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kookie-doughs · 3 years

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Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 5: COMING TO CAMP

I woke up feeling sore all over, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. A short-cropped blonde haired guy hovered over me, looking down at me. When he saw my eyes open, he asked, "How are you feeling?" I managed to croak, "What?" "Are you feeling better?" "I guess," I mumbled, "I don't... where's Percy?" Somebody knocked on the door, and the guy slowly set the pudding down. "I'll see you when you're better." He smiled. The next time I woke up, the guy was gone.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt. On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. "You're awake," a voice said. A blonde girl was leaning against the porch railing, looking tired and done. She was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMPHALF-BLOOD. "I should call the others," she said. "Where's Percy?" "He's talking with Mr. D." "Is he well?" "You've been through worse," She said with her eyebrows knitted(?). "And the first thing you ask is your friend?" "Percy, should—" "I'll tell the others." She looked at me one last time and left. I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight. Without Percy's presence I was reminded of everything I lost. Everyone I care about. "Hey," A voice behind me called. "Annabeth passed by and told me you're awake. Feeling better?" "Oh, hey." I smiled weakly. "Feelin real peachy." "Luke, Luke Castellan." "Y/N L/N..." We stayed quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry for what happened. I don't exactly know what went on but..." Looking at him, I gave him a sad smile, "Thanks... I guess. Even I'm not sure what went on honestly... I don't know what's going on." "Well, I'm not exactly much of an explainer so, we just gotta wait for Chiron." "I... remember everything. From the moment the sea pulled me, to loosing my parents and dog, to bringing us here... I just... don't understand..." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming. "Don't strain yourself," Luke said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips. I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was (Favorite Food or F/F). Liquid F/F. And not just any F/F—my mom and dad's special F/F. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom and dad had just pet my head, fed me F/F the way they used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted. "Was it good?" Luke asked. I nodded. "Are you feeling better now? "Yeah," I said. "Thanks." "That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff." "What do you mean?" He took the empty glass from me, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Y/N!" I turned to the voice and saw Grover. "Hey, Luke." "I'll take it they want her?" Grover nodded. "I'll see you later." Luke smiled and ruffled my hair, then left me with Grover. Grover watched Luke leave then turned to me, "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting." The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. I asked him where Percy was and he said he was already there. As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings. "Y/N!!" I was engulfed and tackled which almost made me fall. Percy looked at me with sad eyes, holding unto the Minotaur horn. He looked tired and sick. "Are you okay Percy?" He nodded and rested his head on my shoulder. Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl that I woke up to was leaning on the porch rail next to them. The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt. "Hate to break your touching reunion but we were talking." The man said. "That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..." He pointed at the guy whose back was to me. First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard. "Mr. Brunner!" I cried. The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. "Ah, good, Y/N," he said. "You're awake. Percy couldn't focus since he was worried of you. He woke up an hour before you. Care for a game of pinochle?" He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you." "Uh, thanks." I turned to Percy who looked at me confusedly as well. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl. She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady and Luke nursed you back to health, Y/N. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and Y/N's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now." Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron." She was probably my age, maybe same height, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight. She glanced at the minotaur horn in Percy's hands, then back at him. I felt a bit iffy and got closer to Percy. She turned to me and said, "You should thank Luke." Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her. "So," Percy said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?". "Not Mr. Brunner," the ex—Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron." "Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?" Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young woman, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason." "Oh. Right. Sorry." "I must say, Percy, Y/N," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you both alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time. And I am quite surprise to recruit two." "House call?" "Recruit two?" "My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence. And when the mist hadn't worked on Y/N, Grover and I thought she saw through the mist." "Mist?" "It's... something." "You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asked. Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test. As for Y/N..." He looked at me skeptically then to Mr. D. "You're... still scentless." "Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?" "Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt. "You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously. "I'm afraid not," I said. "I'm afraid not, sir," he said. "Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less. "Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules." "I'm sure the girl can learn," Chiron said. "The other kid was bad, I doubt this one can do better." "Please," Percy said pulling me closer to him, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?" Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question." The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at us sympathetically. "Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?' "She said... She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her." "And you?" He turned to me. "Nothing like this ever happened... Everything was normal." "Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young lady, are you bidding or not?" "What?" I asked. He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did. "I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient." "Orientation film?" Percy asked. "No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—"that you and Y/N have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive." I stared at the others around the table. I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points. "Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?" "Eh? Oh, all right." Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully. "Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God." "Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical." "Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—" "Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter." "Smaller?" "Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class." "Zeus," Percy said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them." And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day. "Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you." "But they're stories," Percy said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science." "Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I felt Percy flinched when he was called—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me." I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut. "Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?" "You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Percy said. "Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you and Y/N a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their parents?" My heart pounded. He was trying to make us angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. Gripping on Percy I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods." "Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you." Grover said, "P-please, sir. She's just lost her family. She's in shock." "A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with kids who don't even believe.'" He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine. My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up. "Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions." Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!" More thunder. Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game. Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits." "A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space. "Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair." Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid. "And ..." Percy stammered, "your father is ..." "Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course." I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master. "You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine." Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?" "Y-yes, Mr. D." "Then, well, duh! Y/N L/N. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" "You're a god." "Yes, child." "A god. You." He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life. "Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly. "No. No, sir." The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win." "Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me." I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too. "I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment." Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir." Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably. "Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked Chiron. Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus." "Mount Olympus," Percy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?" "Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do." "You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?" "Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West." "The what?" "Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods." "And then they died." "Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in RockefellerCenter, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here." It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club. "Who are you, Chiron? Who... who am I? I-Is Y/N?" Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down. "Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. I believe Y/N had met one of them, Luke Castellan. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate." And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.. I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk. "What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. Let's meet the other campers." I took Percy's hand, anxious of what is coming.

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sinfulbrothers · 4 years

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You got the letter I sent you a few weeks back.

I have to admit I didn't expect you wouldn't receive it, I had a demon drop it off to wherever the hell you were staying at.

I imagine it's a crappy motel with shitty TV stations, ones we used to stay at all the time when we were kids.

Remember when dad would get angry every-time he came back to the motel room and see we were up sleeping? Remember that?

He'll he'd probably still yell at us for being such fuck ups.

You can ignore my texts and calls as much as you want Dean.

But we both know you have to come home sometime.

I'm getting tired of this cat and mouse routine.

I hunt you down, you run off to god knows where and then I'm stuck trying to find you again.

But I have a feeling I won't be the cat for long.

-Sammy W.

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"Three more calls and four texts, he still hasn't picked up," The youngest winchester glanced over at the male across the table. Castiel sat there hands resting on the table looking over pictures from different traffic lights, cameras and whatever else he could find. "The son of a bitch thinks this is some sort of game. Anything, Cas?" He raised an eyebrow at the used to be Angel.

The male shook his head, "It is just the same old stuff, Sam. No clue of where Dean would be hiding out. The only person that knows where Dean is hiding would be Crowley. And he and I aren't on the best of terms.." He made quotations around the word 'terms' and 'best'. He still really wasn't the best at English. "Maybe we should wait until there is a police report on a Chevy Impala. On baby."

Sam shifted in his seat frowning, "Dean is smart enough to not get caught doing something illegal in baby. If there was a police report it would be at some bar or store. Like the gas station that was robbed." He slid his laptop over to the male, "Check out some things while I go on a run. There isn't much you need to know about computers." He smiled softly sliding his phone into his pocket, heading out to his '65 mustang, light blue. A beautiful car. He jumped in and he was off to the nearest store.

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A familiar '65 mustang pulled into the Save-A-Lot parking lot, he couldn't help but smirk. Seeing his big bulky dork of a brother climb out of the drivers seat. It was a wonder how he fit his big moose ass in there. The car was shorter than Sam was tall. He snorted sitting back in the drivers seat of the impala, hands on the steering wheel. "Here Sammy Sammy Sammy." He whispered whistling, pushing the drivers seat door open he climbed out. Cracking his knuckles following up behind his brother. Wrapping an arm around Sam's neck yanking him to the ground with inhuman strength.

"De--" Was all the young winchester got out before the lights went out for him. Dean lugged the tall male over to the impala, throwing him in the back seat among the other beer bottles and trash.

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"Wakey, wakey, Sammy."

"You wanted your big bro back, well you got 'em."

"Sam."

"Sammy."

"SAMANTHA."

Sam's eyes shot open, his ears ringing, what the hell? A frown plastered on his lips as he tried to sit up, a force was holding him down. He heard it again, "Sammy." That was Dean's voice, what the hell was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be at the shopping center? "Aww look Sammy is confused again. How cute. Let's cut to the chase," The eldest winchester spoke up, his voice rough like a rocky road. He came walking out of the corner of the motel room swinging a baseball bat. Twirling it and throwing it in the air, only to catch it again. "You," He pointed the bat at Sam, poking his nose with it lightly. Sam pushed it away giving his demon brother a face.

