#I AM A SUCKER. FOR THE ‘CHAR A ENDS UP WHERE CHAR B STARTED. AND CHAR B ENDS UP WHERE CHAR A WAS’ TROPE

[fujii-draws]

Thinking about a future arc pipeline with these two.

[shinjisdone]

OKAY OKAY MY SPECIAL ONTREST IS BASICALLY..MY OC. Specifically the oc I made from the best Thorfinn fic out there, "to soften a warriors heart"

(I drew her multiple times already but i wanted this one to be the base of the oc. Its a WIP!)

I don't want to overshare! I just wanted you to know how much your work inspired something that makes me so happy.

For me, the story took a more romantic turn between Thorfinn and my oc. I call her "Orla". There's so much about her regarding Thorfinn and the plot that I wanna type but like - it will take forever for I'll just type out the stuff the tiny stuff

Orla's character was inspired by multiple characters. I even named her after one of them I liked. The list were 'Luna lovegood' from Harry Potter, 'Casca' from berserk, and 'Orla' from derry girls. She's lively, carefree, and basically just the opposite of Thorfinn in general. I was always a sucker for that kind of dynamic, I just hate it when it turns toxic when it could've been cute. Her backstory plays a lot into her character since there are mentions of her being a slave and after escaping by killing her master she felt 'brand new' and enjoyed the control she had over her own life (since she never had it) her while journey was centered around false freedom where when she joined Askeladds band, she killed for the sake of her own freedom. To not end up to where she was before. Her 'carefree' nature was kind of a toxic trait to her. It led her to make decisions without fearing the consequences. Being impulsive and just liked to take advantage of her new found freedom. The feeling of her finally having the upper hand in situations. I like to recignize her flaws aswell. Her flaws being her selfishness. Like I said, she joined and went along with Askeladds band, killing innocent people just for the desire to have a sense of control. I made sure along the journey from start of season one towards the end, she kind of has a realisation and existential crisis apon what she's done and recognizes how many people she's killed and how many lives she's ruined.

Lastly, for the final act, I ended up "killing" her off just for the extra bonus of pain in Thorfinns relationship with her. Yk, to get him started for season two. Because I had this one scene where they talk about going to vinland together after Thorfinns gets his revenge done but I know Thorfinn HAS to be empty in season 2 so I was like - why not "kill" his future. (She ain't dead I just made it look like she did)

*coughing up blood ME???? Hapahadpahahhh mmm-m-my???? Widdle brainrot story for u????

Compliments will get u nowhere b-baka

But omg she looks so great too???? Goodness goodness I am bewitchedddd

I am someone who unabashadly makes OCs aaaaaall the time in my little disgusting corner of the stories I love (counting Dororo, Demon Slayer, MHA, Zelda, VS, JJK, TWST) b-but to have someone make an OC and base it a bit on my fanfic??? Sobbing crying ugly crying

Ugh oh my goodness tell me all about ur blorbo I am sipping on my tea mhm tell me

I only know Casca from Berserk a little bit but that already makes me SCREAMM

An carefree, happy person born for the need for freedom and therefore killing to keep it mwah. Honestly, these happy-go-lucky characters that stem from dark backstories are always so interesting and imo the most interesting way you could write a char like that. Slapping my knee this is tasty, thisbis good food.

KILLS TO HAVE A SENSE OF CONTROL AWOOOOO THIS IS THE ANGST I EAT UP MHM THE DARKNESS IS DELICIOUS

YES!!! YES!!! MAKE HER REALIZE HER MISTAKES MAKE UR CHARACTERS SUFFER OOOOO THIS IS MY GUILTY PLEASURE.....like building something up and DESTRYOING IT. TEARING APART HEARTS IN FICS

👏👏👏👏 man honestly if I made the reader "die" in front of Thorfinn that would have left him a wreck (my goal) I wanna turn him into a wreck like makima turned denji into a dog

But imo I felt like if the one person you had in this world just vanished in the Chaos and you realize it too late while still whipping your around to see if they're still maybe nearby but see nothing - I think that would make the doom sink in

