Illtaglater Stories

" it won't resonate in our minds , i'm not disrespecting what was left behind , just pleading that 'it' does not get glorified , maybe we swap out what it is that we hold so high , find your grandparents or someone of age , pay some respects to the path that they paved , to life , they were dedicated , now , that should be celebrated " | " neon gravestones " , twenty one pilots this is a warriors graphics shop , where you can order warriors graphics , and occasionally claim free graphics . please come check it out?

'Huh. Perseus Jackson. Poor bastard can't be more than 20. Too young for this crap. But what about him Sammy?' 'Well, we're not doing any good just sitting around here. We could use another job.' 'What and you think this is our kind of gig? It's just a messed up kid man.' Sam clicked on the profile and cleared his throat. 'I thought so too, but listen to this.' ... 'So. Where were they all last seen?' Sam rummaged through some hastily written notes. ' Uh, Jackson and Chase were spotted by a civilian at a marina on Montauk Lake...6 days ago.' 'A couple days' drive. Meet Baby outside in an hour?' Dean asked, standing up and brushing non-existent dust from his jeans. Sam blinked. 'Oh. You wanna leave like now? Alright, let's go then.' He watched Dean walk away and sighed. The man was struggling. Between Castiel's absence, and a lack of hunting, he'd been practically twitching for the last two weeks. Hopefully a case would bring him back, especially this one. If there were two things that Dean excelled at, they were hunting, and becoming a temporary father figure to wayward kids.