. "Go!"

I kneel next to JJ and help him. Similar to how I felt in the water, my heart beats violently against my chest and my breathing becomes static. I try not to think of the fear that creeps through my veins as I help release the boat from it's hold in the marsh.

"Guys, don't wait for us! Go!" JJ yells.

"Go!" Kie says.

"Pull out the stern!" Pope yells at us.

I yank the chain hard, revealing the slimy anchor covered in seaweed and moss.

"I don't like this," I mutter to JJ between clenched teeth.

John B pulls away from the wreck. JJ looks between me and the boat that still driving in our direction. "Are they coming for us?"

"Maybe they're fishing," Pope says.

"Go, go, go, go!"

"Go into the marsh," I tell my brother, constantly glancing between him and the other boat.

"Let's go," Kie says. I can hear fear creep into her voice and her hands shake around the drivers seat she's holding with a death grip.

"I'm going. Act natural!" John B hisses and revs the engine of the boat.

He takes a left turn into the marsh. I watch anxiously for the people in the other boat to make its move.

They turn left.

"Guys, they're following us!" Kie says.

"This can't be good," Pope says.

"Dude, you gotta go faster!" JJ says.

"I'm going!" John B yells back.

"Gun it!"

I look behind the boat. They're getting closer. Too close. Can't say I'm surprised. The HMS Pogue is no match for their boat that looks more expensive than my house. However, something catches my eye. Something long the guy in the passenger seat is holding and pointing right at us.

"Is that..." I mutter before I'm cut off by exactly what I was going to say.

The gun shot rings through my ears as if the person who shot it was standing next to me. Before I can react, JJ pulls me down to the floor of our boat by my waist and covers me with his own body. I gotta say, this isn't how I pictured him being on top of me. His left arm outlines my head, keeping me face down while other bullets pass our boat. The cries of my friends are dull through the blood pounding in my ears and my heart inching its way up my throat.

"Holy shit!" Kie shouts.

"John B, get down!" JJ yells.

I try looking up at my brother but JJ's hold is strong. John B's still behind the wheel, trying his best to duck from bullets without crashing the boat.

"We're gonna die!" Pope yells.

I try looking around the boat for anything we can use against these guys. Of course JJ decides to leave the gun he stole at my house for the day, leaving us practically useless against these two strangers.

My eyes find a net pooling in front of Kie's face as she keeps her head down. I try crawling out of JJ's embrace which only makes him tighten his arms around me.

"Kie!" I shout. She looks up at me with wide eyes. "The net!"

Immediately she understands what I'm trying to tell her. She pulls herself away from Pope and army crawls to the wide net. This only makes my friends yell at her, telling her to get down, but she doesn't listen.

"Get down, Kie!" John B shouts.

Another gun shot echoes through the air, making me flinch closer into JJ.

Kie throws the net overboard towards their boat and drops back down to her knees. The sound of the other boat's engine clanging against the net gets my head to perk up and I watch Kie's reaction. She's surprisingly smiling. When she looks at me, she lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head in disbelief because that just worked. Their boats gets stuck.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go," Pope says.

One last gun shot rings through my ears before we make our getaway.  I pull myself off the floor and look back at the boat one last time. We severely underestimated how important finding that boat was. Whatever John B found was worth killing us for.

A couple minutes later, John B pulls the boat up to the Chateau and docks it by the wooden slacks that I used as a bed last night. My friends cheer and actually smile after what just happened.

"That was insane!" Kie says.

"Whoo!"

I look at my brother with adrenaline rushing straight to me head. I feel giddy about finding out what JB found - what must be so important. "What do you think it is?"

"Gotta be money, right?" He asks, looking at me.

"That or a couple of keys with street value to the low-to-mid-mills," JJ says, leisurely danglingly his arm around my shoulders.

"Can we please just open the bag?" Pope says loudly, forcing everyone's attention at him who now looks at us sheepishly.

"Wow, Pope," John B laughs. "That's a rare outburst of emotion."

"Okay, you guys are literally killing me with anticipation," He says. "Open the bag!"

"Jeez." JJ whistles.

"We almost died over this," Pope says like its an explanation. But he's right. We did almost die for this, which is why I need to know what's in it now.

John B opens the velvet bag. Something heavier than money falls out of it with a thunk. Its round and metal. Dirty and dented. Physically ugly and maybe priceless, but it looks familiar. I narrow my eyes at it, trying to study it and rack my brain through where I've seen it before.

"Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right," Pope sighs at the sight of our treasure. "Good job, everybody. We found a compass."

The word compass hits me like a train and my body goes slack like my limbs just turned into jell-o. John B is already looking at me, shocked at the real meaning of what we just found. I push myself in front of JJ and look down at the object he's holding. Priceless maybe true to the others but not to me. Not to John B. This means everything.

JJ looks between John B and I and laughs nervously at our reactions. "Dude, what? It's not worth anything."

My brows furrow together in confusion as I try to wrap my head around how we just found our dad's possession on another man's boat. A dead man's boat. But I feel blank. Like someone just wiped all my thoughts and memories.

"This was our father's compass," I say emotionless, keeping my eyes on JB who looks equally as terrified.

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz  @jeeperky​ @realistic-breadstick  @moniamaybank  @urbinoutfiters​ @brebear121​  @x-lulu​

[gothamangelwings]

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to say anything about this, but I have to, for my own sanity. Excuse me for my rambling (especially about Castiel) and repeating myself, which I probably will do in this post.

Truth is I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago. I just kept avoiding it over the years. I think when it was in it’s 7th or 8th season, I thought to myself “oh this should be ending soon. I’ll just wait til its over and watch it then” That did not happen. Jump to last year when I heard about the Scoobynatural episode. I love Scooby so I had to watch. And I loved it. And I really loved Sam and Dean. But I also couldn’t stop thinking about the guy in the trench coat with the deep voice named Castiel. Did very little research to find out he’s an angel. That’s all I wanted to know. Went to netflix and started watching the show from the beginning. By the time I got midway thru season 3 I was hooked. I started buying the dvds in bunches. Watching as much as a I could a week. When I got to season 4 I was Cass on the cover of the boxset and said “that’s him! That’s the angel! He’s in the season!” I actually didn’t know he would show up right in the beginning of the season but when Dean was at that gas station and gas started shattering I thought. That’s him isn’t it? That’s Castiel. Misha’s actual entrance on the show is the best in history. I do love Sam and Dean but I’m not going to lie and pretend like Castiel isn’t my favorite. Because he is. I adore that awkward angel. He is the reason I happily kept watching and brought all the dvds because I knew Misha was still working on the show. He is the reason I will buy season 15. I started shipping Destiel in season 5 but when I re-watched the series (Yes I watched it twice in less than a year. One over a period of several months the other over a few weeks before the show came back after hiatus.) I saw moments in season 4 that i missed the first time around.

So yes this finale makes me cry and not in a good way. although there are a few saving graces.

Let’s begin.

First let me start by saying I do not in any way blame the actors. Especially Jensen. He said he thought the ending was bad and had to be talked into it. Dean/Jensen deserved better. I blame the writers and producers and The CW

Second, repeat after me:

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Now speaking of Castiel, who I mostly want to talk about before addressing the rest of this mess. Castiel/Misha deserved better. There really is no reason Misha couldn’t be in the final episode unless there was something on his end. Although seeing that he recently went to California to shoot a something for Amazon and took West to the Winchester House. He can definitely travel. But if there was some reason on his end, then okay, fine then. However that doesn’t excuse the way the handled his character in these last two episodes.

Yes in 15x19 Dean demands Chuck bring Cass back. Dean remembers Cass’s words when Chuck calls him the ultimate killer. Yes, Dean runs to the door when he thinks Cass has just called him. Instead in was Lucifer. What a slap in the face to the fans and an insult to Misha after that beautiful confession of love.

But the end of the episode. Jack becomes God and no one says “What about Cass?”

Now 15x20. Sam brings up Castiel and Dean is just like “move on“. No, That is not Dean. No matter what Dean cared about Castiel, to the point that being without him in the past led him to depression. i understand he doesn’t want Castiel’s sacrifice to be in vein. But come on. There’s living on and being happy and then there’s acting like the guy didn’t matter. Again, no. That is not Dean. Not after all the development those two have had. I know Dean wasn’t always perfect when it came to Cass but he did care. What happened to “We lost everything. Now you’re going to bring him back” What happened to the purgatory apology and admitting his anger issues. And so much more.

Again Castiel is in heaven. Jack got him out of The Empty. But they could of made it more clear. ( I swear, if they are leaving this up to interpretation....) Because I see so many people who have “conveniently” missed what Bobby said and insist he’s still in The Empty. Or just want to say “well that’s not what he meant. Cas is still dead, he just meant his influence on Jack” or some shit like that.(Now that I think about maybe influence isn’t the right word to use with this fandom lol)

Anyway lets say that Misha could not in anyway be there for filming. YOU CAN STILL ADDRESS HIS CHARACTER PROPERLY AND GIVE HIM A SATISFYING ENDING. In fact you barely have to change the scene between Dean and Bobby just add a few more lines.