"Need to stop looking for you. Yeah I caught the jiff." Sam stood up brushing his brown hair back out of his face.

Crack.

Dean swung the bat, smacking Sam right in the shin. For a second Dean swore the bat had snapped, then he realized it was Sam's shin. "Sit down." He growled at his younger sibling. Sam obeyed. "Obey like the good dog you are. Isn't that right, Sammy?" He chuckled, gripping the baseball bat tight. "You either stop looking for me or I'll put you down right where you stand, got that? I won't hesitate to tear your pretty little head off with my teeth. Bet it'll taste real good. Have some actual freedom from all this hell around ya, Sammy." He winked at his brother.

"But Dea--"

Crack.

"Fuck! Stop hitting me with the damn bat!" Sam cursed loudly attempting to take the thing from Dean, it was a lousy attempt but at least he tried to do something. "I'll fucking stop looking for you. Just tell me one thing...why are you doing this? These crimes? The killings."

"The killings? Those are all angels. All 14 of 'em. Of course we aren't counting the humans, right?" Sam didn't even recognize his brother behind that wolffish grin. His gaze dropped to the floor shuddering in major discomfort. "Crowley sent a few demons to try to take me out. Not even the king can contain this beast." Sam opened his mouth to speak, "Ahh except..you have a body behind your little adventure. The man you made sell his soul so you could find me. Naughty naughty sammy. Put him through that and he still gets killed, just sooner. Oh by the way...tell angel wings I said hi."

Dean swung the bat hard.

"Fucking Hell that's gonna leave a nice bruise."

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He awoke to a dog sniffing at his jeans and clawing at his jacket, attempting to locate anything edible on him. Or maybe it was getting ready to eat his face off. It didn't need to happen either way. Sam shoved the creature to the side earning a Yelp/Whimper from the creature as it bolted down the alleyway and out into the streets. An on coming car stated, 'Stupid animals! Should all be killed!' Speeding by the creature. People had no respect for these animals, or much of anything in that matter. He pushed up sitting up against the wall, yanking his phone out of his pocket, "Cas? Yea. I need a ride back to the bunker. Think I'm by the barber shop and the tattoo parlor east of the grocery store. Yep..it was Dean. No he didn't say anything about you. He did break my shin. Just..get here as soon as you can." He sighed shutting the phone tossing it across the alley way.

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"They have towed your car away," Was the first thing the used-to-be-Angel said to the male, helping him up to the car. "You will have to get it another time we need to get back to the bunker. There is something you need to see. It's important." Cas walked around the other side of the car jumping in the drivers seat, starting up the piece of crap he began driving off in the direction of home. But it wasn't home for Sam. Not without his brother. His brother was his home and would always be.

"So what's this thing and why is it so important?" He raised an eyebrow staring Castiel down.

The Angel sighed gripping the wheel loosely as he leaned back getting comfortable, "It's Dean. He was by the bunker while you were out. This was after I was told to look up things on the inter webs. The bunker door flew open and before I knew it I was on the floor. He took something from your room but I cannot figure out what." He sighed heavily, frowning immensely, "I was thinking it was some books...or maybe the tracker you had put on him.."

"The only thing in my room was papers and books, he would've had to taken some books. If not then..pictures? That wouldn't make any sense." He shook his head staring out the window, wincing. "We'll figure it out later. Right now I need to get my leg fixed up. Can't do anything on a broken bone."

"Alright. I will get the supplies while you stay put." Cas climbed out helping Sam down into the bunker, making sure he stayed sitting down before wandering off to gather some supplies.

Sam fiddled with the loose pieces of paper on the table, sliding them over the edge watching them float down to the floor. Something he would do as a kid, watch paper float down to the floor. It didn't sound fun and it wasn't. Sam chuckled remembering when Dean got angry when Sam would cover the motel room in paper. The crinkling noise always annoyed the shit out of Dean. He slid another paper across the wooden surface, catching it right before it fell.

'I sure enjoy your love letters, Sam. But has anyone told you you're not my type? Tall and lengthy isn't my thing. By the time you read this I'm sure I already broke one of your legs. Told you to leave me alone and then you're back here planning something again. As usual. For every time I catch glimpse of you I'll kill someone. Child, adult, elderly. I'll kill them. This is a warning. One slip up and someone is going ten feet under. Oh..I left a bit of a surprise under your pillow. Hope you enjoy it. It seems you need a girlfriend if you catch my drift little brother.'

He really didn't even want to know what Dean had left him under his pillow, probably some sex toy. He shuddered quickly shoving the paper into his pocket. "Find everything okay?" When Castiel nodded he smiled softly, sliding his pants leg up, hoisting his injured leg up onto the table. "I was thinking, maybe we can take a break for a bit. Let Dean cool off before we try to find him again. He seemed pretty pissed off. Sure the mark is the cause of that but Dean sort of always has his panties in a bunch."

The Angel simply nodded, "Okay." After that the room remained silent.

—————————————————

He had the right plan, all he needed was for Sam to take the bait. Hell he wished he would've stuck with killing people, been more fun and the police would've been involved. Sure they were a pain in the ass but still. He found it funny as hell to watch Sam struggle to get around the cops when they got suspicious of him asking "too" many questions. Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean brushed a hand through his ever so growing hair, sitting back in the bar stool. Sam had just found the the toy his older brother had left him. "Get a girlfriend," Dean scowled taking a long gulp of beer, spinning in his chair and sliding off. He pushed by a few customers walking out, climbing into his "baby" he drove off.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

Fool me once

Shame on you

Fool me twice

You're probably dead

He was correct about Sam, the man really was trying to locate him again like the crazed idiot he was. Damn. Dean threw the impala door open walking over to his brother gripping his shoulder tight, a faint crack starting. "Whatcha doing Sammy? Looking for me again? Did you not get my letter? Man I know I'm not good with the whole pen pals thing.." He sighed heavily cracking Sam upside the head, sending him stumbling into the side of the tow truck building. Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, then black eyes meeting his. "You won't stop until I'm back, guessing that means I have to kill ya."

Sam's vision darkened as the grip on his throat tightened, then everything went black.

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wolfarmystories · 5 years

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House of Angels One Shot

(WARNING. This might be super fluff, the fluffiest, go forth knowing this is fluff. And a songfic. BUT I blame the Celtic Woman version of Baby Mine (no seriously, look it up; it’s so beautiful and ugh, the plot bunnies were so fluffy)

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Gabriel, Lucifer, Crowley, Dean, Sam, Castiel, Nyx

Pairings: NONE

Genre: FLUFF. SO. MUCH. FLUFF. Also hurt and comfort and songfic

Song: Baby Mine (Celtic Woman version)

Summary: Lucifer accidentally does something and turns the group save Gabriel into kids. Then he hurts Nyx. Gabriel comforts Nyx and showcases a wonderful little talent of his

“Gabby....” The sad plaintiff voice made the archangel wince and part of him didn't want to look though a larger part demanded that he obey. As he did so though he mentally cursed, for what was perhaps the twelfth time since the Accident, that Lucifer was such an idiot.

It started out with what seemed be with just a prank. Maybe; hard to tell with the devil, but from what Gabriel gathered, one minute things were going okay in the house, Nyx making some sort of food in the kitchen with Sam and Castiel, Dean and Lucifer and Crowley supposedly sitting in the living room watching something on tv. The archangel trickster had been out at the time truth be told, the next door neighbor's kid Todd had skateboarded over the flower bed and Gabriel figured he needed a lesson in manners before Lucifer noticed, ever the protective gardener, and does something far worse than what the golden angel might. Or at least try; he was fairly certain, when he returned to the house to find it in chaos and where once a group of relative adults now a bunch of kids and toddlers were running around, that Lucifer's Grace being so out of whack left him without much control. And hence while Crowley was yelling angrily and an toddler Dean was screaming his head off in the corner of the couch, his older brother was pouting on the ground, his vessel too reverted to what amounted to a four or five year old. He had tried to get Lucifer, Crowley or Castiel to explain what happened, finding both Dean and Sam incapable of much more than babbling, and though a little older, more toddler than actual baby, Nyx could barely put together more than a few words; the eldest, now turned child, refused to answer, Castiel seemed to have no idea and Crowley, as far as Gabriel could tell from the Gaelic that the boy kept yelling at him, thought it had to do with something Dean said to Lucifer but the demon hadn't been paying much mind and demanded to be turned back. Gabriel tried but came to the belief, after a few tries, the best option would be to just wait it out.

