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#it's so far beyond my bedtime lmao help
dakt37 · 1 year
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This joke is obligatory
Edit: Part 2 is [here]
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blossom-hwa · 3 years
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You Look So Lovely, Darling (I’ll Love You for Lifetimes) - |BaL|
Kinda feels weird to be writing the proposal scene so early, but like? This drabble series is all out of order so whatever lmao :) enjoy some sweet nervous channie who just wants his proposal to be perfect <3
(and again, thanks to @deathbykpopboys​ for helping me work out this scene!! I LITERALLY owe you the world if you ever have ANY requests I'll be willing to write them :D)
Pairing: Chan x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, slice of life, single parent!au
Triggers: cursing
Word Count: 2.9k
Chan just wants to give you a picture perfect proposal - why is that so hard?
SKZ Masterlist | Breathe, and Live | Touching Stars (TBZ teacher!au)
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Proposing, Chan comes to learn, is no easy task.
It looks so simple in movies. One of the couple pulls a ring out of their pocket, kneels down in front of their significant other, and pops the question. There might be tears, but it always ends in pure joy.
Movies make it seem like a formula, a simple algorithm that Chan just has to follow in order to get this proposal right. In real life, though, Chan thinks he’s about to lose his mind.
Because movies don’t demonstrate how to act in front of an older brother very protective of his sister. They don’t show him how to talk to his children or hers, how best to ask them if they’re all right with gaining new siblings and a new parent. They don’t give him insight on how to pick the perfect god damn ring, something maybe reminiscent of the promise rings you both wear on chains around your necks, but also not too similar because what if you think he isn’t being creative?
And the worst thing is, they don’t tell him how to pick the perfect moment. They don’t tell him where to go, what ambience is right, whether or not little kids in the room will ruin the timing.
At this point, just thinking about proposing turns Chan into a stammering mess. Even though you’ve discussed marriage before, you haven’t made any large moves beyond that. Jisung and Felix have been calling you Mama for a bit, but Hyunjin has only just started calling him Papa, and mostly on accident (though each time he does, Chan’s heart fills with this overwhelming happiness that brings tears to his eyes). What if you decide now isn’t the right time? What if you decide you want to wait a little longer?
What if you decide Chan isn’t the right person for you?
That’s a question that plagues Chan every time his mind even brushes on the topic of marriage.
He loves you, though, he loves you so much. And he knows you’re the right partner for him, even if in the end you might decide he isn’t the right partner for you.
Patience, he tells himself, taking a deep breath. He really should be working on this new track, but instead, he’s staring into his hands, trying to map out the perfect proposal. Not too fast, Chan. Take it in steps.
The only problem is, step one scares him out of his wits.
. . . . .
Chan is a full year older than Minho, and then some. By all rights, he’s the elder, and he shouldn’t be as terrified of the younger man as he is.
Minho’s a scary person, though. He’s driven, concentrated, focused – it’s how he’s gotten so far as both a dancer and a father. Chan knows he’s hardworking, but Minho is just as much, if not more, than he is.
And he’s very protective of you.
(When Minho found out you two were dating, he told Chan, verbatim, “I won’t hesitate to take you to international waters, chop up your body, and toss the parts overboard if you hurt my sister.” Just thinking about the blank expression Minho had on when he spoke those words is almost enough to make Chan lose his nerve.)
But here he is, standing just outside of Minho’s studio, ready to knock. He’s sweating, not because it’s hot or anything (it’s actually pretty cold because Minho is weird like that), but just out of sheer nervousness. His heart feels like it’s pounding a mile a minute.
Oh, God. Chan raises his hand again to rap on the door. Stop thinking. Just do it.
He knocks.
A few seconds later, the dancer opens the door in all his sweaty glory. “Chan?”
“Yeah.” Chan tries to smile, but he’s pretty sure it just looks like a grimace. “Can I ask you something?”
A glint comes into Minho’s eyes. “Of course, come on in.” He opens the door widely, smiling in a distinctly cat-like fashion that is literally scrambling Chan’s brain.