Mwah this was heavenly thank u

[knifelesbianjo]

hi ivi i am BACK to talk about macdennis AGAIN. (also i missed you hiii how are you????) i think. the cold open is mac coming into the bar like "i have news i have wonderful news" but it's just dee. charlie and frank have a b plot that i haven't figured out yet. i'm thinking of this as i type it. and dennis is. not there. for reasons. and dee is like!!!! i want to hear about your news!!!! and mac is like. well. i don't really care about you knowing. but i'm a cunt so. there has been a Development. and dee is like. About What. and mac is like. i cannot tell. i promised. and then they argue and yell and talk over each other bc i Want to see rob and kaitlin interact on screen i miss it. anyway cold open "mac and dennis kissed". we cut back to mac and dee screaming and now charlie and frank come in and set up the b plot. idk about the middle of the episode. i think it should be one of those eps where the entire gang is involved actually. they're all trying to figure out what macs news is AND why dennis is missing. dee is with mac and charlie and frank are trying to find dennis. i know that i want dennis to be like. no we did not kiss. because then we will get macs big sad puppy dog eyes. (iconic). and then at the end of the episode we get a small quiet moment. very minimal dialogue. i am realizing that i want them to somewhat imitate the seddie icarly first kiss. for the softness and quietness and vulnerability. i am a sucker for a small quiet scene where the abrasive loud one seeks out the other one as an apology and they have a heart to heart with meaningful but limited dialogue. this is all i have atm. i might be back later. not rereading this! and Ask.

okay okay i have thought about this more. it's a flashback style episode. we are figuring out how it came to be that mac and dennis kissed. and then it cumulates into the soft seddie style kiss. this way we get a dennis monologue (like my other post) being horrible to mac. but also we get them being soft so dennis can be pathetic. the concept of "what do we deserve" comes up in both conversations. when dennis is being mean it's like "we don't deserve to happy" and then in the confession kiss scene it's like "i want to try to be happy with you". so they don't actually kiss. so now the "big news" from mac in the beginning of the episode needs to be not actually that they kissed. i want them to have a good first kiss :( not an evil one :( i am still workshopping

hiii Jess!!! I missed you 🥰

first whatever excuse to have mac and dee interacting again is amazing to me, i need their insanity, I honestly think they have a lot of potential together but it gets mostly ignored (or turned into mac insulting dee which is NOT fun, I want them insulting each other but also doing things together bc they are both insane)

and honestly dennis missing after they kiss is very him bc he does not know how to deal with it and then he being all 'we did not kiss' in front of the gang also fits, then to it being cut to them actually having a soft convo about it, which is lovely and gets to me. But also this would start a secret relationship type of thing between them and like I'm conflicted about it 🤔 like it has potential but also for me if they are going to do the secret relationship thing it has to be before we figure it out, after I don't know if it would feel right 🤔 but also might be, I don't know, maybe they can pull it of in a way that doesn't feel forced or too coward 🤔

now I love the idea of it being a flashback!!! honestly they haven't used flashbacks much through the show and I think that's sad bc I think they have much potential (literally 'who got dee pregnant' my BELOVED) so very on board with this, and even more if it's the whole gang making up their own flashbacks each one thinking how it could go.

No actually I love this last thing, like I think the macdennis kiss should have the whole gang involved, each one with their own version of it (dee seeing dennis extremely pathetic, Charlie seeing mac being the one pathetic, frank idk how honestly, i just know it feels homophobic but also would be fun, and even mac's and dennis own one, which are the most similar but there's a clear difference, and so in a way we never find out how it actually happened but we can picture enough and have our own theory) anyways love this love this, gonna be thinking about it!!!

[all-by-myself98]

Shared Sorrows

Fandom: Kingsman (Set after TGC)

Prompt: In a world where people have their soulmate's name on their body somewhere, Reader and B don't have each other's name, but fall in love anyway.

Character: Jack Daniels (AKA Agent Whiskey)

   It had started out simple between you and Jack. You met at a bar you began working at. A guy had groped you in a not-so-innocent manner and he kicked his ass and threw him out. You thanked him with a refill of whiskey on the house.

   Then he began coming almost every week around the same time. Sometimes, he was alone, other times he had a few people from work with him.

   You really hadn’t meant to gain such a schoolgirl crush on the older man but you had felt lonely for years and to have a man treat you so kindly and so protectively like your own soulmate used to had triggered old feelings. Feelings of happiness and sadness. Safety and grief.

