#Singularity Jane

[cadhla182]

Patreon pieces September 2024! NSFW alts can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/Cadhla182

And Patron commissions:

[wndaswife]

this… this is your man???? look at the screen……

[vampire-superstar]

Broke: Chase Brody is Martin Blackwood

Woke: -Writes an essay on why Chase Brody is Jane Prentiss and why I've been thinking about it for the past 3 days-

I don't have ego memes that aren't cringe so I gathered some bts photos of ANOMALY FOUND for this post and the next few ego posts I'll be making ‼️‼️‼️ Because I just finished Altrverse #0 😋😋

[jockpoetry]

You know the scene in Casino Royale (2006) where Le Chiffre reveals he has two jacks?

[lovelyrotter]

listen beta bro being built as small and delicately as dirk is IMPORTANT TO ME and ill get go of this headcanon when i am cold and dead in the ground

[unnerving-presence]

I hate that I know now exactly who your talking about. I’ve blocked them months ago Jane is absolutely insufferable

there’s a recent video made on her and it’s lowkey kinda funny bc she gets mad at a comp player for some reason. i forgot who asks to 1v1 but the person (laser) asked for no chess merchant. bc chess merchant.. she goes her anyways and funnily enough breaks main doors (they’re on coal tower, and it’s low key weird to give urself that advantage in a 1v1)

with him being a comp player he runs her like shit (though she was running the two purples that speed her up and slow survs down. basically training wheels) and when she downs him she bms him by humping him and then mori’ing him.. IN A 1V1 😭 petty as fuck

he decides to go skull merchant running the same addons as her with brutal, does the same thing and breaks main doors bc she did it first. and obviously destroys her in the 1v1 and downs her within 30-40 seconds in chase. she dcs and asks for a rematch which also ends in her getting downed relatively fast. she dcs and then goes on about how he’s a bad person spreading toxicity, that his chat is transphobic (one person accidentally called her by he instead of she and a mod quickly deleted the message and warned them. everybody else was being respectful)

she also proceeded to gaslight and project her trauma onto him very aggressively and overall was being a dick to someone who didn’t deserve it

not to mention her very entitled behavior thinking content creators need to reach out to her when she’s not feeling good (she said she was disappointed too. like she EXPECTED someone to be there for her) which is very manipulative and playing victim because nobody is entitled to be her therapist, especially when she already has one. the “jerks guide for ___” guy has a post about it on his twitter if you wanna see the ss

she’s also been outed more for gaslighting, being very aggressive and manipulative to others.

she does very questionable stuff and i hope she gets better because clearly she’s not doing well. with all the hate she’s getting just for being trans and playing sm i can somewhat see why she acts the way she does, but it doesn’t mean she gets to act like an asshole

[rexscanonwife]

Looking at Engie and then looking at Rex like...yeah there's definitely a pattern here > . >

[kii2me2ii2]

all the HS kids are only children for obvious reasons but Rose gives off energy like she has like 7 other siblings. "lonely but not alone" vibes throughout the whole fam.

[tenapricots]

The Saskiad by Brian Hall is so slept on it makes me sad

Saskia White she is so darling. I have not read anything like her narrative voice before, but I love it so very much. She and Jane Sing(h) have my whole heart

[cadhla182]

Singularity Jane commission for a patron!

Full piece up on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/singularity-jane-112142868

[beeapocalypse]

haunted once more by a dumb character idea

[faggy--butch]

is it just me or is the "trans guys are just some boring guys and they make lame music and trans women are cool and interesting and make loud music" jokes almost like. an excuse for why theres not that many trans guys who are popular content creators or musicians or actors or authors or what have you. like blaming the invisibility of trans men on being "boring" and therefore not doing anything rather than oppression.

not to mention the example of music being that people have heard of one singular trans guy who works in a genre they dont like [people really love to act like cavetown is like specifically bad or cringe but thats just what most indie pop/rock/folk sounds like] and theyve heard of a handful of trans women who make hyperpop that they already like [and laura jane grace of course] and its really telling on themselves. theres trans guys making hyperpop and trans women making ""lame ukulele music"" and both of them and nonbinary people making music of tons of other genres. like. cmon. it reminds me of xkcd 385.

also i dont think these jokes are intentionally malicious or anything [most of the time] but it also feels sort of weird to be joking about how boring a group of marginalized people are. im not going to act like its the biggest deal in the world but its sort of low level bullying, innit? and i imagine having this weird expectation to be "cool and interesting" isnt fun for trans women either. its nice to get to be lame sometimes.

