They're A Family Your Honor - Blog Posts

thinking about toga's relationship with the LoV. like. these adult men who kill people took better care of toga than her own parents. that 17 yo girl was safer with them, the "villains", than with her OWN PARENTS.

as soon as they got money they got her a cute coat that she liked for winter. they kept her fed and safe. they made sure she had fun and could be herself and they trusted her with tasks and told her to live the way she wants while also telling her to come back to them, making sure she felt both free and wanted.

Toga is the only kid in the LoV. and when they lost magne she became the only girl. and they always made her feel safe and nurtured and included. RAAAAAH

part of it I think is the guys being keenly aware of how young she is. they all went through something terrible when they were kids, or in their past. but for toga it's right now. she is that kid. and they won't let her be abandoned and neglected like they were

NO ONE TOUCH ME THEY ARE HER FAMILY THEY TOOK HER IN I'M UNWELL ABOUT THEM

DAY 6: Blood On The Car Seats

Bobby is bleeding out, but family doesn't end in blood.

Pretty short today but I realized at the last minute that I didn't have anything for Bobby so I did what I could. It was originally only 300 words but inspiration struck me on the train so you get a bit more. It's not as sad as it could be and I would even say it's kind of cute if you ignore the whole Bobby dying thing. Fandom: Supernatural Character(s) : Bobby Singer Relationship(s): Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Words : 904 Trigger Warnings : - Blood Loss - Gunshots - Implied Future Death No. 6: NOT REALIZING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

“Bobby! Come on! Come on! Come on!”

Bobby dropped the crowbar to the floor with a loud metallic clang, a black goo coating his arm. Behind him, he could hear Dick’s skin fizzing as it formed back. Bobby ran. The door slammed behind him, a futile barrier to the biblical creature behind him.

Dean and Sam were waiting for him outside in the van, Sam’s hopeful eyes piercing into him. An open door, Bobby had only to step through. Dick’s footsteps echoed ominously through the night, never stopping.

(Bobby had a way to stop him, the maps, the numbers he’d seen in Dick’s office. He had to pass them on to the boys.)

Bobby jumped into the van, a bullet passing inches from his face. The bullet embedded itself in the body of the van. The tires screeched on the tarmac as Dean started the car, sparks flying.

A second bullet flew.

The door swung shut, carried by the momentum of the car.

The bullet lodged in Bobby's forehead.

Bobby was thrown against the side of the car, carried by the momentum of the bullet.

Time slowed down and Bobby could hear voices inside and outside of him. Blood ran down his forehead and into the leather of the car seats, pooling at his feet. Dean was talking and Bobby knew Dean was relieved that they had escaped but he couldn't make out any of his words.

“What's with your hand? Are you hurt?”

Dean's voice was distant, almost inaudible, but Bobby couldn't tell if it was Dean or him who had his head under water.

"It's not my blood," Sam answered.

Bobby was definitely dying, he decided, when his consciousness was trapped inside his dying carcass but he was still able to see Sam, his back to him, looking at the blood on his hands after picking up Bobby's cap.

Realization hit Sam like a bolt of lightning and he dropped the bloody cap and turned back to Bobby.

"Bobby? Oh, my God. Bobby!"

" Bobby !?"

Finally, idjits. It was about time.

Bobby didn't know what was worse, the horror on Sam's face as he fully realized who this was happening to, or Dean, consumed by uncertainty, who couldn't take his eyes off the road to save them from an accident.

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed to the back of the car, laying Bobby down in the backseat and stopping the bleeding with his other hand. His hands already covered in Bobby's blood only became redder.

"Bobby? Bobby? Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hold on."

Sam, his boy who thought he had to take all the sins of the world on his shoulders to atone for his sins, cradled Bobby's face gently in his hands, covering his cheeks with his own blood.

"Sam, is he dead?" Dean asked, his voice sharp.

"I'm checking," Sam replied abruptly.

Sam's hands shook against Bobby's throat. The silence was thick in the car and yet Sam had trouble feeling Bobby's pulse for how weak it was. 

"Is he dead?!" Dean insisted angrily.

Dean's default emotion had always been anger when he didn't know how to react. How could it be otherwise when the only example the boy had had was John?

"Just drive, Dean!" Sam said impatiently. "Bobby!"

(His boys were calling for help, they needed him. Bobby couldn’t do anything.)

“You gotta talk to me, Sam,” Dean snapped.

And to anyone who knew him, to Bobby and Sam, the desperation beneath his rage and aggression was obvious. There was nothing he could do for Bobby but keep driving, and he couldn’t stand it.

“All right, he’s breathing. There’s a pulse,” Sam sighed in relief, hiding a sob in his chest.

(Only Bobby was close enough to hear him.)

If Dean hadn’t been raised the way he had been—as a warrior, as a soldier —he would have stopped for a second and wept in solace. Instead, he pulled out his phone and continued to bark orders.

The fight wasn’t over. Bobby was still bleeding to death on the car seats.

“Keep him upright. Stop the bleeding. ”

“I’m not an idiot, Dean! I know first aid for a friggin’ bullet to the head! ” Sam snapped.

Idjits , Bobby wanted to scold them. The boys shouldn’t be getting angry at each other, they should be angry at Dick Freaking Roman.

But Dean had already stopped listening to Sam, focused on his next task, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I need the nearest trauma center,” he asked sharply on the phone. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Sam whispered to Bobby, begging him to stay with them.

(Bobby had never been one to refuse his boys anything. Sentimental fool.)

"What's the address?" The voice on the phone said a few words that Bobby couldn't hear. His senses seemed to be limited to his boys. “All right, Bobby. Hang in there.”

With a sharp turn of the wheel from Dean, the car veered toward the hospital and Bobby held on, both to the car and to the last connection he had with Sam and Dean. Sam's hand in his, Dean's voice in his ears.

(Hang on, Bobby.)

(He couldn't leave his boys, Sam and Dean still needed him.)

His vision narrowed and Bobby could only see Sam's worried eyes, could only feel the vibrations of the tires on the road, but Bobby held on. For Dean and Sam.

For his kids.

For his family .

Dean & Sam: *high fiving* I'm so glad everyone made it out unscathed. Bobby : *dying in the backseat*