   A month after you had originally met Jack, you had to take some time off from work because of these feelings surfacing up and forcing you to mourn once again.

   The next week you’re back, you try to avoid his eyes but fail on numerous occasions. When it was finally time for your shift to end, he approaches you.

   “I don’t mean to be so forward,” he starts, “but I was wonderin’ if I could take you out after your shift ends. Maybe for some late dinner?”

   You’re hesitating right now. The sweet girl with the crush wants to know Jack more, but the strong young woman who failed to live a full and prosperous life with her true soulmate tells you no. He probably has his own soulmate waiting somewhere out there.

   “It don’t have to be a date if you don’t want it. Just two friends talkin’.” He assures. “I’m not lookin’ for a date or anything, just to talk. Get to know you.”

   This relaxes the heartbroken woman inside of you. “Okay... I’m off in 5. Meet me out front?” He nods in agreement.

   When you see Jack afterwards leaning on a dark blue truck, you’re still nervous. You know he said it isn’t a date, but you’re still scared shitless that he’ll expect something of you. Maybe him saving the day when he first met you was all a big long-term ploy to get in your pants. Maybe he’s nothing like your sweet Vincent was.

   The place he takes you to is a small diner just off the interstate, open 24/7 and wafting with burgers and fries once you enter. “Hope you don’t mind the place. I just love their bacon burgers.”

   You’re familiar with the place a little bit. Some of your coworkers go here to get food after their late night shifts too. They always try and convince you to join them because they know how much of a sucker you are for soft-serve ice cream and apparently this place has the best homemade selections. Problem is, you never accepted their invites because you don’t go out much since Vincent.

   “I’ve heard of their ice cream. Supposed to be good.” You reply.

   “You ain’t from around here.” He can probably tell due to your lack of a southern accent. Why else would someone drop everything and move to Kentucky? The fried chicken?

   “I’m not. I’m from the New England area.”

   You continue talking on and off through the night. You order your food and Jack screws around with the karaoke for a little bit to find a good song. Once he finally rests on a choice and your food arrives, you talk some more. Just simple things. Favorite food, favorite vacation spot, ideal pet, and so much more. Slowly, you begin to delve more into personal things.

   “Why leave New England for this piss poor place?” It was the question you had been dreading this whole time. Why come here? Why leave home? What’s here that isn’t there? “You don’t gotta answer if you’re not comfortable.”

   You shake your head. “I’m okay... It’s just hard to talk about.”

   He places one of his hands on yours and squeezes gently. He doesn’t want to frighten you away but he want’s to tell you he’s here to talk to and it’s okay. “You take all the time you need.”

   Thinking of Vincent is always difficult to do. You had loved him with all your heart. Hell, his name, now charred and written in ashy gray letters, rested right above your left hipbone. And your name had been on his left pec, rested right above his heart.

   “My husband... My soulmate... His name was Vincent. He passed away two years ago. I just couldn’t live in that place anymore without him.”

   There was silence for a few moments before he squeezes your hand once more. “I’m so sorry... That must have been horrible.”

   “I mean, I really should have been more prepared. Should have expected it more.” You counter, slipping your hand away from him. “He’d been struggling with illnesses his whole life. By the end of it, he couldn’t even walk.”

   He stops you by grabbing your hand back. “You should never have to expect that to happen. Losing someone as important as your soulmate... It’s harsh and powerful and it kills a part of you. You’re no longer whole.”

   You can feel his true and honest empathy. He really knows your pain because he too has felt it. “And your soulmate? Who were they?”

   Jack seems to double back, slips his hand off of you and leans back into the booth. He’s angry and pissed off.

   “If you don’t want to share, that’s okay.” You assure, reaching for his hand to squeeze it in comfort just as he did earlier.

   “No, it’s the least I could do after everythin’ you told me. It just... wasn’t as peaceful.” He takes a deep breath and steels himself. “It was... goddamn, over 20 years ago. Her name was Maria. She was pregnant with our son. But she went out shoppin’ and some druggies robbed the store...” He looks like he wants to say more about it. The way he spoke so venomously about the ‘druggies’. But he takes in another deep breath. “Cops said wrong place, wrong time...”

   “My god...” You almost continue to speak but the waitress comes by.