Yeah it's super weird, especially because it's repeated over and over, that part is the suspicious part. I even saw it on reddit a few days ago in one of the ftm subs. I do think it's like blaming the lack of trans men artists on trans men being "boring" instead of, you know the bigotry, the erasure, the inequality I think it's also a weird expectation that we all HAVE to live up to what other people think of as "cool" like if we're all not making hardcore metal and being as "SICK" as humanly possible, we are failing at transgender music and therefore are the reason trans men aren't represented as artists enough, which is ummm. okay.

why can't we make soft love songs about being bugs, or whatever. What happens to trans women who don't live up to the metal hardcore aesthetic? Look at Dylan Mulvaney. She made a dumb cutsie girlypop song and everyone acted like she is the founder of misogyny herself. So not only are we ridiculed for the music we make, we're trapped in transphobic expectations of what music we can or should make.

If you expect all trans women to make metal, you'll only see trans women who make metal, if you expect all trans men to make soft music, that's all you'll find! because that's all you looked for! Another thing is like, Oh all trans women music is cool and hardcore rock and roll, but trans men music is dumb and cutsie ukulele music? I wonder what gender those genres are normally associate with? Uhoh we're doing a sexism maybe the person making the joke doesn't have malicious intent, but the joke itself sure does.

[mulletnico]

had to go to kmart after work to find clothes for my interview on Monday bc I don't own business clothes. and I have no idea what shoes to wear. I was looking at heels in Kmart but the only good ones were stilettos and I have shitty balance so no

[bloobydabloob]

Holy shit I love your Dirk interpretations, it's so true and I could talk about this shit forever. I feel like another part of his character that people seem to forget (along with Roxy for some reason) is that he's from the future in solitude in an apocalyptic wasteland. I just see that part of his character always removed which is disappointing because I feel like that's a pretty big part, especially regarding his themes around technology, his brother's theme of Time, his own isolation, and how he plays in the vastness of the universe and spacetime.

Art I drew related to the subject because I like to respond to asks with art.

But absolutely. I certainly understand where the lack of discussion over his isolation + upbringing comes from, considering a majority of the fanbase that I have seen builds their ideas based on their own version of postcanon. I’m not entirely sure how that would be fixed, but certainly even in the somewhat recent past I would see a lot more content regarding his upbringing both literally and symbolically. I don’t have much to add regarding the things you’ve mentioned, because they just are what they are. Dirk being confined to a singular room left to him by a father figure he never met, in a future where the only other person left on the planet is someone he cannot pursue a relationship of because of himself, with purely 3 robots to keep him companion, one being an exact replica of his own brain who is *also* trapped inside a pair of glasses, is about as literal as it gets to me.

The contrast to me involving the flooded, organic world in comparison to the little speckle of Dirk’s apartment packed with the dude and his technics is not only a representation of his isolation and entrapment within himself, but also of his lack of control. I think his obsession with & themes of control are a direct product in the case of Dirk specifically *of* this kind of upbringing. His themes of technology are also related to his themes around control. So much of his character is actually revolved around this to me like so much. Dirk is so deeply disconnected from humanity in every way and so much of his character + symbolism is based around that.

It doesn’t even have to be about the symbolism or anything though. It’s just pretty *interesting* in the literal sense that he lives in the middle of the ocean in the future. There’s not only a lot to theorise on to do with his young life there, but on how it might affect him in the way he acts for the rest of his life. The latter part is probably what I see mentioned the most by people talking about Dirk regarding this, I’m surprised I don’t see more discussion on the former too though. I really ought to actually talk more about Homestuck stuff on here. I will do it myself.