Dean: “So Jack did all that?”

Bobby: “Well Cass helped”

Dean: “Wait, Cass is here?!”

Bobby: ‘Yep, Kid got him out.”

Dean: “Well where is he? Can I see him?”

Bobby (smiling): “Now calm down ya idjit. He’ll be back soon. Had some business to take of. But he is planning to stick around here with the rest of us.’

Dean (smiling, happy because he’s getting a second chance): Good. He belongs with us. With me. (takes a drink) It’s just too bad...

Bobby (knowing he’s talking about Sam: “Don’t worry he’ll be here shortly...”

Scene plays out as normal but instead when Sam and Dean are reunited. Dean tells him “Let’s head back, Mom, Dad, Bobby, and Cass are waiting for us. Along with everyone else we loved and lost when we were alive.”

Or... a few scenarios with Castiel there (even for a few moments)

1. When Dean dies (yeah we’ll talk about that) Jack sends down Cass to take him to heaven. Dean leaves his body. Watches as Sam falls apart and then hears “Hello Dean” turns and there’s Cass to guide him to heaven and also let him know Sam will be okay and will live a happy life”

2. The scene with Bobby starts the way it did but instead after he says “Well Cass helped” he points behind Dean.

Cass: “Hello Dean.”

Dean: “Cas! Aw, it’s good to see you. You have no idea.”

They embrace. Maybe the say something about the confession maybe they don’t but at least they’re together and we know that they have time to talk.

Episode continues as it did but again Dean tells Sam that Castiel is here waiting for them.

3. Episode plays exactly as it did. Except at the very end after Sam and Dean reunite on the bridge...

Cass: “Hello Dean. Hello Sam”

Both: Cass!

The three hug. Dean a bit longer.

Dean: “Well look at that. Team Free Will back together again. This time forever.”

In any scenario Castiel is living in heaven with the boys. Him and Dean eventually talk about what happened. In my canon Dean returns his feelings but even if he can’t it’s okay because Dean does care about Cass. And Castiel’s happiness was just in being able to say it. Either way they’re together along with everyone else they love and will be waiting for those who haven’t arrived yet.

Also Cass finally gets his guinea pig. Because he deserves it.

ONCE AGAIN, EVEN IF MISHA COULDN’T BE THERE. THERE WERE STILL BETTER WAYS TO HANDLE THIS ENDING! OH AND THERE BETTER NOT BE SOME LAME ASS THING LIKE ‘HE’S IN HEAVEN WORKING WITH JACK BUT ISN’T ALLOWED HERE BECAUSE THE NEW GOD LIKES TO KEEP ANGELS SEPARATE FROM THE REST OF US’

NO. CASTIEL IS DEFINITELY WITH DEAN IN HEAVEN. END OF STORY.

Moving on the other problems which I won’t go into full detail in like I did Castiel.

Dean��s death. The ever loving fuck was that? A nail?! I get that they finally get to call the shots in there own lives now but come on! A nail. And this is what a few weeks after defeating Chuck. Who, if he wants to can have a happy life. You know when Cass heard about this he rolled his eyes. Like “Really?!”

Ewwww that forehead touch. I know for most people it’s just a sweet final moment between two siblings as one dies. But we all know this is fuel for the Winc*sters and b*bros. I mean come on now. You’re afraid to have Dean even acknowledge Castiel’s feelings but a forehead touch that can and will be taken out of context as romantic between two brothers is fine and dandy. I was watching this with my Mom and even she was like “That forehead touch,,, why.. just why...”

Funny thing about my Mom. (Sorry not sorry going back to talk about Cass for a moment) She has been watching SPN with me this year but honestly only (not even) half paid attention. She has a habit of always looking at her phone even when it’s something she wants to watch. Two weeks ago after 15X18 I asked “Do you believe Cass’s confession was romantic?”

Her response. “No, they’re just friends. Angels aren’t supposed to feel romantic love.’ We get into a small argument.

A few days later...

Me: “Misha confirmed it was romantic.”

Mom: “Oh, well that settles it then. I just was taught that angels didn’t feel that kind of love.”

Me: “Yeah but your forgetting a few things. 1. Cass isn’t like other angels and 2. This is a fictional tv show not the actual bible.

Mom laughs: “Good point, Guess I didn’t think about that.”

Me: “Y’know people are actually saying  that Cass can’t be gay or bi because Dean isn’t.”

Mom: “That’s stupid. One has nothing to do with the other. Even if Dean doesn’t feel the same way that doesn’t change Castiel’s feelings.”

Jump to the last few days.

Mom: “Cass is going to show up in the finale. He and Dean will be reunited! Maybe he’s one of those people in the masks being controlled by The Empty. Or maybe there will be a scene in the barn where Dean is on the ground about to be stabbed and Cass saves him in the knick of time!”

Mom after the finale: “That was terrible. Very disappointed. They really couldn’t get Misha for few minutes. They better not use covid as an excuse with all those people on that bridge. Everything about this episode felt wrong” (she said that about 15x19 too). (Grabs her phone to look at twitter) “Misha is crying. This episode doesn’t deserve pie.”

We brought pie. We did not eat it.

Moving on.. .yeah yeah the wig on Jared was awful. But who cares. What I want to know is who is the mother? Is it Eileen? I hope it’s Eileen. It better be Eileen.

The barn. Why? Why that barn? Did they really think no one would notice. I get reusing sets and locations as completely different places. But that just hurt.

Did we need so many songs with no dialogue being spoken. I mean yes Carry On was a must have but so much time could’ve been spent talking about other characters during the other songs .

And again why are they trying to make Dean look bad. It’s not his/Jensen’s fault it’s the horrible writing of these final two episodes. Why did they not take to opportunity to talk about Castiel’s confession. Yes I’m  back on Cas again. I warned you. Also he’s probably the main reason you’re reading this anyway, so yeah...

I would like to believe a conversation happened off screen but the way Sam and Dean acted it doesn’t seem like it.

Again would it be so hard. Two scenarios

1.

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?”

Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean (hesitates): “ I think... no, I know I love him too. He’s the only man I’ll ever love.”

Sam: “Well you know technically Cass really isn’t male... so...

Dean: “Oh please Sammy. Could you imagine Cass in any other body? Especially a chicks. It would be so weird.”

Sam: “Good point.”

Dean: “Besides, he was perfect the way he was.”

2.

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?

”Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean: “I can’t return his feelings. I see him as a man and you know I’m attracted to women.”

Sam: “Alright then.”

Dean. “But y’know...”

Sam: “Hmmm?”

Dean: “I still miss him. I wish he was here with us.”

There were so many easy ways to fix this and they did nothing. Did they not think 15x18 would have a huge impact. I really hope the writers are kicking themselves for this. Funny, by ignoring Castiel and his feelings they actually brought more attention and love to him and Misha.

I really don’t know if a rewrite and reshoot for the dvd release is possible. Has that ever been done, I feel like it has but I’m not sure. But if it is. Fix it. It only took a few weeks to film these last two episodes. I’m sure all the actors can come back to film for a few weeks. Once there are less Covid restrictions of courses. I know there’s been talk about a possible movie. That could fix it. As long as they bring back the angel in the trench coat. Or how about a bonus episode for the dvd 15x21 where everyone is gathered in heaven. Sam, Dean, Cass, Bobby, Mary, John, Kevin, Charlie, Eileen, Jo, Ellen, Pam. Even Crowley and Rowena because why not. Oooh and Meg too because she did sacrifice herself for them and also I just love her.  Anyway they all gather and talk about old times. Perfect excuse for an old fashion clip show. Funny/heartwarming banter in between. Make Destiel canon at the end. Another possible way to fix it is do a comic book season or even just a few issues to flesh out the ending in heaven. Just fix it.

At least we have fanfiction.

If there are any positives to take away it’s this:

1: Castiel is in heaven with Dean. They are together. They have a second chance.

2. It was said only 30% of the fanbase would like this ending. Like many people I assumed that meant a Destiel ending. Cause I thought out of the whole fanbase shippers were in the minority. Nope turns of the the Winc*sters/B*bros are the 30%. Destiel fans, Cass fans, Misha fans are part of the 70% who hate this. Though why you would want to only please 30% of your fanbase is beyond me.

3. Sam was able to live a long happy life without being codependent on his brother.

I absolutely hated the last two episodes and how this show ended. Again the only saving grace is knowing Jack got Castiel out of The Empty and he and Dean reunited in heaven. But no matter how much I hated 99% of the ending. I still love this show and all it’s characters. I will happily go back and watch it over again to relive the good, funny, sad, bittersweet moments. The final 90 minutes of the series is not going to ruin that for me. I love Sam and Dean but Castiel is my favorite and I will happily go back and enjoy everything about his character. I am not going  to let this ruin Supernatural for me. Next summer I am going to my first SPN Convention and I can’t wait. I may have only discovered the greatness of Supernatural a year ago after avoiding it for so long but I want it to stay apart of my life. Like I said I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago but this hurt my heart so much I only imagine how those of your who’ve been here for over a decade feel.

