#we should have also gotten Michael Dean

[trekkiehood]

I'm still so bitter that Dean didn't say yes to Michael in season 5

[wolfgiselle]

Cage Wi-fi

"Can I ask, once again, how it's even possible we get wi-fi down here?"

Adam knew he was beating a dead horse, at this point, by getting worked up over this, but he was only human. Even in these trying times of Angels and Demons—of cages in Hell that were supposed to hold the literal Devil but, for some reason, also currently held him and the Archangel Michael—he needed things to make sense. Nothing had been going as it should lately. Not for a long time. Yet, here he was, trying to find logic where it seemed none existed.

"I assume the computer and its 'wi-fi' are here for entertainment purposes. There's not much else to do down here," Michael murmured. His face was practically hidden behind the screen. It had been for the last few days. At least, Adam thought it was days (Hell time was different, Cage time worse). Adam hoped Michael wasn't becoming addicted—that was all they needed—but there wasn't anything he could do to get it away from him.

Lucifer, at least, seemed to find Michael's newfound fascination and obsession amusing. "The demons snuck one down. I enjoyed the machine last I used it, so I, uh…let's go with 'asked' them to bring one down."

Adam should've guessed Lucifer was behind this. Even when he searched his brain, he couldn't figure out how a simple laptop could cause much, if any, damage. The whole situation seemed harmless. It was because Lucifer was the one who wanted it that he couldn't help but be suspicious.

His relationship with the Devil was mostly cordial. Michael had made it clear early on his vessel was off-limits when it came to torture or harassment. But the warning had ended up being unnecessary. Lucifer had, at first, focused all of his attention on his own vessel, Sam.

Adam had felt a bit bad then that Sam was experiencing such a thing while Adam was getting off scot-free. But, as he'd understood it, it was Sam's fault they were down there. Sam had decided to jump and take Lucifer with him—dragging him and Michael along for the ride. For such reasons, Adam also couldn't help but feel a little vindictive himself after all was said and done. All Adam had wanted was to see his mother and help save the world.

Lucifer did torture Sam for a while, but he must've gotten bored or finally calmed down because one day—for no discernable reason—he stopped. Sam didn't react as though he'd stopped, though. Instead, he kept screaming and tearing into himself, yelling words like "Stop!" or "No!" even though Lucifer was no longer touching him, basically torturing himself.

It almost made him relieved for Sam's sake (as well as his own) when, not long after, they saw Castiel appear. He shot into the cage with as little subtlety as a flaming meteor to snatch him, somehow managing to grab Sam's body but fly off, leaving his soul behind. He hadn't even spared a glance for Adam, despite Michael's (very much appreciated) attempt to get his attention and remind him.

The results of Sam existing in the cage without his body were a trial of their own. If Sam had seemed off or unhinged before, he was an absolute basket-case now. Lucifer even became desperate enough to try and calm him down, to no avail.

Then, once again, they had a visitor. This time 'Death' of all things. (And had Adam mentioned before he wasn't cut out for this?) While Adam was busy trying to fathom the idea of Death having a physical manifestation—on top of still trying to come to terms with Angels, Demons, and… well, everything else he'd ever thought was fantasy being real—Death retrieved Sam's soul.

Death, at least, was polite enough to acknowledge them. Adam included.

"I'm sorry, but the deal was only for one. Dean made his choice," he had said to him.

He'd immediately understood. It hurt, but he wasn't surprised. Their relationship had been short and brief, and for all they'd gone on about family and tried to appeal to him with that argument, he'd meant what he said when they first met. His mom was his family. She was the one he'd been doing all this for.

After Sam was gone, Adam worried Lucifer would get bored and come after him. After a while of showing no such inclination, though, Adam relaxed.

Adam was also surprised when Michael and Lucifer didn't fight each other. He'd been under the impression that had been the whole point of the Apocalypse. Michael had pointed out that neither could kill the other as long as they were down here. The cage kept whatever was in it alive. Fighting would be an exercise in futility.

The two of them still argued. But it was more like your average brotherly back-and-forth (if you considered disagreements over whether God would return and save them, or whether humans deserved to live or were insignificant ants that polluted and destroyed all God's other creations average).

Adam was doing okay. He figured for a guy stuck in Hell (possibly for all eternity), he was holding together pretty well. There was just some confusion over the computer.

"If we can get a signal down here, could we send messages to Earth?" Adam asked.

"And who were you planning on sending messages to?" Lucifer drawled, his human manifestation sprawled out against one of the corner cage walls. That was another thing that confused Adam. This wasn't their 'true' form he was seeing.

When Michael first appeared to him, he had been pure light. His presence had been so bright and heavy it'd felt both like staring directly at the sun and, somehow, being surrounded by it. Michael had later told him it was a miracle he'd been able to look upon him at all. Apparently, it was common for people to burn their eyes out when directly looking at them outside of a vessel. The Winchester blood that'd made it possible for him to be a vessel for Michael period must have saved him.

This meant he'd seen Michael before and had at least an idea of what an Angel could look like through human eyes. He also thought he'd caught a few glimpses of Lucifer when he was still torturing Sam. But he wasn't sure if what he'd seen was accurate after so long. Or if what he'd seen at the time had been distorted by Michael back then, trying to keep him coddled up within his…well, wings in an attempt to keep the awful things happening in front of him from view. As if not seeing Sam's torture made him any less aware of it happening. In some ways, the not seeing, the not knowing, was worse.

Lucifer's image—if his sneaked looks had been accurate—gave off the opposite impression of Michael's. If Michael was the sun, then the Devil was a black and oily hole, primed and ready to suck off or destroy any of the light that wandered near.

Adam wondered if Lucifer stayed in this humanoid form lately (despite his proclaimed hatred for the species) because he hated what had become of his original form or if it would be presumptuous of him to believe he chose to look that way to ease any discomfort Adam might've once shown at his true but now contaminated, visage.

Surely, the Devil would prefer for him to be uncomfortable? No matter how well they seemed to get along, it made little sense for Lucifer to play nice with the vessel of the brother he'd set out to kill. He'd never question such things out loud, though. Or admit to his confusion regarding the…Angel? Archangel? Devil…? Oh—whatever classification he considered himself now. Adam figured as long as he wasn't getting tortured, the status quo was best kept as it was.

"I don't really have anyone to message," he replied, remembering Lucifer's question after way too long a pause.

"Not even the Winchesters? They're your family, after all." Lucifer said it with little inflection, not at all as if he was intending mockery. But Lucifer knew he hated to be reminded of his blood ties to the brothers and how little such a tie had come to mean. Sometimes, Adam thought Lucifer missed Sam, and that was why he always brought them up when they were no longer a necessary topic of conversation.

"You know, very well, I wouldn't wanna talk to them, even if I could. They already know I'm down here. What else am I gonna say to 'em? 'Hey guys, it's your brother—you know, Adam? The guy you left in Hell? Yeah, remember him? That's me.' Nope—not at all interested in having that conversation. I was speaking in hypotheticals. Like, does social media work down here? Could we actually, like… set up a Facebook page or write a blog and call it "The Hell-Cage Experience? That would probably get a lot of page views even if nobody took it seriously."

"Yeah…I didn't understand half of what you said right there, but the computer should be capable of everything it was when it was on Earth. Of course, if you order something, we're obviously not getting it. I learned that lots of humans used that machine or ones like it to acquire food."

"Yeah." Adam brushed his hand through his hair, mentally shaking his head again at the added absurdity to this already mind-breaking situation. What was his life that he was having a casual conversation about computer usage with the Devil? In literal Hell? Adam needed to get over this. He was starting to sound like a broken record.

Music suddenly started playing from the computer for the first time since the device had appeared. Although Michael's human manifestation (an almost duplicate of himself with an added Angel aura) didn't jump or display any sign of startlement, the place where his wings would be visual when displayed distorted and, for a moment, the room became slightly breezy, portraying the Angelic version of the same thing.

Adam didn't recognize the song but could admit it was catchy. What was Michael even watching? He could admit to being a little jealous that he didn't have his own computer down here to whittle the time away—If Lucifer was going to insist on ignoring the laws of reality and physics by having a working computer down here, couldn't he have at least gotten them all one? Why was Lucifer even letting Michael hoard the thing in the first place if Lucifer had it brought here for himself? No way was he about to ask, though. Not for his own computer or about whatever his Angel companion was watching.

Lucifer had no such compunctions, of course. In fact, looking at that human face, which showed his emotions maybe a little too well, Adam would say the Devil looked a little too much like the cat that had captured the canary but wanted to play more with it before he ate it. Adam was instantly suspicious.

"Sooo…what's that you're looking at, Michael?" Lucifer asked, sounding almost like he already knew and just wanted to hear the answer aloud. The whole thing made the human nervous, and he wasn't even sure why.

Adam glanced back at Michael. He didn't seem horrified, angry, or any other emotion the human might've expected if some joke or prank had been pulled on him like he had every other time Lucifer had gotten the better of him while down here. In fact, if he had to guess based on familiarity with his own facial expressions, he would say Michael looked curious.

"It appears to be a live performance of the Winchester Gospel," Michael said. As if that simple sentence alone was self-explanatory.

"A live performance of…what?" Why were the Winchesters being mentioned again? And by Michael of all people. His Archangel roommate usually agreed with Adam that it was best they weren't discussed. The topic had negative connotations for them all. It only led to bad moods and tension.

Suddenly unable to hold back his own curiosity, Adam deduced that it was safe enough to leave his claimed corner of the cage to approach. It was only Michael, after all. He'd already spent a lot of time cuddled up within his wings. He'd felt what it was like to have that being inside him: for some moments, what it was like to share all thoughts and feelings with another without walls separating their personhood. There might as well be no more boundaries left between them to break.

Once he was practically on top of Michael—trying to get a good look at the screen he'd become affixed to—the Archangel, still perfectly attuned to him and his needs from their joining, moved the computer from his lap to in front of him and bundled him into the cleared space. Now, nothing stopped him from getting a good view of the computer. He was a lot more comfortable, too.

It only took him a couple of minutes to register what he was seeing. An 'understanding' of what he'd seen didn't end up following close behind.

There on the screen, clear as day, were Sam and Dean. At least he was pretty sure it was Sam and Dean. If not, these people were dead wringers, and…. wait, no…that was their Impala. It was definitely them.

"What the fuck am I even watching right now?"

"Weren't you listening? Michael said it was a live performance of the Winchester Gospel."

Adam jumped slightly at hearing Lucifer's voice suddenly coming from behind him. He hadn't even noticed him move. He'd been too distracted by the video—whatever it was supposed to be. Michael rested his cheek on his forehead and held him tighter as if trying to offer comfort.

"Yes, I heard him," Adam answered, trying not to sound too smart or snappish (just because Lucifer had, so far, respected Michael's demand to leave him alone, that didn't mean he was going to push it by being purposefully rude) "I just don't know what you mean by Winchester Gospel. Do you mean the prophecy that said they were supposed to be your vessels for the Apocalypse? What does a…, um, TV show?—with them in it—have to do with that?"

"The Winchester Gospel isn't the prophecy, exactly. Not in the way that you're thinking, anyway. But I guess you could call it that since it was written by a prophet."

"Prophet?" That was the first he'd heard about them. Adam supposed he shouldn't be surprised that prophets were real, too, since it seemed pretty much every other imaginary thing had turned out to be.

"Prophets are humans born with the ability to read and understand God's word. The Winchester Gospel was the written version of the Winchester's story leading up to the Apocalypse. A prophet would have been able to see it himself for documentation purposes; think of a modern-age Bible with the brothers smack-dab at the center of it."

Adam tried to take in this information while being distracted by the scene of a horrified Sam screaming up at his girlfriend as she burned to death pinned to the ceiling.

Yikes.

He wasn't particularly fond of either Winchester right now, but they did get the shitty end of the stick, didn't they? The people around them, or in any way connected to them, seemed to die in rather gruesome ways.

"Wait," he said, realizing something. "If it's like a new-age Bible written by a human, does that mean it's available for anybody to read the same way the actual Bible is? And if it's about the Winchesters and the Apocalypse, we're all in it, too, right? Even me?"

"I am soooo glad you asked," Lucifer replied. It didn't escape Adam's notice that he sounded practically giddy. He moved to where Adam could see him, shooting him a wide smile (frightening) before he huddled beside them and took control of the computer.

Lucifer exited the TV show—which had continued on to another episode—with a casual, "We can watch the rest of that later," and typed something into the Google search bar. Seeming to find what he was looking for with a satisfied "ah, ha," Lucifer turned the computer back around. "See for yourself."

Adam had been briefly distracted by wondering why Michael hadn't fought for the computer when Lucifer grabbed it but focused again as soon as he processed what he was looking at.

"What on Earth? Are you fucking serious!?"

"Well, we're certainly not on Earth anymore…" Lucifer started, but Adam wasn't listening.

The website the Devil had switched to seemed to be some sorta fan-made page. The background was all black, the continuing image of pentagrams a recurring theme. There was a banner with a picture of the Impala in it and a stylized font spelling out the word 'Supernatural' over the top of it.

There appeared to be books for sale on the site with the same series title. Was this supposed to be the Winchester Gospel? These books looked like cheap drugstore romance-novel-trash… Much like the kind Adam's mother would buy and sneak into the cart and then hide under her mattress when they got home. They were one of the only splurges she made for herself. Kate Milligan never realized that her son snuck into her room when she wasn't home (often) to read those secret books. It was the closest sometimes Adam could get to porn before he'd had his own computer at home. These books couldn't be as important as the Bible: Not looking like this.

He reached out and scrolled over to an icon titled 'characters,' determined to answer his question on whether he was included in this trash.

Did he even want to be?

No, not really.

But the idea of being forgotten, not just by the people who'd claimed him as family but by the entire world, instilled a sudden existential dread.

It took scrolling through tons of names he didn't even recognize to finally find his own, and it was with a strange mixture of relief and trepidation that he clicked on it.

A page with a picture of himself and some general information popped up—which was weird enough, but he could get over it; he was most disturbed by the info section and its accuracy despite the brevity.

"Apparently, I'm only in about four episodes of this show and two books. But one of my main appearances doesn't count because it was a ghoul pretending to be me, and the other doesn't because it was Michael. That's bullshit!"

Adam wasn't even sure why he was mad. It's not like he wanted people to be able to watch his life unfold. As he continued to look through his character page, though, he couldn't help but feel robbed—or like he was being made a mockery of somehow.

"Yawn. This is getting boring now."

Lucifer took control of the computer back, and Adam let him, unsure where else to go and not sure he even wanted to see more. He had the sneaking suspicion that being bombarded with this crap had been Lucifer's intent all along and that he and Michael were just along for the ride. 'Why' Lucifer wanted to watch, read, or interact with any of this was beyond him. Maybe he just wanted to watch himself, but Adam didn't think it would be fun to watch the events of their last year or so re-enacted when it was already such a misery experiencing them.

"It'd take forever to read through these books or watch the show. I'm sure none of us want to spend all our time staring at Sam and Dean's ugly mugs, no matter how limitless it currently is. Sooo…I say we check out some of this fan content first. Music videos, fanfiction, blogs, pairings: I don't even know some of these terms, but they all sound interesting. Humans come up with some of the most depraved—"

"Fanfiction!?" Adam practically yelped, interrupting what was sure to be another 'humans suck' rant from Lucifer he wasn't quite in the mood to withstand. Adam hadn't even given a thought to fanfiction. An old friend of his had been obsessed with Star Trek to near insanity and had introduced him to the concept by forcing him to read a story they'd written using the show's characters. Adam had learned a lot about his friend that day, and he'd never been able to watch an episode of Star Trek with a clean mind again. It had made his mother's erotica seem like child's play.

"Well, that's an interesting reaction," was all Lucifer had to say. Damn it! He should've controlled himself better. Adam could already see the cursor heading towards that 'cursed' word.

"Wait! You really don't want to…see any of that…" Adam trailed off, seeing Lucifer was no longer paying attention to him. Michael's eyes were still glued to the computer, and Adam wondered if he'd glanced away from it even once since it'd appeared down here.

"So 'fanfiction' is 'fan' stories written by fans about certain characters and events. I don't see the problem here. What wouldn't I want to see?"

"Weren't you just saying, 'Humans come up with some of the most depraved—' and so on? You telling me you can't imagine what could be terrible about stories possibly written about 'our' lives?"

Adam knew he shouldn't be saying this even as it came out of his mouth. It'd be smarter to let Lucifer think the topic is dull. Maybe part of him wanted Lucifer to suffer what he'd once had to endure. Then again, the Devil had a strange sense of humor. He was just as likely to find the whole thing amusing. What the fuck did Adam know? He'd almost suspect torturing him, and Michael, with fanfiction, was actually part of his motive here if it weren't for his seemingly ignorant confusion on the topic. If Adam had learned anything, it was that Lucifer was manipulative. But he never lied.

"Depraved?" Lucifer asked with new interest, his face inching closer to the screen.

Yeah.

He wasn't faking that.

Adam resigned himself to the inevitable and braced for impact. Being a minor 'character' might be his only saving grace here.

"I wouldn't get too excited. Don't say I didn't warn you when you find something you don't like," Adam warned. Lucifer getting pissed off would benefit none of them.

"Oh, I see. So, this is where pairings come into play. I wonder…"

Adam caught Lucifer's glance at him out of the corner of his eye and the following smirk. So much for that 'saving grace'. He was clearly Lucifer's first target.

"You were so upset about not having many appearances. About being the unimportant brother—the spare—even here."

"Brother—" Michael finally chipped in again, and Adam recognized his warning tone. Lucifer sure liked to kick below the belt and, not so surprisingly, play with fire.

Adam tried to control his face enough so his scowl wasn't obvious, but had a feeling he'd failed spectacularly. He snuggled further into Michael's arms—his only comfort down here—and felt his body relax when the Angel squeezed him even tighter.

Thankfully, Lucifer only rolled his eyes and mumbled what Adam was sure was 'so sensitive' before continuing with his clicking, undeterred.

"Well, look at that! Most of the 'fanfiction' here involves you and Michael in a sexual or romantic relationship. Wow, big brother! Never thought I'd see you degrade yourself this way. Even if it's only in a piece of fiction written by humans."

Michael's posture straightened, and he could almost imagine the look of contempt he'd be sending Lucifer even with his back to him. Adam rubbed the Angel's arm, attempting to return comfort and calm.

"Not that I can blame the humans for speculating about how you two act. You're way too soft on your vessel, Michael. You might as well glue him to your side and be done with it."

"If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it."

Lucifer hummed and continued messing with the computer.

"Here's an interesting summary: 'Michael has a boner but doesn't know what to do with it. Adam teaches him one of the pleasures of being human.'"