Roxy & Dirk’s relationship is largely ignored though because there is a narrative a certain demographic spreads that Dirk resented and blamed Roxy for her interest in him, and thus too many people believe that their relationship was or would continue to be an abusive one. Realistically, I believe it’s important to acknowledge that the way Roxy treated Dirk regarding his homosexuality wasn’t right while still acknowledging the obvious amount of respect and admiration Dirk had for Roxy. I mean we have a huge piece of dialogue from their post trickster mode conversations on the quest beds from Dirk purely stating how he feels about Roxy that people completely ignore somehow. I think this usually happens to characters that are women though. I know everyone says it, but it is true. Jane gets the exact same treatment of boiling her down to solely her negative aspects. The things I see completely mischaracterising both of them are horrific.

I mean how much more explicit can it get that their relationship is obviously very important to Dirk? But I digress. I think the best or I should say “most interesting” interpretations of their relationship usually come from DirkRoxy shippers actually.

I would be interested to hear about Dirk’s relation to his brother’s theme of time though. I don’t have any thoughts on this and I don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about it before. If you or anyone else would be willing to enlighten me I’d be thrilled.

[ohproserpine]

Do you have any spefific voice claim for Dolly? I adore your writing!

hmmm :P I would say for her singing voice I imagine a more raspy kind of drawl. julie london probably + i imagine she talks with a transatlantic accent old actresses seem to have. such as jessica rabbit, marilyn monroe, and jane russell.

in fact, heree have a little drabble with jessica rabbit's iconic line -> tw. war, blood guns

Amidst the chaos of war, spears clashed against celestial shields, golden blood staining the battlefield like spilled sunlight. The sounds of battle filled the air, drowning out all other senses as angels and demons clashed in a deadly dance. Suddenly, the protective shield surrounding you faltered, its once steady glow flickering ominously before dissipating entirely. The sudden vulnerability allowed for a swarm of angels to descend upon the hotel. While everyone around you grappled with the immediate danger, your thoughts were consumed by a singular concern: Alastor. If the shield had failed, it could only mean one thing – something had happened to him. "I have to find my darling husband," you rushed, turning to Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb as the fight raged on around you. "I'm so worried about him!" "Ugh. Seriously, what do you see in him?" Cherri scoffed, her voice cutting through the din of battle as she lobbed a bomb in the enemy's direction. Angel cackled, arms straining as he withstood the recoil of his guns, firing off lead into the celestial beings. "You're hot as tits, mama. Why stay with freaky smiles?" With a huff, you pulled your weapon from the lifeless body of an angel, tossing your hair back defiantly as you shot Angel a glare. "He makes me laugh."

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Where to Run

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @deansobssessedgirl

Synopsis: you’re on the run from the British Men of Letters, and you meet your big brothers for the first time.

Entering the United States unnoticed had gone better than you thought it would. As soon as you got through passport control, you dug into your backpack—the only luggage you had brought with you, and it contained all you owned—and pulled out two pieces of paper. You considered them both for a long moment—one, an over a decade-old letter with the name of a small city in black ink in the middle of it, and the other a list of cities, one circled in red.

The list would take you to a nearby Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, and the letter…

The letter might just lead you to your father.

…

“And you’re sure we haven’t already been to this one?” Sam asked his big brother as they pulled up to a storage facility.

“Of course I’m sure. I would’ve remembered one so close to Lawrence,” Dean said.

“What do you think dad kept in here?” Sam questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him as Dean led the way to the right storage room.

“Who knows?” Dean shrugged. “Let’s just hope one of these works.” He jangled a small set of keys on a ring that John had left in the car—they contained a spare key for the Impala as well as John’s old truck, and several storage facility keys. Dean had thought that he and Sammy had been to all of John’s secret storage places, but after scanning John’s journal for the hundredth time, he caught sight of an address scratched in the corner of a page with a storage number.