I know this was very, very long and I probably actually forgot some things I wanted to say. But I’m tired.

Cass and Dean are in heaven together. I believe they are canon 💙💚

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well- - Chapter 1

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel in nine years, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC (bear with me lol)

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, follows canon.

Beta’d by: @theuniverseisasleep

Words: 4.1k

Masterlist

Another sunny day, another dingy motel, dirt caked so heavily onto the window that light could barely filter through. It smelled like a basement, musty and humid, and this hadn’t even been the worst one this month. Life was glamorous as always.

This was set to be a quick salt and burn, and she sat there thanking her rarely seen lucky stars as she watched a mouse run squeaking across the bathroom floor. Lovely. She was getting too old for this shit, but it was time for food and a solid  three hours before some good old-fashioned grave raiding tonight. The drive had been long, the interviews with vics monotonous, and she was finally back in Kentucky, time to get- her thoughts were abruptly cut short by her phone vibrating in the pocket of her worn black leather jacket.

“Yeah?” She answered, annoyed, throwing her duffel down onto the motel bed and rolling her eyes at the cloud of dust that floated off the bedspread.

“Liv?” a deep, somber voice sounded and she stopped dead in her tracks, a pit forming her stomach. Sam Winchester. This was bad.

“Sam fucking Winchester. Hi,” she answered, trying to keep her voice cool. It had been almost a decade since she’d heard his voice.

“Hey, uh, look I know that this, this is, just, this...”

“What? Spit it out.” Panic started to overcome her, a stuttering Winchester never led to good news.

“We need you. We have, uh, we have Gabriel, and he’s, he’s in rough shape.”

“Gabriel...”

That pit that had formed in her stomach lurched, jumping all the way up into her throat, this was not happening.

“Yeah, turns out he’s been held prisoner in hell for, God knows how long and.. and he’s wrecked. We’re honestly not sure if he’s even still in there. But if anyone can pull him out, well, we thought it’d be you...”

“What do you mean... not sure he’s still in there? What’s wrong with him?”

“We uh, everything? Liv, it’s bad.”

Her heart was pounding. Held prisoner in hell... wrecked... not even still in there... all the horrible things she’d said, thought, they came running back into her head. Nine years of cursing his existence punched her right in the gut. She was lightheaded and dizzy, the world was spinning around her.

Nine years. It’d been nine years since she’d last seen him. After Lucifer had “killed” him, he’d come shortly after, telling her he loved her, that once everything settled down he’d be back but he needed to lay low. And she hadn’t seen him since.

The hotel room was pitch dark, wind howling through the cracked window pulling droplets of rain into the already damp room. She sat at the table, unable to distinguish the rain from tears on her face. It had been hours, days, honestly she wasn’t sure, all she knew was he was gone. The Winchesters didn’t dare face her. They knew. They knew both her wrath, and her love for the angel, and she’d given them a fair taste of what would happen if she saw them again.

Thunder cracked, but she didn’t flinch. Lightning seared across the black sky, but she didn’t blink. With every flash all she could see was his body splayed on the ground, his massive wings burning across the land.

“Liv?”

Hallucinations were setting in. Great. The icing on top of the shit cake.

“Sweetheart,” she heard him say, her memory was doing him great justice, it was perfect, “I’m uh, I’m not dead. You can stop being comatose over there.”

The world stopped. All she could hear, feel, even see, was her heart pounding in her chest, the blood rushing through her veins. It took a moment, but she finally turned her head to the source of the sound, half expecting to see Lucifer, but it was him, hands held out presenting himself with that cocky little smirk on his face. But his eyes bore his fear.

“How do I know it’s you?” She croaked, voice weak and cracking.

“Well, your birthday is September 4th, favorite food are those disgusting, weird, not chicken but you think they are no matter how many times I tell you they’re not, things from that gas station in Kentucky, and is that a mirror in your pocket? Cause I can definitely see myself in your pants.”

Her chest finally unconstricted, air rushed into her lungs like she was taking her first breath, and the wail that followed gave the storm a run for its money. She leapt from the chair, the force of her movement sending it crashing into the wall, and threw herself into his waiting arms. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her face into his neck, his scent filling her senses, arid and warm, arms gripping her tightly.

“Sssshh, it’s ok,” he cooed, planting his lips firmly on her head, burying his nose in her hair, “if I didn’t know better I’d swear you loved me or something.”

“Don’t get crazy now,” she laughed through her tears, the sound thick and heavy.

“I have to go,” he confessed, dropping his eyes sadly.

“What?”

“I need to hide out until this whole, apocalypse circus is done. Until Lucifer is gone.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No can do. Let’s just say I don’t have the, classiest of friends. Go help those two gigantors stuff my big bro back into time out, and I’ll be home. I promise.”

She’d stared at him, her grip tightening on his collar, a poor attempt at holding him there, but he broke her heart with a simple chaste kiss.

“I love you, you know?” were the last words she’d heard him speak before the echo of his wings ricocheted off the walls.  The silence that followed was deafening.

He had never come home.

“I’m,” she began, petrified of what now lay ahead of her, “I’ll be there in 12.”

Ten hours later she pulled up to the address Sam had given her, confused at the abandoned industrial building before her, panic creeping in slowly. The grimy brick building towering from the rocky uneven ground looked more like where she’d be hunting something, not going for a family reunion. She saw a door surrounded by a circle of bricks down a flight of metal railed stone stairs and she pulled her gun out before cautiously approaching it and knocking slowly three times.

“Olivia, hello,” a deep, gravelly voice greeted as he swung the door open.

Castiel. She’d missed the awkward trench coat angel. He’d checked in on her periodically over the years, helping her here and there.

“Cas,” she sighed in relief, putting her gun back into the waistband of her jeans.

His eyes were filled with sorrow as they followed her as she entered the bunker, knowing how broken she still truly was. The sight behind the door was not what she was expecting, grand and bright, metal stairs leading to a room with old computer systems lining the walls. Any other day she would be in awe, but she wasn’t here for a tour.

“Hey!” Sam greeted, jogging into view as Cas led her down the staircase, a hand pressed gently between her shoulders.

“Hey... Dean here?”

“Uh, long story... he’s in another dimension. An alternate universe. Trying to rescue Lucifer’s son and our mom.”

She stared at him blankly, “Your dead mom?”

“Like I said, long story... how are you?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Sorry about this, I know, that we didn’t exactly end things too well.”

“That’s, yeah.. sorry.”

“Oh no worries, I understand. So he’s, uh, Gabriel is this way.”

As Sam led her through the building, she tried to steal glances at all it had to offer. A library, lots of old useless electronics, although she thought maybe Sam had had a little fun tinkering with it all if he’d ever gotten a chance. They reached a hall lined with doors and Sam stopped at one labeled ‘32’, his hand freezing as it grabbed the knob.

“How bad is it?” She asked, her voice ridden with fear.

“It’s bad. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, it’s really bad. I’m, I’m sorry.”

She nodded, feeling tears pricking at her eyes, her face growing hot.

“He’s, he isn’t Gabriel anymore...” Sam finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

He opened the door slowly. At first appearances the room looked empty unoccupied, black Enochian symbols etched on every available inch the room. Confused, she looked back at Sam. He motioned toward the dresser in the corner, and she saw a small figure huddled into a ball beside it. It didn’t even look human.

“Oh my god,” when the realization hit her she ran over, the bloody matted hair, the filthy clothes, his head hung low, forehead against his bent knees. Her hands came to his forearms and he jumped, panicked, terrified, pushing himself deeper into the dark corner. His eyes were wide, petrified, sunken into his head, his face blood stained and marred, tiny holes, appearing like stitch wounds surrounded his mouth.

“Gabriel,” she quietly sobbed, “it’s me.”

His eyes didn’t change. They were completely dead. What once was filled with golden flashes of life and mischief, sat cold and dull, staring aimlessly into the floor.

“I’m, I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered, “Gabriel.”

His tight, pained grimace softened slightly, and the tiniest hint of recognition fell onto his face before he buried his face back into the crook of his elbow. She sat down in front of him, lost on what to do. How could this happen to an Archangel?

“Liv,” she heard Sam whisper from the door, she looked to him and he beckoned her over.

“All we know, is that Asmodeus was extracting his grace, and using it on himself. We have a little bit of it here and we’re trying to give it to him, as a pick me up.”

“What’s an Asmodeus?”

“He’s the current king of hell, youngest son of hell.”

“So Azazel’s little brother... how poetic. And he was, extracting.. Gabriel’s grace? How?”

“Honestly we’re not sure. He came like this, except his mouth had been sewn shut. With a vial of his grace that Ketch stole.”

“So for nine years, he’s been in Hell, being virtually fed on by some pissant demon? Am I following along correctly?”

“Yeah, well we don’t know how long but, awhile it seems. He’d take what he could, let Gabriel recharge, then take it again, bled dry, basically. And this uh, this Asmodeus, when we met him he could shape shift, like Gabriel can, so, I guess it was all part of his rise to power.”