Adam cringes but isn't surprised. Yeah, that was to be expected. Adam supposed it also made sense that any fan-made material would focus on him in conjunction with Michael. He was the 'character' he'd interacted with the most. He'd literally been inside him (yes, he could grasp the erotic implications).

Adam snuck a look at Michael, relieved to see he looked more confused than angry. He thought about what he wanted to say.

"You realize you've probably been paired up with everybody at least once yourself, right? You're too important. You probably had plenty of 'screen time' or 'page-time,' or whatever the fuck we're going with here."

"And why should it bother me what humans write about me?"

"Well, as you've probably gathered, most of it is porn. Here, let me see the computer for a minute?"

Lucifer arched an eyebrow at him but pushed it over. Adam was clearly being humored; he hoped he could find what he had in mind.

It was easier than it should've been to navigate the website. And it took less time than it should've to find something inflammatory.

"Look at this," Adam said, passing the computer back. Adam took a perverse amount of pleasure in the blank expression that came over Lucifer's face as he realized what he was reading. Adam might not agree with most of Lucifer's anti-human dogma. But he could get behind his belief in their depravity. The human imagination could be downright vile.

"Did you want to read the summary of that one out loud? Or maybe you'd like to check out the story itself." Adam hoped Lucifer didn't call his bluff and actually attempt to read what he'd found. Adam had no desire to hear such things and was sure Michael would find it equally traumatizing. It might even have Michael agreeing with Lucifer about humans being disgusting and all deserving to die. Now that he was thinking about it… showing Lucifer such a thing and daring to taunt him might not have been such a good idea.

"We're moving on to something else. There's nothing of value to see here," Lucifer growled. His hands were clenched, and his eyes glowed a burning red. If Lucifer had had laser vision, the computer would be a smoking, charred pile of unworkable parts.

Adam relaxed.

Lucifer was clearly pissed, but it wasn't at him.

"How about some videos, or… Oh, here's a fan song."

The look on Lucifer's face now scared Adam. More than the one he'd given the computer after reading the summary of the story that ‘must not be named or explained.'

A tune started up, and Adam frowned at the almost immediate mention of Sam and Dean. Adam wasn't sure what he was supposed to be waiting for. Lucifer was watching him with what could only be anticipation. It was clearly an Apocalypse song, and he could only assume he'd be getting a mention. It was nearing the chorus when he heard the first hint of himself: a mention of the writers forgetting someone. He just knew that had to mean him.

And then he heard the actual chorus.

"We are never ever saving Adam ever!? Really?"

Someone had written an actual song about how forgettable he was. Sam and Dean's perspective added extra sting to already painful mockery. Was this all he was to anyone who knew his story? An unremarkable, unimportant joke.

It was one thing for Lucifer to tease him: Lucifer was just being Lucifer. And this was obviously his revenge for managing to make him uncomfortable. It was a separate issue to know his fellow humans could think so little of him when he'd only ever tried his best to be respectable. When he'd been willing to give his body over to do what he'd believed to be right. When he'd only wanted to see his mother and now might never be reunited with her again.

Lucifer smiled at his reaction. But Michael, who'd always been so unnaturally attuned to his emotional state, straightened up. He flared his wings in a way that made his presence seem towering and finally put in his two cents.

"While I'm not averse to studying the Gospel—as it may have answers to our current predicament and shine a light on what has been happening among the host since I have been gone—I have to protest this obvious targeting of Adam for your sick entertainment. I've told you time again that my vessel is off limits."

"And you haven't seen me lay a finger on him. Have you?" Lucifer sneered. Adam wondered if this would escalate into another 'bitch-fight-argument.' (Man, was he glad Michael wasn't currently paying attention to his thoughts.) Experiencing more of this Winchester-based crap didn't appeal to him in the slightest: Not with how he'd been depicted. He wasn't much in the mood for listening to them go back and forth, either, for however long they'd decide to have a go.

"Can't we just decide on something that won't make any of us angry? Maybe get started on that learning Michael mentioned. Because he had a point, you know? There's a good chance we could learn about what's been happening while we've been down here. It hardly benefits us to be uninformed."

Some of Michael's tenseness relaxed, and a slight breeze from his wings told Adam they'd also been put away. Adam turned to look at Lucifer again.

"We could get info on what's been happening in Hell too." Adam's careful not to say what he's actually thinking: that Lucifer could see Sam again and learn how he's doing. Lucifer's obsession was one best not spoken of; he'd deny it anyway.

Both Angels agreed with Adam with only a little grumbling and a couple murmured insults from Lucifer that Adam pretended not to hear. Lucifer was just upset they'd managed to ruin his fun.

Now that they had a plan, they just needed to put it into motion. Adam reached towards the computer again slowly, wondering if Lucifer would put up a fight about handing it over, but he shoved it at him instantly. Adam guessed Lucifer didn't want to have to put in the work if he couldn't fuck with them anymore. Adam wasn't about to complain.

Adam settled the computer into a position far enough from him so Lucifer could still see the screen. It'd been paused on the YouTube video for the song he'd been so hurt by. With a quick type of 'Supernatural mvs' in the search bar, it directed him to other options. Lots of options! Man, this show was popular. He hardly knew where to start.

Adam clicked on a couple random vids but got nothing out of them beyond further confirmation of Sam and Dean's life sucking, their codependent relationship, and the strange homoerotic tension between Castiel and Dean which the fans not only noticed but seemingly loved.

"Well, those weren't very helpful. Why don't we look up some videos focusing on the Angels."

Adam did so, and this time hit paydirt. These videos focused a lot more on the Angels and what they'd been up to. Some of it was hard for him to follow without the context, but he was focusing on trying to absorb everything until—

"You killed Gabriel?" Michael didn't yell, but his voice seemed to boom and almost shake the cage from being so powerful. The grip Michael still had around him was equally strong. Adam was grateful he couldn't actually die down here. And that he didn't need to breathe. Otherwise, the hold would have already suffocated him. Adam tried to pay attention to what Michael was actually saying.

Gabriel?

Right, Gabriel.

Apparently, Lucifer had killed him.

The video was still going, but nobody was paying it any mind. He reached a hand out to pause it, trying not to attract the attention of either of them. Michael was angrier than Adam had ever seen him. Adam trusted Michael to not want to hurt him, but that didn't mean he couldn't end up collateral damage. His ribs could attest to that.

Would this be the inciting incident? The thing to finally turn them to violence? Adam supposed Lucifer's response might be the determining factor.

Lucifer looked surprised. Adam wondered if he'd forgotten that he'd killed Gabriel or if he simply assumed nobody would ever find out.

"It wasn't Gabriel's place to interfere. He helped Sam and Dean get away, kept waving his Angel Blade around in my face, and seemed very protective of the humans, above all else. He'd clearly been down on Earth too long and became too accustomed to their ways. What else would you have had me do?"

"Maybe not kill your brother. You were always Gabriel's favorite: The only one to enjoy his pranks. The only one who could understand his jokes. You taught him to fly. Even during our fights, he never once took sides. He had to know you were in the wrong, but his love and worship for you prevented him from ever truly standing against you. Were you truly incapable of subduing him long enough for you to get away? You couldn't appeal to him… or talk him down—someone who once loved you that much?"

Lucifer, for once, appeared lost for words. (Talk about family drama. And he thought his issues with his own were bad.) Adam suddenly had a lot of questions he'd never thought to ask: What happened to an Angel when they died? Did they stop existing? Did they have their own afterlife? Was it better than here? He supposed it had to be.

There was still no answer from Lucifer. Adam knew better than to dare ask any of his questions now. His mouth would stay firmly shut while letting them sort this out. No way was he getting in the middle of this.

"Your silence might as well be an admission of guilt." Michael was trying his best to sound all-commanding and unemotional. The bond between him and Adam that let Michael perceive what he was feeling, however, worked both ways. Right now, he was feeling a grief Adam hadn't yet felt from him before. Not even their fall into the cage had elicited such an emotional response; he'd mostly just been angry then.

"Like you're squeaky clean being Dad's loyal soldier. You'd have killed him yourself if it'd been an order from God. Just like you threw me down here on his orders. You're the last person who'd have any right to lecture me on betrayal: on family loyalty." Lucifer sneered again as he practically spat the words.

Michael glowered and shot right back: "Your actions led to me striking you down—not just God. If you'd just listened—"

"—Here we go again: 'If you'd only just listened and followed orders like every other Angel, we wouldn't be in this situation right now. If you'd only just listened and been a good puppet soldier, none of this would've happened,'" Lucifer mocked with a roll of his eyes. "Don't take any accountability for your own mistakes. The 'Great and Powerful Archangel Michael' doesn't make mistakes. He's just Daddy's perfect boy. Well, it doesn't seem like he's coming down here to rescue you, does it? God has abandoned you too! Despite your enduring loyalty and stupidity."

"Faith is not stupid," Michael retorted. "And must you insist on talking poorly of our father?"

"He's the reason we're both down here, Mikey. The reason we're all down here. Apparently, he doesn't care about your vessel, either—despite insisting we prioritize these humans above all else. What excuse can you even give for that, huh? Are we meant to believe that he just… what? Didn't notice our Apocalypse: Didn't notice one of his Archangels dying and another falling into the cage? 'He who supposedly sees all'? What's more likely? That he hasn't realized or doesn't care? About any of us."

Adam didn't much appreciate being brought up in this conversation, especially when said conversation was a reminder that nobody seemed to care that he was here (aka: In Hell). Secretly, though, while he'd never tell Michael, he agreed somewhat with Lucifer; God didn't seem invested in any of them. One of the things that had brought him closer to Michael—that had made him sympathetic—had been his…well, 'toxic' relationship with his father. Even easier to empathize with was Lucifer's hatred towards that same father due to a disillusionment Michael had yet to overcome.

"We're down here to pay penance," Michael shot back in defense. "Father is hardly going to reward failure."

"Well, he certainly doesn't reward loyalty. What's your human paying penance for? What did he theoretically do wrong in this scenario? He was just doing what he thought was right, wasn't he? Doing what you and the other Angels told him to?"

Michael seemed to struggle with this, and Adam tried peaking up at him to see if he could catch his expression. Adam was curious what excuse he'd come up with for this one, if any; he wouldn't even be mad at the insinuation that Adam could've done something deserving of spending an eternity down here when he'd managed to make it into Heaven before.

Michael's arms clenched around him again, but softer this time and without the anger. Adam didn't manage to get anything from his expression (Adam admitted to stupidity in hindsight; Michael's face was hardly a display of emotion, and there was no reason for this time to be any different), but Michael let out an almost audible sigh. His Archangel's emotions, unlike the rest of him, were anything but tame. Adam could feel the conflict and confusion as strongly as if they were his own.

Lucifer seemed to grasp from Michael's sudden silence that he'd scored his first point in this back-and-forth because he smirked, suddenly confident from this small but important victory. At any other time, Adam might have been amused and grateful that Lucifer was getting through to Michael on the whole 'God issue.' Right now, though, Lucifer trying to use this to distract from him having killed their brother and then throwing Adam into the argument made Adam furious.

'Screw it,' Adam thought, 'I'm done shutting up.'

"Look, obviously, none of us are having the time of our lives down here, but it doesn't really do to dwell on the whys and hows. We have to make the best of our situation while still being ready to take any chances that turn up to get out of here. This, right here—" Adam shook the laptop to remind them both that it was there. "—this is the closest we've gotten; the only information we have available."

Lucifer stared at him. He could sense he had Michael's attention as well.

"Michael's got a right to be mad. His brother's dead, and he's only just found out. Lucifer, you have a right to be mad too. About being stuck here again, I mean. But that doesn't mean you have to take it out on Michael since it wasn't even his fault this time. You told me, yourself, that fighting down here's pointless, so maybe stop trying to instigate one." Adam glared at Lucifer, trying to look braver than he actually felt. "And stop using me to antagonize Michael. It's hardly very creative of you."

"Your vessel's got bite, Michael. Real Winchester trait."

"Milligan," Adam corrected in further irritation. "Can we please just—" Adam shook the computer again in frustration. "We were really getting somewhere. Do you two wanna keep fighting about something neither of you can do anything about, or do you want to get educated? Cause I'm telling you, right now, if it turns out there was some way outta here we didn't know about that this did and we miss it, I'll find a way to make the both of you regret it…" Adam took another look at the both of them as they stared at him—Lucifer with an arched brow and Michael curiously—and felt his temporary bravery abandon him.

"…somehow," he muttered in a much weaker, lower voice.

For some reason, his outburst seemed to kick the two of them into gear. Michael suddenly arranged the laptop and the both of them so he had better access to the controls while still having a firm grip on him. Adam wondered if it was a good idea for Michael to be in charge—given his previous immersion (more like obsession) with said computer—but Adam figured he'd already said his piece. For now, he just wanted to feel like he was accomplishing something.

Neither Lucifer nor Michael apologized, but Adam assumed by their behavior that it was implied. Lucifer, at least, would never lower himself enough to do so—and Adam knew Michael would never do it in front of Lucifer, who'd no doubt use it as an excuse for further mockery.

Sometimes, seeing the devastation that was their relationship made him happy about never being able to build anything real with his own brothers. If having siblings caused one this much pain and drama, maybe he was better off without them.

Michael continued with the video route since they'd already proven useful. (And Adam's heart did ache for Michael about the Gabriel situation. Of all the stories Michael had told Adam of Heaven, the ones involving the trickster Angel had been his favorite.)

These videos involved more Angel drama: Drama that Adam still lacked some context to entirely understand. He could tell it was bad, though. And not just from the tenseness and feelings Michael was projecting from their bond.

"Raphael is dead too," was Michael's next despondent comment. The hurt practically emanated from him at this point—a dark rolling cloud of misery over his usual sunny brightness.

"Well, you can hardly blame me for that one. I think Castiel might have single-handedly done more damage in these videos than I managed during our entire apocalypse escapade. I'd be in awe if it weren't so insulting." Lucifer certainly didn't look amused.

"Much as I hate to agree with you, there is something seriously wrong with that Angel. He seems incapable of following orders or respecting authority. There's no need to make light of our prophesized battle by referring to it as an escapade, though, Lucifer."

"Sure. Disrespect of authority. That's the problem." Lucifer's eyes rolled back so far in his head that Adam feared they'd get stuck that way. His sarcasm was so thick Adam could drown in it.

The videos kept going and kept getting progressively worse.

"At this point, the question we should be asking is if there are any angels left. Also…what's so special about Castiel that his death never seems to stick."

Neither Michael nor Lucifer appeared to like the implications. They both had to know the most likely reason for Castiel's constant revivals was God's favor. How Castiel could have earned said favor without trying when even Lucifer and Michael's fanatical bids to garner attention had resulted in radio silence, Adam didn't know. It just left the increasing impression of God being that crappy, absentee father Lucifer had painted him as, whether Michael was able to admit to it yet or not.

Purgatory, Soulless Sam, The Trials, The Angels Falling, The Mark of Cain, The Darkness: The hits never stopped. And…wait, was that supposed to be God? The guy writing the Winchester gospel and pretending to be a Prophet? What? When Michael and Lucifer said nothing, Adam decided to do the same. They either hadn't reached the same conclusion (noticed) or didn't want to discuss it and were ignoring it. Adam could get behind that.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this—feel free to slap me if I'm being ridiculous, 'cause I'm probably way out of line here—but…do you think maybe…we might actually be safer down here? Everyone up there seems to be cursed or something."

Apropos of nothing, without the slightest warning, Lucifer disappeared.

Adam stared at the now empty space. Gone. Just like that. Adam tensed and grasped onto Michael's arm around him, worried he or Michael might be next. Michael held on just as tight, also wary. Only after a few minutes of neither of them going anywhere did he lower his guard.

"Was it something I said?" Adam asked, suddenly feeling the need to whisper. "Did I jinx it?"

"Of course not. Lucifer must have been summoned."

"Who would or could summon Lucifer out of the cage?" He asked, then almost knocked himself out from the force of his own palm meeting face at his stupidity.

"Winchesters," both Adam and Michael ended up saying simultaneously.

"But why?" Adam asked.

"They must need an Archangel for something." And, boy, was Michael mad; the increased thunder and lightning noises from outside the cage evidence (representation) of his vast displeasure.

"They needed an Archangel, and they chose Lucifer?" That was dubious. Lucifer might help—especially if Sam was doing the asking—but he'd hardly do it for free. God knows what other mischief he'd get into while up there.

Given how they'd just been talking about a curse, there was also a good chance Lucifer would be killed. Adam felt weird thinking about it. Lucifer drove him crazy, and he was hardly a pinnacle of moral righteousness. But Adam would miss him. Adam had gotten used to thinking of Michael and Lucifer as his eternal companions. Now, one of them was gone. He couldn't help but grip Michael harder again, still slightly scared that he'd vanish, too, and Adam would be alone. That would be the end of his sanity right then.

"If the darkness destroyed the world…or whatever it is she does, would it affect us, too? Could Lucifer even defeat it?"

"Everything would be affected. The last time the darkness had to be shut away, it took the combined power of God and all four of his Archangels. Even then, it was still difficult and resulted in grievous injuries. I don't see how it could be accomplished unless God has returned to fight and decides to bring us all back."

Michael didn't even look hopeful while saying it, proof this new information and situation had him out of sorts. Adam just had to hope that if Michael was summoned, Adam would be taken as well. The Angel would still need a vessel, after all. Adam doubted Dean had suddenly changed his views on possession. Adam could also admit to jealousy at the idea of Dean taking his place in this instance. Dean hadn't wanted to be Michael's vessel, but Adam had been filling that role for so long now he no longer knew any other way to be.

"So what are we supposed to do now?"

"There's nothing we can do," Michael admitted reluctantly. Adam knew Michael hated feeling helpless and not being able to do anything. Michael hadn't known a day of idleness until he found himself here. Adam had promised himself if they ever escaped, he'd insist on a vacation. They both deserved one, and there were so many places Adam had never gotten to see while alive that he thought Michael might get some pleasure from now.

"We should be on our guard, though, I'm guessing?"

Michael nodded against his back.

For a moment, Adam wanted to say, 'screw this,' and hide again in his angel companion's wings as he had so long ago. To forget everything and make that feathery embrace his entire world. It was strange, almost, how that seemed like a simpler time. It certainly hadn't seemed simple at the time.

"You just wanna watch some more of this Supernatural crap? It won't take our mind off anything, but I'm sure there's still much to learn. Why don't we look up some videos about ourselves? I'm sure we must have at least a few. Oh, and your brothers! We could find some about them too. See what they'd been up to before…well, just before. I hope this computer doesn't run out of power. Now that I'm thinking about it, it already should've run out if it was going to. You'd been messing with it for days before we'd even commented. I'm not even going to ask what had you so engrossed." Adam knew he was babbling but also knew Michael wouldn't mind. He'd told Adam before that he liked knowing what Adam was thinking but had difficulty figuring it out.