“It’s this one,” Sam spoke up, grabbing the keys from Dean and trying a few before one finally worked.

The room was small, but packed full. Sam and Dean—after carefully scanning for traps—split up and began to go through their father’s things.

“Hey, I think this file cabinet’s locked,” Sam said from one corner. Dean lifted his head, but didn’t go to his brother’s aid, too busy going through a box of odds and ends.

“Or you just didn’t pull hard enough—maybe if you had any muscle in those noodles—“

“Ok, ok,” Sam interrupted with a scoff. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t dismiss Dean’s theory—he yanked hard on the file cabinet, and it jerked open in a cloud of dust. Coughing, Sam reached down to shuffle through what was inside. “Hey, there’s only one file in here.”

“Fascinating,” Dean said in a tone that said exactly the opposite.

“There’s a birth certificate inside,” Sam said, and suddenly his voice caught. “With…with dad’s name on it.”

“Dad’s birth certificate?” Dean asked, mildly intrigued.

“Dean…not dad’s.”

“What?” Dean was by Sam’s side before Sam had even seen him move.

“Y/N Winchester, born to John Winchester and…Jane Doe.” Sam frowned, his brow crinkling. “I wonder why dad would use his real name when the mother used a fake.”

“This can’t be real,” Dean insisted. “I mean…I know with Adam…but another one?”

“Let’s see,” Sam mumbled, putting the certificate inside and checking the rest of the file. “Pictures.” Sam held up a stack, which Dean immediately snatched from him. Sam ignored this, because he’d found his own details to focus on. “And letters.” Sam grabbed the first letter from a stack of dozens, and began to read. “Dear John…our girl turns one today…”

Dean tapped Sam’s shoulder and held up a photo of a little Y/H/C girl blowing out a singular candle on a pink cake.

Sam moved onto the next letter, skimming it.

“Dear John…I put Y/N in gymnastics because it’s the only way I can get her to work on strength training and endurance.” Sam’s brow crinkled in confusion, but he was distracted when Dean held up a photo of the same girl, a few years older, in a gymnastics leotard on a balance beam.

“What do you think she meant by training?” Sam asked. “Do you think she was a hunter?”

“Could be.” Dean shrugged. “Maybe that’s why she signed her letters Jane Doe.” Dean pointed to the bottom of the letter, where “love, Jane Doe” was written.

Sam was about to pull out another letter when his fingers froze on the paper.

“Dean…”

“Hm?” Dean asked distractedly, still going through photos.

“Dean look at this.” Sam flipped the paper around, and on the back of it was a watermark—an indicator of who made the stationary.

It was the Men of Letters insignia.

…

“Lebanon, please,” you said to the taxi driver. “I’ll direct you to a more specific location when we get there.”

The man shrugged, unbothered, and began the journey.

You desperately wanted to go to Lawrence in search for your father, but you had to be realistic—you hadn’t eaten all day, you were jet lagged and exhausted, and you needed a plan of action. You needed to recover and regroup, and you needed to do it in a secure location; you needed to feel safe. In fact, you were so wound up that you flinched when the radio came on.

“—o one seems to have any information on who is causing the recent string of murders. The chief of police has offered no comment, other than a warning that the people of Lawrence should stay indoors when possible, and be alert. But there’s no denying the oddity of the case—the mass murderer seems to have some kind of vampire ideologies, with each of its victims drained completely of their blood. In other news—“

“Hey, driver!” You called out, and he glanced over his shoulder to indicate he was listening. “I changed my mind. Take me to Lawrence.”

…

“It’s gotta be another djinn.”

Dean would’ve groaned if he didn’t have a mouthful of hamburger to swallow first.

“Not those again,” he said after a gulp of beer washed down the last of his burger. They’d finished going through John’s things—Sam taking the file of your pictures and documents with him—only to leave and stumble upon a case. Dean had wanted to stop at a diner on the way back home, but he hadn’t expected to walk past a news stand to see a paper with “vampire killer” written across the front. It took Sam less than ten minutes of reading the paper, as well as a little time on the internet, to render the paper completely wrong.