And that's what he tried, even though about a day into it he was starting to realize why humans only tended to have one or two kids at a time. Between Lucifer chasing everyone around and trying to hit them, Crowley throwing temper tantrums all the time, and Dean and Sam needing constant supervision because damnit those Winchesters and their love for knives, he was ready to just whisk them away to some daycare and leave them there. The only well behaved ones were Castiel, who mainly helped with the Winchesters and kept trying to carry Dean off which of course caused both brothers to start crying loudly, and Nyx. Who for the first few hours had clung to Gabriel as tight as her tiny little arms could, her small black wings fluttering anxiously on her back, before finally seeming willing to leave his side; at first he's been somewhat thankful, it was hard to move with a two year old attached to his leg, but now he was regretting it.

Nyx stared up at him now, red eyes giant and full of tears. Her hair looked like someone had been pulling at the little pigtails she had and her wings were all ruffled, Gabriel able to see a few feathers had molted onto the ground behind her, and seeing Lucifer run off with what looked too be a handful of very familiar black feathers clenched in his fat little fingers, the trickster had a few guesses why that was. She sniffled and her lip quivered, the look she gave utter despair; it honestly hurt his heart and his second thought seeing her was to chase down his little big brother and force him to apologize. But his first was to reach down and pick her up, feeling her fingers curl into his shirt as he held her to him.

Maybe it was the part of him that used to love caring for the fledglings, or maybe just because Nyx looked so miserable after what he could easily guess was Lucifer being a pain and picking on the tiny non-angel. Whatever reason it was, he found himself humming softly as he tried smoothing out her feathers some, stroking her hair gently as it progressed in a low sort of singing:

“Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, Never to part, Baby of mine.”

He could feel her head move against his chest, turning to look at him and part of the angel did feel a bit embarrassed though he convinced himself as she had stopped sniffling and seemed to be more interested in the sound of his voice, it wasn't a bad thing. Still Gabriel didn't much want the others to hear, certainly not Lucifer or Crowley who might find amusement in it; he continued to lightly groom her wings, feeling them move under his fingertips. The trickster choose to stop, trying to focus on making her wings better, and resist being found out, but the little girl reached up and whined softly, putting her tiny little hand on his face.

“Gabby,” she said, “I like singing. Please?”

He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by it. And hesitant but there was that pleading look again and he thanked his Father that Nyx as an adult didn't have access to such a puppy dog look. He looked around to make sure the other kids were gone before picking up the song again:

“If they knew sweet little you They'd end up loving you too All those same people who scold you What they'd give just for the right to hold you”

The archangel rocked her gently, smoothing out her wings and watching as she smiled happily at the sound of his voice, the tiny non-angel resting her head on his shoulder as he continued. It was honestly pleasing to him, seeing her so happy again after looking so upset; more than ever, even more than when he'd first found her, Nyx reminded her strongly of the baby angels of heaven, the little ones he used to care for and teach how to fly and play with, the ones he had watched grow up to be warriors and lose that sweet little innocence that the small winged girl in his arms seemed to have in spades. That Castiel had had before the other angels ripped him to shreds and that he had again now as a small child. Even Lucifer had to have been a sweet child once Gabriel was sure, though he certainly seemed to be enjoying being a little pain right now, picking on Nyx and the others like he was right now.

“From your head down to your toes, you're not much goodness knows,” Gabriel sang softly and smiled down at Nyx, her wings starting to fold up against her back, her hand slowly slipped back to curl up to her body as she seemed to drift off in his arms, “But you're so precious to me, sweet as can be....baby of mine.”

The girl didn't make a sound and he waited to see if she'd react as he stopped again, watching her carefully. After a few minutes it seemed all too clear that she was indeed asleep and he started to move towards the living room to set her down, put a blanket over her, maybe even make the other kids lay down for a nap.

And he nearly tripped over Castiel who had curled up on the ground almost like a cat, his wings stretched out at his sides unlike Nyx's, fast asleep. Gabriel went bright red and he looked around again, noticing the silence. No yelling in Scottish Gaelic, no crying from the Winchesters, no sound of Lucifer running around trying to break things.

He leaned down, being very careful not to wake up Nyx nor Castiel as he picked his little brother up and made his way to the living room, finding the missing devil and demon both curled up together on the couch, fast asleep. Dean and Sam were laying on the pile of jackets shed when they had all been turned into children, also slumbering rather peacefully too it seemed.

Gabriel wanted to think it a bad thing that he had been heard. But seeing them all asleep, seeing them all looking so calm and content, the archangel could only smile and plopped down beside the couch, settling Castiel and Nyx into his lap before closing his eyes and humming again. Maybe he'd sing again later if it helped make things less chaotic around the house.

#supernatural #gabriel #lucifer #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #crowley #nyx #fanfiction #fanfic #my work #my fanfictions #fluff #baby mine

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moonbeambucky · 7 years

Text

The Guardian (Part 1)

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Demon AU) Word Count: 1823 Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression/body issues, religious questioning

Summary: Someone has been watching over you throughout your life. His intentions are bad, that is until you remind him of his past. Can you save the soul of a demon?

A/N: I didn’t intend to write this immediately but the first part just sort of happened and I wasn’t going to stop. I have no idea how many parts this will be, usually I write something in full first, then edit, re-edit blah blah. So this might be more of a mini series, who knows. I’ll try to work on it sooner than later. Gif not mine, source (x)

THE GUARDIAN MASTERLIST

We’ve all been told that we have a guardian angel. You know how it goes, an angel that was chosen to look after you from the day you were born. A narrow miss of a car accident, well, that was your guardian angel intervening. What you didn’t know is that there is someone else assigned to look after you too. If angels exist that means demons do as well. They don’t call themselves “guardian demons”, that’s just silly, but they are demons and their motivations are very different from their angelic counterpart. They’re the ones that cause bad things to happen. A green light suddenly turns red and you have to slam on the brakes to avoid a crash, oh that’s them just having some fun.

Neither angel or demon can control your lives, everyone has free will of course, but they can influence you. If cartoons have taught us one thing it’s that you have an angel and a devil on both of your shoulders; you’re picturing it right? It’s a mini version of you, the angel in a white robe with a glowing halo and wings who pleads for you to do the right thing and the devil, in all red with horns and a tail, pitchfork in hand that persuades you to go off track. Not everyone believes in angels and demons, some people call this your conscience, or maybe it’s just a gut instinct.

Nevertheless, whether you chose to believe in angels and demons they exist and both of them have agendas. The angel wants you to make good choices and be a good person. In the end you would go to Heaven and become an angel yourself, guiding a new life on their journey. The demon wants you to break laws, hurt someone, hurt yourself even. You’d be sent straight to Hell where you’d endure a lifetime of torture. Well, that’s not entirely true. You could end the torture as long as you became a demon and influenced others to do harm.

You were lucky that you didn’t know the truth of the world. You were always questioning everything. Did you believe in God because you wanted to or because you grew up being told you have to? Did you believe in the pearly gates of Heaven because it sounds better than just ceasing to exist? Did you believe you should live a virtuous life just to avoid the fiery pits of Hell? You didn’t have the answers and you figured you never really would. You are just human after all.

There’s a lot that goes into being human, we’re talking more than paying your taxes. What it really means to be human is to feel. Emotions, those are what made life tough. Love is such a strong emotion. You wanted to love everything. You loved your family and friends. You smiled at animals on the street– dogs, cats, pigeons and squirrels, you loved them all. You loved the laughter of children. You loved how people united after a tragedy, lifting each other up and selflessly helping in any way they could. You love Disney and the fairy tale stories you grew up believing in. You love love.

Then there’s hate, which seems to be even stronger sometimes. People just get on your nerves. You hate that animals are abandoned and abused. Will someone shut that crying baby up?? You hate how people exploit others; chaos at a peace rally… yeah that’s a good one. You hate this world, everything is upside down. Racism, sexism, homophobia, dammit you could go on forever. People hurt each other all the time and you hate it.

Sometimes you even hate yourself. You hate your looks, always comparing yourself to someone else. You hate your job, always thinking you aren’t doing what you truly want. You hate your failed relationships, constantly thinking about how it all went wrong and if you could just go back and change something you did maybe it would have lasted. Real life isn’t a Disney movie though. You hate love.

You’ve thought about leaving this world, maybe not being here would be easier. You wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of whatever was going to happen. You thought about it and you cried, a lot. A lump catches in your throat as tears stream down your face. You let them drop, pooling under your chin before wiping them away. You can’t do it. Maybe it’s your guardian angel begging you not to, the angel on your shoulder jumping up and down telling you how much you’re loved and how much your life matters or maybe you’re just too scared. You don’t want to die but you don’t want to live either.

Your guardian angel sighs in relief, watching over you as you slept, so thankful that you’re alive. He loves you. He’s loved you since the day you were born. A new life coming into this great big world, a life he promised to guide and protect. He thinks about the time he was alive.