   “Food treating y’all okay? Were you looking to stay for dessert?” She asks. Her cheery and happy tone seems to be a bit ironic considering the mood of the table before she came by and what you were talking about.

   “Just a dessert menu please, Carol.” Jack mumbles. She leaves as quickly as she arrived, fake smile still plastered to her face.

   You almost continue to talk, tell him you feel horrible for him. He does the talking instead.

   “I almost tried to kill ‘em. Those druggies. Twice. First time, they almost got away with no jail time. I followed ‘em out the courthouse, had a switchblade from my stint in the army... Someone stopped me and took me in, helped me. Second time, those same people stopped me again, gave me a second chance I don’t deserve.”

   You counter his words. “We all deserve a second chance. Every single one of us. And maybe that’s idealist of me but it’s what I believe.”

   Carol the waitress comes back, dessert menu in hand, and places it on the counter, “I’ll come by in 5 to see if you’re ready.”

   She leaves and you two no longer talk about Vincent or Maria for the rest of the dinner. You are all cried out and much too tired to think about it any longer.

   So you go back to talking about small and meaningless stuff. Your dream jobs as a child, favorite movie, anything you can think of.

   After you get your dessert and Jack generously pays for the whole meal (despite your complaints that it wasn’t necessary), you walk in silence back to his truck. It’s 2 AM now. You admire the stars above for a bit before a question pops into your head.

   “Do you think they’re watching us now? Vincent and Maria and your little boy all grown up?”

   He halts his movement, having opened the passenger door for you. He looks up at the sky as well. “I don’t know. And I don’t know if I wanna know.”

   He drives you home instead of back to the bar for your car. You’re too tired at this point to be driving and he knows it. So you hesitantly give him your address and, after about 25 minutes, you’re in front of your house. He puts the truck in park for a moment and turns to face you.

   “May I ask somethin’ risky?” You nod in response. “You think... with everything we have in common... it might be right for me to ask you on a proper date? I can’t think for a second what Maria or Vincent wanted... but I would like to imagine that they would want us to try and move on, find a similar sorta love we had for ‘em...”

   You know Vincent would want you to move on. With his sicknesses, you always talked about it and he always told you the same thing. That he would want you to move on, to not hold back when an opportunity presents itself. And Jack, you know now, is a nice man no matter how much he says he’s not. He’s good and protective and handsome and funny and almost everything you would want in a man.

   You would be happy with Jack. And Vincent would be proud of you. And one could argue you already had your first date just then.

   “You could argue that what we just went to was our first date. You did pay for the whole tab when I told you not to.” You tease to him. He relaxes and lets out a small breathy laugh. Then, you scoot a little bit closer, placing your hand behind his neck. “But we’re missing one thing that we didn’t do on our first date.”

   “And what pray tell was it that we missed?” He asks.

   “This.”

   Then, with all of the courage you can muster, you kiss him. It was only meant to be short, but he places his hands on the sides of your face and reciprocates and it grows longer and breathier. His lips taste like a perfect combination of sweet and sour, and mold against you almost perfectly. His hands and his neck and everything is warm and, when you finally pull apart, he brushes strands of your hair away from your face.

   “You seem to surprise me every day I see you.” Jack whispers.

   “Funnily enough, I’m never usually this confident.”

   “Can I kiss you once more?”

   “Yes please.”

---------------

A/N: #3 of reawakening the writer in me. Now, a soulmate AU with Agent Whiskey of the Statesman. I set this after The Golden Circle because I was sad he died so, instead, I imagine hes sorta being rehabilitated by the Statesman and on a probationary period (of course, because he tried to let all of the drug users die).

As always, some constrictive criticism would be great. I tried to show his southern accent in the dialogue but I don’t know if I did very well.

Anyway, enjoy the rest of your Columbus day, y’all!

[headfulloffantasies]

Angel with a Shotgun

An AU I’ve been sitting on a long time. What if Sam and Dean were angels who fell to earth as babies? They are raised by Bobby Singer and grow up to be hunters, with a few extra perks as angels. They spend their adult lives on the road, evading the monsters and angels alike who want them dead.

Chapter 1 below the cut

Bobby Singer was not what you would call a righteous man. He had lived most of his adult life in a drunken haze. He was never an angry drunk. Rather, he was the same person drunk as he was sober; a grumpy belligerent malcontent. Not much had changed from age thirty to forty. His fourth decade passed with incident. The only anniversary he celebrated was his father’s death. He remembered his bastard father by pouring an extra shot of whiskey and searching the house for any traces of his father to toss in the fire. There were fewer and fewer memories in the grate every year.  