Why does he look like he knows what Chan’s about to ask?
The door swings shut with a soft but audible click, and with the noise goes Chan’s last chance to run away.
“So?” Minho looks over once Chan’s inside the room. He’s enjoying this way too much.
There’s no way he doesn’t know what I want to ask.
“I… um, so I’ve been dating your sister for a few years,” Chan starts.
Minho actually snorts. “Yes, I’m aware.”
Chan can feel the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Right. Um, I just wanted your approval for – I’m planning to – well, with your permission, of course –”
The smirk on Minho’s face only grows with each stuttering word that comes out of Chan’s mouth. And in all honesty, he actually has no idea what he’s saying. All of the sentences he rehearsed in his head before coming here seem to have completely flown out of his brain, and from Minho’s expression, he just sounds like an idiot.
He keeps going anyway, because nervous Chan doesn’t always make the best decisions to make himself look good.
“Well – um, look, I just really love her a lot.” Chan looks down with the admission, knowing he’s definitely rambled too much already, but he needs to get on with it and ask the stupid question. “I… wantedtoaskifyouwouldbeokaywithmeaskingtomarryher.”
Minho leans forward, eyes innocently wide. “Sorry, I didn’t get that, can you repeat what you said again?”
Lee Minho, you are a grade-A asshole.
Face burning, Chan clears his throat. “I wanted to ask if you would be okay with me asking to marry her. Your sister, I mean.”
Silence. Minho leaves him in silence for five whole seconds which feel more like five millennia. Chan thinks he’s going to crumble into dust on the floor out of terror and embarrassment.
“Do you have a ring?” Minho finally asks.
Chan’s cheeks burn redder. “Not… not yet.”
“So you’ll need help picking one, then?” The dancer raises one perfect eyebrow.
“… Yes?”
“Beautiful. I’ll be there whenever you need me.” Minho smiles. “Anything else you wanted to ask?”
Chan just stands there, dumbfounded. “So… is your answer yes?”
The smile immediately drops off of Minho’s face, replaced by an eye roll and a sigh. “Yes, Bang Chan, you idiot.” He punches Chan’s shoulder. “No one’s ever going to fully deserve Y/N, but you’re the closest I think anyone’s going to get. You really thought I’d say no?”
Rubbing his arm, Chan smiles sheepishly. “You can’t blame me for being nervous.”
“What? Nervous, around me?” Minho laughs, sharp and loud. Even though Chan knows he’s teasing, it’s still a bit frightening. “Never would’ve thought that.”
“You’re just proving my point,” Chan says.
“No, I’m not.” Minho smiles, close-lipped and slit-eyed. It’s terrifying. “Now, off you go. And don’t come back unless you need help picking a ring!”
It takes Chan five minutes of sitting in the hallway, garnering strange looks from several people passing by, before his legs are stable enough to take him back to his own studio. Heart still pounding, he mentally crosses a line through step one.
Next comes step two. Chan purses his lips. Step two is a bit less scary than step one (mostly because it involves children and not Lee Minho), but no less challenging.
Well, he got through Minho. Chan sighs. He just has to hope that the kids will be as receptive to the idea of a new parent as Minho was to a brother-in-law.
. . . . .
The kids know that you and Chan are at least, in some shape or form, together. They might not understand the nuances, like how you’re technically dating but don’t always refer to yourselves as boyfriend and girlfriend (because it just feels so much deeper than that, somehow), but they understand that you two “like” each other (Jisung pretends to vomit every time he hears the word “love,” so Chan just uses the word “like” to avoid that) and thus live together.
They love it, most of the time. Hyunjin was a little put out when he found out he would have to share a room with two other boys, but after Minho moved out and Hyunjin realized he would get his uncle’s old (and slightly bigger) room, he happily accepted the new plan. Jisung and Felix were mostly just happy to live with their best friend.
(Children, Chan just thinks. They’re so easy and so hard to please.)