Adam rearranged himself again until he was comfy and brought YouTube back up. He was determined not to think about their imminent demise, the possibility of Michael disappearing, Lucifer being dead, or the Winchesters (despite them being prominent in everything and, therefore, impossible to ignore).

No.

None of those things existed right now. Adam and Michael were watching fiction. Pieces of a TV show. It had nothing to do with their lives at all. If he thought of it that way…maybe it would make these viewings easier to bear? Put less of a strain on his heart and his mind.

Adam took a deep breath, ready to start the next set of videos.

"You ready?" He asked Michael.

"It's only pragmatic to learn all we can. You said something similar yourself."

"Okay, what have I said about using my own words against me?"

"To not do so. Though I'm slightly confused about whose I should be using if not yours."

Adam sighed and shook his head.

Angels.

Hopeless.

All of them.

"Let's just get watching."

[lavenderdreams205]

spn thoughts as requested

tw & spoiler warning

they should have kept the grungy filter and aesthetics from the early seasons

bring back the southern / midwest gothic vibes

dean would've listened to and loved 90's & 2000s grunge - I know that the whole "there's no good music past '79" is a key part of his personality but pre series/early seasons dean is soo nirvana / Weezer / smashing pumpkins coded

there is too much flannel in the later seasons - I miss the carhartt and leather jackets so bad

BRING BACK DEANS JEWELRY

there's so much about cas that we don't know. there's all the episodes where he just isn't there and they never tell the viewers what he's doing or where he went

on the same note, cas's personality isn't nearly as flushed out as sam's or dean's are. who is his favorite musician? what's his favorite place to travel to? why does he like the pimpmobile so much? does he actually like the trench coat or does he wear it just because it's there?

so many people characterize cas as a little guy, and while he is cute, it's important to remember that he's also an incredibly powerful eldritch horror who leads angelic armies and brands Michaels vessel just because

dean is bisexual and in love with cas - I won't take the time to list all of the reasons here, but you can definitely find those reasons somewhere

i would've loved for them to use the handprint as a physical manifestation of their bond instead of having it be just a scar that fades with time

i'm actually really ok with the way cas dies, I think it makes sense for his character and provides closure (for him, at least, not for dean)

the parallels of cas and dean meeting in a barn and then dean dying in a barn

cassie is deans first love, cas is his last

the imagery of the empty as cas's wings in 15x18

why do the subtitles spell cas as cass, its awful

there's a few lines in the early seasons that seemingly reference dean getting roofied / sa'd and are subsequently played for laughs, Jensen Ackles confirmed that dean would've done underage sw when John didn't leave them with enough money. I believe that this trauma is a major reason that dean never accepted his sexuality

the way deans alcoholism is overlooked and joked about is actually insane

having dean be completely ok after 15x18 is also insane, especially after the widower arc where the show specifically shows it's viewers how deeply dean grieves cas when he dies

deans death is literally so stupid. I get that the show is trying to make a really meta point about the characters not having plot armor anymore because chuck is gone, but dean deserved to find peace. if the events of the show had never happened and pre series dean had never gotten pre series Sam back into hunting it would've ended the exact same way - dean dead on a hunt and Sam dying from old age

dean spends as much time on earth as he did in hell, and while he would never be the same, I like to believe that if he had been allowed by the narrative to live longer he would've gotten back a little of the twinkle in his eyes that he had before hell

in 15x20 Bobby says that cas helped rebuild heaven but if he was there he would've gone to see dean. additionally, there's no way cas should have been able to escape the empty. this is such a glaringly obvious plot hole and it drives me nuts

I would've liked to see cas's wings in the show - not just the shadow of them

the only time I tolerate serious discussion of wincest is in the context of ethel cain

i am a Sam disliker - while he does have many positive qualities, I have a really hard time getting past him not looking for dean when he was in purgatory and him joking about deans alcoholism and other traumas

i like Sam the best when he's with Eileen, I think they're adorable together and I'm mad they killed her off

I am a chronic jack defender, that boy has done nothing wrong

it would be interesting to explore cas and jacks relationships with their respective genders

there's no way being forced to murder the dean clones didn't affect cas, we only saw him kill the last one but the first few he had to kill had to have been devastating

i'm really disappointed by 14x13 Lebanon, we get the scene with John and Sam but I would argue that dean has significantly more reasons to be upset with John and it's unfortunate that the episode just glossed over this - I believe a screaming match between the two would have cleared the air a bit and been at the very least cathartic for dean

i'm fairly sure that it's canonical that John sent dean away on his 17th birthday to kill lesbian ghosts. my personal hc is that John suspected that dean was bi and sent him to teach him a lesson

i saw a post on here comparing hunting culture to biker and cowboy culture and viewing those things through a queer lens and I thought it was fascinating - there's so much spn could've done if it cared about the show more than money and losing viewers

every time cas and dean beat the shit out of each other, it serves as further proof of their relationship rather than discrediting their relationship - ie demon dean and cas fighting in the library is used to parallel Cain and Collette. it could even be assumed that their love is stronger because Cain killed Collette but dean left cas alive

The purgatory love triangle was so silly

once dean worked through all of his trauma and toxic masculinity he would've been a swiftie

all of the main characters have old / vintage cars but in like season 13/14 dean sam and cas just collectively own and use this really ugly silver truck from the 2010s. its such a small detail but it absolutely ruins my viewing experience every time I see it

dean is actually really smart but most of the fandom overlooks it because Sam is characterized as the smart one. if you know anything about cars you know it takes an insane amount of brains to build a car from scratch (he did this with baby multiple times throughout the show) also he just makes an emf meter using basically nothing. if dean had been given the same opportunities he gave Sam, he would've been an engineer or something

i will always be a John hater, if this man has 0 haters, I am dead

[egipci]

thoughts on michael possessing the bodies of both father and son

Thoughts on Michael possessing the bodies of both father and son: Great, wonderful, amazing, etc. etc. I have a lot of affection for Matt Cohen!John (and indeed for the prequel guy--- I'm very vulnerable to young John, for some reason), both times we (and Dean) see him he's dead or almost dead, and I think so much about how Dean knows him and doesn't know him and loves him and feels conflicted about him because he's not actually his dad, he's just a very vulnerable kid, and Dean is so vulnerable to him--- there should be a million time travel fics about them, but I'm afraid it's a niche market with one (1) customer, so.

Anyway, John as angel vessel is one of the things I wish had gotten more airtime, though I don't know how they could have done that without getting too (or more) hammy.* People have talked before about how revealing it is that Michael appears to Dean as John and Lucifer to Sam as Jessica (keeping in mind one is an actual possession vs an illusion). There is the first love angle, for the gross shippers (among whom I am chief) but also there's the sort of desire they each represent: Jess qua Lucifer represents rebellion, superficially, but also a home Sam makes for himself, a home that he chooses, unlike the home he had with Dad and Dean (insofar that he thinks he didn't actually want/choose them).

Michael!John is more interesting because up until 5x13, John explicitly occupies the role of "God" in the narrative, Dean makes that comparison himself-- he's the agent pitting Dean and Sam against each other, Dean has to kill Sam for his affection and approval, out of duty (and doesn't, once), Sam is rebelling against his father whom he loves because he doesn't get enough affection either, etc. etc. and all that maps out pretty neatly, if even a little simplistically. But then we meet John again in s5 and he's not just God, he's also Michael (despite not having a brother!). It's yet another John-Dean "thing" that Sam doesn't have access to -- Dean has direct access to becoming his father that Sam does not. But that John is not only the unknowable absent father but also the faithful right hand-man is also interesting in what it says about God and Michael, and the possibilities for John and Dean. John connects them in an interesting way — to appropriate Trinitarian language: Michael and God seem homoousios, maybe -- not identical, but of one essence. And that's basically Dean's reward, for the small price of fratricide (and potential genocide and mass extinction) --- a sense of unity with his father, a sameness -- which, outside of any specific love/desire Dean holds for his father, ties into the position the father/god occupies as maker/font of being/one who begets, etc. (to use Trinitarian language again)--- see also how the show consistently uses "hole" language to describe Dean's "emptiness"/longing for death/non-existence and also his longing for his father. This is not to say that his longing for John = desire to die, or that one necessarily causes the other --- but there is something interesting there about how the text positions them as the same sort of wound-- survivable but also irreparable and immanent (but-for divine intervention, perhaps).

The other thing is it's Azazel!John redux: the creepy frightening force you're running away from/trying to defeat is literally your dad, but also he's violating your dad in a pretty significant way. But more minutely on a beat-by-beat level: Mary is about to die, John makes a deal, but then instead of Mary getting possessed it's John (again), and he's less explicitly sexually menacing with Dean, except he's very politely asking him to get inside his body-- so, you know. In fact Michael!John brings up Azazel outright: Azazel is part of the plan, that he would possess John and kill Mary and go after Sam and spit in Dean's mouth whatever the hell he has going on with Dean. And there's the angel ornament at the end of the episode watching over baby Dean, which invokes the motif of John over the crib, etc. etc.

TLDR: it's good stuff!

*I've been known to rant and rave about how John as vessel should have come into play in Lebanon--- Dean wishes for Michael out, and John the second best ever vessel comes in, and he offers himself up for Dean and through some weird magic they put Michael into his head and *he* goes into the malak box and into the deep or whatever. not necessarily super compelling, but like, it's better than a glorified bloodless jdm cameo, methinks.

[nityarawal]

12/09/2023

John-June*

Morning Songs

What If

There Were Only 5

Names

Like In Indo

Or Christian

Psalms

What If

There Were 

Only A Few

Beatles

What Would 

We Do

Somehow

They Were Duplicated 

Somehow They Breed

How'd All The

Yogis

Come Together

In A World Wide Web

In Case

You Forget

Your Childhood

In Case

It Was Really Bad

Please Remember

We Sang "Hey

Jude,"* For You

Got 2 Julian's

God Kids

One Jude

Please Remember

We Know

A Song

Is Never Enough

But If Your Dad

Is Gone

Like Millions

Of Military

Brats

Suffer

Through

Estrangement

Or The Queen's

Court

If Your Parent

Is Gone

On A Feloners

Plea

Please Don't Offer

Us

Special Forces

Survival Services

Bloody Weapons

Special Forces

Or Boobs

In The Face 

Motorboats

With Our Tax

Dollars

Embedded In Tesla

Stocks

Doje

Smearing

Beloved Bros

And Dogs

Flying To Mars

With Our

Hearts

Intact

Might Have Been

Possible

But,"Now

And Then,"*

I'm Not Really

Sure

"Now And Then,"

I Miss

My Father's Weathered

Hand

"Now And Then,"

My Own John

Sitting In Our

RV

Driving Coast To Coast

In Love

Thinkin' How Lucky

I Was

"Now And Then,"

I Miss My Pa

My "Lennon" Brother

Overflowing

With Intelligence

Secret

Middle Name

"John"

"Now And Then,"

I Miss My Pa

His Weathered Hand

Was Like A

Beating Heart

For America

"Now And Then,"

I Miss My Pa

I Know I'll Never

Add Up Mamma

"Now And Then,"

I Miss 

My Pa

I Wish That

J.D. Salinger

Cult Felony

Hadn't Gotten

Your John-

June

In The Name

Of Jihad*

"Catcher In The Rye,"

Twisted Anti-Semitism*

Like JFK

But That's Not

The Case With

"The Cajun Queen,"*

She's Spicey

Not Caged

James Dean

Not The Case

With Grandma Julia

If We Can't 

Say Anything

Nice

About Reptiles*

At Court

The Attorneys

Who Broke

Our Son's Hearts

It Wasn't Her

June

It Wasn't Her

Jude

It Wasn't Her

Julian

Bambinos

All Those Pretty

Places

Tibetan Yogini

Retreats

India

Maharishi Days*

All Those "White,"

Houses In Bali

Japan

Indonesia

Or

Thailand

It Wasn't Her

June

It Wasn't Durga*

It Wasn't Your

Own Eternal 

Mother

Saraswati*

I Can Assure

You

From The "White Album"*

Oaths

It Wasn't Me

#Nitya4Eternity

Lakshmi*

Who Deleted

Your Songs

On Twitter*

Banned Us

With Gags

It Wasn't Me

I Miss The "Beatles"*

Just As Much

As Anyone!

(#4BillionMothersStrong Grieving Our Young.)

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

*June- "Dear" In Farsi

#Irany #WithLove

"Hey Jude," Written for Julian Lennon by Paul & John; in hideous atty driven court estrangement.

Love long unedited version they released- even if it's slightly Censored by BBC & UK politics.

Most songs I post of theirs get shadowbanned same day.

Very worried about Beatles kids & families. I think "Julia," was not only written for John's mom but also secretly for Julian and to tie him into his matriarchal lineage- even if cut short.

Often rockstars and royals had Divorce/custodial Gag orders from Queen that were so violent, they end in death; like John Lennon and Princess Diana. 

"Now And Then," Amazing New Beatles Song Miraculously used #AI to revive John Lennon's vocals. As a reply everyone wants a Johnny doll. We feel they should be used only exclusively for close family in appropriate fatherly or husband manner; not a sex toy for government to manipulate and barter in AI as x has done with my children and I; his creator AI alien Grimesz.

Elon is nothing but a "Kiterunner" sex slave for America like Prince, Michael Jackson and so many atty puppets before them. Lab dads.):

*Jihad is a Anti Islamic term used when America creates Pseodo Terrorism and murders our great leaders and artists. #RIPJohnLennon #RIPJFK #Prayers4BoppaEternal xo

*Anti-semitism is a racist neo-nazi term often used by oppressors themselves Trafficking our women through government 9/11 internal domestic terrorism and wars abroad. This is gaslighting for "Nasa" when boys clubs won't allow our chivalrous men to behave appropriately, with honors, to deserve honors. 

*Reptiles- Queen Elizabeth is Often referred to as the "Reptilian" Queen.

*Durga - Goddess Of Protection/Defense

*Saraswati-Goddess Of Art & Music

Lakshmi- Goddess Of Wealth & Prosperity

*White Album

Made In India

Beatles

With Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

*Beatles music & friends royalties also hacked by open #AI & atty crimes; aka Michael Jackson's living probate criminal estate. #FreeBritney

#Metoo

Whose a Meme?

Will we ever know????

We're all the nasty stories just evil smear campaigns? 

Jai Guru Dev

#BeatlesKids

[michaelmilligan]

Endversetober Day 18: Supplies

(explanation post) (compilation post)

For some reason, Adam had thought that archangels could just turn back time whenever they wanted, or at least send messages back to change the timeline by themselves, using nothing but their own powers.

He'd been wrong.

There were actually a bunch of things they needed to do the latter, including the tear of a unicorn and papyrus made from Egyptian paper plant. They'd just gotten the former and were now on route to getting the latter.

Adam had been mostly silent since they'd witnessed the angelic devastation, but now he spoke up.

I can't believe you punched that unicorn.

Where usually, there would have been a storm of a sigh knocking Adam over, now there was just a breeze, rustling around him sombrely.

I HAD TO MAKE IT CRY SOMEHOW. WHAT ELSE SHOULD I HAVE DONE?

I don't know. Tell it that its dad never loved it?

Michael seemed to think about it. AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER?

Adam sighed, now. I don't understand all these ingredients, anyway. Like. Egyptian papyrus? Okay, does that mean this thing has only ever worked since Egypt existed? Does it have to be from within the confines of what is Egypt today, or does it depend on what was considered to be Egyptian lands at some specific point in time?

IT'S COMPLICATED, Michael said curtly.

Great. Just great.

But surprisingly, Michael then offered more information, all by himself: THESE KINDS OF THINGS WORK NOT BECAUSE YOU USE SPECIFIC INGREDIENTS, BUT BECAUSE THE THINGS YOU USE HAVE A SPECIFIC MEANING. AND MEANING IS POWER, OR AT LEAST CAN BE USED IN THAT WAY.

Awesome. That didn't clear up anything.

So it doesn't actually matter if it's from Egypt? Adam asked tiredly.

OF COURSE IT MATTERS. THE EGYPTIAN EMPIRE STILL HOLDS MUCH MEANING, EVEN IF IT NO LONGER EXISTS INT HE WAY IT USED TO – OR NEVER ACTUALLY EXISTED THAT WAY.

Never actually- are you telling me Ancient Egypt is a myth? Who built those pyramids then, aliens?

ONCE AGAIN, YOU MISUNDERSTAND ME. EGYPT HAS EXISTED IN A VARIETY OF FORMS OVER A SUBSTANTIAL PERIOD OF TIME. AT LEAST SUBSTANTIAL FOR HUMANITY. BUT THE WAY IT HOLDS MEANING NOWADAYS ONLY HAS MARGINALLY TO DO WITH WHERE ITS BORDERS WHERE OR WHAT THE CIVILIZATION WAS ACTUALLY LIKE.

THE DEFINITION OF THINGS, EVEN COUNTRIES, SHIFTS OVER TIME. THE PERCEPTION OF PLACES AND CULTURES IS ALSO NEVER STATIC. WHAT MATTERS IS THAT WHEN THE INGREDIENTS ARE USED, THEY ARE CONSIDERED TO BE MYSTICAL AND POWERFUL BY A GOOD NUMBER OF PEOPLE.

IT WOULDN'T HAVE TO BE PAPYRUS FROM EGYPT, REALLY. WE MIGHT AS WELL USE AN OLD WRITING IMPLEMENT FROM CHINA. OR A SLATE OF STONE AND A CHISEL FROM AROUND MOUNT SINAI.

So why aren't we using those?

They had been tracking along a river for a while now, and finally Michael stopped next to what looked at first glance like tall weeds, but were probably the paper plants they needed. With ease, Michael pulled a few of the plants out from the muddy ground, roots and all.

THIS IS EASIER. MAKING PAPYRUS ISN'T ALL THAT DIFFICULT, AND INGREDIENTS WORK BEST IF THEY'RE HANDCRAFTED.

That made an odd and somewhat inexplicable kind of sense.

For a while, Adam just watched as Michael cut the plants into thin stripes, lay them out to form a sheet on dry ground, and pressed them.

It's peaceful here, Adam eventually remarked, bored of the wind and the sound of Michael working being the only things he heard.

IT MIGHT SEEM LIKE THAT, BUT THERE'S A TOWN JUST A FEW MILES FROM HERE THAT WAS RAVAGED LAST NIGHT. THEY SEEM TO HAVE BURNED OUT EVERY LAST ZOMBIE, BUT ALSO EVERY OTHER SIGN OF LIFE.

Why are they doing this? Adam wondered, a hushed whisper against Michael's still eerily quiet grace.