On this anniversary Bobby could find only one scrap of an old shirt that had been used as a rag in the basement. As it went up in smoke, Bobby looked into the flames and knew. Next year would be the last. Next year he would scour the house and finally be free.

The constant background of M*A*S*H reruns were broken up by a screeching. Bobby jumped as the whole farmhouse started shaking. Dishes rattled in the cupboard.

Earthquake, Bobby thought with panic. The cable box started squealing and the lights flickered. What were you supposed to do in an earthquake? Should he jump in the bathtub? Hide in the basement?

Before Bobby could make a decision, the lights gave out entirely. Through the window a blinding light streaked across the sky.

A comet. Bobby’s brain supplied. He stood transfixed in the middle of the living room as the burning light passed overhead and crashed spectacularly on the horizon. The resounding boom shook the house again.

Then… silence. Darkness. Bobby’s racing heart thundered in his ears.

Just within sight was a glow of orange where the meteor had landed.

Bobby’s home was pretty far out of town. It would probably be awhile before the proper authorities arrived. In the meantime, Bobby unstuck his jaw from the floor and grabbed his worn cap. Might as well see if he couldn’t keep the fire from spreading.

The smoke and ashes floated like fireflies through the silent night. Not even the distant electric lights from Bobby’s neighbors were visible. The comet must have knocked out the power for the whole county. The wreckage of the crater was a long, burning strip of churned black dirt. Bobby wiped sweat from his brow. There was nothing here he could do, as far as he could see. The fire was already burning itself out. He turned to go. Then he heard it. A cry. Bobby froze. He half convinced himself he was hearing things when the sharp wail came again. There was something in the crater. Bobby approached warily, warding off the smoke with a raised hand. An unbidden thought of radiation from whatever the comet contained rose to his mind. But even if that was true, he was already exposed. Bobby crept closer and peered down into the crater.

Two babies were cradled against each other in the charred earth. Bobby could only stare as the one lifted a defenseless fist and waved delicate fingers. The other appeared fast asleep, undisturbed by the carnage around it.

Bobby was immediately reminded of the Superman comics he’d read as a kid. An alien child crash landed on a farm in the middle of nowhere. It was absurd enough to strangle a laugh from his stunned lips. The little waving baby let out another cry. It was a pitiful sound, the kind a child makes when they are alone and frightened. Bobby cautiously slid down into the crater. He stood over the two babies and stared for a full minute. The child wailed at him.

What was Bobby supposed to do? He didn’t know anything about babies. Even less about alien babies.

The screaming child suddenly quieted and looked Bobby right in the eye. They held each other’s gazes for a moment that stretched into infinity. Green. The boy’s eyes were a startling green. There was an uncanny intelligence in those eyes. The child knew him, Bobby was certain. And now the baby was waiting to see what Bobby would do next. The baby’s companion gave a little sleepy wiggle and blinked open wide eyes that immediately brimmed with fat tears.

That was it. Bobby could deal with one crying baby, two was to much. He leaned down and scooped the tiny infants into his burly arms. They were impossibly warm. But they wouldn’t stay that way out in the middle of the night. Climbing out of the crater was difficult with his hands full, but Bobby managed it.

The green-eyed child seemed content to stare at Bobby with his intensely solemn face as Bobby plodded back home.

His brother, that was how Bobby was going to think of them, had promptly gone back to sleep.

“What am I going to do with you?” Bobby asked the infant softly.

The answering growl did not come from the child.

Between the porch and Bobby stood the biggest wolf Bobby had ever seen in his life. Its black hackles were raised and saliva dribbled out between its massive fangs.

Bobby was frozen in fear. He couldn’t run. That thing would be on him in seconds. He couldn’t fight. Not with two babies in his arms.

“Hey!” A gravelly voice shouted to Bobby’s left. A figure in a trench coat faced down the wolf. The beast turned its snout towards the newcomer and snarled. The sound turned Bobby’s knees to jelly.