He was born many years ago on Independence Day, a fitting day for a man as patriotic and righteous as Steve Rogers. He was a scrawny kid but never backed down from a fight, especially if it meant standing up for what’s right. He eventually grew into his body, served his country, and gave his life for it in the war. He hangs his head low today with Nazis running around, again! He takes it in stride, devoting even more time guiding those to stand up to the injustice in the world.

Steve knows there’s goodness in you, and he knows that sometimes you stumble. You hurt yourself most being your own worst critic, constantly berating yourself for things you should have done. Steve tries to show you the goodness in life. A family of ducks waddle across the grass and you smile, that is until someone comes by with their large dog, letting them purposely chase after the now scattered group. You stop to watch a honeybee, dedicated in its task to pollinate the garden before you. Then you’re reminded of the worldwide devastation to the bees. Steve groans in frustration, knowing the counteractive measures were being orchestrated by a demon, the monster waiting in the shadows trying to corrupt you.

The demon was just as frustrated. That righteous angel was working so hard, encouraging you, no matter what the situation, to never back down. You stood up to people, to bullies. It was oddly familiar. Today the demon is smirking. You have plans to go clothes shopping with your friend Keisha. This is too easy for him.

“Come out Y/N. Let me see,” Keisha talks to you through the fitting room doors.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, the shirt you tried on was bunching on the sides. You tried pulling it down to cover the hips you hated but no, it doesn’t stay. It doesn’t fit right. Nothing fits right. Nothing ever does. Why are you like this? You feel the sting of tears rush to your eyes.

Taking a deep breath you pull it over your head, closing your eyes so don’t have to look at your reflection. You quickly put on your shirt and gather your things. Opening the door you see Keisha wearing the slight look of disappointment on her face.

“It didn’t fit,” you said quickly, hoping she would drop the subject. “Everything in this store runs small, let’s try a different size.” “Kei, the problem isn’t the clothes, it’s me. It’s this,” you gestured towards yourself.

She held back for a second, seeing the redness in your eyes, but continued anyway. She knew what she was about to say would make you cry as this has always been a sore subject, but she trusted her gut (or whatever she believed in) and said it anyway. “Y/N you’re beautiful, no matter what okay. You may not love your body but just know there is so much more to you than that. You’re beautiful inside and out.”

The tears fall as you wipe them off your cheek. You know she means well it’s just, all those bad thoughts you have are turned up to 1,000 when it comes to your body. She pulls you in for a tight hug. You smile, knowing she’s right. Your worth isn’t determined by your weight. You know this.

Damn her, the demon thought of Keisha. What can he do now? What can he do to turn your thoughts around?

Suddenly, a beautiful leggy brunette walks into the fitting room. She glances down at your tear stained face, you hear her laugh as she closes the door. No matter what you want to believe the truth is everyone is judged on their appearance. You quickly walk out of the dressing room, feeling defeated.

“Listen Y/N you don’t look like that chick, I don’t look like that chick, but despite what you think she’s not perfect. Nobody is.” “I know, it’s just hard sometimes, you know?” You try to smile, forming a tight lipped frown instead. “Yeah it’s hard, but life is short and you need to enjoy it. Winnie the Pooh wears a belly shirt and he doesn’t care.”

Her comment breaks your sullen face. “So you want me to be like Winnie the Pooh? Walking around with a jar of honey and no pants?” you joked.

“Winnie,” the demon hesitantly spoke, turning his head up as if he’s heard that name before.

“Yeah go hard or go home!” she laughed, pulling you in for another hug.

You stopped into Starbucks, to satisfy your need for overpriced coffee. Casually strolling through the mall you found some comfortable chairs to sit down in.

“So how come I haven’t met your girlfriend yet?” you asked, tilted your head and smiling as Keisha began to blush. “I know, I know! Let’s plan something soon, dinner? Lunch? It doesn’t matter. She’s great Y/N. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

You asked what her name was and she told you as she smiled from ear to ear.

The demon felt a twinge in his mind as the name was spoken. “Rebecca.” He repeated the name over and over, ignoring all of the things he could be doing to ruin your day. He knew this name. Why did he know this? Who was she? The thoughts clawed at his mind, like a caged animal trying to break free. “Oh-em-gee, you have the cutest couple name, Bec-kei! Do you get it?” you laughed. You found it a lot funnier than Keisha did but she laughed all the same, being well accustomed to your silly sense of humor.

The demon froze, stunned in silence. The beast was loose, running around in his mind, violently thrashing as it broke down the walls of a dam. Memories returned, flowing, gushing through his mind.

“B-buh…Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

PART 2

Tags: @chameerah

FEEDBACK is appreciated *so* much. Please like, comment, reblog! Thank you :)

#Bucky Barnes #demon!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #demon bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #reader insert #marvel au #marvel fic #tw: suicidal thoughts

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kpop-melody · 7 years

Text

BTS reaction to their child refuses to call them dad because they were away for so long

Anonymous said :

BTS reaction when they haven't met their child for years and when they finally see each other, she/he (their child) doesn't want to call them appa and how can they fix it, please :)))) I love ur work so much, keep working hard 😘

Hi lovely~thanks for requesting ! .. here’s your requested reactions and I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoy it too >< .

Jin :

All he was thinking the way home is his little kid .The last call he had from you was about his little boy’s first birthday ! ..he went to the military when you were in your second month ..so his biggest dream was to see his child for the first time ! ..when he knocked at the door he expected his child to come running like a little pinguin and hug him ..but what happened wasn't as he expected the meeting to be ..his little child showed up with his diaper and smiley face ..which has changed the moment he spotted his father ..Jin was in heavens that time ..untill his baby ran fast inside ..screaming and calling for his mom ..and you were already on your way to the door ..you stopped the moment you saw your dear husband ..smiling as if you have never smiled before ! ..but your child ? he was behind you ,hugging your leg ..begging for protection ..and that was the last thing Jin wanted to see ..no papa ? ..no appa or even daddy ? ..that broke him from the inside ,so the hug wasn't that tight ..he was sad ..so deeply …which didn't make him sleep that night ..he was thinking of a way to change the way his baby sees him ..so he decided to spend more time with him ,till he -with no control- called Jin (appa) because how strong their relationship was !

Suga :

A 7 months girl won't remember her father ! ..especially if he left for tour for about another 8 months ! ..that would make it even more complicated..he heard his girl saying her first word when you recorded it ..so he was so excited to hear it live ..when she is calling him! ..calling him (appa)!! ..he came home at 4 am ..after hugging you and showering you with kisses, he dashed to his girl’s room to see her sleeping in her one peace pijama ,with an angelic face and silk brown hair .He sat next to her and kissed her face ,two seconds and she was staring at him ,and his smile never faded away ,till she started crying so hard …calling her mom (AMMA!! ..I’M SCARED !!) ..you ran to her room and saw Suga staring at the wall ,in an another world . You hugged her till she calmed down ,and Suga still didn't make any reaction !.. you said ,trying to save the situation “..ohh baby ..this is your father !..why are you scared ?”..she kept crying “NO! ..HE IS NOT MY APPA!! ..HE IS NOT!” ..and buried her face in your chest .. you looked at your husband as you could clearly see him tearing up ..but before you could open your mouth to say a word he carried his body out ,and disappeared in his studio .In the next day ,you saw Yoongi for the first time ,so cuddly and caring ..he tried his best to make her feel protected and comfortable when he is around ,and that worked ! ..at the end of the day ,after a family trip to the amusement park ,he was sitting with her on the carousel..she was laughing so happily in his arms when he was smiling till his ears ,she said in a loud voice between her giggles “YOU ARE THE BEST DAD EVER!” .

Rap Monster :

You and your little boy were waiting for your husband at the airport ,when he was away for one year with his mother ,trying to do some surgeries for her because she had two kinds of cancer,and you couldn't leave with them due to your job .Your little boy was one year and a half ,so he had only few unclear memories about his father ,he looked at you “mom ? ..when was he all the time ?” ..you smiled and looked down “our grandma was sick so he was helping her !” ..he pouted “but ..when I was sick he didn't help me !” ..you remembered when your child once had a virus and he was at the hospital for two days ,you knew that would affect on him because his father wasn't there ,but you hoped nothing negative would happen .When Namjoon appeared you smiled brightly and pointed at him “look ! ..he is there !!” and you ran to him ,hugging him so tight ,and your boy? ..still standing where you left him ,and when Joonie took few steps toward his child ,the last one took another steps back ,there Namjoon was shocked ,and you knew how much that distance had affected on him ,even though the first conversation between them two was “you know that I asked about you everyday? ,your photo in my wallet ..and I take it everyday and I kiss it !” ..” ohh ..thanks ..you seem as a good man ..like grandpa Max in Ben10 !!!” ..and that moment you knew that Namjoon was broken ,as a knife stabbed him so deeply or as his heart was broken into peaces ,but what doesn't kill you ,makes you stronger ! ..he took a vocation for a month to spend it with his boy ..and , it has beed successful ! .