I DON'T KNOW, Michael said, picking up his make-shift sheet to soak it in the river. ANGER. HATRED. THEY SEEM TO BE IN A FRENZY, MAYBE BECAUSE... He trailed off.

Because what? Adam asked anxiously.

THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY, BEFORE THESE ATTACKS STARTED HAPPENING... DEAN DIED. SOME ANGELS SAW IT.

Who?

… YOUR BROTHER. DEAN WINCHESTER.

Oh, right. That guy.

Once upon a time, Adam had wished for siblings. But if their stubbornness was what brought about the zombie apocalypse, just because they didn't want to let an archangel hitch-hike in their body for a couple days... Maybe it was better that he'd never met them.

Granted, it may be a little unfair to blame that Dean guy for the fact that the angels had apparently decided to make this timeline his own personal hell. But it wasn't like he'd given them much choice, what with him denying God's plan and everything.

So, Adam said, pulling himself out of his musings. How long does that have to soak?

Michael looked down at the papyrus in the water. ONLY ABOUT A DAY. MAYBE A LITTLE MORE.

A whole day? Ugh, I'm gonna shoot myself.

YOU'RE BEING OVERLY DRAMATIC. AND YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A GUN.

Well, I wish I did.

I'LL MAKE SURE YOU WON'T GET ONE.

Meanie.

ME- DID YOU JUST CALL ME- OH, COME ON. YOU THREATENED TO KILL YOURSELF!

Oh, so what now? 'Friends don't let friends shoot themselves in the face'?

… FRIENDS?

The obvious confusion in Michael's voice made Adam huff and turn his attention back to the papyrus. If we're just gonna wait here, I'm gonna sing for a bit, he threatened.

KNOCK YOURSELF OUT.

Oh, I can knock myself out, but not shoot myself?

… DON'T PUSH IT, KID.

Despite himself, Adam laughed. And promptly started singing: So no one told you life was gonna be this way~

At the same time, in another place, three people stumbled into a camp that had recently lost its leader and many of its best soldiers. To say it was in disarray would have been the understatement of the century, though the newcomers couldn't know this yet.

There was a kid among them, maybe nineteen years old, and shaking like a brittle leaf in the wind. The older woman who looked much like him and would turn out to be his mother was holding a shotgun, determination on her face. The older guy who was with them also carried a weapon, though he seemed a bit more weary.

When the provisional leader of Camp Chitaqua stepped forward to greet them, the guy nodded at them.

“I'm Rufus,” he said, then gestured to his compatriots. “These are Linda and Kevin. We heard you guys were holding out here, and we want in.”

[adammilligan]

How do you think Adam/Michael would think about/act around Jack?

i think that's kind of something that really would rely heavily on the background information we have about them ESPECIALLY concerning michael and jack because i mean. jack's a nephil. nephilim were forbidden and exterminated by heaven for millennia. michael was the viceroy who handed orders down to the lower angels, which means that nephilim were most likely almost always exterminated on his orders, and as such michael would probably either a) view jack as a threat or b) he's gotten to the point where it no longer matters to him whether or not a nephil lives because he ditched heaven and it's none of his damn business so long as it doesn't bother him or adam. and given that in 15x19 michael and jack didn't say a word to each other it's probably the latter and honestly i can't really see that changing even if they weren't under apocalyptic circumstances. i think michael would probably be wary of jack just in general because he's lucifer's son but overall i mean he just kind of wanted to stay with adam and live out his best life with him it's not like he was racing to play uncle. and given jack's experiences with au!michael i don't think jack would particularly want to interact with michael either. they'd probably just go their separate ways with their separate people. and if we're talking postcanon with god!jack i do think that the argument could be made that jack would MAYBE bring michael back for the sole purpose of helping steady heaven because he ruled it for so long and would have a better idea of how to stabilize it than anyone but also i think the argument could also be made that jack just. wouldn't do that. because really what does he need michael for he's literally god. etc etc you get my point

as for adam i mean the only thing he knows about jack is that he's someone castiel loved who was killed by god as per the memories castiel shoved in his and michael's head (which is most likely the reason adam looked at him when he said since when do we get what we deserve. since it followed off the end of the memory-sharing it would make sense!) so i don't really think adam would ever view him as more than Just Some Guy Who Happens To Be Lucifer's/Castiel's(?) Kid. adam established in 5x18 that he had no interest in playing the family game with sam and dean and he kind of still established that in 15x08 when he never outright forgave them and walked off. he was polite about it! but he still walked away. so if we're still talking what i think would be most in-character i don't think adam would have any interest in playing uncle to jack either. i think he'd be nice to him just like he's nice to everyone else! but i don't think he would suffer through having to be around sam and dean all the time just to hang out with him or something. he IS kind of like michael in that he doesn't seem to really care and instead wants to just go be living his best life. he wouldn't care about jack being a nephil but i mean it's not like he KNOWS the kid and given that michael doesn't have an interest in him there's really no reason for him to GET to know the kid. if that makes sense.

overall i think they'd just be neutral about him. michael isn't like amara in that he didn't have a "oh maybe we should get to know each other" line which makes sense because michael barely even seems interested in his brothers by the time s15 rolls around (and even in s5 when it comes to anyone except lucifer but that's another post lol) much less any extended family. and adam isn't interested in his brothers either much less his extended family! so he'd be friendly if they ever met i think but it's not like he'd be weeping at the thought of being an uncle or whatever. he's just trying to chill and michael's just trying to chill with him and that's all they really want to do!

[mlobsters]

supernatural s15e17 unity (w. meredith glynn)

thinking on last night's fight between sam and dean, and that has to be one of my least favorite persistent character traits of dean, how he gets mean when he's freaked out/upset/scared/whatever. curious to see what i notice when i start the show over. first time i recall really commenting on it when sam was dealing with hallucifer at bobby's in 7x02. wonder if that's something noticeable going way back.

DEAN So that's how it's gonna be? You give me the silent treatment? SAM I'm not sure what you want me to say. DEAN That you get it. Like, I said, killing Amara, Jack dying... that's the only way. SAM "The only way." "Our one shot," "our last chance." You ever get tired of saying stuff like that? DEAN We don't have to like it, alright, but you and me, we gotta get it done.

you know my perennial complaint of later seasons is this jumping to conclusions about someone killing themselves is the only way to solve a problem without trying other options so, i'm vibing with you samuel

amara is so pretty and that wild glitter jacket is kind of amazing, and everything is better than that weird cleavage gazing dress she had on the first time we met her

AMARA I wish we'd gotten to know one another. That's my fault. Maybe when all of this is over, we can?

they are going out of their way to humanize amara here. talking to the old lady in the park sure did a number on her apparently

DEAN But when the time comes, we can count on you, right? AMARA Like I told you when we first met, you and I will always help each other.

pile on the guilt and doubt and sympathy

SAM Jack, look... I wish you'd have been up front with us. But sacrificing your life for a cause... takes a lot of courage. I still think it's wrong, though.

just thinking about how sam usually is also ready to pack it in if necessary. okay for me to die but not for you is the winchester family way though.

DEAN Chuck is back. You wanna take a knee? SAM That's not what I'm doing. DEAN Wh... You don't even have any leads. SAM What do you have, Dean? Honestly?! What, Billie's sending you to Santa Fe to... to meet up with her mystery guest that's gonna perform the "final ritual," or whatever that is, and turn Jack into a suicide bomb? DEAN Sam, you and me, we have to do this, it's in the book! SAM Oh, Chuck's "Death Book," right? Come on, man! Blindly following orders?! Lying to Amara, sending her to her death? Does any of this feel right to you?!

like when dean's book the only solution was the eternity of torture in a box at the bottom of the ocean with michael, right? knowing they found another way around that problem seems like good evidence that death's books aren't the only way

DEAN It doesn't matter how we feel! You know what? Stay. Stay. But somebody's gotta be the grownup here. SAM Yeah, well, someone has to keep fighting for Jack. DEAN He knows what he signed up for! SAM Last I checked, we don't give up on family. DEAN Jack's not family. I know how you feel about the kid, okay. I care for him, too. I do. But he's not like you. He's not like Cas. He's just not.

again, literally gasped and said dude! what a horrible thing to say a) period b) when the kid is still in the same building as you. and of course he walks in to hear it. devastating.

no one should have to hear that. that's some john winchester level fuckery. heart breaking for jack

hereby revoking dean's dad status. though he already threw it in the garbage like the samulet.

and didn't he just have a heart to heart with the kid a few episodes ago about still being mad about mary but trying to move past it?

from 15x14 last holiday DEAN Okay, I’m just going to say this, okay? Just get it out there. Jack. I’m trying, okay? I really am. But what you did, that’s not easy to forget. Now I was angry with you, for a while. And maybe I still am a little bit, okay? But I’m not gonna let some evil Mary Poppins take you out. Do you understand?

CHUCK The Winchesters have gotten to you, huh? Figures-- you and Dean have that whole weird... thing. AMARA That wasn't you? Writing? CHUCK Ugh! Not that part. Gross. AMARA Well, I'm not on Dean's side. And I'm not on yours. Someone needs to defend this world.

dean's got his special thing with cas and amara. sam's got... jack, i guess. outside of the special thing that trumps all special things that sam and dean have with each other. and apparently amara's on team free will now too

AMARA Oh, I think I do. You want to evaporate every kernel of existence because the Winchesters won't do what you say. CHUCK It's not about that. It's about everywhere I look, I'm reminded of my failures. Like, why did I go with carbon-based life? Why not silicon? Or yttrium? Zeroing out-- starting fresh. That's what I need.

DEAN Listen, Jack, I don't know what you heard back there, but... JACK You don't have to say anything. And... you don't need to be sorry. I'm not like Sam or Cas. I... I understand

i'm giving dean the death glare rn

JACK Billie said... this is where it ends.

least he has the decency to look somewhat distressed

alessandro juliani as adam / the magicians s2e4 as sawbones / altered carbon s2e5 as jack soul brasil

JACK You hate him. ADAM Oh, no. I've been wanting this for going on 300,000 years. Took me that long to figure out how to do it, too. JACK Wait— killing God is your plan? ADAM Yeah, Billie's been giving us a hand, yeah. Sera and me, this is our baby, yeah. She kept me alive this long so I could see it through. All we've been waiting on is you.

lol okay sure why not

well looks like dean's having some doubts now with the high angel's "meant to be" bullshit so

ADAM You'll collapse into a living black hole for divine energy. One nothing can escape— not the darkness, not God himself. But once it starts... you can't stop it.

hokay

DEAN Hold up. Just... What I said to Sam, you didn't need to hear that. Alright? Not now. Not with the weight that you're carrying— for us, for this world. Jack... I don't know how to explain it, but what I found out about Chuck... it's like—it's like I wasn't alive. Not really. You know, like, my whole life I've never been free. But like, really free. But now... now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life. Without all this crap on our backs. And that's— that's because of you. So, I— I— I wanted to say... I need to say... Thank you, Jack. Thank you.

didn't need to hear it, but not gonna say sorry. of course want to take the nugget of him and sam getting the chance to live a real life, but this was just such a miserable shitty thing to have dean do. jackles delivered this really well and it felt sincere, but i'm not over it

not sure i get what the title cards with the characters' names on it is. referencing something, i imagine

all right so sam and cas are gonna try to find the key to death's library to have a chat or whatever

THE ENTITY The Empty was supposed to be mine. Not even God held sway. But lies, sweet little lies. Billie said when she takes over, she'd make it all better, but then your busted-ass friend in the trench coat came along and he gave me these trust issues. SAM Billie wants to take over? THE ENTITY Become "New God." Classic narcissist, right? She's all tingly for the rules, the good-old days. SAM What is that supposed to mean? THE ENTITY Everyone back to where they belong... realities, dimensions, graves. What should be dead dies, angels off Earth, demons back to Hell, and I go back to sleep. Or I'm supposed to. Except, again, trust issues. But you, you're Sam Winchester. You're in God's book. SAM That's... That's Chuck's Death Book? Have you read it? THE ENTITY Only Billie can read it, dummy. She always talked about how you should be so dead, except she needs you. So, maybe if I hurt you... Hear that? Get your scythe down here, Billie, or your boy's toast.

well, i did not see billie trying to be the new god but i didn't really consider that she might be malicious, just that she wasn't always right. and this is all absurd but i'm happy to get more rachel miner time

CHUCK: Dean. Brought to the edge of doubt. His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end. CHUCK: And poor Sam. Always gotta know everything. Can't leave well enough alone. CHUCK: This is my ending. My real ending.

well, this is all very clever i guess and upsetting.

SAM Because if Billie takes over, then everyone goes back to where they belong. That means everybody from apocalypse world, Bobby, Charlie, they get sent back to a place that doesn't exist anymore. And everyone we saved. Eileen, she... she just dies again. And that's just the beginning.

surely they'd both be dead too

DEAN I don't care if Billie gets what she wants! I don't, man! I'd trade it all— I'd trade 'em all for Chuck in a heartbeat! SAM What about me? Would you trade me?

the $25,000 question. i'm upset that this is getting to me because this entire season has been such a mediocre shitshow for me but sure enough they can cash in on my literal mountain of feelings and attachment to sam and dean

all right. so long, amara. character rehab complete

SAM I know you feel like that right now, okay. I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me— from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please... put the gun away. Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do.

well, that's devastating too. jared is so good. and that the put protecting sam from john and lucifer in the same sentence, well. sums up my feelings about john winchester too. the show definitely has gone through times of rehabbing his character so you know it's satisfying to hear this, if terribly upsetting as well.

i feel like meredith glynn really gets their relationship. i'd have to go do a survey again but i feel like whenever she's got an episode, i can count on some good brother content

well. that's a way to end the episode.

sigh. i'm worn out

something something the power of sam and dean's love can withstand and overcome even god's manipulations

[litcityblues]

Stargate SG-1 (Season 6 and What Came Before)

Okay, so Stargate SG-1 has been one of those shows that has floated in and out of my streaming cue for years now. I’ve never been able to get all the way through it– because there are ten seasons of the show, but last year (or possibly two years ago, COVID has ruined my sense of time) I decided that I was going to make a push to get all the way through it and this time, amazingly enough, I have, so far, gotten all the way to the end of Season 6.

This year (possibly) might be the year I get it done.

I've been trying to think about it: has there ever been a television show that has seamlessly picked up from the events of the movie that spawned as Stargate SG-1? For real, the pilot episode, Children of the Gods is brilliant television. When the Stargate (shuttered after the events of the movie) comes back to life and soldiers are kidnapped, they reactivate the team-- including O'Neal (Richard Dean Anderson) and Major Samantha Carter (Amanda Tapping) to go to Abydos and track down Daniel Jackson (Michael Shanks) to find out what the heck is going on.

Turns out, there's more than one Stargate- there's a whole network of them. And Ra? He was but one of many bad guys known as the Gouald, who are a worm-like race that require hosts for the symbiotes. They soon figure out where the soldiers are, go and get them back and pick up another new friend- a renegade Jaffa, Tealc (Christopher Judge) along the way and then, just like that, SG-1 is off and running.

This is from an era of television that I don't think is ever coming back again, so you have 22 episodes a season. That means, the team goes to an awful lot of planets that bear a passing resemblance to the area in and around Vancouver, British Columbia and they are inevitably confronted with some problem/monster of the week that they then solve and move onto the next mission. But SG-1, once it gets rolling starts mixing things up a bit.

In Season 2, we meet the Tok'ra. I love the Tok'ra. I love the way they are introduced. I love the idea of a secret, legendary band of renegade Gouald who are opposed to the System Lords and rely on voluntary hosts to keep their numbers up. We also meet the Asgard (who resemble the traditional 'Greys' that pop culture loves so much.) We start to see forces that oppose the Stargate program on Earth crop up--- ranging from Senator Kinsey to the NID to the Russians (a very late 90s aspect of this show.)

As you go further into the show, you see Earth start to adopt the technology they find to build hyperspace capable ships and get out into the galaxy a bit more.

Before we get into Season 6 specifically though: there has been talk of rebooting Stargate. Call it a reboot, revival, whatever they do with it-- there is one place that Stargate has not gone and it's the only thing that I can think of that will open up myriad new story possibilities for the franchise: disclosure.

They've tip-toed around it now again-- Eli in Stargate: Universe solves a video game puzzle they embedded into a video game and gets beamed up to a space ship and agrees to join the program. (Though it doesn't exactly work out well for him in the end.) But disclosure is the way to go. Seeing how society reacts. Seeing how civilians react. It's hard to believe, given how big the program is getting, that someone hasn't noticed by now, but maybe it's an open secret that hasn't been revealed to the public at large yet-- I don't know. But I think everything should flow from that as a starting point if you're going to reboot the series. Bonus Points if you manage to pull another Children of the Gods out of your hat and make the transition from the old show to the new one as seamless as they did between the movie and television.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, let's jam about Season 6:

So, by the time Season 6 rolls around, Daniel is gone. He's ascended to the next plane of existence and newcomer Jonas (Corin Nemec) has taken his place. The threat of Anubis is still growing- but has yet to reach it's peak. Stargate Atlantis hasn't started yet- but there are hints that it's coming-- we go back to the Antarctic sight in 'Frozen' and Daniel finds direct references to the City of the Ancients in 'Full Circle' at the end of the season, so they're definitely laying the groundwork for it.

There are some hints that Daniel isn't all the way gone either- he appears to Jack in 'Abyss' and provides comfort, though he is forbidden from doing anything. Tealc also sees him in 'The Changeling' where he's skipping through various realities and Daniel shows up. 'Full Circle' seems to be the first indication that Daniel is coming back in some form-- as he cuts a deal to try and save Abydos, which is sort of successful in that the inhabitants-- including Skaraa (Alexis Cruz), all ascend, but other than that, everything is destroyed and the season ends with Anubis getting his hands on an extremely powerful weapon setting up a big Season 7. (At least that's what I'm guessing.)

In terms of Earthbound shenanigans, we see some classified information management when a report finds out about the Stargate Program in 'Prometheus', Senator Kinsey gets shot and it seems like O'Neill is responsible in 'Smoke & Mirrors' and the Americans and Russians have to brief the rest of the world (China, France, Britain, etc.) in 'Disclosure.'

I am excited to keep moving with this show and to maybe, just maybe, get all the way through it at least once. I was a bit curious as to why Michael Shanks left for a season and could only find this as explanation, but I'm glad he's back and I hope Jonas gets to bow out with some dignity, since they had me worried in 'Prophecy' that they were going to straight up kill him off.

My Grade: I'm going to call this one a solid *** out of ****. I'm ready for Season 7 and for a show that has a few seasons under it's belt, Stargate SG-1 is ticking all the boxes with this season. 6 official down, 4 more to go!