Of course, there are difficulties. Jisung’s sensitive and has more than once broken down when he thinks Chan isn’t giving him enough attention with a new boy in the household. Felix’s tantrums are rarer, but they exist, and Hyunjin is still getting used to sharing his mom with someone else.
They’re a family, though, a messy, mostly happy family that can pull together at the end of the day and whisper “I love yous” to each other before bedtime. And that’s something Chan values more than anything in the world.
Which is why obtaining his kids’ approval for officially tying the knot is something so important to him.
He gathers them together one day in the apartment with the promise of watching a cartoon show after he asks them something. Three pairs of big eyes stare up at him from the couch, and Chan feels his heart melting with love and racing with anxiety.
Chan takes a breath. “Do you know what marriage is?”
“Yeah!” Jisung pipes up. “It’s when a girl and a boy get together and kiss!”
The laughter spills out of Chan’s mouth before he can even think. “Well, not quite, Jisung,” he chokes out, trying to stifle his remaining giggles. “It’s when two people who love each other very much get together officially. Marriage can be between a woman and a man, a man and a man, or a woman and a woman. Any two people can get married.”
Three small heads bob their heads in understanding.
“I wanted to ask you three if you would be okay with me marrying Y/N.” Chan looks each of the boys in the eye. “Is it?”
Felix nods quickly. “Yes!”
Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “Are we still going to live together?”
Chan smiles. “Yes, Sungie.”
The other twin nods. “Okay!”
Hyunjin’s mouth pouts slightly. “Will I have to call you Papa?”
A little piece of Chan’s heart breaks, but he tries not to show it. “No, of course not, Hyunjin.” He smiles as brightly as he can. “You can keep calling me Channie or Uncle Channie or whatever you want. You don’t have to call me Papa if you don’t want to.”
Hyunjin’s round, dark eyes gaze into his with a solemnity Chan honestly didn’t know toddlers could have. “Do you want me to call you Papa?”
Oh, fuck.
What the hell does Chan say to that?
With a sigh, he decides to be honest. “I would love it if you did, Hyunjin, but like I said, you don’t have to. I’ll never force you to do something you really don’t want to.”
There are a few seconds of silence, then Hyunjin nods. “Okay. You can marry my Mama.”
A weight lifts itself off of Chan’s chest and he smiles, freer this time. “Thank you, kids. One more thing – don’t tell Y/N about this!” He looks into each of their eyes, trying to convey how serious he is but in a fun way. “It’s a secret, okay?”
“Like a spy mission?” Jisung bounces in excitement.
The smile on his face widens. “Yes, Sungie. Like a spy mission.” He looks at the other two boys. “Do you promise? Pinky promise?” He holds out his pinkie.
The three resulting shouts of “YES!” make Chan hope their neighbors won’t come knocking. But even if they did, Chan thinks, he wouldn’t care.
He’d go to the ends of the earth to defend these three kids, after all.
. . . . .
Step three goes by in a flash. Out of sheer anxiety, Chan actually takes a full day off from work and calls Minho for help in finding the perfect ring.
Miraculously, he finds something within his budget range – a silver band with a small diamond set in the center. It’s simple but elegant, and the diamond glints beautifully in the sunlight. Really, the ring matches the way Chan often finds himself summing up your existence.
So only the last step remains: the actual proposal.
Looking back, Chan has no idea why he thought each of the other steps was so stressful. This is pure stress, he thinks, waiting for the perfect time to pop the question. Should he plan something extravagant? Or should he just go with the flow? When is the perfect time, anyway? What constitutes “perfect” in your mind? In his?
Minho just tells him to wait for the moment he thinks is “right.” But what the hell does “right” even mean?
“You’ll figure it out.” The dancer gives Chan a bright grin, patting his shoulder. “And if you don’t, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
Chan just puts his face in his hands and screams.
. . . . .
When Chan proposes, the sky is dark. The kids are already tucked in bed, and you’re sitting on the couch, leaning into his shoulder as you mindlessly scroll through your phone.