She nodded. Shapeshifting. That explained Gabriel’s fear when he saw her. Something told her he’d seen her, or at least her form, at some point in the last 9 years.

“What can I do Sam?” She whispered, exasperated, desperate.

“We hoped you’d know,” he replied, hope fading from his voice.

She took a deep breath and walked back over to Gabriel, sitting down in front of him at a safe distance.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered just loud enough to hear, “Gabriel, I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t help the tears that fell. For him, for the things she said about him, felt about him. She’d cursed him, hated him, and all this time she should have been looking for him. The guilt had settled in. She hadn’t believed in him or trusted him, all she had done was written him off as a liar and let him rot in the pit to be mutilated and tortured.

His eyes never lifted, just stared into the dark corner of the room, unmoving, not even blinking.

“You remember, that one time, when we flew out to that island, out by Belize. I made you sit through the airplane ride,” she started retelling, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth, “and we were sitting in the ocean, at sunset, because we were cheesy, and...”

Yeah, he remembered. He remembered that day very well. That memory was one of the only things he still had.

He walked out of the tiny little beach house, drinks in hand, out towards the ocean. The sun slowly dipped closer and closer toward the vast, open blue and one tiny figure sat in the sand, the light illuminating her skin. She was practically glowing. Her hair fell in messy, salt tousled waves down her bare back and around her shoulders, and he swore that this one had been made by Dad’s hands himself, perfect and beautiful, strong and soft and free.

When he reached her, she didn’t budge. Her eyes were closed, her skin soaking in the last of the sun’s warmth. He didn’t think she even knew he was there. So he marveled a little more. Searing this image into his brain, because in 1000 years he wanted to recall it, to remember every single detail, down to the placement of each grain of sand scattered across her chest, every tiny freckle that danced along her nose and cheeks, her eyelashes and the way they brushed her brow. Every imperfection was important. He knelt down quietly, gently laying his lips to the top of her shoulder in a light kiss, tasting the ocean salt on her skin.

“I love you, you know,” He whispered into her hair before parting the falling veil with his nose, finding the side of her neck with his mouth.

“I know,” she responded, her eyes remaining closed but her smiling growing.

“Do you?”

She reached behind her, grabbing his hand and bringing his arm around her waist, locking her fingers with his against her stomach as she leaned her body back into his chest, her head resting back across his shoulder.

“Yes,” she answered, turning her head and gently kissing his jaw.

Her certainty, faith, and trust in him shocked him. She had no hesitation in answering him. The swelling in his chest was consuming him. There was no explanation for any of this, the dejected little brother, the runaway, dads little last ditch, got-nothing-left creation had finally found peace. In the arms of a human, this human, he’d finally found a home.

“I kinda wanna stay here forever,” she giggled, nose scrunching up before rolling herself forward and standing up, pulling him up with her. “Come on,” she smiled, mischief in her eyes.

He obeyed, letting her lead him to the waters edge, the waves lapping at their toes. She peered up at him, he looked so serious, troubled almost.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, keeping his hand in hers while she turned to face him, other hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

She studied his face, perfect, sharp and angled, his amber eyes looking at her with an adoration she swore was beyond a human’s capability.

“I kinda want to stay here forever too, except my forever, actually IS forever,” he confessed, leaning into her hand. If there was ever a time to be weak, this seemed like it.

He’d always kept a brave face on around her, not because she expected it, but because his burdens were his own to bear. The burden of one day being left behind, the burden of knowing she was going to die one day. And his life, his existence, whatever it was, would be over, but he’d still be here.

She leaned up and pressed a simple, sincere kiss on his lips, “I’ll love you even when I’m in, wherever I’m headed,” she assured, pushing that one swoop of hair away from his eyes, “Heaven isn’t too far.”

No, it wasn’t. It was right here.

“Gabe?” He heard her whisper again, her voice still the sweetest sound that would ever exist, pulling him from his oh so familiar dream world, eyes finally moving to look at her.

This was no ruse, no trick. She was right in front of him, saying his name, was the nightmare was finally over? Slowly his hand pulled away from his body, reaching for her, stretching to the one thing that could pull him free.

She smiled as she gently laced her fingers with his, noticing the absence of his warmth she’d remembered on cold, lonely nights. Gently she pulled him from the floor, to the bed. His body reforming into a small knot, eyes hollow but with the tiniest glimmer of light shining through.

“Hey,” Sam Winchester greeted softly as he came into the room, Castiel on his heels, “well at least he’s not in the corner anymore.”

“Hasn’t said a word,” she replied, combing her fingers over the blood matted curls behind his ears.

That little motion had always been his greatest weakness. She didn’t know the power it had over him. Sure, she probably had gathered he enjoyed it, but it was more than that. It was pure affection, something Gabriel had never quite been acquainted with… until her. He remembered the feeling of her lips on his, the way her body fit perfectly into his arms, and those magical little fingers running through his hair. It made him weak and strong at the same time.

Unable to understand the conversation of the three people surrounding him, the world was hazy and sounds were muffled, he concentrated on the gentle scratches against his scalp and the warmth radiating off of the woman sitting at his side.

“What are you doing?” She questioned, as Castiel approached, pushing the sleeves of his coat up his wrists and laying his hands on the archangels head, a fierce protectiveness rising in her chest.

“I must reiterate, it's not possible for an angel to heal an archangel. I'm just trying to jolt his mind into thinking straight. Even then, Liv, Sam... Gabriel... it's, it's possible that he's lost.”

She shook her head, no he’d come back. He had to. She needed him. She always had and she always would.

“Gabriel, please,” she begged, leaning her forehead against his temple, uncaring of the bloody, filthy mess he was.

Sam watched the scene unfold before him. He thought for a moment that privacy was best, but he needed to be there if Gabriel broke back through.

“Gabriel,” she cried, unable to keep her resolve, to keep her strength up.

Seeing him like this broke something deep inside of her. Bloody, battered, still and cold as stone he sat, and she clung to him, pushing every ounce of everything she had to bringing him back.

“I know, I know that it’s hard. I know that you’re scared. I’m not going to hurt you, Sam isn’t going to hurt you. But you’re scaring me. I’ve lived, all these years, thinking you were gone, but here you are, and I, I need you. I’ve always needed you, I always will. I know you think you’re worthless, and broken, and weak, but you’re not. You are everything. I’m living and breathing right now because you existed. I need you, Gabriel. I love you. Even after all these years, I love you still. Please don’t, don’t leave me like this. Let me help you. Just please, come back to me, please Gabe.”

Her tears were falling and sobs wracked her body. Sam wanted to go to her, but she’d wrapped herself tightly around the angel, and he finally saw a glimmer of the depth of what they had. He watched as she cried into his cheek, forehead pressed firmly to his temple still, her tears leaving streaks in the blood dried on his face. She cradled his head gently with a hand wrapped around to his other cheek, her other arm between them, gripping his lifeless hand.

They had loved each other, really loved. And they still did.

The scene before him jolted memories of the times he’d lost Dean, and Jess, how helpless and lost he’d been. He’d never seen her like this. Olivia had always been a pillar of strength. Her reputation in the hunters’ world rivaled that of Sam and his brother; she’d taken out entire nests of vampires, packs of werewolves, single handedly. She was cunning and ruthless, but every hero had their kryptonite.

“Liv, can I, speak with you outside,” Cas asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, kissing Gabriel’s cheek before standing, keeping her eyes locked on him until she’d turned the corner.

“Are you all right?” Castiel inquired, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” she answered, coldly.

“I know you’re not fine.”

“Then why are you bothering to even ask?”

Castiel hung his head and she felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “for everything. I, I told Sam not to call you..”

“NOT to call me?” She interjected, her voice raising in anger, “not to call me. Why the fuck would you think to not call me?!”

“This is, a lot-“

“He’s DYING Cas! That’s what this is!”

“I know.”

“So fuck you for even considering not calling me here.”

“Liv...”

“What?!”

“I’m trying. You aren’t the only one who loves him.”

Sam stood alone in the room, Gabriel still huddled into a ball on the bed. The angel had always been small, but somehow he’d made himself even smaller. The day had taken a major emotional toll on the younger Winchester. Dean leaving (with Ketch of all people) to apocalypse world, Gabriel, Liv, and no matter how many times he turned the situation over in his head, he couldn’t find a single solution to one problem. He was helpless. It was back to the drawing board.

“Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole. Look, I know you think it's safer inside. No more torture. No more pain. No more expectations. I've been there. You were nothing like your family. You sure as hell weren't like your dad. Me either. And just like you, I got out. Or I-I thought I got out. But then... then my family needed me. And this is my life. No matter how many times I tried to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. Jack, your nephew, needs you. Liv needs you. The world needs you. We need you. Gabriel, I need you. So, please, help us.”

Again, he got no response. This was hopeless. He needed a new plan, and that wasn’t going to come easy.