“It doesn’t fit with a vampire. No teeth marks, no signs of struggle, the bodies were found in a different location from where they were taken—it’s definitely a djinn.”

“Ok, so silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood.” Dean sighed. “We happen to have one of those?”

“I think we still have the one we used last time in the trunk,” Sam said.

“Then let’s get going.”

…

You picked up a machete after being dropped off by the cabbie, hoping beyond hope that the radio had been right (even if they were kidding) about it being a vampire—there were several monsters known to drink blood, and if it was anything other than a vamp then things might get tricky. Normally you would be more prepared, but it wasn’t like you could get your weapons through customs when traveling to America, and you’d had to travel light so you could move more quickly. The British Men of Letters worked quickly, so you couldn’t take any chances. And buying up strange kinds of weapons near an old Men of Letters bunker was definitely too high a chance to take, so all you could do was hope that it was a vamp.

You’d done so much research about Lawrence that you barely even have to wonder where the creature might be hiding out—while researching Lawrence, you’d almost automatically noted the places where a supernatural being might be inclined to hide, so all you had to do was see which one was closest to the bodies that were dropping.

Then you were ready to hunt.

…

“I’m telling you, this has to be it. It’s nearly equidistant to all the bodies, and it’s the perfect place for a djinn to hide out.”

“You don’t have to sell me on the location, I believe you,” Dean told Sam. “But you do have to tell me how to get there.”

“Turn right here…yeah, and a left at that stop sign, and then we’re there.”

“So are we just not gonna talk about it?” Dean asked after a beat of silence as he followed Sam’s directions.

“Talk about what?”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe our little sister?”

“I don’t know what to say, Dean,” Sam sighed. “There’s no address anywhere in the documents or the letters, and we don’t even know her mother’s name, or if Y/N even goes by Winchester. Her mother used an alias, it makes sense that the kid would go by one, too. We have no reason to believe that she’s going by the name on her birth certificate, so we don’t have the first clue on how to find her.”

“Well it feels like we have to do something,” Dean argued. “I mean we don’t even know if this kid knows about dad—for all we know, she thinks he’s still alive. She deserves to know.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Sam questioned. “You didn’t seem all this interested when we found out about Adam.”

“That was different,” Dean sighed. “With Adam…Adam was just some normal, innocent kid who saw dad once a year for a baseball game and knew nothing about the life. This kid—Y/N—with the talk in those letters about training, and the Men of Letters insignia…she’s in this life, Sam, I can feel it. And since dad’s not around anymore…I think it’s our job to make sure she’s ok.”

“And I’d be happy to do that,” Sam insisted. “If only we knew how to find her. But for now, let’s do what we can do—take out this djinn.”

…

The sight of a car in the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse worried you—even if it was a beautiful car.

“Chevy Impala,” you mumbled to yourself. “67, I think.” You shook yourself, moving your mind back to the task at hand, rather than the conversation you were having with yourself. Hopefully the car here didn’t mean that its owners were anywhere near the warehouse—the last thing you needed was some innocent people getting in the way and getting hurt.

Seeing no one around, you hefted your machete and headed inside.

…

Dean gestured at Sam to be quiet as he peaked around a corner. Signaling that the coast was clear, Dean led the way through the warehouse, the silver dagger gripped in his steady hand. Dean was just signaling Sam to wait so he could check around another corner when—

“Hey!”

“Jeez—what?”

Dean stopped himself just short of cutting not a djinn, but a Y/H/C girl wielding a machete that was aimed at him.

“Hey, easy.” Dean took a quick step back, raising the knife and his hands in the air. “We’re not—“ Dean’s words died in his throat when he got a good look at your face.

“Dean,” Sam breather from beside him. “It’s—“

“No kidding.”

“What are you talking about?” You demanded, lowering the machete just a little bit. “Who are you guys, what are you doing here?” You didn’t want for an answer. “You have to get out of here, there’s a—“ your eyes fell to the silver dagger.