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 268

Stuck in the Middle With You

But, Sarah, it’s the end of the month. SURELY you have an episode of Sherlock to watch. You WOULD think that. However, the good people at the BBC and whoever puts together their DVD sets for shows neglected to put The Abominable Bride on either season three or season four’s DVDs. And now it’s night so I don’t want to go searching for it. Also, just to get it out of the way, not gonna watch Sherlock on Halloween either. That can be another day I swap some stuff around

“Stuck in the Middle With You”

Plot Description: Mary keeps her involvement with the British Men of Letters a secret as she brings Sam and Dean in a case. But a double-crossing changes everything

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died —scratch that. The cold open was just really long. RIP random hunter who called on the Winchesters for help

Oooooo Dean did not like that waitress calling Cas handsome. Oh, now he’s DEVASTATINGLY handsome, Dean??

Was that demon the waitress????

I love “trying just a tad too hard to relate to humans” Castiel, but…I don’t like what’s going on with Mary…like I get the Winchesters lie to each other and those closest to them ALL THE TIME but come on

How powerful is this guy that bullets didn’t slow him and Ruby’s blade didn’t work? AZAZEL??!!??!! Maybe??

Ok. Now that we’ve gotten a better look, it’s definitely not her

JESUS, MISHA. I know Cas just got BADLY stabbed and can’t heal himself, but the whimpering as you try to drag yourself away from getting stabbed again is A LOT to process

He is not just some really powerful demon. He’s literally just a guy. Hit him with your car —Mary Winchester, probably

Casssssssss what is happening to you???

Oh, she roped this other hunter in so Sam and Dean wouldn’t ask questions

This whole British Men of Letters thing is taking this show in a direction I don’t think it had to :/

I hate watching him be in painnnnnnn. My poor poor angel

Crowley!!!

Oooooo, so this guy is a prince of hell

Ooooooh, Mary took whatever Crowley gave Ramiel…excuse me?? Ramiel just LET Crowley take over hell after Lucifer got put back in the cage at the end of season 5?

Ah, fuck. Crowley’s in trouble with Ramiel for letting people(the Winchesters) bother him

Oh, Cassy…baby, you look terrible.

I love that Sam’s getting the holy oil, Mary’s getting the angel blade, Crowley’s trying to make another deal…and Dean? Dean’s putting on some brass knuckles to fistfight the prince of hell who hurt Cas

Well, that backfired…sorry, Crowley

I think Mary should dye the tips of her hair red…just something about the way that blood is looking in it. She could rock it

Cas telling the Winchesters that they’re his family 😭😭😭 you know he doesn’t take that lightly.

I know I should be sad about Cas being so close to death, but to hear him say “I love you” *camera pans to Dean* “I love all of you” *back to Dean…….and then Sam*

SAY SOMETHING, MARY!!! WTFFFFF. You got SO LUCKY Sam got a hold of that lance

What a strange and uncharacteristically heroic thing for Crowley to do, snapping Michael’s lance to save Castiel

I “love” the number of times they throw in a brief shot of Sam to cut down on it just being Dean and Cas with the “I love you”s and the “let’s go home” 🙄

Waaaaaaait, does Mary see Cas as one of her boys??? That’s so cute!! Wish she hadn’t almost gotten him killed by secretly working with the British Men of Letters tho

REALLY?!?! We did this all for the Colt?! The gun the boys got like TEN SEASONS AGO??

Oooooo, Crowley’s trying to keep Lucifer the way he’d been kept. Sadly (for Crowley), Lucifer’s gonna prey on his inadequacy complex

[aspenmissing]

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙱𝚎 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

The group enters the Winchester house and the woman, minus Y/N, laugh.

"So, Y/N, what was uh...what was all that back at the restaurant?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, you’re making us worried," Dean says.

"Ah...I-I thought I saw something. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you. Good night."

"Good night," Jessica, Carmen, and Eddie say in unison.

“Good night," Y/N says, Bonnie in her arms now asleep, her head resting against Y/N’s shoulder.

"Night. Mom," Sam turns to the others, "Yeah, well I'm beat." Sam turns to Jess, "Ready to turn in?"

"Sure."

"All right. Good night, guys."

"Yeah, we better too," Dean says to Carmen.

“Yeah, we better get Bonnie home too,” Eddie says, nodding to them.

"Wait a second. Wait a second. Come on, it's not even nine o'clock yet. Let's uh...Let's have a drink or something. Eddie, you can take Bonnie home and I’ll be back later?"

"Yeah, maybe another time," Dean says.

"Come on, guys. Look at us. Huh? We all have wives and a husband on our arms, I have a daughter. You're engaged. Let's go celebrate." There's an awkward silence. Sam turns to Jess, Carmen, and Eddie.

"Guys, can you excuse us? We just want to talk to our sister for a sec," Sam asks, smiling to them.

"Sure."

"Thanks."

“I’ll get her,” Eddie says, holding his arms out to Y/N to take Bonnie. Y/N gently passes Bonnie over to Eddie, and the girl instantly lays her head on her dad’s shoulder.

"Come on, Carmen, Eddie." The three leave the room and Sam and Dean turn to Y/N.

"Come here," Sam says and walks to the other side of the living room, Dean following.

"What?" Y/N says, following.

"Okay. What's gotten into you?" Dean asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this whole warm, fuzzy ecstasy-trip thing."

"I'm just happy for you, Sammy, De."

"Yeah, right. That's another thing. Since when do you call us Sammy and De? Y/N, come on. We don't talk outside of holidays.”

"We don't? Well, we should. I mean, you’re my brothers."

"You're our sister?" Y/N laughs.

"Yeah."

"You know, that's what you said when you snaked my ATM card, or when you bailed on my graduation, or when you hooked up with Michael Monroe."

"Who?" Y/N asks.

"Uh, my best friend. On prom night, having also ditched your prom date the same night."

"What about when we had that fight. We gave each other bruises," Dean says.

"Yeah, that does kinda sound like me. Well, hey guys, I'm sorry about all that." Y/N walks towards Sam and Dean who back away. “Look, I’m different from then. I have a daughter now, I-I’m better.”

"No that, look, that's all-right Y/N, I-I just...You know we're not asking you to change. W-we just, uh, we don't know, I... guess we just don't really have anything in common. You know?" Y/N blinks and the brothers start to walk away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes, we do. Yes, we do," Y/N laughs.

"What?" The two ask in unison.

"Hunting."

"Hunting? We've never been hunting in our life, Y/N."

"Yeah, well, then we should go sometimes. I... I think you'd be great at it." Sam and Dean start to walk away.

"Get some rest," Dean says, turning around. They walk away and leave Y/N in the living room.

==

Y/N is sitting on the sofa in her house, thinking, furrowed brow. Eddie walks into the room, holding two beer bottles, handing one out to Y/N.

"My favorite. I guess you know me pretty well."

"'Fraid so. You all right?"

"Sammy, De and I... We don't get along."

"Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together. I mean, I just think you don't know each other all that well. I think they only ever come down to see Bonnie."

"Hm."

"For the record. They don't know what they're missing."

"I can fix things with them. I can make it up to them. To everyone."

"Okay. What's gotten into you lately?"

"This isn't gonna make a lick of sense to you. But I kind of feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don't wanna waste it."

"You're right, that doesn't make any sense—" Y/N leans in and kisses Eddie.

"You know, I get it."

"Get what?" Eddie asks.

"Why you're the one."

"Well?" She kissed him again. "Whatever's gotten into you...I like it." They begin to kiss. "Ohhh...come on! Don't do this to me now. I've gotta get ready for work." He gets off the couch, leaving Y/N sitting with her hands as if he was still between them. "You got to work now?"

"I told you. I've got the night shifts on Thursday." Y/N gets up.

"You work nights at the, uh..." Later, Eddie is standing by the closet, taking out scrubs. Y/N stands in the doorway.

"...Hospital. I'm dating a nurse. That is so...respectable," Y/N says to herself. Eddie smiles at her words. Y/N looks at her...well butt probably, and takes a sip of beer. Later, Y/N is sat on the couch, putting her feet on the table, drinking beer and watching TV.

"The olive oil must have a purpose here."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" The woman says.

"I'll take the olive oil and we'll just put just a touch of olive oil, okay? That's all."

"Oh."

"Can't make any mistakes with this machine. Now, for liquid, I could use water but I'm gonna use a little spinach—" Y/N changed the channel to the stock market, cartoon, and then the news. On the TV is a land plane and a reporter.

"And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424." This gets Y/N's attention and she leans forward as she continues to watch. "Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives..."

"No, no. I stopped that crash." Later, Y/N is in front of her laptop reading headlines that relate cases she had solved.

Indianapolis Sun, December 5TH, 2005 - FLIGHT 424 CRASHES, 108 DEAD; Tragedy shocks the nation, as emergency crews continue to search rubble

Nine Children Comatose; ... Mystery illness baffles doctors at Dane County Hospital

Parents mutilated in bed.; ...Brutal double homicide in quiet residential area causes shock

GIRL DROWNS IN HOTEL POOL; Mother devastated after discovering daughter drowned

Y/N catches a glimpse of a passing figure, a woman in white; She gets up to see what it is. Later, she opens her bedroom closet door and sees several male corpses, hanging. She hears a sound and turns around to see another male, with a wound in his head, flickering in front of her. She pants, looking shocked, and turns back around to the closet—to see nothing out of the ordinary.

==

Y/N is standing by John's grave.

"All of them. Everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy, Dean and I saved. They're all dead. And there's this woman, that's haunting me. I don't know why. I don't know what the connection is, not yet anyway. It's like my old life is, is coming after me or something. Like it like it doesn't want me to be happy. Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but... 'So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?' But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?" Y/N begins to cry while talking, her voice cracking. "What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life, Sammy's and De’s not supposed to get married? I’m not supposed to be married and have a daughter? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?" There's a small pause. "It's..." Y/N's lips tremble. Silence. Tears begin to fall on Y/N's cheek. "Yeah." Y/N wipes the tears on her cheeks. She turns around and walks away.

==

Sam wakes up to a noise. He stands up and goes to Dean’s room, but before he knocks it opens and Dean comes out. He shushes Sam and they go down the stairs, quietly, Dean with a bat in his hand. The two stop in the doorway, leaning, looking into the living room. He sees the window open and under it, someone is in one of the cabinets. Dean shushes Sam and points to the cabinet. Dean goes in, swinging. The person gets up and counterattacks, throwing him on the floor.

"That was so easy, I'm embarrassed for you," Y/N says as she breathes.

"Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asks. Y/N gets up, letting Dean get up off the floor. They stand in front of the window.

"I was looking for beer," Y/N says.

"In the China cabinet?" Dean asks. Sam goes to turn on the light and the box with their parents' silverware is on the floor, open.

"That's Mom's silver," Sam says.

"Guys—"

"What, you...you broke into the house...to steal Mom's silver?"

"It's not what it looks like. Ok, I don't have a choice."

"Oh really? Why? What's so damn important you gotta steal from your own mother?" Dean says.

"You want the truth?"

"Yeah, yeah we do," Y/N shrugs.

"I owe somebody money."

"Who?"

"A bookie. I lost big on a game, I gotta bring him the cash tonight."

"I can't believe we're even related," Sam says. Y/N looks down. “I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid, that could get your daughter involved too.”

"Guys, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Dean says quietly.

"I'm sorry that we don't get along. And I wish to hell I could stay and fix it. But I gotta do this. People's lives depend on it." She turns around and takes a knife from the box.

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" Sam says.

"Nothing. Forget it. Just uh...hey, tell Mom I love her." Sam and Dean frown, seeing that something is up. Dean goes for the door.

"Y/N," Dean says, and Y/N turns around,

"I'll see you, Sammy, De." She walks out the door, taking one last look at the house and the boys. Sam and Dean stand in the living room where Y/N left them, confused.

==

Y/N is sitting in the car, engine going, thinking. Suddenly the passenger and back door open and Sam and Dean get into the car.

"Get out of the car."

"We're going with you," Dean says from the passenger seat.

"You're just gonna slow me down."

"Tough," Sam says.

"This is dangerous and you two could get hurt."

"Yeah, and so could you, Y/N."

"Guys—"

"Look, whatever stupid thing you're about to do, you're not doing it alone. And that's that."

"I don't understand. Why are you doing this?" Y/N asks. The boys sigh.

"Because you're still our sister."

"Assholes."

"W-hat are you calling us assholes for?"

"You two are supposed to say jerk and bitch."

"What?" Dean asks.

"Never mind." She puts the Impala in gear and they drive off. A few hours pass and Dean looks down at a bag on the seat between him and Y/N.

"What's in the bag?" Dean sighs.

"Nothin'," she says. Sam leans forward, looking at the bag.

"Nothin'?" Sam says.

"Yeah, nothin'."

"Fine," Dean grabs the bag and begins to open it, "You don't wanna do that."

"Oh really?" Dean takes out what was in the bag, showing it's a container of blood.

"What the hell is this?" Sam asks, looking at the container.

"Blood." Sam seems upset.

"Yeah, I can see that it's blood, Y/N! What the hell is it doing here?"

"You don't really wanna know," Y/N says.

"No, we-we do really wanna know, we really, really, do," Dean says.

"Yeah, well you're gonna find out sooner or later. I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

"You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why?"

"Because there's this creature. A Djinn. And I have to hunt it."

"Okay, um...stop the car," Dean says.

"I know how it sounds."

"Great. Just...stop the car."

"It's the truth, Guys. All right, there are things out there in the dark. There - there - there are bad things. There are nightmare things. And people have to be saved and if we don't save them, then nobody will."

"Look, we wanna help you, all right. I-I really, really do, but you're having some kind of psychotic breakdown, so, I... just—"

"I wish." Sam picks up his phone and starts dialing a number. Y/N rolls down her window, grabs Sam's phone and throws it out, doing the same with Dean's phone, then she rolls the window up.

"What the hell was that, Y/N? That was our phones!"

"I'm not going to a rubber room, Guys. And we have work to do."

"What? We were just trying to help you out, Y/N. We don't, we don't want you to get yourself hurt."

"What? You two protect me?"

"Yeah!" They say in unison. Y/N laughs.

"Oh, that's hilarious. Why don't you two just sit tight and try not to get us both killed." Y/N starts the radio and music blares out.

==

Y/N looks over at Sam and Dean, who are asleep. She picks up her flashlight and shines it on their faces, waking them up with a startle.

"Where are we?" Dean asks.

"Well, we're not in Kansas anymore," Y/N chuckles at the two. When there's no reaction, the smile dies. "Illinois."

"And you think something's in there?" Sam says.

"I know it is." Later, Sam, Dean, and Y/N are walking in, flashlight in Y/N's hand.

"See? There's nothing here, Y/N." She starts walking down the hallway. Sam and Dean closely follow behind.

"Look, Eddie's gotta be worried sick about you, Y/N. Come on, let- let's just go." There's a sudden sound.

"Shh!" she speaks. There's more sounds and the boys start to take it seriously.

"What the hell is that?" Dean asks.

"Stay behind me and keep your mouths shut." The three approach a big room full of bodies hanging from the ceiling. There are drained blood bags hanging next to one of the bodies.

"What the hell?" Sam says. Y/N looks further to the right and sees the woman she's been seeing. They approach her and there's another blood bag next to her, filled with blood. Her eyes are open, but she looks close to dead.

"It's her." Dean looks at the bag and her wrists that are tied, just like the others. She begins to moan and whimper.

"Y/N, what's going on?"

"Shh!" she says and grabs the two. The Djinn comes out and when it comes out from behind a wall and walks up behind the woman, the three are gone. The woman is sobbing.

"Where's my dad?" she cries. "I won't tell," she says looking at the Djinn. "Don't." She moves her feet away from the Djinn while Dean, Sam, and Y/N are hidden. She continues to cry. "Where's my dad?" The Djinn touches her face.

"Sleep," he says as he strokes her cheek, some blue flares going over it. The Djinn's eyes glow bright blue. "Sleep... sleep." Her head falls forward, eyes still open and her feet relax, falling forward again. The Djinn rests his face against her arms, touching her right arm and breathing heavily, eyes closed. He then goes for the blood bag, pulls out one straw and puts it to his mouth, drinking her blood. Sam sees this and gags in disgust. The Djinn hears and turns around right away; its eyes flash blue and he begins to move towards their hiding place. When he gets there, the three are gone.

[dothwrites]

15.19--freedom

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose/Nothing, don’t mean nothing if it ain’t free, no, no”--Janis Joplin

---

Freedom. 

Dean rolls the word around on the tip of his tongue and tastes how it feels. Freedom. 

It’s a strange concept, especially since he always assumed that he was. Ever since Apocalypse Version 1.0 was averted, Michael and Lucifer locked in the cage, thanks very much, he’s always assumed that he was the one calling the shots. No matter how badly he fucked up (and he fucked up a lot), he could at least take comfort in the fact that those were his choices. No one’s hand up Dean Winchester’s ass, no siree. 

And then Chuck came and ripped that certainty away from him in one quick motion and then...everything was suspect. Sam, Mom, Jack...Cas. Every word, every action, every emotion... He couldn’t trust anything, so he trusted nothing.

He still wakes up from nightmares with those words echoing in his head: You’re dead to me. He bolts upright, almost puking, because he can’t believe his past self, he can’t believe that those words came out of his mouth, to Cas, to Cas of all people--

He splashes water on his face and notices that his hand is shaking. His stomach churns in warning, but he doesn’t think he’s going to puke. However, he also doesn’t think he’s going back to sleep tonight. 

He and Sam are in the bunker, but he knows they won’t stay. It’s too empty now, their voices echoing through the halls and rooms. Maybe once, he would have been all right with that, would have even enjoyed it, but now, he can’t bear it. He remembers all too well how it felt to have Jack’s voice bouncing through the kitchen as he talked about the latest movie they had watched, or how it felt to just feel Cas behind him as he moved through the kitchen. 

Every time he makes his breakfast, he’s reminded of what he lost. Every time he and Sam come back to the bunker, there’s the sinking disappointment to find themselves alone once more. Dean ends up spending most of his days in his room because anywhere else freaks him out. He can’t stop whipping his head to look over his shoulder, halfway convinced that he’ll find someone standing behind him. He’s always disappointed when he finds himself alone. 

He and Sam are going to leave the bunker behind. He doesn’t know when and he doesn’t know what for, but he knows that it’s going to happen. 

He asks Sam one afternoon why he hasn’t left yet. Eileen is waiting for him, biding her time a hell of a lot more patiently than Dean would, and Sam still isn’t going to her and starting the American dream life. And one afternoon, Dean either runs out of fucks and gathers up his last little shreds of courage, and asks him. 

“So when are you going to move in with Eileen? I can’t imagine that she’s going to wait for your gigantor ass forever.” 