“Hey,” Liv greeted, standing beside the much taller hunter, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “so, what’s the plan? I’m sure you needed him for something and that clearly isn’t panning out.”

He heard the accusatory tone to her voice, “uh, I don’t know. Wait for Dean to get back, see what he’s been able to do over in Apocalypse World.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m gonna need an update on all that.”

“You’re, you’re gonna help?”

“Well I’m not leaving him. And he’s with you. And I’m betting that you don’t let me take him, so… logical choice.”

“This is the safest place for him.”

“Yeah. Quite the bomb shelter you have here.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

She felt the corner of her lips twitch into a small smile. She’d always liked Sam. Dean, on the other hand, they were far too alike, fire fighting fire.

“Hungry? I’ll go and grab you some food. We have a kitchen,” he added with a smile and a bragging tone.  

“A kitchen? Fuck, what’s that? You know how to use it?” She asked, her smile growing bigger, and for the first time in awhile, it felt genuine.

“Well enough, yeah. I make a mean egg white omelet.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Sam laughed, “Well, I’ll go get you a burger then.”

She gave him an approving nod as he turned towards the door, stopping and wrapping an arm lazily around her.

“We’re gonna figure this out. All of it. Gabriel too,” he promised, “we’ll get him back.”

“Thanks Sam,” she murmured, grabbing his forearm, her eyes staying locked on the figure in front of her.

Once Sam had left, she walked back over to the bed, sitting back beside the angel, shoulder gently leaning against his.

“Come on Gabe, you’re stronger than this. You’re more fucking stubborn than this, that’s for sure,” she reasoned to no one, “you promised...”

You promised you’d come back.

“I know.”

Every nerve in her body whirred to life, her heart jumped into overdrive at the sound of that voice. It was soft and hoarse. In that moment, she finally understood the phrase, ‘music to my ears’, because there was nothing in this world, or any other, that she would have wanted to hear more.

“Gabriel?” She turned slowly, whispering his name as her eyes locked with his, his gaze soft as he finally truly saw her.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Tears fell onto her cheeks as his grace surged through him, his eyes blazing blue.

[supernaturalmistress]

Lost Soul Series_Pt 1.- Found

Summary: You went missing for four years under Sam and Dean’s watch. Once they get a surprising call from a friend saying that you’re in Kansas, they find you, take you under their wing, but something seems off about you. Like something is missing, and once Dean believes he should confess his love to you, he finds out just what you lost, your soul. His only mission is to retrieve your soul from Crowley and all the while wanting to tell you just how he feels…but knowing he can’t.

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (barely)

Future Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, hella angst, heartbreak (but will be fixed, I swear)

Word Count: 1,611 words (chapters will get longer as we get into it)

Author’s notes: I kinda just came up with this series idea, and since I only write once in a blue moon I figured why not go out? My b-day is in like 4 days so its kinda a gift to me!(conceited much ikr) but yeah, pls leave feedback, if you have any ideas pls send them in cuz I like need more ideas lmao. Love y’all so much, I’ll be writing this series every two days (so each chapter will come out one day then I’ll have a day to write and edit then I’ll post between 9 and 10 P.M.) so yeah thank you so much. Please ask for anything you need. Tags are open!!! (btw I’ll be posting a masterlist later on tonight). Enjoy!

ring ring.

Dean’s POV

I answered the phone only to be greeted by Jasper’s gruff voice. He had news that I couldn’t believe until he gave me his word that it was true.

Jasper, are you sure?

Yeah man. I just got the call from one of my most trusted, she’s in Kansas, Dean. Near Lebanon. Said she was staying at the White Palm. Room 17.

My heart sunk in my chest at the thought of how in the hell she got back. We thought we’d lost her all those years ago.

Four years ago

It’d had been a hard week. Alpha vamp, killing off innocents in New York, no way in hell we could capture him. We’d gotten him to come to terms to stop killing, but he only wanted one thing, J.J. I couldn’t just give her up that easily, she was the love of my life and I sure as hell wasn’t using her as bait, but she insisted and pleaded that she would keep safe as long as we caught the son of a bitch. But like always, we were dumb and stupid enough to actually think we could get him on our own, leading to her getting captured. Ever since that day, I’ve been missing her, wondering and hoping she would come back to me.

Present

“All this time we thought she’s been being tortured, or worse. Now that I know she’s alive, I ain’t ever letting her go” I said to myself as I gripped the steering wheel tight on Baby. I pushed the gas hard, trying to get there as quick as I could before you were gone, knowing I couldn’t waste another minute away from you. 

I’ve missed you as long as i could imagine and every since that day I’ve felt guilty for what happened. Now, it was the time to set things straight once and for all.

We arrived at the White Palm, my hands filled with sweat as we walked to Room 17. I was shaking because I had no idea what to do when I saw you. Didn’t know if I should hug you, apologize for all the shit we put you through, or hell I even thought about kissing you. 

Sam looked at me with reassurance while knocking. Whatever happened, we both knew you were still our J.J. and you meant the world to us, to me.

The door opened swiftly as a well built, tall, shirtless black haired man stood in the doorway. I looked him up and down.

“Yeah?” he asked with a deep voice.

Sam and I looked at each other, and I was having doubts you were actually here.

Sam asked “Um, we’re looking for J.J., is she here?”

“Sorry bro, no one here by that name.”

My face fell but as soon as I heard movement inside I looked behind him only to see your beautiful figure moving to pack some clothes. 

“J.J.?”

You turned and as soon as we locked eyes, a smile grew on my face and a smirk on yours.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Sam and Dean Winchester. Been awhile since I’ve seen them pretty faces.” your smooth voice ran through me as your beautiful Y/E/C burned throughout me. Just then every shitty thing in my life gone to dust, fixed by your lovely face.

Your POV

You were shocked at the fact they actually found you, thought they’d left you behind in their memories long ago. 

“Well uh,” you said as you started to give the black haired man his belongings, pushing him towards the door, “Thanks uh Jacob for, last night. It was fun.” Poor thing seemed confused and corrected you,

“Jason.”

“Right, well Jason, bye,” you said as you closed the door in his face. Sam and Dean looked very surprised at this new version of you, for one night stands used to be a big no-no for you. 

“Little harsh there, don’t you think J.J.?” Sam asked with a laugh.

You chuckled.

“Well boys, it’s good to see you too.” You hugged them. They took awhile to hug you back before looking at your face. Dean carried out the hug a little longer.

“So, no call, no text, no smoke signals, no nothing?” Dean asked, getting serious.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy with things. Hunting.”

“Yeah well, I figured as close as we are, you’d check up. Thought we were family. Figured if you came back, we’d be the first people you’d call.”

You scoffed. “Right mom, sorry I didn’t call you to check in, last time I checked I was an adult who makes her own decisions.”

They both asked the same question in their mind: What in the hell had happened to you? Cause this sure as hell wasn’t you.

Sam tried to quickly change the subject, for he could already feel the tension rising between you two.

“So J.J.--”

“Y/N/N.”

“Hmm?”

“I just go by Y/N/N now, haven’t been called J.J. in years.”

Just then it hit Sam the crossed Dean. Years? What’d you mean by years?

“Wait, wait. Years? Y/N/N, how long have you been out ever since…” Sam began to ask.

“After the incident, things happened and let’s just say I got lucky.”

Dean got heated and began to get impatient.

“Answer the question J.J. How long have you been out?”

You sighed, looked at the ceiling in annoyance, trying to calculate exactly, “Umm, about four-ish years? Yeah, I’d say four.”

They both looked at each other with disappointment and disbelief.

“You’ve been here all this time and never even called to let us know you were ok, or alive at least?!” Dean had finally snapped. He thought he’d lost you all those years ago, all the while you’ve been running around the country going on hunts, sleeping in cheap motels and having shitty one night stands. The love of his life, alive, this entire time.

“Oh calm your tits grandma, I’m sorry that as soon as I got out I didn’t want to call the only to people who I completely trusted only to get me kidnapped, tortured, sliced and diced each and every way,” you said, finally tired of their bullshit. 

They once again looked at each other, faces and minds full of guilt. You were right. It was their fault you were taken and they had no room to argue. Dean couldn’t bear the thought of what you went through so all he did was move swiftly across the room and hugged you. He kissed the temple of your forehead and whispered ‘sorry’ one too many times.

“Ok Mother Theresa, it’s all good, I forgive you, both of you.” You gave them a small smile which was all they needed.

Sam was more than curious to find out how in the hell you escaped an alpha vamps nest. 

“So, J--Y/N/N, I have only one question...how in the world did you escape and alpha?” Sam asked with caution.

There was a long pause until a deep British voice interrupted your conversation.

“Why me of course moose, that poor girl wouldn’t have stood a chance against those blood-sucking parasites.”

Dean jumped from the bed and raised his gun to Crowley.

“Oh calm down squirrel, I was just coming to check up on the girl,” he said as he helped himself to the mini bar in your motel room.

“What do you want you son of a bitch?!” Dean asked.

“Oh, darling I see you haven’t filled them in on our little dilemma. You want to tell them or should I?”