Sam’s gaze followed your own to the weapon in Dean’s hand before he looked back at you.

“It’s not a vamp,” he said, gesturing at your machete. “It’s a djinn.”

You lowered your machete completely.

“You’re hunters?”

Dean couldn’t keep the astonished smile off his face.

“And you’re Y/N Winchester.”

The machete was back up in an instant.

“Who are you?” You demanded for the second time. “Men of Letters?”

“Easy, easy,” Dean said, taking a step back as you advanced on them. “I’m not—“

“Guys!”

Sam’s warning proceeded the arrival of the djinn by a split second—just enough time for Dean to dodge the blow that the djinn tried to land on him.

“Hey!” Your call turned the attention of the djinn, who grabbed hold of your arm before you had the chance to move away. He twisted your arm behind your back until your machete was crashing to the ground and you were crying out in pain.

“Here!” Dean’s call came a second before the silver dagger was hurtling at your face. You snatched it up with your free hand and twisted it so it was facing the djinn a moment before you plunged the dagger into the djinn’s side. He howled with pain and released your arm, giving you an opportunity to spin around and stab again, this time in the neck.

The djinn went down without a sound, and the thud of his fall echoed through the empty room. For a long moment, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard. That is, until Dean took a step towards you.

“Back off!” You yelled, raising the blood-soaked dagger.

“Are you serious?” Dean scoffed. “Hey, I just helped save your life.”

“I’m not going back!” You were starting to look panicked as you backed away from the brothers. “So-so just tell Lady Bevell, or Ketch, or Mick, or whoever recruited you that I’m done! I’m not a part of the Men of Letters, and I never will be!”

“Hey, hey, easy,” Sam soothed. “We’re not Men of Letters.”

“Then how do you know who I am?” You challenged.

“Because of John Winchester.”

Sam’s response froze you in your tracks.

“J…John Winchester?” The dagger was slowly lowering. “You know him? You know where he is?”

The hope in your eyes was like a punch in the gut to both brothers. However, it was gone in an instant and replaced with a harsh suspicion as you raised the knife higher again.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“That’s how we know who you are, kid,” Dean insisted.

“Here—“ Sam’s hand was halfway to his pocket when you pointed your knife at him and he froze. “Easy, ok? I’ll go slow.” He slowly reached in, and you relaxed slightly when he pulled out a small bundle of papers. “We’ve got letters that your mom sent to him, with some pictures.” Sam held them out, and you hesitantly took them, thumbing through the stack while occasionally glancing warily at the boys.

“They stop,” you mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked.

“The letters, they stopped…at least ten years ago.” You looked back up at the boys as you spoke. “Is…is there more, or…”

The despair on the boys’ faces spoke for itself. Your lip was already quivering as you tucked the letters away, still holding onto the knife but keeping it pointed down.

“Is he…is he dead?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “About ten years ago.”

Sam could tell you were trying not to cry, trying to act like they hadn’t just ripped the rug out from under you.

“You know, I—I didn’t even know him—“ your voice cracked. “But I…gosh, I re-I really wanted to.”

You let Dean take the knife from you after he put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Um, so.” You wiped your hand over your face, trying to brush away any stray tears as you tried valiantly to pull yourself together. “So how did you two…”

“He’s…he’s our dad, too.” Sam said. Your eyes widened slightly as you absorbed this information.

“Wait, you…were you…from his wife?”

“You knew about her?” Dean asked.

“Not really,” you admitted. “John…dad, he…he never liked to talk about his past, but he did mention his wife in one of his letters…he said her death was what made him become a hunter.” Your lips quirked up as you remembered. “He said if I ever saw a yellow-eyed demon, send it to hell for him.” Your eyes went back to Dean and Sam. “Is…is that how he died? Hunting demons?”

“Kind of,” Sam said. “It’s…it’s a long story.”

“What about you?” Dean said suddenly. “If you know Lady Bevell and the rest, and you know they’re here recruiting, then you’ve got something to do with the Men of Letters. Not to mention their insignia on the back of those letters.”