Absently strumming his guitar, Chan smiles down at your face, illuminated by your phone’s glow. As if sensing him staring, you look up as well. “Sing me something?” you murmur.
“Of course, love.” He leans down to kiss the top of your head. “What song?”
“Anything you choose,” you reply. “Anything.”
Chan thinks for a moment, then starts strumming the instrument.
Softly, with mood, tightly hug her
Use it once a day, every day…
When your eyes meet hers, smile.
The characteristic chords of one of your favorite songs make you relax even further into Chan’s body, a smile blooming across your face. He badly wants to stop playing and just kiss you good and full, but he keeps his fingers strumming the guitar.
Let her breathe under a different sky, a different wind,
Sometimes, kiss her without a plan…
Chan almost stops playing.
Without a plan.
He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t have any proper plan on how he’s going to pull the little box out of his pocket and ask the question. But now…
Maybe he’s got an idea.
The final chords die away, and Chan finally gets his long-awaited kiss when you sit up lethargically, pressing your lips to his softly. “Are you awake enough for one more?” he whispers when you pull away.
“Mm, one more.” You nod happily, snuggling back into his side. “Then sleep.”
Chan takes a breath. One chance, Chan. This is your chance.
His fingers start strumming a song very familiar by now to him and the boys. From the way your eyes light up, you recognize it too.
It doesn’t have words. It’s just a collection of guitar chords, hastily arranged in a sweet, rough melody. In the track version, it would have piano, but because Chan only has two hands, he has to make do with just the strings of the guitar.
It’s the first song he ever wrote for his twins, the song he created that day so many years ago when they weren’t even born, when they were still kicking in their mother’s stomach. They think of it as their family song, the song he plays when the twins are sad, when they can’t get to sleep, or when they just want to hear something nice.
The last strains of the song fade away and Chan looks at you to see a tear glittering on your cheek. “You play that when the boys are sad,” is all you say. “It’s your family song.”
Chan smiles softly. “But you’re part of the family too.”
When he pulls out the box, your eyes widen. “Chan –”
“Shh.” He presses a finger gently to your lips. “Y/N, the past few years you’ve been with me have been some of the best of my life, and I can’t ever thank you enough for staying with me all this time.” There’s a tear welling up in Chan’s eye, but he blinks it away. “I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, if you would marry me.”
There’s a moment of silence that nearly gives Chan a heart attack. What if you say no?
“You – you stupid romantic sap.” The tears are really sliding down your cheeks now, but your mouth is smiling wide. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Chan. I’ll marry you.”
Chan can’t speak as he slides the ring onto your finger with trembling hands. Throat choked, he can only pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder as your tears soak his shirt. “I love you so much,” you whisper.
He pulls back just enough for to see your eyes sparkling with love, so much love. Your touch intoxicates him, with your fingers pressing gently against his skin as you press your lips to his in a sweet, sweet kiss.
Yes, he thinks. You’re the right partner for him.
The perfect partner for him.
Teary-eyed, he smiles. “I love you too.”
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If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3
(1 reblog = 1 congratulations for the newly engaged couple!!!)
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Ruby & Cosmo
Ruby: Dying to know is every date colour coded? ❤️
Cosmo: Oh, God 😅 How unintentionally cringe
Cosmo: That sums up how well it went, sadly
Ruby: the quick reply had me thinking you were back early or answering in the middle of dinner
Cosmo: 🤫
Cosmo: I’d never!
Cosmo: It was a favour and I think that showed
Cosmo: She’s my cousin’s friend and just got dumped, sweet girl but perhaps not ready to be great company
Ruby: explains the 🌹
Cosmo: Not very personal or too basic?
Ruby: a nice try if it was your first date ever but I know it’s not
Cosmo: Thank God I didn’t get another bouquet 😏
Cosmo: They weren’t buy one get one free though, before you say
Ruby: they looked expensive
Ruby: she would’ve felt guilty throwing them back in your face
Cosmo: I told you I weren’t texting under the table, why would she need to?
