The Beast of Dean

Via the Cryptid Wiki : 

“The Beast of Dean, also given the colloquial Moose-Pig, is reportedly a cryptid said to resemble a wild boar (Sus scrofa) with an abnormally large size. It is commonly sighted in Gloucestershire, in the south-west of the United Kingdom...”

And lo, the fanfic gods hath called out to me, saying thus:

@mrswhozeewhatsis reblogged your post and added:

Stop. Everything.

PLOT TWIST - But what if it’s you?! I mean, not you-you, I mean Faux!Whoo... Faux!Zee... Faux!Whatsis.... there’s so many options.... I’m particularly drawn to Faux!Zee because it sounds like floozy, and I feel it falls under the WWDD (What Would Dolly Do) decision tree. I’ve digressed.

You’re an evil genius and may’ve just incited the next level of Nope. The way it’s going, this entire dimension is gonna end up nuked, no doubt. But it’s true, there must be culprits behind it, as it’s clearly not Faux!Nash. Maybe it’s when Jack was knee-walkin’ drunk on those spiked candy bar milkshakes, and he started writing with his lil’ pencil instead of playing with it. Maybe Sam’s in his beard pretending to sulk around the bunker when he’s actually running into his room and getting all giddy, pulling out a hidden laptop, crafting his revenge on them. #ermahgerd #and in the immortal words #of the immortal Keanu #whoa

(And naturally, I thank you much for the pass-a-long & the brain diddle 😉)

Get brain diddled with The Nope Saga here!

Writers! Badly explain your current project in one sentence.

“[...] @seenashwrite  cause we could use your brand of snark here!” sayeth @waywardjoy in her kind tag to me, and while compliments trump all else, part of me deep down resents the implication that this in-progress brain dropping can be summarized poorly, because it’s such a hot damn winner [#humbly], but here we go (shoots look of Sam/Dean proportions at @ellen-reincarnated1967 because she hath put me up to this)... actual summary:

This is the story of the largely unmentioned Bevell son, who was born out-of-wedlock many years ago. A reject from the MoL(e)s, he was shipped off to 'Murica in disgrace, and after prompting from his nephew, is determined to solve the mystery of his missing sister, Lady Antonia "Brain-Diddle" Bevell. Spoiler alert: This does not go well.

#It’s Always Sunny In Lebanon  #SOON

Conversations with The Commissioner: The Lure

The Commissioner: So how would you lure Michael back? You know, chum the waters? I mean, could they track him or something with----

Nash: Nah. Easy-peasy, cake walk, winners, chicken dinners, and stuff.

TC: [sighs] “Easy” for you generally means a convoluted----

N: Nah.

TC: Stop saying “nah”.

N: Three-point strat. They got Angel Radio, don’t they?

TC: I am listening.

N: And there you go. Step #1: Send Billie to Ye Olde Void. She is smooth and charming and nothing ruffles her feathers. Bargain with cranky entity. Get some angels back. Make a big ask it’ll never go for, then negotiate down to “x” amount of angels, with Gabe, Raph, and Apoca-Luci being deal breakers. And Metatron, because he’s an annoying sumbitch, which is of value here.

Step #2: If Naomi is legit back, put that bitch in charge, she can whip the angels who’re left into shape. Then they move on earth, doing some ol’ fashioned dream visitin’ to the pious. Start with the clergy of all religions. Tell them to get ready. If they don’t, Naomi knows how to brain-diddle on Bevell levels. This is DEFCON-1, we can stretch some ethics, here.

TC: They should get ready to...?

N: That’s #3 - take a page from our Luci’s How To Drive Somebody Off The Deep End playbook. Dial up Angel Radio to eleven. Pummel that puss-bucket with prayers on the human end and chatter on the angelic end. Not pleading for him to come back; I mean just small talk, show tunes, The Bieb’s greatest hits, bang pots and pans, who cares. Then occasionally have it go dead quiet. A voice whispers “You know how to make this stop, Michael.”

TC: He’ll just start wreaking havoc.

N: Not if they induce ball-gripping freeze-frames.

TC: You and the freeze frames.

N: I hate them so, so hard.    

Nash, along with writing partner Moscato, in no doubt part one of what will be a Thing, at some point in the past, to The Commissioner, pondering upon stuff the Supernatural powers-that-be should bust out before the show retires and we get a movie.

Note: I edited and took out the read more because it wasn’t working anyway [shrugs] sowwy.