“Get inside.” The man commanded. It took Bobby a second to realize he was talking to Bobby. Then the man was running, away from the house with his coat flapping behind him. The wolf howled and bounded after him. Bobby unstuck his shaking legs and ran. He thundered up the porch steps and slammed the door behind him. Leaning back against the wood, Bobby panted hard. His heart couldn’t take any more excitement. But as he gulped lungfuls of air, something steeled in his belly. He couldn’t leave that poor sucker to get eaten by a mutant wolf. Bobby carried the boys into the living room and carefully set the two children down on the carpet. They’d be safe inside the house.

Then he grabbed his shotgun from over the backdoor.

The night was eerily quiet. There was nothing stirring as Bobby crept past the carcasses of abandoned Fords. The old cars stacked in Bobby’s junkyard twisted in towers of crushed metal. Every shadow was a threat. Every crunch of his feet over gravel startled him. Bobby’s heart hammered against his collarbone. Where could that monster wolf have gone? There was no howling, or growls. There were no screams either, thankfully. Bobby tiptoed around his property for what felt like hours. He didn’t find anything. Not a single paw print or drop of blood. No fur, or scraps of trench coat. But the man couldn’t have outrun the wolf. That was impossible. They had to be here somewhere. Bobby didn’t realize how long he actually been searching until the sky was streaked with pink.

Bobby finally gave up. He went back to the house, shotgun still at the ready. He had a notion about calling animal services to come find the darn wolf.

Bobby had almost forgotten about the boys in his house until their screams reached his ears. He raced up the steps, images of them being chased around his living room by the crazy wolf hovering in his mind. Bobby threw the door open. The babies were both sitting up on the floor and screeching at the top of their lungs. They were alone.

Bobby sagged with relief. “You boys hungry?”

Bobby set down his shotgun and went over to the closest child. He scooped him up. This was the one who had slept most of the night. He had a shock of brown hair growing almost straight out from his forehead. The child whimpered and kept crying.

“I don’t think I have anything you can eat.” Bobby mumbled. He made his way over to the kitchen, keeping one eye on the other boy shrieking on the carpet. One handed, Bobby opened the fridge. Bottles of opened liquor stared back. A head of lettuce purchased optimistically. Hot dogs, mustard, and re-fried beans.

“Guess we’ll have to go shopping.” Bobby mused. He thought dubiously about strapping two babies into the back of his beat up car.

“Plan B, then.”

Bobby settled the boys in his lap while he dialed the phone. They had stopped crying, finally, but they still made whining, unhappy noises every so often.

Ellen answered on the fourth ring. “I’m not speaking to you, Bobby Singer.”

She hung up before he could get a single syllable out. Bobby called back.

“If you call me again I’ll drive over there and chop off your bits.” Ellen threatened when she picked up.

“Ellen, wait.” Bobby practically shouted. “I need your help-”

“My help?” Ellen scoffed. “I should have known you’d call wanting something. You’re a bastard, Bobby Singer.”

“You’re right.” Bobby agreed quickly. That shut Ellen up. Bobby used her silence to his advantage. “I’m in a jam, Ellen. I’ve got two babies and I don’t know how to feed them. I don’t even have a jug of milk in my fridge.”

A long sigh scratched over the line. “I don’t even know where to start with that one.” Ellen admitted. “Do I ask why a person in their right mind would leave kids with you? Or do I start with your eating habits?”

“How ‘bout you start by bringing over some baby food and you can lecture me in person.” Bobby offered.

“... I’ll be right there. Don’t kill those children before I get there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ellen opened the door with three shopping bags weighing her down. Bobby met her with both screaming boys in his arms.

“I’d offer to help, but…” Bobby jostled the babies.

“For goodness sake, put them down before you drop them.”

Ellen had both boys diapered, fed, and swaddled in blankets before Bobby could blink. Somehow Bobby ended up side by side on the couch with Ellen, the green eyed baby in his arms.

“Where did they come from?” Ellen asked quietly. The child in her arms was dropping off to sleep again.

“You saw that meteor last night?” Bobby asked. Ellen nodded.

Bobby shrugged.

Ellen stared Bobby down with bug eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me? How drunk were you?”

“Hey!” Bobby protested. He told her the whole story, including the abominable wolf thing and the man in the trench coat.

“Maybe the kids are his.” Ellen offered.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Bobby asked incredulously. “They fell out the damn sky.”