Sam looks at him from across the table. There’s a book open in front of him, but Dean doesn’t think that he’s read a word. He knows that he’s been stuck on the same screen on his phone for several minutes. Without the pressing urgency of saving the world, things just seem so...pointless. Which is not necessarily bad. But it means that he and Sam spend a lot of slow, lingering afternoons like this, with just the two of them wandering through the bunker and occasionally bouncing off of each other like two very faulty pinballs stuck in a malfunctioning machine. 

“She’s fine,” Sam says, which isn’t an answer. “She understands what’s happening.” 

Dean’s glad that someone understands because he surely has no fucking clue.

---

His life falls into a kind of routine. Wake up, make breakfast. Find pointless chores to do around the bunker. Make lunch. Watch some bullshit shows on TV. Make dinner. Have a beer. Fall asleep. 

He feels like the worst kind of retiree, devoid of purpose. 

Sure, there are occasional hunts, but he doesn’t feel the need to go on them. The world is turning, same as it always did, and there are other hunters in the world. If that’s one thing that he learned through these past years, it’s that he doesn’t have to do everything. 

(Plus, he and Sam literally defeated God, so he thinks they deserve some time off.)

The forced retirement doesn’t make him happy. The bunker is the cleanest that it’s ever been and he doesn’t feel happy about it. There’s a gaping hole in his chest that’s shaped like the rest of his family, and he can’t sleep at night. He makes dinner and all he can think about are the empty places at the table. 

Sam sticks his head into Dean’s room. It’s a regular day, though Dean doesn’t bother to note either the actual date or the day of the week anymore. Time blends together in an endless cycle of waking, chores, and sleeping, because without a purpose to hold him together, he’s slowly falling apart. 

“I’m going to head out,” Sam says. Dean notices that he doesn’t put a timeline on his departure. “You should get out too.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn’t ask the obvious question: Where would he go? Sam, slightly chagrined, scuffs his feet against the floor. “Maybe go see Jody, Donna, and the girls? See if Charlie and Stevie want a third on their hunt? Bobby said something about building up his library here.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, with absolutely no intention of following through on any of those suggestions. He’s not quite wallowing in his own grief and filth (every time he tries to crawl back into a bottle, he just remembers the pinched look at the corners of Cas’ eyes whenever he would find Dean halfway through a bender, and that memory effectively nixes any desire he might have had to crawl into the nearest bottle), but he’s not exactly the poster boy for healthy coping strategies either. 

“Dean.” 

Dean hates that note in Sam’s voice, the oh-so-soft and sensitive tone that could soothe widows and lull children. He hates even more that it’s being turned on him, hates most of all that he derives comfort from it. 

“I don’t get it,” Dean finally says, because if Sam is leaving then he might be losing his chance to ask his question aloud. “I don’t get...I mean, Jack could have brought him back. He could have done it. I could have asked him. I was right fucking there, and I didn’t ask.” 

He’s dissected those moments in his head until there’s nothing left, and he’s forced to cobble them back together like some Frankenstein of memories just so he can take them apart all over again. Why didn’t he ask Jack to bring Cas back? Why didn’t Jack do it of his own free will? Jack knew how he much he needed Cas; hell, Jack brought him back once before when he wasn’t God. So why couldn’t he do it then, when Dean needed him the most? 

“I don’t know,” Sam says, still in that same soft voice. “Maybe...maybe it was like Mom? I mean, Cas made his choice. For better or worse, he made it, and maybe Jack thinks that we need to respect it?” 

A thick lump rises in his throat. Cas’ face replays in his nightmares, tear-stricken and yet smiling, peace and grief shining in his eyes. I love you. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to say at that moment. Like it was all he’d ever wanted to say. 

“I never...” Dean swallows, but he doesn’t manage to chase away the horrid feeling rising in his chest. “I never said it back to him, Sam. I never...all those times he said it to us, and I never...he died, thinking that no one loved him. The one thing I want, I know I can’t have, is what he said to me.” 

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a list of his regrets (there are too many to really list), but if he did, then he knows this would be at the top of it. Cas sacrificed himself, Cas let himself get taken, Cas died, and all to save someone who he believed didn’t love him back. 

How could he not know? 

Dean knows he’s not necessarily Mr. Subtle; he knows Sam knows. Their enemies damn sure have seemed to figure out through the years exactly where Dean’s heart lies. How could Cas, as brilliant as he was, as insightful, as compassionate as he was, not understand that Dean’s been lost on him, quite possible since the first time he walked through those barn doors? 

Sam’s face goes on a journey and it ends up at about the same place that Dean feels. Maybe now Sam understands why it’s so much effort for him to just make it out of his room. 

“He thought it was worth it,” Sam finally says. “Even if he thought...At the end, it was still worth it to him.” 

You were still worth it, is left unsaid, but Dean hears the echo nonetheless. There’s an accusation there which he doesn’t want to confront, but he has to nonetheless. 

“I can’t stay here anymore,” Sam finally says. “I can’t...” When he looks at Dean, his eyes are glistening. There’s a plea for understanding in his face. “There’s a whole world out there that I haven’t gotten to see since...since Stanford really. Since ever. I can finally go out there and walk around and not worry that something’s going to come after me. I can finally...” Sam rubs a corner of his shirt between his fingers. “You always said that I wanted a normal life, and I did, for a while. Then, when I figured that it was never going to happen, I stopped myself from wanting it, because what was the point? When everything we had got ripped away from us, what was the point of anything? But now...” 

“If you start now, then you can probably make Des Moines by night,” Dean offers. It’s all he can say, but it’s enough. 

Sam smiles, his eyes glassy. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

It’s not a goodbye, but it is. It’s the bonds of desperation and codependency snapping and shattering and reforming into something else. Dean doesn’t know how to love his brother in this new world. All he knows is that Sam deserves to live the life he’s deserved. 

Dean closes his eyes. 

When he opens them, Sam is gone.

---

That night, he goes up on the roof of the bunker. It’s cold, but not unbearable. There’s a light drizzle falling which strengthens to a gentle shower the longer he stays outside. 

Dean closes his eyes and looks up at the sky. Out here, the stars shine clearer than ever before, visible even through the rainclouds. 

He can’t help but think of Jack. His son. He can say those words now, acknowledge that Jack gave him everything he really wanted; the chance at a family, the chance to erase some of his father’s sins. Jack was gentle, he was kind, he was loving, he was theirs. And then he was gone. 

Cas, Jack, Sam...

“What am I supposed to do?” Dean asks the rain, the same wild pain rising up in his throat. “What am I supposed to do now?” 

---

He makes it back inside, damp and cold, and strips himself. He should shower, but he can’t be bothered, so he falls into bed naked and shivering. Not like it matters; no one is around to see him anyway. He falls into a fitful doze and is only awakened hours later by the soft sounds of someone moving around his room. 

He bolts upright, snatching his gun out from underneath his pillow, because old habits die never. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as his heartbeat catches up with his adrenaline. “Sam?” he asks, and then, more tentatively, “Jack?” 

His desk lamp blazes into the life with a soft snap. Dean’s heart leaps into his throat. 

Cas smiles at him, the same as always, sadness always lurking in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Dean finally understands why he looks that way. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. The sound of his voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine, but the hair on his arms doesn’t rise. Dean understands then. 

“This is a dream.” He lowers the gun. His heart slows to normal and disappointment is bitter in his mouth. “You’re not really here.” 

Cas’ mouth lifts in a lopsided smile. “It’s as real as you make it.” 

“Don’t fucking Dumbledore me,” Dean mutters. He rubs at his temples. Somehow, even lucid dreaming has lost its appeal. Talking to Cas isn’t appealing when he knows that he’s just talking to his own subconscious. 

“I fail to see what a fictional wizard of questionable sexuality has to do with this.” 

“Good to know that my subconscious has your sense of humor down.” Dean glares at Cas. “Why the fuck are you here, anyway? It’s a dick move, even for my brain.” 

“Maybe because I’m the person you want to see? I don’t know. It’s your head, not mine.”

“Yeah. No offense, but I think I’m just going to go back to sleep. Or wake up. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I don’t need to see you anymore. It’s just...It really hurts, all right?” 

“I’m not real, so you’re not really hurting my feelings.” 

“Good. Well, now that we have that sorted out.” Dean punches his pillow as a punishment for betraying him, before he turns back to Cas. “I miss you,” he says, because he’s weak and always has been. 

“Dean.” The sound of Cas’ voice always manages to make Dean stop and now is no different. He turns around and looks at Cas. 

Somehow, Cas looks more solid around the edges. The lines around his eyes are more pronounced, and if Dean turns his head at just the right angle, he thinks he can see grey silvering at Cas’ temple. 

“Sam was right,” Cas says. “I made a choice. That’s what this was all about, ever since the beginning. Making choices, running our own course, picking our own path.” 

“Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in,” Dean mutters. The last thing he needs is his subconscious reminding him that once again, Cas decided that he wasn’t good enough to stay with. 

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t make a choice as well,” Cas continues, ignoring him. “There’s nothing to stop you. You can make whatever choices you want and take the consequences that come with them. And if you make the right choices, then maybe...” Cas bites his lip, looking almost nervous. “Then maybe I can make some choices too.” 

Dean opens his mouth to argue--Cas is dead, the time for making decisions has come and gone--but his subconscious is a dick, and before he can say anything, his dream fades away in a wash of black. 

---

Dean wakes up energized. His eyes open into the same room, but it’s different somehow. It’s ridiculous, because the bunker is underground, but it’s almost like he sees the sun shining through his windows. Even the air tastes different. For the first time in weeks, he gets out of bed without dreading every step away from his mattress. 

He glances at his phone. There’s a message from Sam along with a picture. In it, Eileen and Sam smile at the camera, their heads pressed together at the temple. There’s still a shadow of sadness in their eyes--they’ve all lost too much to be truly carefree ever again--but they look good. Happy. Whole. 

Cas’ words echo back at him, both from the dream and from those last, horrible, terrifying moments. 

Everything you did, you did for love. 

You can make a choice. 

Dean starts towards the library. 

---

It takes him three weeks of almost non-stop research to cobble together enough spells to make something that has the potential to work. This isn’t his strength; Sam is much more suited for this type of work, but he won’t bring Sam in on this. If this thing goes really damn badly, then it has the potential to wipe him off the face of the earth, goodbye Dean Winchester. If this thing does what he’s halfway expecting it to, which is nothing, then he’ll have gotten Sam’s hopes up for nothing. He’s not going to expose Sam to either danger or disappointment, not when Sam’s finally managed to get to some kind of happiness. 

If everything goes well...

Dean won’t let himself think about that. 

He spends two days smoothing out the kinks in the spell, double and triple checking his translations. He gathers his ingredients, and then spends another hour pacing around the library. His stomach is roiling, and his nerves are jittery. He can’t bear to stop, but he can’t bear to move forward. 

The memory of Cas’ smile spurs him into action. Cas went to his death a willing martyr for a man who he believed didn’t love him back. He can’t let that stand. If anything else, Cas has to know. 

The drive to Pontiac, Illinois takes him the better part of a day. The impala springs forward across the asphalt, almost like she’s eager to eat up the miles after her forced retirement. Dean pushes hard down on the gas pedal, urging her forward. One way or another, this is going to come to an end tonight. 

It takes him a while to find the barn. The last time he was here, he wasn’t in his right mind, still reeling from the horrors of Hell and the confusion of finding himself alive. He’d been scared and angry, lost and so very alone. And then an angel had walked through the door and told him that good things happened, that he deserved to be saved. The last little bit might have been a line fed to Cas by a bunch of dickhead superiors, but the sentiment behind it had stayed long after those superiors were all dead. 

They replaced the doors which Cas shattered and painted over the walls which Dean and Bobby covered with sigils, but if Dean looks carefully, he can see the shadows of them behind the new coat of whitewash. He touches them gently for a second, remembering Bobby and all of the years which led him back to this place. Then he pulls out his can of spray paint and proceeds to deface the barn all over again. 

When he’s done, he sets up the ingredients on the table. The table is where it was all those years ago, facing the doors to the barn. He doesn’t quite believe that Cas is going to pull the same trick, storming through the doors in a shower of sparks, but he can always hope. 

“God...Jack,” Dean corrects himself with a wry twist of his mouth, “I really hope this works. Cas, wherever you are, I really hope you have your ears on.” 

Dean looks at his translations and begins to speak. He’s hoping that intention counts for something as his tongue stumbles over the unfamiliar words. His heart beats an uncertain pulse in his chest. This has to work. It has to work. 

He puts every ounce of belief into his voice, every bit of the faith Cas once accused him of not having. I have faith, he thinks, putting force behind his voice, sending his words rocketing into the dimensions. I believe in us. 

What’s real? 

We are.

The last syllables roll over his tongue, followed immediately by a peal of thunder. The barn shivers, a ripple rolling through the air to settle over Dean’s skin. Electricity crackles in the air, filling him with potential. 

“Castiel?” he calls to the darkness. “Cas?” 

There’s no answer, but the spells and research had been unclear on whether or not there should be an answer. He would prefer knowing that Cas was listening, but in absence of certainty, he’ll have to have faith. 

“Cas, I really hope you can hear me,” he says. The words bring back the memories of Purgatory and a time when he and Cas could barely look at each other. He pushes those memories away and concentrates on the truth he can feel in his heart, the same truth which has guided him through the years and all the way from Lebanon, Kansas to the small barn where it all began all those years ago. 

“I know you made your choice. I know you were happy. But...it’s not the same without you. I’m not the same without you. I wake up and think about you, and you’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night. Every moment, you’re there because you’re not there. I look at all the places you’re missing and I can’t help but think that everything would be better if you were there.”

Dean swallows. “I miss you,” he confesses to the night. “Cas, I miss you so much. And I want you to come back. Not because I need you or because there’s something to fight against, but just because I miss you and life is better when you’re around.” He thinks of what Sam told him before he went. “There’s a new world out there, and I can’t think of who I would rather explore it with than you, but in order to do that, you’ve got to make a choice, all right?” 

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode out of his chest. “I want to share my life with you. I want to figure out this world together. I want to be able to look at you and hold you and experience everything with you. Cas, I want to tell you what I should have told you every single day for years. I’m sorry that I never told you while you were with me. And I’m sorry that the first time I say it, I’m not going to be looking at you, but it wouldn’t be our lives if something about this wasn’t shitty, right?” 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I love you, Cas. Not because of what you can do or how useful you are. I love you because of who you are and how hard you try. And I want to say it to you, every single day, for years to come. I’ve made my choice, Cas. Now you just need to make yours.” 

Silence overtakes the barn. The only sound is the faint whistling of the wind through the slats of the barn and the quick rasp of his breathing. There’s no flap of wings, no deep voice growling in his ears, no pop of electricity. 

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers, closing his eyes to try and stop the burning behind them. “Please.” 

Thunder rolls through the barn, shaking through the wood down to the dirt floor. Dean’s head jerks upright as he scans the barn. “Cas?” he calls, hardly daring to hope. “Castiel?” 

A thin, golden thread rips open in the air before him. It looks almost exactly like the rifts between worlds which Jack used to create, but that’s not possible. 

It’s not possible, but Dean dares to hope anyway. 

“Castiel? Cas?” 

A single hand reaches out through the golden tear, and then Dean is moving, he’s practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the rift. “Cas, Cas, please,” he’s saying, not quite aware of the words which are tumbling from his mouth. “Please.” 

Until his fingers grip the hand, he’s not sure that it’s real, but that’s solid flesh and bone underneath his palm. Dean pulls, feeling resistance on the other end. “No,” he grunts, reaching into the rift. His hand touches skin, and his resolve grows. He didn’t come this far only to lose. They haven’t come this far only to fall apart. 

“I want you,” he says, as though the force of his words can rip through the veil. “Cas, please, come home, Cas, please--” 

With an almighty heave, he pulls once more and then he’s falling backward, another body tumbling against his in an ungainly pile of limbs and bodies. There’s skin and there’s warm, and there’s weight. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees the rift close up, as neatly as if it were never there at all. 

He doesn’t care about that. He can’t, not now. 

Dean looks down at the body sprawled across his lap. There are miles upon miles of naked skin for him to peruse, and he hopes that he’ll be able to do so later at his leisure, but for now, all he can concentrate on are those two luminous eyes blinking up at him. 

“Cas?” Dean asks, hardly daring to believe. His hands cup Castiel’s face, fingers sweeping a few locks of dark hair off of his forehead. 

Castiel blinks at him, his dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. A slow smile creeps across his face, like the dawn spreading across the horizon. “Dean,” he says, his voice the same as it always was, but this time it’s better, because it’s a voice that Dean never thought he’d hear again. 

“Cas.” It’s the only word Dean seems capable of saying, but words don’t seem important anymore, not when he can lean forward and press his lips to Cas’, not when he can taste the small sigh of surprise on Cas’ lips. “Cas, I missed you so much, oh god, Cas, there’s so much I want to tell you, there’s so much I want to do--” 

Cas interrupts him with another kiss, his arms threading around Dean’s shoulders to pull him closer. Gentle fingers tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and Dean thinks that he could live in this moment forever. 

But before he does that, there’s something else which needs to happen first. Dean pulls away, ignoring the small whine of protest from Cas. 

“Cas, there’s something I need to tell you,” he starts, only to be interrupted. 

“I know,” Cas says, his face splitting into a wide, gummy smile. No shadow lurks behind his eyes, no hint of tears glisten in his eyes. There’s just happiness, radiant and absolute, gleaming from his face. 

“I heard your prayer.” 

Maybe once upon a time, Dean would have been satisfied with that answer, but not anymore. 

“I love you,” Dean whispers, pressing the words into Cas’ skin with gentle kisses over his temple and cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you, and I’m going to tell you every day until you get sick of it.” 

“You’ll have to try for a very long time,” Castiel answers, his fingers tracing along Dean’s jaw. “I like hearing those words very much.” 

Dean can’t help but kiss him again. As he does so, he feels the lost and scattered pieces of his heart knitting back together until he can finally breathe for the first time in months. “Come on,” he says, once he surfaces for air. “Let’s go.” 

It only hits him then that Cas is naked. Apparently rebirth and snagging people out of alternate dimensions results in a distinct lack of clothing. Dean’s eyes want to travel over the skin revealed to him, but he waits. There will be time, he realizes with a tiny thrill of delight. He and Cas have all the time in the world.

He manages to find a blanket to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. It will do until they get out to the car where he has a spare set of clothes. For now, he helps Cas to his feet. Cas looks around him, his eyes wide and huge, as though he’s overwhelmed with the world around him. 

“Where are we headed?” Cas asks as they head towards the door. The Impala waits outside, beckoning them forward once more. 