I don’t mean the cutesy kind based on theme park rides, I mean the legit, take-no-fucks kind, you know? With molty parrots, and questionable piercings, and keelhauling, and rotting barrels of rum, and scurvy, and not that punk-out puke parade of parley, then we unite to take down a common enemy type-shit, no. NO. I mean *canon-driving sigil-carved ball bearings so far down a ghost’s gullet, they’re leaving a trail of fright-induced iron-tinted piss as they’re jettisoned into the afterlife.

Dean’s already got a hepatic foot over the line into alcoholic town, he mutters under his breath a fair amount, just flip it into some guttural AAARRGGGHH!-ing. Let’s see him sneaking onto an enemy ship during a fight and having to deal with a one-tap pistol that’s all about powder and flint and proximity, barely getting it loaded in time to fire on the dude who’s about eight feet away from him going through the same routine. MAKE ME GASP, PEOPLE

Let’s see Sam wrenching a wheel with strained biceps, which we ideally glimpse through a shirt torn from a close call with a cutlass, as he saves the ship from plowing into rocks, and he’s really tan, because he’s been at the wheel like, all the time, it’s his turn to drive for once, that’s fair. Put Cas in the crow’s nest with a spyglass that he doesn’t need, but still, him’s got pretty eyes, a close-up won’t hurt anything, and him gliding down with a touch of wing shimmer, ‘cause it’s sunset so can’t do the shadows, but primarily because I want to see an angel be kinda casual, not have some big grace ejaculate affair, blowing their celestial load all over the place.

Just float in, man. Ride the waves. Or find a nice, private corner and hoist your sail. What happens on the pirate ship stays on the pirate ship, yo. Ho-Ho.

I was there for the “vampirate” play-on-words, cute shit, gold star, but they were cock teases, we got nothing but talk, I wanted a flashback with Lestat walking a plank, but we got noth—– [gasps] Oh. OHHHHHH

The potential for Dean lines alone with the word “booty”. Let’s ram those bastards right in their friggin’ hull and get that booty! Holy fucknoodles. Just give me my money, I’m working like a sweaty bitch over here.

Back to the plank thing, make somebody - I don’t care who, it’s irrelevant - have to walk the plank and they’re all roped up, and oh wait, what’s that? A mermaid’s gonna save ‘em? Yeah, tropey as fuck, and I don’t care because it’s gonna have a creature from the black lagoon situation on the top half, a mandible-ear gill jam happening, but nice stems on the bottom, but webbed toes and fingers, because I’m a sensible writer, as all of this indicates.

You want some sex appeal? Gimme some built-like-brick-shithouses Mary Read and Anne Bonny. Have chick pirate whoop one of the guys sword fight-style, no ripping off the hat to reveal they’re a broad after, I mean walks up and just wails on him. Then the other turns to find dual pistols in their face, courtesy of badass chick pirate, the sequel.

No stupid “X” marking a spot for the thing that they need for the stuff, no maps (especially not “We’ve had it all wrong! ___ [person] is the map!”), no caves with jump scares that can be seen a mile away AND NO GLOW STICKS EVEN IF, I want an island just lousy with droopy trees and ferns and vines, like we could feel the humidity through the TV screen, and they find their way through to some abandoned township that is *pristine* once they get inside the main perimeter, except for all the skeletons scattered around - though those are also pristine, and articulated and clothing still on - except hey, what’s that?

There’s a warding-esque symbol carved into the forehead of every single skull, be they man, woman, or child. And everyone’s freaked out. The bros, Cas, their pirate and mer-buds, whoever the demon buddy du jour might be - better if it’s Ketch, naturally - all of them are all the feels. And they can’t get back home right away because whatever-something-reason - this is gonna take 3 episodes, with occasional five minute cuts to what’s happening back home, but not a lot, because the guys aren’t being pirates there.

And DAMMIT let’s not have that reason be because of a grocery list of rando objects from THE LORE, order that from Amazon, move on - I want a literal, tangible key to open a literal, tangible door, and there is a literal, tangible obstacle standing in their way. I want good guys and bad guys on an even playing field, comparable assets, no underdogs, no big bad, I want actual brains used for actual critical thinking and strategy, with reasoning you could find yourself nodding to and plans you can see yourself objecting to on both sides.