Ruby: you told me why, they’re impersonal & basic
Ruby: & heartbreak makes you unhinged
Cosmo: I wouldn’t call her unhinged
Cosmo: at least not to her face, right
Ruby: 😅
Ruby: or your cousin’s
Ruby: Are you staying out in town or going home to change?
Cosmo: I don’t fancy showing up in the club in this
Cosmo: never mind hearing what my friends would have to say
Cosmo: What are you up to?
Ruby: the VIP area has seen worse, you don’t look like you raided the Gucci sale rail, eyes closed
Ruby: & your friends have worn worse, but I won’t say it to their faces
Ruby: I’m waiting for my own friends to be done making their own questionable outfit choices as usual
Cosmo: Careful, that was almost a compliment and not just a drag of the lads
Cosmo: not undeserved on their end but what did I do to make you decide to be nice to me?
Cosmo: besides entertain you with my dating woes whilst they redo their makeup, again
Ruby: You know how to dress, it’s a fact
Ruby: & I didn’t decide to be nice, it just happened
Cosmo: Not that you’re not usually nice in general
Cosmo: but here I am, feeling special, like 💖🤩
Cosmo: It’s also a fact, though not an impressive one, that I’m not lame enough to go in for that negging bullshit, so whatever I end up doing, calling you a bitch ain’t on the agenda
Ruby: there you were down in the dumps about your disaster date, I thought I’d try to help
Ruby: I wouldn’t, it only works for Mason when everyone’s too busy watching his feet move to care about his mouth & that’s not the audience you’ve got atm
Cosmo: I think I’ll survive
Cosmo: but I appreciate it
Cosmo: I’ve seen him get in trouble for his mouth plenty of times on the pitch
Cosmo: but referees aren’t ones to be sweet-talked so…
Ruby: your expensive roses are wasted on them 🥀
Cosmo: That is the real tragedy 💔
Cosmo: I reckon 🍷 could work on your dad though, whaddya think?
Ruby: aren’t we beyond bribes? I thought we were
Cosmo: You don’t have to go up for contract renewals
Cosmo: but I was joking, so don’t tell him he’s on a promise there
Ruby: oh yeah, it’s a joke you being worried you won’t get renewed
Ruby: he doesn’t shut up about you after a few 🍷’s with your dad
Cosmo: Sorry you’ve had to witness/hear that
Cosmo: can’t help my case
Ruby: it wouldn’t be realistic to entertain you or let you entertain me if he wasn’t on board
Cosmo: No?
Ruby: secrecy & sneaking around would be impossible unless we could both drop what we were doing at a moment’s notice, which we can’t
Cosmo: True
Cosmo: Neither of us has the time for that
Ruby: or the anonymity
Cosmo: You aren’t wrong
Ruby: 💖🤩 back at me?
Ruby: you’re being agreeable, above & beyond the Sunday roast standard you set when everyone was listening in
Cosmo: Agreeable from you I can take
Cosmo: I didn’t know any of you guys were going to be there, so if I wasn’t on top form
Cosmo: I’d love to have a second chance to do it better, of course
Cosmo: Somewhere more exciting than family dinner
Cosmo: and no impersonal and basic 🌹s
Ruby: I’d love to skip the club tonight, it stopped being exciting forever ago
Ruby: there’s your chance
Cosmo: Alright
Cosmo: I’ll make something happen and I’ll send you the place and the dress code
Ruby: pastel colours wash me out
Cosmo: What kind of place would be pastels only? 🤔
Ruby: [name drop somewhere boujee that you’ve been probably with your mum and godmother lol]
Ruby: you wasted the ❤️ on the wrong girl 💔
Cosmo: She wasn’t wearing red
Ruby: it was never going to work out
Cosmo: That might be for the best
Ruby: tbd
Ruby: but I’m not feeling like I’ll cry or talk about any of my exes so it’ll be better for you
Cosmo: And for you
Cosmo: not that you’re letting me be impressive with a bar that low but you know
Ruby: you’ll get over or under it if you want to
Cosmo: If I couldn’t rise to the occasion your dad definitely wouldn’t stand for it
Ruby: I won’t either
Cosmo: tbd
Cosmo: I heard
Ruby: another girl has beat me to denying you everything, I have no choice but to switch it up to keep things interesting
Cosmo: Has hard-to-get worked since the days of negging?