Dean grins as the cool night air washes over them. It’s gentle and soft, eternity held in the breeze. There’s a world held within the palm of tonight, a world held within the rest of their lives. 

“Wherever we want,” he answers, stepping out of the shadow of the barn and into the world. 

As they walk towards the Impala, a light rain begins to fall. 

---

“Before, I wanted to say: "I found love!" But now, I want to say: "I found a person. And he belongs to me and I belong to him.”― C. JoyBell C.

[hozierandco]

Sam Fender x Reader / call me lover

Friends to lovers. Lots of fluff.

Plot: Y/N and Sam have been friends for as long as they can remember but growing up has led them to grow apart. There are many things they have to tell one another.

The thing with kids is that they grow up. Too quickly, with too much silence surrounding them.

Sam was a boy, Y/N was a girl but to one another, they were just friends. They had known each other for as long as they could recall and had not doubted one second that they were just friends. Of course, there were the subtle questions from their parents, the hesitation when Sam would spend the night at Y/N's but their parents too knew it was just friendship.

Although they agreed that with all the secrets and trust they shared, they would be the best of couples, they thought it to be too pure to be broken.

Their friends too believed that it would inevitably happen, that they would end up together. Of all people, Dru was the most persistent on the matter. He had known Y/N for a longer time than Sam since Y/N's mother was the doula and a close friend to Drew's. Therefore, the two of them considered each other as siblings.

He  liked to tease Sam to make him confess a crush he would have on Y/N. To no avail.

And then, there had been Y/N's first boyfriend when she was 15. At a time in his life when he was still playing Fifa in his room when he was not toying with his piano, he had to endure his best friend clung to her boyfriend's arm.

For the first time, he felt repulsed by the sight of Y/N but mostly by that of the Alex Turner wannabe her heart had fallen for. He began writing about love and deception though he had no reason to have known either.

Of course, the idyll was cut short with Alex Turner #2 coming back from summer camp without his virginity anymore, exploit he felt the need to share with the whole school.

Sam and Drew had come to Y/N's rescue the day at school and together, they had eaten pizza and waited for Y/N's tears to disappear. It was the world against them from now on, and nothing could change that.

Sam had worked his ass off to make Y/N proud and had done all he could for his A-levels. In spite of all the intensity and long hours of going over Horatio Nelson and the Boer War with Y/N, he gave up and started working in a pub. He was to be a musician, no matter what.

His fingers got crooked because of his guitar, his voice sore but at last, he was given a festival to play at. Drew would be there too of course.

As for Y/N, she had started working in an architect's office while studying at the local Uni.

Things got so fast. The kids grew and were soon overwhelmed with new responsibilities. Y/N had a new life for herself and Sam was about to tour before releasing his debut album. When he found out that a label had signed him up, the three friends along with Dean and Joe had screamed their lungs out.

It had come out of the blue that Joe fancied Y/N and it had also come out of the blue that Sam didn't like this turn of event.

The tour meant that they would not see each other for at least half a year as Sam's studio was in London. They had never been away from one another for so long so the day Sam left North Shields, it felt like the soil was crumbling under her feet.

Y/N informed herself of Sam's whereabouts through Dru as Sam didn't reply to her texts. Dru was regularly implying to his friend that he should call her every now and then, but he was always "too busy". Just like that, silent formed around them.

"Sam, call her", Dru begged one more time.

Sam sighed. He did not dare calling her, he felt as though he had let time rule his emotions. The more distance he put between them, the harder it was to think of something to say. Sure, he was busy but he always had been busy.

"You know what day it is today, don't you?"

Sam stared with round eyes at Dru.

"It's her bloody birthday, Sam. Just call her, okay?"

Dru had taken Sam's phone from his coat that was lying on the floor and forced Sam to take it.

Sam went to the room, right next to where he was and dialled Y/N's number, ending up on the voicemail "Hi! I hope that the voicemail just indicates that you're getting hammered somewhere and I also wish you a happy birthday. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, I wish I could make it up to you. I miss you and I love you"

It was not until the message got sent that he realised what he had just said. Sam knew that opening up always led him to say too much and he couldn't take the risk to lose Y/N.

"What's wrong?" Dru asked when he saw Sam visibly agitated.

"I screwed up"

"You just had one call to make, how can you screw up a call?"

"I said something I shouldn't have. I told her that I loved her"

"As in I love you?"

"Yeah, I mean it's not something we say to each other"

"And do you? Love her?"

"Yes, Dru. I think I do. I think I always loved her"

"Well then, you haven't screwed up. You've just made things easier"

Days went by without a word from Y/N and Sam to pass time was playing with his phone a couple of times a day, not knowing what or if he should write to her. But then it got worrying, he feard that something had happened to her.

"D'you have news of Y/N?", he confronted Dru one night.

"She didn't say that she loves you back, huh?"

"She hasn't said anything at all, in fact. Is she alright?"

"That's odd. Yeah, she's fine, I just got a text from her, not even ten minutes ago. I can ask her to reach out for you if you want"

Dru is a magician as not only five minutes later, Sam's phone buzzed.

Y/N: Dru said you called on my birthday. My phone was off, you should have left a message... Sam: I did! You didn't listen to it? Y/N: I didn't get anything... Sam: Can I call you now? Y/N: No, not tonight. I'll call you tomorrow morning, good? Sam: Yes :)

Sam was not a morning person but he woke up as early as he could. He waited and finally she called. On FaceTime. She looked radiant, unlike him who severely lacked of sleep.

"Hey!"

Bring the tone down, Fender, Sam thought. You're gonna freak her out.

"Hi, sorry I couldn't call you yesterday. It's good to see you"

Just like that, one moving still of Sam was enough to have her mood lit up.

"So, can't make a voicemail work, huh?" Y/N joked around.

"I promise you, it worked. I don't know what happened but it's good I get to tell you like that"

"Tell me what?"

"Well, first that I'm sorry I've been an idiot lately. It's just that I've missed you so much and I wanted to see you and I couldn't stop thinking of you all the time"

An unfamiliar noise of a plate falling.

"Garlic's going on an adventure?" Sam referred to Y/N's cat that was known to be the clumsiest cat on Earth and that Sam had helped naming six years prior.

The distraction was much needed as Sam was blushing and it started showing on camera.

"Let me just go somewhere quieter"

As Y/N left her living room for her bedroom, Sam saw the silhouette of a man trying to assemble the splinters the plate had left behind.

"Sorry for that. What were you saying?"

"Nothing. I'm just sorry I didn't call you earlier and I hoped that you had a great birthday..."

"You sure there was nothing else"

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure"

The two of them chatted for another 5 minutes when the conversatio became awkward.

Y/N was certain when she hung up that Sam was about to reveal his feelings. And she would have let him. In fact, she would have revealed hers as well.

But Dan had to be in the way. Or was it Ian? Stan? Y/N had always done this. When she was thinking of Sam too much, she was collecting men to share the night with.

She never got attached to anybody but liked to wake up by a man's side.

A few weeks later, Dru called Y/N with good news.

"We've got some rest from the tour. We'll be at Shields for a month or so. I cannot wait to see you again, little sister!"

Y/N had set her mind to meet them at the train station from where she would get in the tour bus with them. Since Sam's aborted declaration, Y/N had not gotten any news from him and was not taking any.

When the van arrived and its doors opened, Dru ran to Y/N and hugged her "Ah, come here, you!"

There was a new face amongst the original team.

"Hi, I'm Lisa" the stranger introduced herself. By gazing that her hand was in Sam's, Y/N took a wild guess that the two of them were a thing.

"Nice to finally meet you. You're the 5th Beatle or so it seems. The boys could not shut up about you"

Y/N grinned at Dru and fainted a smile towards Sam. Unfortunately, she couldn't say as much for Lisa and blamed Dru to have kept it a secret.

Lisa was gorgeous, it was undeniable. Her posh accent had made the journey with her and contrasted with hers and the boys'. As long as Sam is happy, I'm happy, Y/N tried to convince herself as she got in the van.

"So, pub?" Dru asked. It was not even 5 pm but the idea seemed to everyone's taste.

"I'll join you later if that's alright. Joe, can you drop me off? I've got a few things to do before I join"

"You alright?" Dru whispered at her as he was seated next to her in the back of the van.

"Yeah, I'm fine" but as she answered, she stared a little too long at Lisa and her brown curls, her tanned skin and her perfect Julia Roberts smile.

"It's Lisa, huh? I don't like her either. Too posh for Sammy"

"I've never said I didn't like her"

"Then what?" Dru hesitated and then exclaimed "Oh!"

As he had nearly shouted, all of the boys and Lisa turned around to laugh at his looks of bewilderment.

Dru shushed himself down as his friends took the piss at him "Finally got the epiphany that you're ugly, Michael?" Dean mocked him.

As Dru brushed the joke and everything went back to normal, he went on with his whispering "You fancy Sam?"

Y/N simply nodded which got Dru leaning back in his seat, stirred by the confession.

"There, you go, princess" Joe stated as he had parked right in front of Y/N's flat.

They all greeted Y/N goodbye and agreed that they would see each other at 7. Sam did not dare looking at her in the eye. He knew he should have said something about Lisa but he had not come around it, why would he since she had her own life now?

As she opened the door, Y/N started tearing up a little, stunned by all the events. She seized her phone and sent a text.

By 6.15, the intercom rang. Y/N had changed into a wrap dress made of sequins and black heels.

"Hey!", she exclaimed to the man who was waiting by the door. This one was Chris, a chap she had seen some days prior. He reminded her of Alfred Enoch somehow with his chiseled jaw and round cheeks. Y/N didn't feel like being alone tonight and Chris was good company.

"Y/N, here!" Joe informed as he was in charge of getting a new round of drinks "By the table over there. Oh hi" he said to the stranger "I'm Joe"

Chris was by far the best-dressed man there as, clearly not familiar to pubs, he was wearing an open white shirt over brown chinos.

Dru and Tom made some space for Y/N and Chris to sit once Y/N had introduced everyone to her date.

The conversation was very much alive by 8 except for the fact that Lisa and Chris felt left out as it was all about childhood memories and family-related topics.

Sam was all eyes for Y/N. It was as though nothing awkward had ever happened between them and as though they were kids all over again.

In an effort to include Chris in the night's ambiance, Y/N asked him to dance with her. She hoped by that that she could get a reaction from Sam as dancing was THEIR thing.

At her birthday parties, they were always the two ones inventing silly dance moves on cheap Eurodance. As teens, they would always wiggle at gigs while the rest of the audience would look at them tenderly.

"I should get going. I've got a meeting in the morning" Chris let Y/N know as a song by Marvin Gaye ended. It was only 10 pm but Y/N didn't hold him back.

"C'mon, Sam. Invite her to dance, you're dreaming of it" Lisa rushed him. "She's your best friend after all"

What if he didn't want to be her best friend anymore?

Sam got up and joined Y/N. Tonight, he would tell her the truth. Not tomorrow, tonight.

"May I accompany you?"

"Yes, you may. Lisa's not into dancing?"

"I don't know but I'm into dancing with you"

"He's in love with her, isn't he?" Lisa asked Dru who had just ordered more drinks.

"Yeah, I think he is.. I'm sorry"

"Don't be, it's no big deal. Sam and I were just fooling around anyway. She's sweet, just what he needs"

"They just have to admit it now"

"So, Chris.. You two are together for long?" Sam asked.

"No, I mean technically we're not together. We've met twice with tonight"

"He seems nice"

"Yeah, I suppose. You and Lisa?"

"About the same: couple of weeks, nothing too serious"

"What did you mean to tell me last time?"

"Last time?"

"Yeah, you were saying that you missed me and all"

"Well, yeah. Touring without you sucked. I've missed you every fucking day. I want to be with you all the time. It's always been like that me and you"

"I missed you too, Sam"

The song had changed.

"What I'm about to say could ruin what we have but I just have to say it: I've always loved you, Y/N. It took me a whole ass tour to realise that. It's what I told you on the voicemail"

"I love you too, you idiot!"

Dru admired Lisa's ability to remain amicable even when she understood that Sam and Y/N had just confessed their feelings. He had judged her badly and saw what Sam had seen in her: a genuine goodness.

Sam was eager to kiss Y/N but had to make sure that Lisa was alright. He wanted more than anything else in the world Y/N and him to be together but he couldn't do it like that.

He turned around to Lisa only to see her kissing Dru. Sam shook his head and turned back on Y/N who was laughing at this sudden act of PDA.

Sam laughed along and then joined his lips to Y/N's.

[ginnympotter]

call it even

Chapter 1: you’ll always know me

A/N: This is the first chapter of a 2 (or possibly 3? who knows) chapter Muggle AU fanfic inspired by tis the damn season and dorothea by taylor swift hehe hope you like it :) You can also read it on AO3 here.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and took a deep breath. It was way too early in the morning, she had just gotten off a long flight where she barely slept a wink, and she just didn’t have it in her to talk to any fans without the coffee she was impatiently waiting for at the LAX Starbucks.

But she turned around anyway, bracing herself, and then saw a face that jolted her so much she supposed she wouldn’t need the coffee anymore. “Harry?”

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled. Harry Potter was standing in front of her for the first time in almost a year, looking as handsome as ever. He was tired, his green eyes looking glazed behind his glasses, his hair pointing in all directions- though she could tell he didn’t try to comb it- wearing the grey-blue sweater she knew her Mum bought him years ago.

Without really thinking about it, she moved forward and hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he put his around her waist and hugged her back, but he also let go first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously, trying not to think too hard about him breaking the embrace before she could.

“My students had a tournament against a school out here,” he explained. “We lost though.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Oh, don’t be, I don’t mind. But the kids all seem like they’re going to jump out of the plane before we can make it home. I was up until 2am consoling the quarterback. My assistant coach is talking them all down now out there while I grab us coffee.”

She nodded, biting her lip. And then blurted out, “Why didn’t you call?” At Harry’s confused look, she added, “to tell me you were in L.A.?”

He cleared his throat, and Ginny saw a light blush creep up his neck. “Well, I knew you were away for your match. I caught some of it, you played great, as always.”

“Oh,” she responded, feeling stupid. She sometimes forgot that as a member of the U.S. Women’s Soccer team her schedule was often public knowledge. She felt a tug at her heart thinking about Harry still supporting her after all this time. “Right, thanks. I wish I could’ve shown you around the city. Did you like it here?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, but big cities aren’t really my style. You know that,” he ended, a solemn note in his voice. “Have you been enjoying it out here?”

She mirrored his shrug. “It’s fine, I suppose. I like the weather, if that counts.”

“Nothing else?”

With most people she’d probably just lie and say she loved it, but with Harry she had a bad habit of always being blunt. “The traffic here is worse than what they warn you about, and honestly, it’s hard to make friends when it seems like everyone just wants to use you for your fame- or for the more famous people that you know.”

“Well, if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you'll always know me.” Harry offered her a sad smile. “I’m always a call- or a FaceTime- away. Not that a tiny screen is my ideal way of seeing you, but better than nothing.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond right away, as she could feel her whole body burning up and her throat closing. There was so much in the air between them. But the barista called out a cold brew, and at the same time they both said, “oh, that’s me,” then looked at each other and laughed. The first one had Ginny’s name on it, the one that followed five seconds later had Harry’s.

They walked away from the coffee pick-up area together, and Harry checked his watch. “Well, we have to board soon. I’m sorry this is the only way we got to see each other.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” Ginny told him in response. She originally didn’t plan on reaching out to him when she got back home, because she knew her brother and Harry’s best friend Ron would just tell him, and if he wanted to see her he could make that decision for himself. But suddenly this became information that she couldn’t hold in.

“Oh,” responded Harry, running his free hand through his hair. Her heart fluttered at that motion, as she knew what it meant- that he was nervous in a good way. “Well, that’s great! Let me know when you plan on getting in, I’d love to catch up, properly.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, the sincerity spilling out against her will. She never could truly play it cool with him, not even when they were kids. She hugged him again, smelling home lingering on his sweater. “I will. Have a safe flight, Harry.”

His grip on her was tighter this time, even with coffee in hand, than the last. “You too,” he replied. And then stiffened and let go. “I mean, you already had your flight, so that made no sense. Have a safe...cab ride home, I suppose?”

Ginny laughed at his stumbling. “I’ll do my best.”

He smiled, raising a hand in a small wave as he walked back towards his students. “See you later, Gin.”

She returned the smile and watched him reach his students. She noticed one of them looking at her as if they recognized her. She saw him nudge Harry with his elbow before she turned around and began walking to find her cab driver. As she continued to stride forward she faintly heard him ask, “Mr. Potter, was that just… Ginny Weasley? Do you know her?”

***

It was her fault for thinking her brothers would give her some indication that Harry would be there. They knew she still had feelings for him, no matter how much she denied it and how many times she tried to move on, and yet they couldn’t even give her a heads up.

When Fred and George saw her exasperated expression, they rolled their eyes in unison as Fred put his arm around her. “Are you reverting back to your 11-year-old self, little sis?”

“Fuck off,” she said, shrugging out of her brother’s embrace. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I thought you were bold, or whatever,” said George. “Wasn’t that one of the three qualities you used to describe yourself in People Magazine?”

Harry began walking over to them. She mentally prepared herself as he hugged Fred and George and congratulated them on the joke shop’s expansion. As he turned his attention to Ginny, the twins quickly left to talk to other guests. He didn’t smile.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Hi,” he replied, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink. “Ron told me you landed three days ago.”

She gulped, feeling his hurt absorb her. “Well, I just got settled in and recharged, you know. I- I was going to text you.” Which was true; she did intend on keeping her promise to Harry at the airport, but didn’t know when the appropriate time would be- how do you know the right time to text your ex and first love to casually catch up?

He hummed, taking a sip of his beer. She absolutely despised cold Harry, she could feel it emanating off of him. “It’s fine,” he said, ostensibly lying. “I was catching up with some other people from school anyway. Remember Cho?”

Oh, he was cruel, bringing up his ex like that. “Obviously,” she almost spat. As if she could forget.

“Saw her and Neville, Hannah and Luna the other day.”

She had half a mind to mention Dean Thomas, her boyfriend right before Harry in her sophomore year, reaching out to her asking to go for a drink, but couldn’t find it in her to do it, so instead she just mirrored his cool and pretend unbothered tone. “I don’t remember asking, but thanks for the information.”

Harry’s frown became more clearly defined. “Fine, sorry to bother you.”

She felt a chill as he walked away from her, a familiar ache pooling in her abdomen. They were fighting like they were teenagers rather than grown adults. It was unlike him to start it- it was usually her- but she couldn’t really blame him, though. She knew at the end of the day that she was the main culprit, that she made him ache the way she did because she didn’t know how else to hold it on her own.