You looked at the boys then Crowley. 

“Dean, please,” you asked officially annoyed.

“Not until someone explains what this snot-nosed asshole is doing here!” Dean yelled.

“Oh squirrel, always putting violence before knowledge. Might wanna let your girl explain herself and put that thing down before you hurt somebody.” Dean hesitated before looking to you for reassurance and you nodded to him. He put the gun down, while he and Sam waited for you to begin.

Dean began “J.J., please don’t tell me you made a deal with this shithead?!” Dean snapped.

“Hurtful.”

“J, what the hell is going on?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.

“Ok, yes Crowley did save me and yes it came at a price but I know more than to make a deal with a demon--”

Dean interrupted you while crossing his arms, “Ok well please explain what this “price” is, please.” 

“Well, that’s my cue.” and with a snap, Crowley was gone and left you to explain the rest.

You sighed knowing your ass is toast after this, which is why you never called them in the first place, because if they knew they would lose their shit. You began to pack up for leave while you told the story.

“Ok, well after about three months with the vamps, some would come and go, feed then leave. Some would come to taunt, cut, bleed, or do whatever to me and I was just about on the brink of death...before Crowley had somehow found me and told me he could free me, heal me and help me, for something that I had--that he needed,”

You looked behind you to see the boys worried about what you were going to say.

“--he said it was something that was special, innocent, and pure. Something he could use to get himself off the ground in hell and could use to get around and get himself back where he needs to be.”

“And what exactly was it he needed--oh excuse me, what he got from you?” Dean asked.

You sighed, with a shrug of your shoulders.

“My soul.”

Tags for this series are open, just ask ;-)

[idthellyeah-blog]

“Quiltheads” by Bill Latham

(In May 2017 my good friend Bill  Latham passed away. It knocked me on my ass and put me in a spiral for a few years. Bill was a legend, in every way possible. We'd been friends since playing in bands together at The Cog Factory and had some wild misadventures later in life. He was the dude I would call when things were grim. He headbutted a bro dude at a bar once and rode another dude down a flight of stairs like a sled. Legend. I hate that we grew apart, but that's what happens with most friends. I was left with messages between each other trying to eventually meet up in Austin and a very old email of a sketch idea Bill wrote. Here it is in its entirety. I hope to someday make it a real thing. Miss you Bill.)

QUILTHEADS

A script

by Bill Latham

[Scene 1]

[Camera fades in on a dusty, country 2 lane highway.  The sky is red with the dawn of early morning. The trees along the road are green and full]

["Sugar Magnolia" by the Grateful Dead fades into the scene as a beat up VW Microbus rolls down the road.]

[The camera hovers over the VW Microbus as it rolls down the country road past farm houses.]

[Slowly the camera passes over the bus and the shot cuts to a front view directly facing the driver and front seat passenger.  The people are both quite visibly old hippies with long hair, beards, beads, rose tinted shades, and buckskins.]

[The camera cuts to an inside view of the van.  The driver [GRIZZLY] is smoking a joint and tapping with one hand on the steering wheel.  The woman in the passenger seat [HALO] is cross stitching something.]

["Sugar Magnolia" fades out slowly]

[The camera cuts between side shots of GRIZZLY and HALO as though the camera were looking from the listener's point of view in the conversation.]

GRIZZLY

We need to stop for gas, babe.

HALO

How much do we have left?

GRIZZLY

Less than a quarter tank.

[HALO begins to put her cross stitch work into a tote bag.]

HALO

I'll check the map and see what town's next.

[HALO unfolds a well worn map.  She studies it very quietly for a moment.  GRIZZLY hands her the joint and she takes deep toke off of it, holds her breath, exhales, passes it back to him, and resumes looking over the map.]

HALO

Where are we anyway, man?

GRIZZLY

In the van, babe. In the van.

[They camera cuts to a view of a green road sign showing several different towns and distances.]

HALO

Looks like we have five miles 'til Arbor Junction.

[GRIZZLY inhales the last bit of the joint and places the roach in the Microbus' ashtray along with several others.]

GRIZZLY

Arbor Junction it is, babe.

[Grizzly scratches his beard and thinks to himself for a bit.]

GRIZZLY

Where are we catching the Quilt at again?

[The camera cuts to an outside view of the VW Microbus as it continues down the road.]

[The Highway scene fades out.]

[End scene]

[Queue the Jimi Hendrix version of "All Along the Watchtower"]

[Title sequence and credits for the movie begin as "QUILTHEADS" fades into the shot]

[credits, etc.]

[Scene 2]

[The camera cuts into a very tidy and orderly looking office.]

[Text appears on screen: Grand Forks, North Dakota]

[The camera pans around the room revealing several bookshelves full of encyclopedic looking books, potted plants, and a large embroidered, psychedelic square on the wall in black matted frame.]

[The camera pans to a door and a man in a blazer, slacks, with a well trimmed beard enters the room.]

[Text appears on screen: John Naughton, Professor of Historical Studies, University of North Dakota]

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON reaches toward the camera and shakes the hand of the off screen INTERVIEWER.]

INTERVIEWER

Thank you for meeting with us today Professor Naughton.

[The camera maintains a focus on PROFESSOR NAUGHTON at all times and never shows the INTERVIEWER.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

It's my pleasure.  Now what can I do for you?

INTERVIEWER

Well, as I said on the telephone yesterday, I was looking for someone to give us some background on the AIDS quilt and the people who follow it around the country.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON looks outwardly, very stern, but manages an amused smile.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Oh you mean the Quiltheads?

INTERVIEWER

Yes, the Quiltheads.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON chuckles to himself a little bit and regains his composure.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

We'd better have a seat then.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON walks towards his desk and takes a seat.   He clears some papers aside and places them in a drawer.  He reaches under the desk and pulls out a bottle of Wild Turkey Whiskey and sets it down in view of the camera.  He picks up the telephone at his desk and hits a number.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Send in two glasses of ice, Irene.  Thank you.

[The camera stays focused on PROFESSOR NAUGHTON as he sits and waits without saying anything.  The interviewer is silent as well.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

I'm sorry for the delay.

[There is a knock on the office door and the camera pans towards it.  IRENE the secretary enters the room with two glasses full of ice and the camera follows her as she sets them down on PROFESSOR NAUGHTON's desk.]

[The camera pans back to PROFESSOR NAUGHTON]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Thank you, Irene.

[The camera follows Irene as she leaves the room and closes the door and then pans back to PROFESSOR NAUGHTON who is now pouring the Wild Turkey into the two glasses.  He hands one to the INTERVIEWER and they clink glasses.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Ah, Kentucky...now where were we?

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON sips on his whiskey as the interview begins.]

INTERVIEWER

First off, what can you tell us about the AIDS quilt.

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

The AIDS quilt is a memorial for people who have died of AIDS related causes.  It began in 1987 and has continued for over 20 years now.  It's the largest community art project in the entire world.  The panels in the quilt are sized at 3 by 6 feet, to represent the standard size of a human grave. The panels are grouped into 12 by 12 feet sections called Blocks.  Usually there about 8 panels in one block.

INTERVIEWER

And why is this?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, when the project began, many funeral homes would not handle the bodies of deceased AIDS patients and many were cremated rather than buried.  The project represents a graveyard in the form of a patchwork quilt, but without the morbidity of a graveyard as it is a celebration of the lives of people who have died from AIDS.  Currently there are 44,000 reported panels.  The quilt itself weighs over 54 tons.

INTERVIEWER

That's fascinating.  Now, what subcultural groups have been involved with the quilt in the past?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, there have always been a wide variety of folks involved with this project.  I mean, what else can you really expect from a disease that can affect every human being regardless of race, gender, economic status, or sexual preference?  Honestly, when you have a disease that affects everyone, you see a sampling of literally everyone represented.

INTERVIEWER

So, why Quiltheads?  What makes the Quiltheads different?

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON has a deeply concerned looking stare.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

I'm trying to find a polite way to say this...

INTERVIEWER

Feel free to take your time.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON scratches his chin]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

It's clearly a sensitive issue and I don't want to appear callous and I don't wish to generalize...

INTERVIEWER

...but?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, Quiltheads tend not to, well...

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON struggles for the words and sips his whiskey.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

...it's just, they don't...

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON stares above and sort of beyond the frame of the camera.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

...they usually don't have AIDS or much association with anyone who does.  They aren't coming out to see the AIDS quilt in support of anything.  In fact, many of them that I have met may not even be aware what AIDS actually even is.  This may be for the best as they would probably describe it as "a bummer" or "harshing their mellow".

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON finishes the whiskey glass in a gulp and begins to pour another.]

INTERVIEWER

[long pause]...How can they have missed out on that information?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, as I understand it, up until 1995 the vast majority of Quiltheads spent their summers following the Grateful Dead around on tour as many of them had been doing since the 1960's.  As you can imagine, these people have consumed massive- and I say that in the way that the universe is massive- massive amounts of lysergic acid diethylamide.  I mean, they've been dosing themselves for years with LSD.  That's bound to effect perception of reality quite a bit.  Now, I understand that was exactly what many of them were going for, but there comes a point where everything has become so disconnected from reality for these people- the disconnect is so great- they're utterly divorced from reality... they...they...oh Christ...I can't believe I'm even letting you interview me about this.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON takes a giant gulp from the whiskey glass.]