Mandatory Costuming:

Dean MUST have moderate-to-heavy scruff, preferably a minor beard; a banged-up, frayed-edge black leather hat (NO BANDANNA FFS no matter how much an advocate of such might insist #you heard me); a touch - I mean a touch - of eyeliner, top lids only; the most exquisitely-tailored, slim-fit, deep-brown-almost-black pants that money can buy; shell bracelet a sweet little girl made for him after he decked some dick being mean to her older brother when they stopped at a rando port and went into town.

Sam MUST have mild-to-moderate scruff; hair in low ponytail, every bit in the leather tie, no bottom scragglies because it is that long, though floppy on top to fall over forehead when wind kicks up; shirt is of that criss-cross laced-up v-neck persuasion; boots knee-high preferable, high calf acceptable; small gold earring from getting too lit on the rum and passing out and someone, possibly Dean, told a random guest star character to do it.

The random guest stars should be of an eat-the-scenery-with-snark persuasion. The gut-punch kind. The quirky-but-not-distracting-obnoxious kind. Your Goldblums. Your Mullalys. Your Keys and your Peeles.

And Jack is back at the ship taking care of the parrot, because this is a grown-up mission, no time for diaper-changes or stopping every five minutes for rolling out the mats and passing around the graham crackers and ushering in nap time with another reading of that ol’ classic Little Miss Muffet who sat on her tuffet, then didn’t get it into her head that the spider who sat down beside her needed her assistance in some way, and so she tore off to the basement, wherein she not only eviscerated the cat that had been dicking around with the spider’s web, but also managed to napalm the spider’s whole family, as well as drop the foundation and collapse the entire house, then pout and cry, the end.

T.C.: There is something wrong in your head.

N: [hiccup] Hmmm?

#PSA #be responsible #have your parrots spayed and neutered

I am tagging you only for laugh purposes, no obligation to do whatever, this does not deserve compliments, is trash. It’s funny trash, though.

@impandagrl  @castielhasthetardis  @waywardjoy  @jalove-wecallhimdean  @jame-sbarnes  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @amanda-teaches  @fanforfanatic  @salt-n-burn-em-all  @thisgingerlikescoffee  @cyrilconnelly  @rozadolphin  @theblackharrystyles   @carryonmycobaltangel  @ilsawasanacrobat  @klaineaholic  @helvonasche  @zepppie  @amionthetumbler  @tankcupcakes  @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @emlostinwonderland  @michellethetvaddict  @theoriginalvicki  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @copperseraphim  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @crowleylovesyou  @bumbleball13  @anticipate1003  

...and @kayteonline in case she still needs a laugh

* PS - YAASSSS somebody picked up on it, canon-driving, see what I did there?!?!?!! Mwah-ah-ahahahahahaha Imma do a post anyhow.

And..... and..... and you know what *else*? About the Mickey Dean thing? (🎵 ba-da-ba-ba-bah, I’m fixin’ it🎵)

Lookit, I’ve talked about band-aids for the finale HERE and HERE and HERE, but now lemme have a crack at just flipping it. Let’s just flip it entirely, see if it pumps up the volume, as it were, and I’ll even keep the Mickey Dean  possessing somebody* [ed: because wine, carry on] thing in there even though it was predictable. Because I’m a-feared this is shaping up to be Demon Dean, Part Two: The Wank Beneath My Wings (alt title - Redneck Neo: Twilight, Part Snooze), ‘cause it’s Dean’s body with some suspect issues brewin’, again. And he’s done run off. Again. Leaving Sam and Cas to (undoubtedly) go looking for him. Again.

So, picture it: Sicily, 1922. A young Sophia Petrillo walks in---- No, that’s... sorry, wrong story. But 1922, hey, sure. Picture it: Jersey, USA, looking suspiciously like Vancouver, 1922: Mickey Dean’s all up in some Prohibition nonsense, he’s rum running out of this swank bar called “Sammy’s”, he’s dressed to the nines, and Tom Hardy and Steve Buscemi walk in, and-----

Ha. Nah.

Here it is: We’ve done the whole Dean is an actual demon thing, so wouldn’t it have been a nice role-reversal to have Sam be the one to have the whole “you’re the engine, but I’m the driver” scenario? So let’s have Dean be the one that ends up with Jack-in-the-Blecchh and Lu-Lu at yon chapel, it follows since he’s the one who had the moment with the kid post-naptime. 