J-hope :

His military service had to end today ,so you waited for him at the balcony with your little kid ! ..till he arrived with his soldier’s vest ..your boy cheered “mom look ! ..a soldier! “ ..you smiled brightly “yeh baby ..he is your father !” ..and you ran downstairs, when your boy stood still and mumbled “my father ?” .You hugged your husband as if it was the first time to see him after 100 years ,so you shouted at that kid on the balcony “COME AND HUG YOUR DAD!” ..but he didn't move ,so Hobi just kissed you and whispered “I'll go for him!” ..and when he was two steps away from his child ,with the happiest face ever ,your boy said “so you are the hero my mom told me about ?” ..he nodded and pulled him in a warm hug ,but your kid broke it ..so Hoseok pouted “what's the problem my baby?” ..your kid simply shouted and ran away “I DON’T BELIEVE YOU !!!” ..Hoseok with no control started crying with no sound and you couldn't do anything but hugged him, when he refused “you didn't show him my photos ? ..didn't you tell him the messages I wanted him to hear ? ..didn't you tell him that I love and miss him so much ? ..why he hates me ?!!!” .After days he was trying his best to get closer ,but we cant deny that he had some difficulties to deal with ,his boy was a closed one ,not like his father ..but ,they made it at the end .

Jimin :

Another one was away for tour ,but he suffered from another problem , a member was sick and he had to be next to him ,which made him be away for 9 months ,and that wasn't so accepted by his little girl who he left when she was 3 months old and now she is one year old .He asked the driver to drive the fastest so he would see his daughter, he missed her till he couldn't control himself .And when he was in front of her ,he came closer and hugged her as if it was the first time ..and she couldn't make any reaction..all she was thinking about was (is he really my father?) ,and he didn't notice that till he was taking a shower and you making the dinner ,when she moved in hesitated steps and knocked at the door of the bathroom “umm ..mom said the dinner is ready !” ..he opened the door with the biggest smile and carried her on his shoulders .When they were on the dinner table ,Jimin kissed you and mumbled “you are the best mom! ..I was afraid she would enter the bathroom so I locked it !” ..you smiled and looked in a teasing way at her “ohh..that's weird ,because she usually doesn't knock ,but enters with no warnings !” ..your daughter looked at her plate in a guilty way “but you taught me to be polite with those I don't know !” ..and that moment Jimin choked and sank in his blank thoughts ..that his daughter is no longer his ,but just a girl he loves and she doesn't ! ..that made him cry in his room alone at midnight ,also made him make a plan to let his daughter knows that he is not a stranger , but a person who loves her more than she thinks .

V :

It wasn't his choice ,he had to leave for some business and you couldn’t go with him because you had to take care of your parents and your work ,so he left for a year and a half to complete the deals with many modeling companies ,he was a lit! ..after he realized that his family has the right to see him ,he canceled any new deals and went right back to his hometown .He was outside of his huge house’s garden ,when he saw his little girl running after her dog ,she was wearing ballet skirt with wings of a fairy ,till she stopped when she saw him ,he opened the gate and ran toward her ,picked her up and swung her in the air which made her giggle ,he pulled her in a hug and let her down ,so he sat on his knees ,admiring her beauty and how much she grew up without him ,that thought made him tear up ,till she shocked him saying “you are a cute like my joje (her puppy) …and you look like my dad~” she said with an accent of a cute little girl ,which made him smile brightly “ohh ..so your father is cute ? ..how about I AM your father ? …your TaeTae ?” ..she giggled “ohh no you are not ..bye stranger !!” ..and she waved ,left him there looking at her running after the dog again ,stranger ? ..that was the last thing he would like to hear ,for a family man ? ..that was a living nightmare ..and u knew that when he entered the house and his face covered with tears .But ,that didn't stop him ,he got out of that scary hell and started all over again ,playing and chasing the dog with her ,till they became bestfriends ,till he became her TaeTae .

Jungkook :

That scholarship he had for the most famous music school in the world ,he dreamed of having it ,and when he got it ,he waited no second to accept it ,and when he knew he can't get his family with him ,he had to risk ..two years he could only see you on FaceTime, but what really made him break down every night ,that his kid refused to FaceTime with him ,as he was that shy around strangers ,he didn't have the courage to talk to that man who called his father and never saw him before ,that made Jungkook give up the rest of his scholarship and go back home .Out of his kid room he stood there ,afraid as hell ,will he accept it ? ..he knocked at the door and that three years boy opened it with his pijamas on ,the moment he saw his father his eyes went wide and slapped the door ,as if he slapped Kook on the face ,his feelings were down as he was holding himself not to cry ..”babe ,open the door ..I'm your father you were FaceTiming with ! ..I came but will never go again ! ..now open the door and let me hug you ..!!” ..but that didn't affect on the insecurity of his kid ,but made him shout out loud “NO ..!!” .After that situation, Jungkook tried everything to get his kid’s heart ,from watching his favorite cartoon with him to playing with him his favorite games ..it needed time but ,it was successful too !.

GIFs are not mine

Requests : opened for texts only !

-Admin M

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canaliculi · 7 years

Text

Radio Star

Welcome to Night Vale

Station Management/Cecil Palmer; mentioned pre-Carlos/Cecil Palmer

NC-17: dub con, aphrodisiacs, broadcast molestations, tentacle sex (all implied), + solo, voyeurism, Carlos being a sappy baby.

It’s Listener Appreciation Week at Night Vale Community Radio - a historically perilous time for broadcasters. Particularly so when fans aren’t careful with their postage.

The surprise and unneeded companion fic, where we see just how appreciative one listener is.

Carlos didn’t listen to the radio anymore.

…Really!

Okay, okay, correction: Carlos shouldn’t listen to the radio anymore. And, he at least didn’t listen to the radio when anyone else was around.

There were quite a few factors that had led to this decision. He was the head of his scientific outcropping, for one thing. The leader his fellows looked to for guidance. It simply wouldn’t do for them to see him reeling at Cecil’s blithe and otherworldly announcements.

Packs of roaming dogs – possibly anarchist and almost certainly the product of a society that glorifies gang violence.

Glow clouds that drop heavy animal carcasses onto the streets and then join the PTA.

Pyramids that are nothing more than viral advertising, not that that has ever worked. Oh, but that actually reminded him, he was out of cereal, wasn’t he?

All of this and so much more, so much worse came falling out of Cecil’s mouth like he was reporting on a vaguely interesting pile of rocks collected by a local fifth grader. Cecil’s mouth. The radio host greeted him with the biggest grin every time they met. Like he was excited to find Carlos still existed, thrilled that the particular array of molecules and atoms and weird in-between fluids that constituted Carlos had remained in his absence. Cecil would remember himself, eventually; would cough or look away. Sometimes he would bite his lip to aid in chasing away his smile.

And Cecil was so tongue tied around him. It was charming, or it would have been charming, except that speechlessness in Night Vale seemed to be catching and contagious, as Carlos was often struck by the same. Directly after every blurted neat - which was more often than not but not as often as one might think – Cecil’s mouth would pull down into a devastated pout. When Carlos managed to string more than five words together, which generally turned into five paragraphs of science, Cecil’s mouth would hang open, just slightly, his eyes big and wide and totally enraptured and totally uncomprehending.

Carlos sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It still hadn’t grown out, but his haircut had just been a couple weeks ago.

Which brought him to the second factor in his decision to not listen to the radio. When all was said and done, it wasn’t, strictly speaking, surprising to hear an inflammatory and incendiary editorial from a newscaster. The… topic was unusual (and made Carlos pretty embarrassed if he thought about it for too long), but people made mountains (they’re real, Cecil) out of what Carlos considered anthills at best, all the time.

But those editorials rarely prompted full blown vigilante justice. Or at least, those editorials usually took longer before their words could seep into a population and cause it to explode outwards in violence. It had taken Cecil, like, twenty minutes, tops, to convince a town to turn on one of its own. Even a few of his small band of scientists had been taken in the sudden, violent tide. Over a haircut! When they’d gotten back, Carlos had questioned them thoroughly and scientifically, and very calmly, using scientific methods. He had not grabbed at the unevenly shorn locks of his hair in an outward display of unmanageable stress and confusion.

The shared look they had pinned him with meant something like what the hell are you talking about? And then they had said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

So, that was a little, uh.

It was-

It was definitely not good.