INTERVIEWER

And I thank you very much for doing so, sir.  Your assistance has been greatly appreciated.

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

What I'm trying to say is that the Quiltheads are an anomaly unto themselves.  In 1995 Jerry Garcia died and these people were left with a large gap in their lives.  Many of them began asking themselves who or what they would follow around from city to city next?  Some of them happened across a viewing of the AIDS quilt while loaded on acid and then found out it was a touring exhibition.  Suddenly, they had a new purpose in life.  They had a new experience.  They had something else to follow around the country that would allow them to peddle shoddily made Hippy crap in the parking lots of every civic center and arena from the Atlantic to the Pacific.  And ever since they've continued to grow.

INTERVIEWER

Thank you very much Professor Naughton.

[Professor Naughton nods and begins to pour another drink.]

[Scene ends and fades to black]

[Scene 3]

[Segue to "Teach Your Children Well" by Crosby, Stills, & Nash]

[Camera fades in at a mom and pop diner in dusty little country town.  GRIZZLY and HALO's VW Microbus is parked outside.]

[The camera zooms in towards the door and follows it's way past diners, waitresses, and tables to the dining couple.]

[The camera frames GRIZZLY and HALO from a side view allowing us to see them as they face each other.]

[They munch away on plates of food without saying anything.]

[The camera time lapses while they eat.  A waitress walks in and out of the frame.  Several diners walk past them.  Finally they pay the waiter and get up and leave.  The shot fades to black and the music goes silent.]

[end scene]

[Scene 4]

[Camera fades in at a craft table in a crowded parking lot.]

[Queue "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones]

[The camera pans across the tables' wares revealing hackey sacks, dream catchers, small glass marijuana pipers, beanies, and hemp necklaces.]

[The camera cuts across different scenes in the parking lot: hippies playing hackey sack, families walking together towards the civic center, elderly folks, gay rights banners, extremist christian protesters, etc.]

[The camera cuts back to the craft table in the parking lot where a man is standing at work]

[Text appears on screen: Denver, Colorado]

[The camera pans up to the man selling the products, an old acidhead Hippy with a scraggly beard, wearing a dye tyed  t-shirt.]

[Text appears on screen: Benjamin "Wolfy" Johnson, Salesman]

[The camera zooms in on a sale that WOLFY is making. An old woman hands him a twenty dollar bill and he passes her back a hemp necklace.]

WOLFY

Peace, man.

[Wolfy flashes her a peace sign.]

[The old woman smiles and walks out of frame.]

["Gimme Shelter" fades out.]

INTERVIEWER

We're here in Denver, Colorado with a peddler of small trinkets that calls himself Wolfy outside of an AIDS Quilt viewing.  Wolfy sells handmade items in the parking lot at these displays and follows the AIDS Quilt all over the country.  Wolfy, when did you first discover the Quilt?

[Camera zooms in on WOLFY. His eyes are very glassy and his pupils very dilated.  He looks stoned out of his mind.]

WOLFY

It musta been about...I dunno...'96, '97... everything was kind of a blur after Jerry died, man. I was wanderin' around DC one afternoon and I'd just taken a few hits of this Batman blotter acid...I'm from Baltimore originally and I was hanging out in DC a lot in those days...

[The camera stays focused on WOLFY who is not particularly focused on much of anything.  His eyes wander when he isn't speaking and he plays with his hands and fidgets like a scared child.]

INTERVIEWER

In 1996, Washington, DC hosted the largest display of the AIDS Quilt on record at the Capitol Mall.  Is this the display you saw Wolfy?

[WOLFY's attention returns to the camera and he looks directly into the shot.]

 WOLFY

Whoa?! Far out! I was at the biggest display?

[WOLFY is once again distracted.]

INTERVIEWER

Well, I can't necessarily say for certain, Wolfy...

[WOLFY resumes his stare into the camera.]

WOLFY

Duuuuude... yeah, it was outside.  I remember seeing the Washington Monument and thought I needed to stop and worship it...I was pretty zonked dude...I'd taken a few hits of this Batman blotter acid...and see, I'm from Baltimore originally, but I was hanging around in DC a lot in those days...

[WOLFY is still staring at the camera and talking as he interrupted.]

INTERVIEWER

Uh, yes- you already told us that, Wolfy.  Now, about the Quilt-

[WOLFY holds his stare into the camera and looks visibly excited.]

WOLFY

Well, dude, the Quilt totally blew my mind.  I still don't even really understand what it's all about.  But if I drop a few hits of acid or eat a fistful of mushrooms, I can walk around staring at it all day long.  Sometimes you see the most fucked up things and sometimes you see things that make you feel so sappy you want to cry because your heart feels so moved.  It's insane dude!!!  Ever since that afternoon I understood that I was meant to follow the Quilt around.  I started selling merch in the parking lots for gas money & food to keep up with it.  I've been on the road following the Quilt now since '98.

[WOLFY begins to stare off camera again.

INTERVIEWER

And you have friends who do this too, correct?

WOLFY

Oh yeah, man.  We live for the Quilt.  The Quilt is like God for us, man.  When we look into the Quilt we see things that we never thought we'd see in our entire lives.  It's a really positive experience over all, man.  I love the Quilt.

INTERVIEWER

Wolfy, do you know what the Quilt represents?

WOLFY

It represents a lot of things man.  Each one of those panels is different.

INTERVIEWER

Well, yes, that's true, but what I was asking about- just a little more specifically was "do you know what the Quilt is a memorial for?"

WOLFY

Well...I'd say people.  Yeah, it's definitely about people, man.

INTERVIEWER

...And there's something that all of those people have in common, right Wolfy?

WOLFY

Everybody's got something in common, man.  I heard Keith Richards say once that "blood is red and bones is white".

INTERVIEWER

...And while I agree that's an interesting point, Wolfy, I'm kind of asking you what we reporters call a "leading question"...

WOLFY

You lead and I'll follow, man.  I think I get it.

INTERVIEWER

[with growing agitation in his voice]

What kind of people are being memorialized, Wolfy?

WOLFY

It seems to be about everybody, man.  I can dig that.

INTERVIEWER

[Explosively]

Do you even know what a Memorial is for??!

WOLFY

For remembering, man.  For remembering.

[Camera follows WOLFY back to his craft table as someone hands him money.]

[The camera pans from the view of the table to a view of the grass as though the camera man has tossed it in a fit of irritation.]

INTERVIEWER

Goddamnit!

[The shot fades to black.]

[End scene]

[Queue "Brokedown Palace" by the Grateful Dead]

[The camera fades in on the side of the two lane highway that we have been following HALO and GRIZZLY down.]

[Their VW microbus is pulled over on the side of the road and the front driver side tire is clearly flat.  There is a jack propping the vehicle up.  GRIZZLY is busily working at the lugnuts with a tire iron while HALO sort of dances to a song that no one else can hear.]

[The camera zooms in on GRIZZLY who continues to turn away on a lugnut.]

[He stops turning the tire iron for a moment and looks over to HALO.]

GRIZZLY

Hey, babe, it's "righty-tighty-lefty-loosey" right?

[The camera pans to HALO who turns to him still sort of dancing.]

HALO

Yeah, man.  "Righty-tighty-lefty-loosey" it is.

[The camera cuts back to GRIZZLY.]

GRIZZLY

Oh good.  I was gettin' worried there for a minute.

[GRIZZLY successfully removes one lug nut and holds it up in front of his face a little bit and then peers through the hole in the center.  He sets the tire iron down and stands up.  He stretches his arms out and opens the driver side door of the microbus. Seconds later he emerges from the microbus with a joint and sparks it up.  He holds the lugnut back up towards his eye and looks through it and then takes another toke.

[The camera pans to HALO.]

[HALO dances over towards GRIZZLY and the camera follows. She takes the joint away from him and takes a couple of puffs herself.]

HALO

Hey man, you've only gotten one of those lugnuts off that tire!  You still got 3 more to go and then you gotta put all of 'em back on before it's time to party!

[GRIZZLY smiles sheepishly.]

[He gets back down on the ground, picks the tire iron up and gets back to work.]

[Halo sits down beside him on the road and continues to smoke the joint.]

HALO

What do you think the Quilt's gonna be like tomorrow?

[GRIZZLY removes another lugnut.  He sets it down on the side of the road next to the first one.  He begins to remove a third.]

GRIZZLY

We haven't caught it in a couple weeks, Babe.  I expect it to be pretty intense.  Where are we catching it at anyway?

[HALO thinks for a moment and her stare is intense.  A smile creeps across her face as she remembers.]

HALO

Omaha, Nebraska, man.  At some auditorium.

[GRIZZLY continues to unfasten the lugnut.]