“I don’t believe in little green men, Bobby.” Ellen said icily. “And if you want to keep these boys, you’d better stop thinking like that.”

“I don’t want to keep them. I want to get rid of them as fast as possible.” Bobby groused.

Ellen sighed, rocking the child in her arms absently. “You can call child services if that’s how you feel.”

Bobby frowned. Ellen was clearly trying to make a point, but it was over his head. If she would only speak her mind. But no, Ellen was a puzzle box. And Bobby didn’t have the patience or puzzles.

Ellen handed the kid to Bobby. “I have to go.” She explained. “Jo’s not much older than these two, y’know.”

Bobby walked her to the door.

Ellen hesitated with one hand on the doorknob. “Call me if you need anything else.”

 Bobby spent much of the evening trying to ignore the babies. They seemed content cooing to each other as long as they were fed and changed regularly. At about eight o’clock the boys started yawning. Bobby tried to keep watching TV, but they were yawning so wide he could see their little pink gums. Bobby levered himself off the couch and then a thought hit him. How was he supposed to put the boys to bed? He didn’t have a crib. They couldn’t just lie on the floor, they’d crawl away. He considered calling Ellen. No. He had to figure at least one thing out for himself in this whole baby debacle. Bobby stared down at the boys. He left out a soft curse. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Bobby dressed in sleep shirt and pj pants for the first time in months. He usually fell asleep fully dressed in his chair. Sometimes he managed to stumble up the stairs and collapse on top of his quilt. It had been a long time since he slept properly in his bed. Well, he wasn’t sure he would actually sleep tonight either. Bobby carefully arranged a pile of blankets around the two boys to box them in on one side. He lay down on the other, effectively creating a barrier to keep them from rolling off the bed.

Bobby propped himself up on one elbow and watched the babies. They snuggled into each other, almost holding hands in their sleep. They were clearly brothers, sharing the same facial structure and nose. But there were so many other minute details that separated them. The green eyed one wasn’t as bald as Bobby first thought. He had feathery wisps of blonde hair clinging to his skull. His cheeks were already dotted with freckles. And he screamed a lot more than his brother. But the other could keep eating until Ellen had run out of milk. The brown haired one had brown eyes that flickered open for a split second before he settled again. Their tiny chests expanded and sank in tune with each other. They were so perfectly sculpted, from their tiny toes to their small ears. They were so fragile. Something in Bobby’s chest tightened. He realized he wanted to protect these boys. He felt a fondness for the little tuft of hair on the one, and the green eyes of the other. He didn’t want to give up these perfect boys.

Any notion of handing them off the child services died. He couldn’t abandon them now. Bobby scrubbed a hand over his weary eyes. He never intended to be a father. Not even when his wife had begged him. It seemed like the universe had different plans.

 Ellen came over again in the morning, “To make sure you didn’t kill them in the night.” She said.

Bobby told her he was thinking about keeping them. Ellen’s eyes lit up. “Good.” She said shortly. She plopped herself on the couch and pulled a couple of bottles out of her bag.

“What did you call them?” Ellen asked, cooing over the green eyed one.

“I haven’t yet.”

Ellen straightened and leveled one of her acerbic glares at him. “Bobby Singer, you have had these boys for over twenty-four hours and you haven’t named them yet?”

Bobby ran a hand sheepishly through his hair. “Didn’t seem that important.” He mumbled gruffly.

Ellen propped the blonde one up so they were eye to eye.

“How about Joey?” She asked, wrinkling her nose to the baby’s delight.

Bobby scoffed. ‘They need better names than that.”

“You are not naming either of these boys Zepplin, Bobby Singer.” Ellen warned darkly.

“Of course not.” Bobby said, even though that’s exactly what he had been thinking. “What about Dean?”

“Dean is good.” Ellen nodded. “And the other?”

“I was thinking Samuel.” Bobby answered. Samuel was a good strong name. Samuel Colt had been a legend.

“Samuel Singer.” Ellen mused fondly.

“No.” Bobby said sharply. His gut boiled at the thought of giving these boys his father’s name. They didn’t deserve that, and he wouldn’t give his daddy’s ghost the satisfaction.

“Winchester.” Bobby said firmly. “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Chapter 2     Chapter 3    Chapter 4   Chapter 5