A later, admittedly calmer and more thorough examination of the three wayward scientists hadn’t revealed any lasting damage or abnormalities. No busted or bleeding eardrums, no apparent trigger words (they tried barber and Telly and hair cut and, to Carlos’ everlasting chagrin, Perfect Carlos) – all of which revealed nothing worse than a splitting headache and an overwhelming desire to get a slice at Big Rico’s. Oh, and Mikaela got a sunburn, which she used to request sick leave for the rest of the week. Carlos couldn’t fault her there.

Overall, they were about as close as any of them felt to normal here in Night Vale.

“…one of you out there has been using writing utensils…” the radio said, as if in dramatic emphasis of his point. Well, technically the radio did not say this, Cecil said it. In his deep and resonant voice, tone ominous and dire, dropping into a lower register as he drawled out the words writing utensils, unfurling and sinister. It drew a small shudder down his spine, his flesh pinching up into pricks of gooseflesh, and somehow, Carlos both coveted and dreaded being the target of that sentence.

Uh, that is to say, Scientifically Speaking, Cecil was a talented orator.

And used this talent for really terrible things. Carlos frowned at his dashboard, the dated knobs and tick-marked horizontal-line display of the radio, feeling the spark of Cecil’s words trying to catch in his brain. The dried out hay stack of paranoia, ready and eager to distrust those around him, particularly, as Cecil pointed out, those who knew his most incriminating secrets.

Turn on them now, Cecil didn’t have to say, before they turn on you.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles going pallid where the dark skin of his hands was a thin stretch over the bulging ridges of his joints. With the slippery ease of oil spilling across water’s surface, Cecil changed direction, and led them directly to Factor Three of Carlos’ Decision to Listen to the Radio Never, or Okay, Maybe Sometimes but Only Privately. Whichever.

“Just the other day, I was talking to Carlos - perfect Carlos - our resident scientist whose hair, I must say, is growing back quite nicely.”

Perfect Carlos, said with the distinct impression that Cecil was swooning, stricken with love, and Carlos shifted in his seat, embarrassed even by himself. Embarrassing, and yet, enjoyable, in a way that somehow made Carlos feel distinctly that he was taking advantage of Cecil. The scientist couldn’t explain it, to himself or to anyone else, except that maybe it was some undefined sense of guilt. He knew he wasn’t perfect, after all; whoever Cecil thought he was, whoever it was Cecil was truly gushing about on the air waves, it wasn’t Carlos. To take enjoyment in his proclamations, then, was wrong.

Now, whether this wrongness was accepted by his body or not, well, he couldn’t control that. The hot curl of warmth in his chest, his stomach, the goofy grin. The fluttering, almost giddy feeling-

“I mean, it’s kind of at that in-between stage, where you know someone has gotten a haircut, and it’s sort of growing out, but you can tell they don’t really know how to style it yet – Listeners, I’m not usually one for the scruffy, unkempt look, but Carlos the scientist wears it well!”

Uh, was his hair that bad? Cecil had said it was growing out, right? Carlos fiddled unconsciously, or perhaps self-consciously with the soft, curling ends of his hair, wondering how he could fix it. Since the red light he’d been sitting at for the past few minutes wasn’t showing signs of changing anytime soon, Carlos yanked the rearview mirror out of place, startling at the glimpse of something, rotting and ghastly in his backseat, but focusing mostly on examining himself, wondering if there was something he should be doing differently with his hair.

He ran a hand through it. He shook out the front, tried out smoothing down the sides. It always seemed to bounce back to the same configuration, dark and messy. Unkempt. Maybe he should slick it back? The idea of another hair cut – just a trim this time! – flitted uselessly through his mind, and Carlos was almost offended the thought had existed in the first place. There was no way, after the Telly Incident, that he was going to get his hair cut.

At least, not before he had a serious conversation with Cecil. So, probably never.

The loud, ear-piercing shriek of a diving bird of prey broke him out of his thoughts. The light had turned green, and an SSP officer cleverly disguised as a Slow Children: Are the First to Go sign was shaking their balaclava-clad head at him, holding a megaphone in one spray painted hand. The officer lifted the megaphone to their mouth again, and the shriek erupted from its cone shaped end once more, prompting Carlos to wince and clap his hands over his ears.

“All right, all right, I’m going!” he replied.

He worked his jaw up and down, trying to dislodge the stubborn ringing the officer’s polite notice had brought about in his ears. His actions weren’t particularly effective. He turned up the radio instead, hoping he could at least drown out the high, sharply-pitched whine that was almost certainly a sign of late-in-life tinnitus.

“…is happening currently in the station,” Cecil was saying. Carlos frowned, curious, as there was a thick, heavy pause and then a quiet intake of breath. “N-Noooope. Nothing like that at all.”

Huh. That was weird.

It was probably nothing.

Well, no, it was probably something, but it was probably something Cecil could handle. Whatever it was.

“In actual news, Old Woman Josie reports that the inhumanly tall, winged creatures who are definitely not angels, and who all go by the name Erika, have been having some, uh-” Now that was unusual. Cecil stalled for words so infrequently (on air, at least) that any slip up counted as statistically significant. “Sooooome issues with the water heater. She didn’t expand, or tell us why she thought this was news worthy, but, there you go!

“Personally, I don’t see why she needs hot water,” Cecil continued, and now Carlos was really paying attention, because his voice had lost its normal composure. Strained and tight, like he was holding himself back from something. He was still mulling this over when low groan came out over the radio, the sound shooting through his body like an electrical current, heading straight down to his-

Oh boy.

Distraction, he needed a distraction now. What had Cecil been reporting on? Old Woman Josie’s angels? No, something to do with her water heater. But it would give him an excuse to go over there, and maybe sneak a closer peak at her angels anyway. Focus on the science, not on the breathy – was he panting now, Jesus, Cecil – voice that delivered the news. He had a goal now, an idea of what was going on in town; the reason he listened to Cecil’s show, as Carlos told himself. He could – he should – just turn the radio off right now-

“Oh, yes, do keep going,” Cecil purred, an expression Carlos had never heard encapsulated so fully, and it was followed up by a wet, choked gasp. Yeah, it would probably be for the best to keep this on. “With the, uh, news! Of course. The news.” How Cecil made that phrase sound so dirty, it should have been illegal. Was it illegal? Did this count as some sort of public indecency?

Cecil continued on with his report, voice deep and rough and making it very difficult to concentrate properly on the content of his speech. He was talking about something, and Carlos, through the application of logic and critical thinking, could conclude for himself that that something was, well, somewhere. Existing? He was thankful there weren’t many other drivers out on the road. The rest of Night Vale was probably busy listening to Cecil’s broadcast as well.

Carlos dug his nails into the faux-leather finish of his steering wheel, gritting his teeth. There was a sharp, angry thrashing in the pit of his stomach that caused Carlos a brief moment of panic before he recognized it for an emotion and not, say, a grotesquely huge parasite about to erupt through his skin and viscera. Though even that might be preferable to the admission that he was feeling a bit possessive of the radio host currently giving a breathless report concerning the secret police dropping canisters of tear gas onto reporters. Just the thought of that, and its possible ramifications – freedom of press, at least! – should have doused his arousal, but to his shame, it really didn’t.

Well, it did a little, but then his mind helpfully crafted a scenario in which he was in the booth with Cecil, biting and suckling at the other’s smooth flesh, licking long, slow stripes over heated skin while Cecil trembled above him, fingers tangled in the perfect hair he so loved to extrapolate upon and body squirming, pinioned in place by Carlos’ hands on his hips while Cecil forced himself to concentrate, to finish the news segment and get to the weather, wherein he would-

No, no, that wasn’t helping things, thanks though.

One his hands had even drifted down to his lap, palming at himself through the rough denim of his jeans. It was testament to how badly Carlos was affected that he allowed himself a moment, enjoying the little tingles of electricity flaring through his body, rolling his hips against his own hand. And god, Cecil was not helping matters, releasing a noise on air that was nothing but tortured consonants and then a high-pitched, thready whine that had Carlos longing to be in that sound booth with the radio host, so that he could give Cecil what he so desperately needed.

Not, uh, not that he knew what Cecil needed. Though with the way the radio host said his name, Carlos thought he had a pretty good idea of how he could help Cecil.

“…About the station? About how it was definitely not the site of strange, or unexpected, o-or slick and, uh, distracting events?” Cecil was saying. Carlos had managed to wrest control of his hands and had them both firmly planted on the steering wheel once again. The few coherent thoughts he had were dedicated to wondering if he had accidentally turned onto one of the spatial-loop streets again, because he was pretty sure he should have reached the used car lot by now. “Well, that was-”

Cecil cut out again, and Carlos grit his teeth so hard he could hear the tension sizzling in his ears and above that white noise sound was nothing but Cecil’s muffled groaning, and slick, wet sounds, like flesh sliding on flesh, little strangled gulps set to an uneven, irregular beat, like something was hitting the back of Cecil’s throat repeatedly and wow, Carlos was going to crash his damn car if this kept going. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he should probably be worried about what was happening at the radio station.