GRIZZLY

Far out, man!  I wonder if Omaha's ready for us?

[HALO holds the joint in front of GRIZZLY's mouth so he can take a drag too.]

HALO

I think it's the same place we saw the Dead in '78, man.

[GRIZZLY stops.  He drops the tire iron.  His eyes are wide with excitement.]

GRIZZLY

WHOOOOOOOA! Far out, babe!  It'll be like...what's that word...synchronicity!

[ecotone99]

Humor [HM] Fantasy [FN] Cadorna Keep Chapter 1 - A Dnd GameLit

“The lords will see you in just a few moments now,” the stuffy shirted gnome told them. He stood perhaps three and a half feet tall but somehow held a halberd. The axe shaft was twice as long as he was and it wavered awkwardly.

The party didn’t really notice though, absorbed as they were with the anxiety of the moment. The adventurers had been pacing for a good half an hour, well aware that if they messed up this interview they might as well pull up camp from Gennopolis and head off elsewhere. Yenrab’s stomach burbled with the stress of bottled up gas and his face was taut with displeasure.

Tracy looked over her friend with sympathy.

“Maybe, friend Yenrab, you should take a trip to the latrines?”

Yenrab looked back at her with a pained expression.

“Ya know I would if you all didn’t make me the party captain. I’ll take off to the crapper then they’ll call us in and I’ll be the sour snout that messed it all up for us all. They’ll be like, oh, hey, where’s your captain? And you’ll all say that I’m in the crapper. Then they’ll do some stuff with the papers and huff and haw and we’ll lose to the job to Some Other Guys.”

“Some Other Guys are a pretty decent group, mates,” Bern Sandros cut in, his midnight blue cloaks and leather quite the fashion statement now that he’d had the cash to have it tailored. “Enough so that people were telling me that SOG is almost certainly going to get this job instead of us.”

“Nonsense brosephs,” Wex added, his featureless mask fully in place, his mailed body edgy with anticipation. “We’re the heroes of Rising Action and Torus Strade. We’re a shoe in, right?”

“Yeah?” Bern questioned.

“Yeah bro,” Wex answered. “No doubt about it.”

Strings plucked in the corner.

“They came they saw they slew them all - hoorah hoorah - they are the Exterminators of Things that Hurt Us and Are Really Bad - hoorah hoorah - EoTtHUaARB came to save the day, everyone got hurt and there wasn’t much day but it all ended purposeful for the Exterminators of Things that Hurt Us and Are Really Bad . . .” Carric Smith sang, fading out at the end. He was dressed up in fancy and colorful clothing, not quite his style but today he had to dress to impress. And these fancy duds came from home with his name tagged to every article. At his side he carried his scabbard with the words ‘Momma’s Little Dumpling’ woven into its edges and upon his back was hooked his exceptionally manufactured hand crossbow whose name, ‘Lil Sunshine’, stood carved into its outward arc.

“What was that?” Bern Sandros asked the half-elf, his pointed ears and thin build a stark reminder of his mixed parentage.

“Shuddup. I’m working on it.”

“I’ve heard better cat squalls,” Wex opined. “And what’s with the duds? You look so not you?”

Carric simply scowled. “The lords will see you now,” the stuffy shirt yawned, somehow still hanging on to that danged halberd.

***

The hall they entered resembled a courtroom more than anything else. The lords of the ruling council sat tall behind gavelled podiums of a deep brown oak, well finished and well furbished. The rest of the large council room was absent except for them, the wooden panels that composed it playing back their every sound as it echoed through the room.

A light squeal sounded from Yenrab’s end. Carric shifted and coughed to cover it up, though Yenrab’s very guilty face, and the sudden smell of dirty rear let the rest of the party know that this interview had to go fast.

The three lords stood from their high places. Each was dressed regally, but in glitzy and ceremonial garb as best befit their titles. On the left stood the Lord over Civil Affairs, elected, as they all were, for a single ten year term. He wore golden silks in the form favored by sages, and ceremonial eyeglasses clung to his face, though they were not necessary. Next, in the middle of them, stood a broad shouldered man with a scarred face. He was the General over Military Affairs, and his golden chestplate gleamed as only a soldier with a spit rag can make it. Last was the Diplomat over International Ties and Diplomacy. It was a long title given to a man who looked crooked and calculated, with eyes that were filled with wild intelligence. His garb was that of some majestic godlike courier and frankly it looked ridiculous.

“You have audience with the Lords Regent of the Republic, party, Ea-ot-the-ah-arb,” the diplomat spoke. To every person within these halls of the law, he was simply the diplomat because the law had no name. Or so the law exposited. The party proceeded to line up as the formal words were spoken. Yenrab stepped forward to start this encounter.

“EoTtHUaARB, your, uh, graces,” Yenrab corrected them in a tone that, to those who knew them, indicated a bit of distress. Carric coughed again to cover a couple of creeping noises and Wex sneezed as the acrid stench reached his nose.

Hot air rises. We’d better finish this interview in a hurry, he thought to himself.

“What do you need?” Tracy stepped up beside him. The rest of the party scowled but the lord laughed and then, with a motion at his fellows, they were all seated.

“Party EoTtHUaARB,” the lord pronounced correctly, speaking it exactly as it is spelled, “we are here to beseech an adventuring party, the best one I suppose, to do a mission of a military matter.”

The general stood back up, his armor gleaming as the rays of the afternoon sun poured in through the windows of the Assembly’s dome. The building was quite majestic and, were one to write about it, surely they would give it a tremendous amount of description due to its powerful and statuesque beauty.

“We’re talking about Cadorna Keep,” he growled out. There was something about grizzled combat veterans that turned them half-feral. They always growled.

“Our Freeholder’s Republic is holding strong, but since we lost that keep during the Revolutionary War, it's been hard as the Elemental Plane of Earth to keep it free of pirates. And we’ve been getting goblin and orc tribes marching through our borders and dragging long boats in.”

“Someone needs to build a wall, A huge wall. A tremendous wall!” the Diplomat exclaimed fervently.

“We’ve been over this,” sighed the lord. “Who’s going pay for it?”

“I told you,” the Diplomat exclaimed again, standing up. “They will!”

“Fleer of Villages!” the general cursed. Yenrab started. When the heck did my folk hero titles start becoming curses, he wondered.

“Look, enough partisan bickering. Let’s just focus on the task at hand. Adventurers, what we need is a group to land on the island. We will have transport ships take you there and they will come back to pick you up the next day. We need you to map the place out and tell us what is where and where is what. The island has been under some sort of curse and we will send a military to occupy it whilst clerics of good cast this bad magic out. For your services we will give you the princely sum of,” the general looked uncomfortable, “Five-hundred gold pieces.”

Why is it always gold pieces or silver pieces, one of The Gamers griped. Do they just march around with jagged chunks of unstamped metal in their pockets? How much is that anyways? Like five dollars? Five-hundred dollars? Why not something cool, like pieces of eight?

Oh, look at that, an even more powerful figure observed. The weather outside has turned rather rough. It’d be a damn shame if a stray lightning bolt came blasting through that window.

The voices of The Gamers faded away.

“Bloody hells we will,” Bern Sandros broke in. “You want us to stay twenty-four hours on a haunted island for the cost of a good set of mail? No thanks, mate. Pass.”

“Bern, bro,” Wex the wood-elf cut in, his mask removed to show off his dark skin and even darker eyes. “Mask has granted me the power to scare the undead. It’s right.”

Bern soaked that in, and then nodded. Yenrab motioned with his hand, using a broken bit of Thieves Cant that Bern had told him meant hurry up (but actually meant I am a giant talking turd with a lot of money. Please rob me.)

Tracy, though, twirling in strange ballerina-like pivots and slides behind them, all at once stopped.

“One-thousand gold pieces,” she stated in a coquettish lilt. “And a few magic items.”

Then she raised her fist and winked at Bern.

“Power to the People.”

“Yeah!” Bern agreed. “Power to the People!”

Carric fiddled a bit with his lute and stepped forward to take over negotiations.

“That’s one-thousand gold dollars -” the faraway Lord of the Gamers sighed - “and a few magic items. Take it or leave it.”

The Diplomat looked as if he were about to start to argue, his finger raised to make a point, and the lord looked as if he were already ready to oppose the Diplomat, no matter what it was that he actually said, but the general spoke loudly and in a commanding voice that shut both up rather quickly.

“One-thousand gold pieces, er, dollars and a few magic items, but you guys lift the damnable curse then,” he growled.

“Deal,” Carric smiled. Yenrab took the opportunity to run away from the room in a strange waddle, his thick orcish legs bouncing him back and forth like a toddler learning to walk. But Bern and Wex slapped hands and Tracy cheered, making jazz fingers at the moon goddess, whatever that meant.

“Say,” Carric asked out of the blue. “Why did we get the job and not the party SOG?”

It was the general’s turn to smile, his eyes stony and satisfied at a deal well done. “Oh, Some Other Guys? They got the job first. There was just nothing left of them when we came back to pick them up.”

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