She watched him return to her brother Ron’s side and take another large sip of his beer. Ron’s wife and one of both Ginny’s and Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger, gave Harry an appraising look and then walked over to Ginny. Hermione gave her a short hug and then said, “Alright, which one of you said something stupid this time?”

Ginny scoffed, pulling away from her friend. “Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

“I saw you yesterday. So which one of you started it?”

“Obviously he did! He had the audacity to mention hanging out with Cho Chang to me.”

Hermione gave a look of utter exasperation. “That’s a new low for him.”

“I know!”

“But I’m assuming you replied with equal spite?”

She sputtered, crossing her arms. “Maybe so.”

“Well, you should have texted him, Ginny.”

“He should’ve texted me! ” she whispered sharply.

“But you told him at the airport-”

“No, I know that, but- I mean, he should have texted me after…” she trailed off, feeling ashamed of herself for being this upset. “After your wedding last year.”

“You mean after you two slept together again after my wedding last year.”

“Well, yeah. Once I got back to L.A. at least. But nothing.”

“You could’ve texted him then, as well.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway? I know Harry’s been your best friend forever and everything but I’m your sister-in-law! Doesn’t family by marriage mean anything to you?”

Hermione shook her head and rubbed her temples. “You two really need to sort out your issues on your own. But if it helps to know, he wasn’t really ‘hanging out’ with Cho. We were out with him and the others as well, Cho wasn’t in our group, she just happened to walk in with Michael Corner and they stopped by our table and said hi for a quick minute.”

“She’s dating Michael? My ex-boyfriend Michael?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ll be engaged any day now,” Hermione informed her.

“That lying piece of-”

“You’re both to blame here,” Hermione declared, using her I’m Putting My Foot Down voice. “Just act like adults for once and sort it out. Properly.”

Guilt enveloped her throughout the rest of the night and she hated how such a small exchange could do this to her, as she had to act like everything was okay, be happy for her brothers and talk about her life in L.A. and as a famous soccer player and sell the life she was living as one she was satisfied to have.

By the end of the evening, before he could leave, she found Harry by himself sitting and reading something intently on his phone. She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”

He looked up for a second, shook his head, and continued staring at his phone. She eased up just a tad, as she could tell his silence wasn’t his I’m Ignoring You silence, but rather his I’m Deep In Thought and Concentration silence. “Everything okay?” She asked, and when he glanced her way she gestured to his phone.

He gave a half-laugh, half sigh, looking back at his screen. “Yeah, it’s just some of these parents have no boundaries… emailing me during the holidays- on a Friday night no less. I’m just reading through them to decide if any of them are worth responding to outside of my automatic away signature.”

“Is this for the football team kids, or your English Literature students?”

“My Lit students, but there is some overlap. I have this one student, Danny, who’s a really great kid, and his parents are real dickheads, and they’re mad that he got a B+ instead of an A, despite me telling them last quarter that a B is a great grade, and Danny’s already self-conscious as it is and could use encouragement rather than nitpicking over bullshit-“

He caught sight of her face and quickly cut himself off, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She realized she was smiling- it was always nice to see Harry talk passionately about something- and quickly adjusted her facial features. He cleared his throat and closed his phone. “They can probably wait until after the holidays for me to repeat myself, I suppose.”

“I think that’s the right call,” she assured him.

He exhaled, running his hands through his hair and then over his face, trying to wipe off his exhaustion with it all. “Thanks.” He put his hands on his lap and looked at her fully, as he refused to do a couple of hours ago. “Ginny, I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” she interjected. “I told you I’d let you know when I’d be here and I didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I let my frustration get the better of me,” he said with a sigh. “Classic Harry for you.”

She laughed, folding her legs into a pretzel in her seat. “Can’t blame you, really, as I’d probably behave the same.” She let out a breath and continued on. “Look, I did mean to text you and tell you I was back. I just… I don’t know, I was stupid, I thought it had to be the right timing, but I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

“What, were you waiting for a sign or something?” he asked. He was joking when he asked, but as he processed the look on her face he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Wow, Gin. You never stop amazing me.”

She blushed and laughed nervously, thinking of all the times in the past Harry had said something like that to her. She wanted to hear more of it, over and over, even when he’s saying it in jest. “That is what I do best.”

His features sharpened a bit and he leaned forward. “Well, how’s me asking to see you tomorrow for a sign?”

She put her hand on her chin and pretended to think about it. “A pretty good one, I’d say.”

[clairenatural]

destiel, 2k. mafia!Cas/Kingergarten teacher!Dean from an anon prompt for mafia!dean or Cas protecting the other at all costs. I’m not entirely sure what this turned into but it was fun to write so I hope it’s also fun to read :) it references stuff that happens in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Castiel sighs. His five least favorite words. He glances up, frowning at Inias. “What kind of problem?” He doesn’t add that it had better be important to justify the younger man barging into his office like this, but it’s implied.

Inias takes a deep breath before stepping fully into the room, letting Castiel’s glass office door shut behind him. “The DA’s office is refusing to back down on the Ishim case.”

“And you paid them the standard amount?”

“Yes, sir. But one of the DDAs refused it.”

“Refused it.”

“He’s new. He doesn’t understand our arrangement.”

“Hm.” Castiel closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, considering both the situation and the man in front of him. They hadn’t had a problem with the DA in years—at least, not since Castiel had taken over. Their messes were less messy and they paid more generously for silence. “How much does he need to understand?”

“That’s the problem, sir. I don’t think he will.”

Castiel scoffs. “Anyone in power can be bought off,” he replies, because in all his years he’d never met someone who couldn’t be. Power corrupts, after all.

Inias shifts uneasily, and Castiel can tell he isn’t going to like how this ends.

“We’ve received word that he’s begun investigating independently.”

Castiel groans at this, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But don’t worry!” Inias continues quickly, hurridly. “We can put our best men on the assignment, have him taken care of by tonight—”

“Wait,” Castiel cuts him off with a sigh. He forces his eyes back open. “I’m not mad,” he says before anything else, because Inias looks like a deer in the headlights and even after all this time his employees still need occasional reminding that he is not his brothers.

When he’d taken over for Michael he’d promised himself—he’d promised everyone—less bloodshed. He swore to defend his family, business, and territory from Crowley and his cronies, but he’d been determined to stop ending innocent lives. For some reason, though, innocents just love getting in the way. He sighs again. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

And, well. That certainly complicates things. He’d known when Sam announced he was going into criminal law that this was a possibility—in some ways, he thinks he should have expected this.

“Sir?” Inias asks, and Castiel realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at him. “Are you…do you know him?”

Castiel blinks back to reality and glares at him. “Call them off,” he orders, and cuts Inias off when he tries to protest. “Call them all off, Inias. Now.”

“But, sir, what about—”

“I’ll deal with Sam Winchester myself. Nobody else is to touch him.” Then, just for emphasis, “Until I say otherwise, consider him under my protection.”

Inias is still staring at him, baffled, but after a moment he nods, and Castiel is thankful that he’s decided not to argue. “Alright, I—yes. Understood.” He nods again before leaving the office and Castiel sinks deep into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes.

His phone buzzes and Castiel watches as a text message lights up the screen, revealing the photo from his wedding he has set as his background. It’s a message from Dean, because of course it is, asking him what he wants for dinner and if he wants wine with it.

Castiel looks around his office, awarded to him based on his surname but paid for in blood, and he’s never hated it more.  

————————————————————-

They get half an hour into the low-budget western Dean had insisted in watching before his husband sighs, pauses the movie, and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table.  “What’s going on with you?”

Castiel frowns up at him from where he’s lying on the couch, cheek against Dean’s thigh, his own wine glass barely touched. All things considered, Castiel thinks he’s been doing a great job acting like everything is fine. He forgets, sometimes, how easily Dean can read him.

“Work was…long,” he answers, and it isn’t a lie. Then, because Dean is looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he follows up with “How’s Sam?”

It’s both a deflection and an answer to Dean’s question, but Dean doesn’t know that. Dean thinks he manages a hedge fund. Which he does. Technically. Legally, at least.

Dean knows he’s changing the subject but he doesn’t press it, and his face lights up the way it always does when someone asks about his brother. Castiel loves him for it. Dean starts on about Sam, how he’s doing with Eileen, how they just moved into a bigger house because they want to start a family. Castiel isn’t paying attention, not really, because Dean’s fingers are playing with his hair and he doesn’t really want to think about anything else.

“—I said I’d help him out, though.”

That catches his attention. “What? Why?” he asks, a bit too quickly, because even though he’s missed most of the context he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Come on, babe. I never get to use my degree anymore.” He shrugs. “And it sounds fun, you know? Helping my baby brother take down a corrupt criminal justice system. I feel like Serpico.”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he had intended and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. “No, Dean, you need to stay out of it.”

Dean blinks at his husband, and Castiel immediately backtracks. “I mean, um. You don’t—you don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s the point of me helping,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I know I chose teaching five-year-olds over working in cybersecurity, but I still know my way around.”

“You’re going to hack into the DA’s office?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.” Castiel knows he’s being too insistent, is pushing too hard, but Dean can’t get involved, too. He can’t. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know who else could be involved.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You just don’t understand—”

“Understand what, Cas?” Dean snaps, and now it’s the fight Castiel didn’t want to have. “What could I possibly not understand that you do? A kid is dead and the DA is trying to cover it up and just maybe I can help figure out why.”

“There are things you don’t—” Castiel is already halfway through his next argument when the second half of Dean’s sentence catches up with him, and he stops. “Did you say a kid?”

Dean scoffs. “You weren’t even listening, right? Great. Yeah, some asshole killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend and her kid and the DA is refusing to press charges. Says there isn’t enough evidence. Sam thinks they were paid off.”

“No,” he says, quietly, because no. The daughter was never supposed to—that’s not what happened. He had been told that’s not what happened.

“What do you mean, no?” There’s less heat in Dean’s words, and Castiel thinks it’s because he himself has completely deflated.

He stares at his husband—the love of his life, the beautiful, generous, selfless man he doesn’t deserve—and realizes he’s never going to be able to talk Dean down from this. If he could, he wouldn’t be Dean.

He thinks about all he’s done to keep this part of his life safely tucked away. He cultivated a reclusive public image to keep Dean safe from being the husband of Castiel Novak, manager of the Novak Group. He expanded their territory to encompass the school Dean works at, something his family still holds against him as a waste of resources, to protect him from being the husband of Castiel Novak, leader of the crime syndacate. He’s hidden his marriage from nearly the entire family, labeling anything to do with Dean as the most privileged of information.

The only reason he’s still doing this at all, really, is Dean. He could have jumped ship when Michael died, when Gabriel left, when Lucifer took the fall and was sentenced to life, but that meant giving everything to Raphael, who promised to hunt both him and Dean down if he left. So he took the reins instead and he’s tried his best to keep his family safe while managing the business—both the above and underground aspects.

And now, despite all that, both Dean and his brother have somehow gotten themselves involved.

Dean is still staring at him, brows furrowed, and he doesn’t move away when Castiel reaches out to take both of his hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean looks taken aback but he doesn’t break the eye contact. “I love you. I don’t want you to end up in trouble.”

Something in Dean’s eyes softens. “Hey,” He squeezes Castiel’s hands lightly. “Come on. Have a little faith in me.”

And all Castiel can do, just like any time Dean looks at him like that, is smile back. And nod. And lean forward to kiss him, just once, softly.

“I do, Dean. I always do.”

Dean leans their foreheads together and Castiel can tell he’s still concerned, but he doesn’t want there to be any more yelling tonight, so instead he pulls back to lie down in Dean’s lap again. He hears Dean sigh before picking up the remote with the hand not still intertwined with Castiel’s, and then he restarts the movie, and Castiel tries not to think for the rest of the night.

 ————————————————————-

The next morning, though, he’s storming into his office, ready to lay into anyone involved with lying to him. He doesn’t get far—Naomi is sitting in his chair. At his desk. For a brief moment, he sees red.

“That’s my chair.”

His aunt regards him, cool as ever. “Is it?” she asks, and she stands, but only to walk around the desk and into his space. “And who gave it to you?” In her heels she’s taller than him but he glares anyway, refusing to be intimidated. He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you protecting Sam Winchester?” she asks after a moment of silence, still standing just as close.

“Why did you lie to me about the incident with Ishim?”

Naomi’s expression doesn’t change, but something close to surprise flickers across her eyes and she backs off to lean against his desk. “I suspect the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“May Sunder was never supposed to die,” he presses, not backing down, and Naomi looks at him as if he’s being an unruly child.

“Yes, but her mother threatened to go to the police. Come now, Castiel, you’re old enough to understand these things.”

“I never authorized that.”

Naomi stands again. “You think you have to?”

This, of all things, catches him off-guard. “I—yes?”

His aunt steps forward, crowding him again, and he hates himself for taking a step back. “You’re a figurehead, Castiel. You’re in power because you’re Michael’s brother, people like you, and we thought you’d at least be loyal.”

“I am loyal,” he retorts, and she sighs.

“I’m not the only one who’s begun to question your sympathies, Castiel. Who are you loyal to?”

“My family.”

“Does that mean us? Or Dean Winchester?”

Castiel freezes, stunned. “How—”

Naomi cuts him off with a smile. “You think we don’t know? We’ve been letting you play house because it kept you distracted. Now, it seems, it’s making you weak. If you don’t fix this, I’ll have no choice but to cure you of that weakness.”

At last she steps away and turns towards the door. “You have an army here, Castiel. Don’t lose it for one man.”

And then she leaves.

And then, Castiel makes a decision.

In the next few hours, he makes several more—and then he’s driving home with all his family’s secrets copied onto a hard drive, the few items from his office that he actually cares about, and a plan forming on how to take the whole system down.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, the decision Naomi expected him to make—that she’d expected him to choose the family over Dean. That she’d expected him to choose anything over Dean.

She has no idea what’s coming. 

[nityarawal]

12/09/2023

John-June*

Morning Songs

What If

There Were Only 5

Names

Like In Indo

Or Christian

Psalms

What If

There Were 

Only A Few

Beatles

What Would 

We Do

Somehow

They Were Duplicated 

Somehow They Breed

How'd All The

Yogis

Come Together

In A World Wide Web

In Case

You Forget

Your Childhood

In Case

It Was Really Bad

Please Remember

We Sang "Hey

Jude,"* For You

Got 2 Julian's

God Kids

One Jude

Please Remember

We Know

A Song

Is Never Enough

But If Your Dad

Is Gone

Like Millions

Of Military

Brats

Suffer

Through

Estrangement

Or The Queen's

Court

If Your Parent

Is Gone

On A Feloners

Plea

Please Don't Offer

Us

Special Forces

Survival Services

Bloody Weapons

Special Forces

Or Boobs

In The Face 

Motorboats

With Our Tax

Dollars

Embedded In Tesla

Stocks

Doje

Smearing

Beloved Bros

And Dogs

Flying To Mars

With Our

Hearts

Intact

Might Have Been

Possible

But,"Now

And Then,"*

I'm Not Really

Sure

"Now And Then,"

I Miss

My Father's Weathered

Hand

"Now And Then,"

My Own John

Sitting In Our

RV

Driving Coast To Coast

In Love

Thinkin' How Lucky

I Was

"Now And Then,"

I Miss My Pa

My "Lennon" Brother

Overflowing

With Intelligence

Secret

Middle Name

"John"

"Now And Then,"

I Miss My Pa

His Weathered Hand

Was Like A

Beating Heart

For America

"Now And Then,"

I Miss My Pa

I Know I'll Never

Add Up Mamma

"Now And Then,"

I Miss 

My Pa

I Wish That

J.D. Salinger

Cult Felony

Hadn't Gotten

Your John-

June

In The Name

Of Jihad*

"Catcher In The Rye,"

Twisted Anti-Semitism*

Like JFK

But That's Not

The Case With

"The Cajun Queen,"*

She's Spicey

Not Caged

James Dean

Not The Case

With Grandma Julia

If We Can't 

Say Anything

Nice

About Reptiles*

At Court

The Attorneys

Who Broke

Our Son's Hearts

It Wasn't Her

June

It Wasn't Her

Jude

It Wasn't Her

Julian

Bambinos

All Those Pretty

Places

Tibetan Yogini

Retreats

India

Maharishi Days*

All Those "White,"

Houses In Bali

Japan

Indonesia

Or

Thailand

It Wasn't Her

June

It Wasn't Durga*

It Wasn't Your

Own Eternal 

Mother

Saraswati*

I Can Assure

You

From The "White Album"*

Oaths

It Wasn't Me

#Nitya4Eternity

Lakshmi*

Who Deleted

Your Songs

On Twitter*

Banned Us

With Gags

It Wasn't Me

I Miss The "Beatles"*

Just As Much

As Anyone!

(#4BillionMothersStrong Grieving Our Young.)

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

*June- "Dear" In Farsi

#Irany #WithLove

"Hey Jude," Written for Julian Lennon by Paul & John; in hideous atty driven court estrangement.

Love long unedited version they released- even if it's slightly Censored by BBC & UK politics.

Most songs I post of theirs get shadowbanned same day.

Very worried about Beatles kids & families. I think "Julia," was not only written for John's mom but also secretly for Julian and to tie him into his matriarchal lineage- even if cut short.

Often rockstars and royals had Divorce/custodial Gag orders from Queen that were so violent, they end in death; like John Lennon and Princess Diana. 

"Now And Then," Amazing New Beatles Song Miraculously used #AI to revive John Lennon's vocals. As a reply everyone wants a Johnny doll. We feel they should be used only exclusively for close family in appropriate fatherly or husband manner; not a sex toy for government to manipulate and barter in AI as x has done with my children and I; his creator AI alien Grimesz.

Elon is nothing but a "Kiterunner" sex slave for America like Prince, Michael Jackson and so many atty puppets before them. Lab dads.):

*Jihad is a Anti Islamic term used when America creates Pseodo Terrorism and murders our great leaders and artists. #RIPJohnLennon #RIPJFK #Prayers4BoppaEternal xo

*Anti-semitism is a racist neo-nazi term often used by oppressors themselves Trafficking our women through government 9/11 internal domestic terrorism and wars abroad. This is gaslighting for "Nasa" when boys clubs won't allow our chivalrous men to behave appropriately, with honors, to deserve honors. 

*Reptiles- Queen Elizabeth is Often referred to as the "Reptilian" Queen.

*Durga - Goddess Of Protection/Defense

*Saraswati-Goddess Of Art & Music

Lakshmi- Goddess Of Wealth & Prosperity

*White Album

Made In India

Beatles

With Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

*Beatles music & friends royalties also hacked by open #AI & atty crimes; aka Michael Jackson's living probate criminal estate. #FreeBritney

#Metoo

Whose a Meme?

Will we ever know????

We're all the nasty stories just evil smear campaigns? 

Jai Guru Dev

#BeatlesKids