They were fucked, royally fucked. Sam and Dean stood knee deep in the blood of their legacy, the spawn of Satan on their asses, and alone. For the first time in their life, the life they shared and formed as one, they were alone. No one was coming to save them, at least not yet. There was no where to go but home, and even then that felt lonely without the warmth of your gentle body between them.
Bradbury: Cinnamon roll that has too much icing (*cough*hair-gel*cough*). A little overcooked. Hard exterior, stale center. Bellamy: Perfect cinnamon roll. Gooey on the inside, crisp on the outside. King of the cinnamon rolls! Protective of the other cinnamon rolls. Boris: Cinnamon roll that JRoth forgot he was cooking and left in the oven for too long. Burnt, no flavor.
Raleigh liked to think that the years spent on the wall weren’t a complete waste. He would never feature on home improvement channels but he was handy with duct tape, he could fix a leaky faucet and finish a drywall with his two hands. But he stared woefully down at the wreck at his feet of what used to be his Walkman before it went spinning out of his hands into the nebulous beyond the moment a harried ground crew collided into him.
Oh, god. I just saw this one, but I already put in one haha either that one or this one? --- "The one with the triplets"
The One WIth The Triplets
Stiles rolls over and nudges Derek with his chin, his eyes barely open. ”Lila’s awake,” he mumbles, mouth brushing over Derek’s shoulder. ”Your turn.”
“So are you, and it’s your turn.”
“I took the last go.”
“No you didn’t,” Stiles says, lightly shoving Derek. "I got up with Ryan. You were asleep.“
“If you don’t get up soon, she’ll set the other two off.”
Derek groans and pushes the blankets off him, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up. ”I love my kids,” he says, rubbing his eyes. ”I do.”
“I know you do,” Stiles says into his pillow, raising a hand in support. "They’ll get better.“
Slipping into the room next to theirs, Derek quietly makes his way over to Lila, scooping her up and dodging her flailing limbs. ”Hey, hey, shhh,” he whispers, heading downstairs. ”You don’t want to wake up your brothers because they’ll be super cranky, and then your daddy will have to wake up, and he’ll be cranky, and your papa will have to deal with it.”