Just the mention of the Men of Letters had you on edge again.

“Maybe we should talk about this at a more secure location,” you suggested. “There’s an old Men of Letters bunker not far from—“ you cut yourself off when you caught the look between the two brothers. “What?”

“We know,” Sam said. “We’ve been living in it.”

Dean noticed your fingers twitch, as if you were thinking about reaching for a weapon.

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re not Men of Letters?”

“Our grandfather was one,” Dean said. “He left us a key.”

You seemed to consider this. Dean watched as your eyes got a faraway look, and he knew you were trying to remember something.

“Mom said that John was from a line of the Men of Letters. It was one of the ways she tried to get him to join.” You shook yourself of the memories. “Fine. I’ll go with you, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Dean couldn’t help the way a smile twitched just slightly on his lips before he dropped it.

“Fair enough.”

…

You were quiet the whole way to the bunker, and although your brothers had questions they sensed you were tired and on edge, so they refrained. Dean kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror the whole way, and he was happy to see the way you slowly put your guard down—mostly out of exhaustion—as you relaxed into a light slumber.

You awoke with a start when Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage, the echo of Baby’s engine reverberating loudly.

“Home sweet home,” Dean crowed as you stepped out of the Impala. You didn’t say a word as he led you inside, but the moment the three of you settled down around the kitchen table, you finally started to talk.

“John met my mother on a hunt. She was just visiting America, vacation or something, but she happened to stumble on a case. They met…and well, I came along.” Both brothers noticed you skipping over the details, for which they were grateful. “But while mom was still pregnant she tried to convince dad to join the Men of Letters.” Sam noticed the way you kept switching between dad and John, as if you either weren’t sure what to say, or you weren’t sure what the boys were comfortable with. “He didn’t like the idea, and he didn’t want that for me, either. They fought about it, and mom left the country to go back to England. She was still pregnant…” Dean saw your fists clench and unclench as you blinked rapidly. “Dad, he…he never saw me in person. Any-anyway, she still wrote to him, and she let me read his letters. She said he deserved that much, at least. Dad was always telling me hunter things—I think he was hoping I’d end up a hunter, like him.”

“Why did you?” Sam spoke up. “I mean, if your mother raised you with the Men of Letters…”

“She kept a lot from me,” you said. “The…morally ambiguous parts.” At Dean’s strange look, you scoffed. “Ok, let’s be real, the straight up evil parts.” This got a grin from both brothers. “But she, uh…” the lightheartedness in the room was gone in an instant. “She died last year, and well…people stopped lying to me. I realized all the crap they really did, and I ran.”

“And what, they’re after you?” Dean questioned. “I mean it’s not like the mafia, right, I mean you can just leave.”

You nearly laughed out loud.

“I wish they were as sloppy as the mafia. No, you can’t just leave, especially not me—just because I’m a kid, doesn’t mean I couldn’t have over a decade of Men of Letters’ secrets stored in my brain. That’s why I came here, I…I wanted to find dad. To find family, protection.” You took a deep breath. “I want to be a hunter, not a Man of Letters.”

Dean found himself speaking before he even thought about what to say.

“Why do you have to be either?”

“What?” You said at the same time as Sam. Dean glanced between you before continuing.

“You’re just a kid—you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t have to be either, you could be whatever you want.”

You blinked up at Dean, as though the thought had never occurred to you.

“I…I don’t…”

“Look,” Dean began. “Don’t decide just now. John may not be here, but we’re family too, kid. There’s an empty bedroom down the hall, you should get some sleep, get settled in…then maybe we could talk about this hunting stuff, ok? The important thing is, you’re safe here. Let’s just say we don’t like the British Men of Letters anymore than you do. They’re not getting in here, and they’re not getting to you. Everything else can wait for later.”

You felt a smile—a true smile—etching its way into your face for the first time in so long. You looked up at this man—your big brother—and you couldn’t help but feel that everything was going to be ok. Whether you decided to hunt or not, or whether the Men of Letters came after you, you knew one thing for sure—

You really had found your family.

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