There was a wet pop and then coughing, and then wet, ragged breathing. His mind, unbidden, provided him a wonderful image of Cecil on his knees, Carlos’ hand buried in his hair and dragging him off his aching cock. Pop, just like that, when those talented lips slipped off the head of his dick.

“Uhhh… Where was I?” Cecil sounded utterly disoriented, dreamy and languid even as his voice came out thick and gravelly, like the deep, sonorous sliding of tectonic plates. “Oh! Yes! The… station. Everything is great, here! Here, at the station. Yup.” Okay, Cecil didn’t sound believable there at all. But he had interns, right? Night Vale wouldn’t actually let something bad happen to their beloved radio host.

Right?

Carlos drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He pulled his car over, just to get a better idea of where he even was, not to prepare to turn around and head to the radio station. If something was happening there, maybe it would turn out to be scientifically interesting. Definitely worth looking into. The angels could wait, Carlos reasoned. And for how helpful they seemed to be around Old Woman Josie’s house, they could be considered withholding when it came to indulging scientific curiosity.

“…everyone’s favorite scientist, Carlos! Isn’t that… something!” Carlos sucked in a sharp, trembling breath, because whatever he had expected out of today, it had definitely not been Cecil saying his name like that, his voice so dark and rough. Like Cecil was right there with him, was seconds away from pouncing on him with predatory intent. “He’s heading over there right now, to do some sort of science, I would imagine! And all without the use of writing utensils, Steve Carlsburg.”

It was absolutely a problem when even Cecil’s aggressive, Steve-Carlsburg-induced annoyance did little to dampen Carlos’ arousal. Though he wasn’t super keen on hearing Cecil say anyone else’s name at just this second. And Cecil just sighed, sweet and wistful.

“Apparently, Old Woman Josie – or perhaps her tall friends, who are totally not angels, you guys – or perhaps just her faulty water heater, have become the subject of Carlos’ scientific inquiry.” There it was again, Cecil’s voice dipping into those lower registers, the words spilling from his lips like thick black ink. It sent a shudder down Carlos’ spine.

“Can you even imagine?” Cecil was breathless.

“Being the subject of such focused, intense scrutiny?” Oh. Yes, Carlos could suddenly imagine that. Imagine Cecil-

“Helping out both science as an over-arching ideal, and a beloved member of our small community?” That, somehow, finally, was the last straw, Cecil saying it like he was in process of dragging Carlos down a dark hall, like they were already tumbling into sheets together, like Cecil was lying spread in wait and ready for Carlos to pull him to pieces.

Carlos fumbled with his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, yanking himself out with almost too much forth and trembling as his fevered skin was exposed to the artificially cooled air of his car. His car, god, he was in his car, but he really didn’t care. He fisted himself, hips bucking, feet scrambling to plant anywhere on the flooring that wouldn’t result in the engine revving to life. The last sane part of his mind was reminding him that he really shouldn’t be doing this - the consequences for law-breaking in Night Vale were often vaguely sinister or sinisterly specific, and while he didn’t remember which one Public Indecency fell under, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

There didn’t seem to be room for anything in his body but bright, flaring need. It was a heat that sparked along every inch of nerve, root and ending alike. A heat that made his toes curl and his chest ache and pooled low in his gut while his heart beat became rapid and erratic. And all he could hear was Cecil, his quiet panting and bitten back whines, voice rumbling and grating and deep. Cecil, saying his name. Carlos, he would say, sighing and longing and full of too much, so many emotions Carlos couldn’t name them all, oh, perfect, yes-

And as perfect as the image was, of Cecil lost in pleasure beneath him, a pliant and eager thing, an inscrutable piece of Night Vale itself subject to rigorous scientific inquiry as Cecil would say. As wonderful as all that undeniably was, Carlos’ body jerked and stuttered and he came into his own palm thinking of Cecil on any other day. His face lighting up – sometimes literally – at the sight of Carlos, how Cecil acted like nothing of note existed outside of the space Carlos immediately existed within. How Cecil had once spent literal hours listening to Carlos ramble about science and though Carlos would eat his own shoe if Cecil had retained more than a sentence’s worth of information from it, the radio host’s attention had never drifted, his eyes never glazed over; Cecil had never tuned out the boring, stuttering scientist who got too enthusiastic about possibly-non-existent earthquakes.

Hell, Carlos even thought of that annoying way Cecil had of condescending to him, when something ridiculous and outrageous and against all laws of reason and science happened, something that was just so completely Night Vale happened, like Carlos was the outlandish one, not this insane town.

Most of all, though, he just thought of Cecil, strange and sweet and intimidating and utterly smitten. Of the terror of instantly and how the disappointment he’d expected to follow such a proclamation had never come.

The weather report was drawing to a close as Carlos slumped bonelessly in his seat. When his heart stopped thudding so loudly in his ears and his breathing rate had returned to its typical 16 breaths a minute, Carlos began to move again. Cecil came back on, sounding for all the world like the past 30 minutes of broadcast hadn’t occurred. Well, except for him referencing it? Carlos guessed? He still wasn’t sure what was going on, but Cecil sounded like himself again, if vaguely annoyed and disappointed.

“Remember, Night Vale, every mistake you make, every minor indiscretion you commit, carries unspeakable – and, I might remind you – completely avoidable consequences.” Carlos shuddered, unpleasantly this time. “Stay tuned next for the quiet, vigorous sounds of lemon scent scrubbing, and deep, unflinching feeling that you will never truly be clean again.”

For once, as Carlos stared at his white-splattered hand, he thought he knew exactly what Cecil meant.

“Good night, Night Vale. Good night.”

#cecilos #f!tag: WTNV #status!tag: complete

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beochanpaiseanagustaifeala · 7 years

Text

💖”Star🌠Gazing”💖 Part 1 (FEAT. Lalasa Patel-Slithers, The Cartoon Network and many more!)

Happy Valentine’s Day!

🌠

Lalasa’s POV

How I love to stroll in the woods during nights like this~ the sun is setting, the moon is rising and for some reason I’m really hungry; good thing I got myself some perfectly healthy trail mix...let’s see: marshmallow, potato chip, cheddar cracker, pizza roll, sugary cereal, loads and loads of chocolate, ect. so much to choose from, my freaking God! X’DDD But suddenly, I spotted Harvey and lil’ Buhdeuce (SwaySway’s baby bro) getting chased by none other than those Greaser Dogs~ better save those boy’s lives; I jumped into action and punched the top dog, Cliff, square in the face.

“Don’t you know it’s impolite for a little lady like you to fight dirty?” He laughed, with Shriek giving him a dark look in response.

“At least I’m not a clown dressed in leather desperately trying to relive my glory days, I thought you dinosaurs where dead.” I replied in a deadpan tone.

“Gee, I don’t look like a dinosaur...” said a confused-as-usual Lube, itching his head.

“In that case, these dinosaurs are gonna stomp you in the mud!” said Shriek, shaking her fist at me.

“Good idea, cookie, let’s get her!”

Cliff roared as the three where about to lynch me until I activated my powers and flamed both of them IRL and literally, making the three geezers (I think) screaming and running into the lake to cool off.

“Thanks, Lolly!” Harvey and Buhdeuce cheered as they hugged my legs since they’re pretty short.

“It was nothing, really, I do enjoy kicking me some butt.” I chuckled, petting their heads; “Stay outta danger, ‘k?”

They saluted: “Yes, m’am!” and left to go do their own business.

After that little scrap, I took a break from walking and lied down on the soft, green grass to stair up above at the sky and listened to the sound of a happy mother bird and her hatching chicks; speaking of which, I started to wonder about a missing detail in my life: “How was I born?” maybe I can look for some answers.....

🌠

Plucky’s POV

Another glorious day of trolling some poor, pitiful Nicktoon Authority and their lackey dogs, too; this time we hid woopie cushions with missile buttons under their seats in the meeting council~ looks like it’s gonna be weeks and weeks of repairing the dome for those saps so why not celebrate with a BBQ and a pageant?

The “pageant” was sweet-little Bubbles singing a ballad of how my aunt Melissa defeated the cruel ruler of the Nicktoon’s old country and started our grand organization...and would you believe, after all these years, they've still been trying to make us disband and have the last of the Looney Tunes come crawling back to ‘em? those dinks! too bad for them, because no matter what kind of blackmail and butchery they threaten us with, we’ll always bite back! aye, if only ol’ Jack (the III?) was gonna see this but I think he transferred to our sister rebellion group, which is cool since there’s a robot and a crazy scientist in that group.

