headcanon: the skills you learn in gym class will be useful someday

not

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The courtyard I stood in was sunny, with trees planted around the court in the center. A towering glass building enclosed me on all sides, the sun glinting off the shimmering windows. The court itself was new and unscuffed, with a net containing no more holes than customary. I stood on one side of the court, Arsemis on the other. He was holding a racket and a birdie. I was not.

A lifeguard chair sat to my left, and it was occupied by an all-too-familiar angel. Though the sunlight filtered through the trees with an odd, summery sort of beauty, the day was hot, and Casss, as I called her, was wearing a trench coat with the sleeves cut off to reveal her heavenly biceps. She fanned herself with a manila folder, squinting into the sun.

"She can't be our judge!" I cried out, throwing up my arms aggressively and glaring at Arsemis. "You're probably working with her. Angels and Denoms, y'know!"

"To not to be of the fear, Deanna. Castielle, to be like the other angels, is to be a reaaaal stickler for the rules and regulations," Arsemis drawled, drawing out the reaaaal for as long as he could. He punctuated his statement with a chuckle, and tossed his racket into the air, catching it effortlessly in one hand. "This to be fun."

"Oh, you're going down!" I spat at him, not really having full faith in myself. But I wasn't giving up, so I bit my thumb at him.

He flipped me off, not for the last time, and began taunting me. "Deanna to use archaic curse gestures! Deanna to bite her thumb at me! Deanna to be, as they to say in the old books, an idjit!" He made a fist, and stuck his racket where his middle finger would have been, had it been upright. He almost began yelling a variety of the most obscene words ever contrived by the human tongue at me, but Casss gave him a warning glance. She was still fanning herself threateningly with that manila folder.

"You ready to play, Arsemis?" I hissed.

"Hells to the yeah!" he exclaimed, brandishing his racket. I still didn't have one, so I stuck my hand out, hoping that Casss would throw one at me. She did not, because I soon realized that, somehow, I was already holding a racket. I didn't know how it had gotten there, and I didn't care.

Arsemis served first. He swung his racket, sending the birdie flying over the net. I struck back, a little too hard. The small cork-and-feather object went soaring out of bounds, shattering a pane of glass.

"How did you to even to do that?!" Arsemis stammered.

"Not of import," Castielle shrugged, loosening her tie against the heat. "Arsemis one, Deanna zero."

We kept playing for what seemed like hours. For some reason, I just couldn't seem to score. But then I had a chance. Arsemis hit the birdie. I swung up at it. It was right in my range.

The birdie connected with my racket with just the right amount of force, and slammed into the ground right in front of Arsemis's waiting feet. But I had jumped.

That had been a very bad idea.

I went crashing to the ground, my racket flying out of my hands as my ankle snapped against the hard floor. "CRAP!" I shouted melodramatically, punching the ground. That just hurt my wrist. I fell over, trying very hard not to cry-laugh from the pain. It was stupid. Ridiculous. I was great at badminton, yet somehow I was twenty - wait, now nineteen points behind on the second game in the match.

And I was pretty sure my ankle was broken.

I was going to lose. I was going to lose, and my friends and family were going to die, and Arsemis would take me straight down to Hell to be his reluctant queen. And, knowing Samantha, I'd never see her again. She would go to Heaven. It seemed logical. And I would be in Hell.

At least I wouldn't be burning.

It was already hot enough up here.

I pulled myself to my feet, favoring my ankle and wrist. It was going to be hard to hit anything with only one functioning wrist, but I was going to try. I glanced over at Castielle and saw her staring at me with judgement in her eyes, writing absentmindedly in the pages clipped into her folder.

"You're no help," I hissed at her. She said nothing.

So I served.

It didn't go well. I wasn't expecting it to.

It was my last possible point. My last possible chance at saving everyone I loved.

And I'd blown it. Big time.

"YES! I TO WIN!" Arsemis shouted, dancing around the court with his badminton racket as a partner. "I TO WIN! AND DEANNA TO BE MY QUEEN! AND I TO KILL SAMANTHA, AND FOURCHETTE, AND TAMMY, AND CHAD, AND BOBB-Z, AND ARNOLD, AND GRETEL EVEN THOUGH SHE ALREADY TO BE DEAD, AND THE ENTIRETY OF THE HUNTERS DAILY, AND THE ENTIRETY OF LUCKY RABBIT'S FOOT SALOON, AND THE BARTENDER MAN WHOSE NAME I TO NOT BE KNOWING AT OF THE TIME, AND DESTIELLE, AND ALEXA, AND ALLLLLL OF THEM, ALL THE HUMANS, ALL THE ANELGS, ALL THE DEMONS, GOD, AMARA, SAM, DEAN, CAS, I TO NOT CARE IF THEY ARE TO BE FICTIONAL, I TO KILL THE WHOOOOLE WORLD! I TO KILL CARVER EDLUND AND CHUCK SHURLEY! I TO KILL WILL! I TO KILL THE ANGELS! EVEN YOU, CASTIELLE! I TO KILL THEM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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Tammy lounged on a poolside chair at the Motel A Go Go pool, her bright red sunglasses and Taylor Swift Brand firetruck red lipstick on, despite the fact that the pool was not only indoors but also completely empty. One of those fancy water-squirting mushrooms from the kids' pool was still running, casting a faint rainbow in the evening light. The golden hour, Tammy thought to herself. She'd taken four years of photography in high school, but she'd never used her skills. She'd been too busy with politics and paper sales to take any pictures.

"Hey, Tammy!" a deep yet distinctly feminine voice called against the sound of the pool door swinging open. Samantha Winchester burst into the room, wearing a one-piece swimsuit and carrying a towel and a boombox.

"Samantha. What's cracking, my dudette?"

"You're never going to be cool with the kids," Samantha said bluntly.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I'm just worried about Deanna. I called her, like, five times and she hasn't answered."

"She's probably with that Sue kid. Doing things. Tell her to get protection."

"Oh, I'm sure she has her gun with her," Samantha said, entirely missing the point. She spread out her towel on the chair next to Tammy's, sat down, and turned on her boombox.

"Are you trying to tan?" Tammy asked her, over the loud crooning of Sarah McLachlan.

"No. I go to crappy motel pools when I'm stressed," Samantha grunted.

"The Motel A Go Go pool is hardly crappy!" Tammy counterattacked defensively.

"All motel pools are crappy, Tammy, that's just the way the cookie crumbles," sassed the younger-by-four-minutes-and-four-seconds Winchester sister.

"I'll shut up and let you listen to Sarah McLachlan, then," Tammy grumbled, turning on her side. "Are you actually going to swim or are you just going to sit there?"

Samantha didn't answer. She was too busy singing along.

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a/n hi! I know Saturday is the big 100 days of LC anniversary, but my brother's taking me camping. I'm not gonna have any wifi. None. I know it sucks, but I'll do something special for you guys next Thursday. It'll be awesome! We'll have some fun reveals, some unexpected twists and turns, maybe even a bigger reference/crossover than usual! I'm gonna miss you guys while I'm out in the wilderness, doing wilderness things, but I'll see y'all before you even know I'm gone!

Love y'all!

Chrysti