Back at bunktown, Sam’s all “Check it, Mickey: I know I’m not the ideal vessel, that Dean is, but I’m a hot second ‘cause DNA and shit. It’ll take. Trust. It’s also possible that I wanna stick it to Luci even more than you do. At minimum, we can agree he’s a garbage roommate.

Bonus? What I *am *is *his* ideal vessel - he only got to hitch a ride in me this one time because of coercion. Can you imagine how much it’s gonna throw him off his game to have me - not you, but me, with your mojo - bopping up in there, droppin’ serious wangs, and him knowing it’s because I chose to do it? I am MOTIVATED TO HAND HIM HIS ASS, you have NO IDEA.

Plus, here’s my resume, I’ve played host to an angel who needed some time to get his groove back before, though you may wanna know that I drove the motherfucker out when he didn’t pay his rent. I was also able to push through Luci’s control, and I tell you this because the whole puppy dog thing’s just my shtick, I’m a beast, I put demon blood in my smoothies and can mainline grace like rehab veteran. We’ll pick up on this whole apocalypto hard-on you’ve got later. Right now, let’s roll.”

Yes, that’s the exact dialogue. [whispers: I’m kidding]

We then get to see the Sam version of Demon Dean, is what I’m getting at. Let him do the leaving, after having Michael, as he starts to get his sea legs (wangs, gracejuice, whatevs) back, start being this insidious parasite, creeping into Sam over a handful of eps, being brutally honest a la Soulless Sam, particularly ripping Mary a new one over WHY THE FUCK WHEN YOU KNEW WHAT WAS COMING AND HAD A HUNTER’S KNOWLEDGE NOT WARD THE SHIT OUT OF THE HOUSE AND TATTOO DEMON REPELLENT THINGIES ON MINE AND DEAN’S ASSES AND AT LEAST *TRY* TO WASTE OL’ PISS EYES

[Yes, it is the hill I continue to die on, it is my Golgotha, I have *reams* of notes for my big dog story to deal with it, I’m right and you know it, come at me brah]

Is it re-hashing to a degree? Totes. But parallels blah blah biscuits and all that literary jazz. But it would’ve been sooooo satisfying, even though Luci ain’t dead - oh yeah, I had a thought on that, too - to have seen them battle royale it, and JP does a fine job in his role, but that sumbitch *shines* when he plays nasty assholes, I find his acting skills rise exponentially when they don’t have him being all sad sack puss-puss aw shucks. Let the man stretch his wings. LITERALLY.

They gotta scrub the writing outhouse and get the stink off the show but, as always, Dabb?

This post was sponsored by wine in a solo cup #not a sponsor     

#I fix scripts #Nash Plots don’t jam #Mickey Dean #there’s so many Happy Meal jokes #and so little time #I’ve already written y’all a season #I’m writing you another one #I’ll pimp it soon #gettin’ my marketing together #you’ll dig it

Lit Up: More Bell-Watcher Qs

A behind-the-scenes “Dear Nash” that has popped up from a handful of peeps, and to paraphrase/lump, the gist is - “Dear Nash: I liked The Bell-Watcher’s Daughter, I just feel like I’m missing something”. Then another lovely & I have been chatting about attacking it, roll the graves, dig into what may lie beneath, as it were. And hey, let’s do both.

So, I think I got you. See above, RE: Cliff’s Notes. Okay, sort-of. Does everyone know what those even are? There were also Spark Notes. A comparable digi-version I like is Shmoop. Anyway. They’re a little cheatsy-doodle, Lit profs tend to side-eye them, but only when they’re not used in the intended manner, which is just to get wheels turning.

Now, I cleaned up a couple things I thought had flow issue, but they were minor, so I welcome [specific] critique regarding legit muddiness on my end. One thing I do want to point out that I changed deliberately was under “Characters”, at the top. It now says “Reader -or- Female O.C.”, had it that way originally, changed my mind, shoulda left it alone, you’ll see why. 

If you get a wild hair, wanna look at the story like you’re breaking it down for an assignment [yeah, some of us find that fun, don’t judge us], here’s some Cliff-Spark-Shmoop noggin’ crankers after the jump. 

Pitre Pit

Alas, it was the only motel room left in town, a problem despite its convenient location next to the burial ground. Dean took a moment for a deep breath, preparing himself. The spirits were going to be a cakewalk compared to the pending conversation with his brother. 

*~* Imagination Sanitation + Other Satirical Sundry Master Post *~*

See Nash (actually) Write:

*~* Main Master List *~* Mobile Master List *~*

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