“It’s showtime, big guy!” Amethyst, my trusty second-in-command, called out while holding a huge hot dog right off from the grill.

“I’ll be there in a second, bonnie-love!” I called out, grinning like a chump while putting on my best robes and hat in which made me feel like a pirate.

But a tragedy struck upon dear Bubbles 5 minutes into her performance: an arrow from nowhere was flung her to the back of her head with an orange flag with a white “N” waving in the air; “Did they kill her!?” we all shrieked in agony as we saw what might have been her final moment; a weeping Blossom replied “W-we’ll see what’s up...” as she and a frightened Buttercup crept up to her, but luckly, Bubbles was safe, sound and just got spooked because a plunger got stuck in her hair~ said-plunger got pulled off by Buttercup rather roughly as if a lock of Bubbles’ hair was ripped out of her, making her yelp; she turned around the flag and saw a note: “🎵”

“Yeah but turn it over, there’s a letter!” Blossom replied.

“You’re right~ and there’s a message from the Nicktoon Authority!”

Reading it out loud, it turned out that, in order to afford the pay for damages to the dome, they’ll steal our most prized possession, the Golden Anvil, so they could trade it for loads of cold hard cash and as you could see, none of us where pleased about losing our prized possession to those slime-drinkin’ chumps....unless....“Gather around, I got something to tell you all in private.” and with that, everyone huddled over as I whispered them my latest grand plan.

🌠

Lalasa’s POV

I came across the library, being taken care of by none other than an older resident hailing all the way from the mother country, Tommy Pickles; he ruled over the Nickelodeon area of In-Between and was with the other older Nicktoons since Day 1, maybe he had answers.

“Hey Lolly, how are you and the girls been doing lately?” he said with a warm, brotherly smile.

“Barb and Tricia have been doing good, as for me, I’ve been puzzled about something for a while....”

“And that is?”

“....Who brought me into this world?”

At first, he looked a bit shocked, his face seemed a bit more solemn and serious than usual, but he also at least trying to smile; “Oh, Lalasa....” he walked up to me, patting me on the back, following with: “You see, it’s.....complicated and.....and.....let me tell you a little story, get cozy just in case, because it’s pretty long.” We sat down together on a nice bench by some books, propped ourselves up and so he began to tell me the tale of my origins.....

💖

Tommy’s POV/Story (Although the one he tells Lalasa is much less overly-detailed)

It all started when me, Helga Pataki (or as I liked to call her, Brawn Helga) and two really hyper orphans, Fabian and ChiChi where running one of the ships that carried out Beo’s and young Beochan who where waiting to be knighted as official Nicktoons and to be honest, I was enjoying it the most: the salty sea-air, the wind in my face, the gentle blue waves crashing against the bottom of the ship and the seagulls pecking at Helga’s head made my day, why I felt like I was king of the world.

“Hey, Pickles! the two monkey boys are at it again, get after them you lazy bones!” Angel-I mean, Helga bellowed at me in all her grouchy glory.

“What did the scamps do this time?” I said, hoping to God they didn’t get into my baby photos again.

“They’re annoying with one of the passengers, now get out there and find the masked brats before I do and handle them by myself with a belt, kapeesh?”

“G-got it, Captain!”

I scurried for the whereabouts of the two troublesome boys and finally found them jumping around in one of the Beochan’s chamber and messing around with his things.

“Please give that back to me, it’s private!” Said the taller, older-looking boy, trying to retrieve a box from ChiChi in grabby hands mode as Fabian was running wild just like Sheen back in the day.

“Alright, kids, time to leave the guy alone now come with me.” I said in a calm tone, picking the boys up by the backs of their shirts.

“Yes, Tommy-sama.”

“That’s my boys, now stay outta trouble, otherwise Helga’s gonna put all three of us in the soup.”

“Okay.” the two glumly replied as ChiChi gave the box to me just before both of them scampered off, leaving me and the preteen boy alone in the room.

“I believe this belongs to you, kid?”

“Gee, t-thank you...”

“You’re one of the new kids sailing to In-Between or maybe the Mother Land?” I asked the shy, sensitive-looking boy.

“Y-yes, I don’t know where the ceremony will be taking place this year though...”

“Me neither, join the club~ anywho, the name is Tommy Pickles, I’m one of the original Nicktoons, my cousin rules the Mother Land....and you are?”

“Sanjay Patel, I’ve always been a fan of old Nicktoon history...I’m very happy to be meeting one of the people who started it all today.”

“Thanks.”

Just then, Brawn Helga came into the room, having a discussion with a slightly older-looking beochan with hair similar to Sanjay’s, but also with green skin too; “Alright boy, this is where you’ll be sharing a room with one of the other beochan here, got it?” she sternly said, looking the boy in the eyes before putting him into the room before mumbling: “And no monkey business, got it?”

He replied, “Yeah yeah, I got you.”

“I just met your roommate Sanjay and he really is a sweet kid.” I said warmly, introducing him to Sanjay, who waved gracefully to him.

“Last name’s Slithers, first name’s Crai-” he tripped and fell on a toy-thing that fell out of either Fabian or ChiChi’s pockets and crashed on to Sanjay, leading both of them squished like pancakes.

“Heheh....I’ll get both of you off the floor.” I said, picking Craig up from the floor as he looked dazed and confused~ on the flip side, Sanjay was grinning like a fool, had swirly cheeks and blank eyes (Hachune face).

Later that night, when we dined the night before we reached...wherever the Nicktoons where going to be crowned, we had a banquet as a pre-welcome party and everyone and their mother was pigging out....okay I was stretching it a bit, only two Nicktoon mothers where on that ship at the time but we all had fun, heck, even Helga was having a good time! I even spotted the two bunk mates, Sanjay and Craig, dishing out some food.

“Aw man, there’s only one hot wing left, bummer...” Craig muttered.

Sanjay, looking down at the (boneless) buffalo wing, suggested: “I’ll let you have it.”

“Don’t you want it? I’d hate to be selfish.” asked the green skinned boy.

“...We can split it then.” The shorter one replied with a sweet smile.

“Deal!”

“You stole the last hot wing, eh?” asked a thuggish Nicktoon, who happened to be a big, buff, punkish-looking robot I hear was known as “Crikey”.

“Aw buzz off, I thought you liked bacon in your homeland!” Craig hissed at the stranger.

“Bring it on, kid.”

Craig grew fangs, had his eyes glow bright red and slowly morphed into a snake that lunged at Crikey, trying to strangle him as the latter was punching him; this lead to the other passengers (myself included) getting hyped up and rowdy on the ship and cheering for a fight, unfortunately, most of us got rowdy and joined in by fighting each other, albeit in a more friendly way but as we got louder and more dangerous, Helga’s good mood faded away and she marched out of the control panel and started scolding virtually everyone for the mess they made~ later on, a fraction of the passengers where put in security as I, along with ChiChi and Fabian where punished by having to clean up the whole ship, plus the mess hall, the ballroom and the security room.

“Make sure the floor is clean enough so I can eat off of it, punks!” she nagged.

“I rather would have gotten fired” I muttered in my head; luckly, my whole night wasn’t ruined, as I did see a really sweet moment when Sanjay came inside to visit Craig, who was punished along with the mischievous passengers who helped out in the chaos.

“Hey Craig, I’m sorry you got locked up in here for the night....maybe I can stay with you until you’re freed.” said Sanjay with a large amount of understandable sympathy since the cell looked like a serious drag.

“Sure, kid.” Craig nodded with a weak smile.

Sanjay sat down and showed him a comic book to cheer him up, it was none other than my absolute favorite one.....

“Aw sweet, I haven’t read KaBlam! in years.” said Craig.

“W-where did you get it!?” I couldn’t help but ask Sanjay as I was geeking out of nostalgia.

“I bought it at a thrift store.” Sanjay smiled; “I always wanted to meet another fan of the KaBlam! comics.”

“Cooooool.”

So we spend the rest of the night laughing away at all the funny stories of aliens, sentient action figures, a little girl who was a total weirdness magnet and of course, the antics of June and Henry, it was like I was a little kid again; who knew a pair of millennials where into that stuff? after that, Sanjay couldn’t help but sneak into the cell and sleep by Craig’s side, with a sleeping bag, he nestled himself up near Craig’s steel bed, after all, they where roommates~ Finally, when me and the little ones were finished with the work, we finally went to our rooms and slept like rocks, thank God too because all that mopping was seriously killing me.

What a day that was, new Nicktoons where ready to join our community, I got to get whisked away along with everyone else to a paradise on the sea, ate all the food I could stuff in my face, joined in on a crazy fight and it seemed that for two of the newbies, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

🌠To be continued....💖

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