Cosmo: You’ve got all the choices, and no need to play any sort of game with me
Cosmo: Let’s have a good time
Ruby: it might have worked for people who want a different reputation than I do
Ruby: that’d wash me out too, the whole projection of intense cold bitch energy
Ruby: a good time is more doable
Cosmo: It wouldn’t get you very far, I understand
Cosmo: We all have to be some type of way to get to where we need to be
Ruby: yeah & talent has to be backed up with 😁✨
Cosmo: A winning personality, of course
Ruby: if I don’t have that both of my parents & coach are going to lose it, definitely
Cosmo: Well, you don’t need to worry about that, from my perspective
Ruby: from my POV neither of us will be worrying until the alarm wakes us early tomorrow & it’ll be too late to stress it by then
Ruby: the good time’ll have already happened
Cosmo: I’ll drink to that
Cosmo: [something that’s between the restaurant moment we just took Savannah to and the normal clubs they would go to, idk what that would look like, like a club that’s a bit sassier than the beyond standard ones footballers and WAGs would hang in]
Cosmo: but I won’t start without you, like
Ruby: not counting the 🍷 if the 🍝 soaked it up
Ruby: but what do you want me to wear? 🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎
Cosmo: ❤️ off the table then
Ruby: the bar hasn’t fallen through the floor, I’m not okaying you wearing the outfit you chose for her & me dressing to match it
Cosmo: 😅 I’ve gone home but alright
Cosmo: I want to see what you come up with, actually
Cosmo: I’ll show you I’ve got better than the jumper, don’t worry
Ruby: I’ll do better than a roast with the fam, talk about a low bar
Cosmo: I think you’re probably incapable of looking bad
Ruby: try keeping me up all night & you’ll see
Cosmo: I won’t be the first or the last to show up to practice feeling less than 💯 … are all the other ice skaters perfect 😇s?
Ruby: I’m not giving any details of who isn’t, you’re a date down tonight as is, I’m not getting ditched for someone even more 😈
Cosmo: About how that looks
Cosmo: ‘cos I know
Cosmo: We aren’t going to post anything are we?
Cosmo: I’m not looking to add to the poor girl’s 💔 and I know it’s a dick move to not even wait ‘til tomorrow
Ruby: 📵
Ruby: getting into a fight with your cousin over me is even more Romeo & Juliet than sneaking around behind my dad’s back, we all know how it ended
Ruby: drama in the routine is fine but off the ice it’s not cute
Cosmo: Drama on the pitch depends how you feel about diving
Cosmo: but I appreciate that
Ruby: how I feel about diving depends how much my brother has got to me & I want to get him back for it
Cosmo: 🟥 or 🟨 depending on the day
Ruby: 🟥 usually
Cosmo: I feel that
Cosmo: about my own, usually, not necessarily yours but I can see the how and why there too
Ruby: yours made an impression, not at all good
Cosmo: That’s his speciality
Ruby: 😬 brothers bring the mood down when they’re ours
Cosmo: Neither of them’s invited
Ruby: it’ll make a change not to see mine out
Cosmo: That’s unlucky
Ruby: but you’re on to a winner with the location, congrats
Cosmo: I had a good feeling
Ruby: I’ve got one too
Cosmo: 💖🤩
Ruby: a compliment to last until I get there
Cosmo: tbd 👋
Ruby: ❤️
Cosmo: [so obviously this night is gonna go better than the awkward date, though that’s not hard soz Savannah, but also a step above the standard club moment of every weekend hence we stay out longer than we usually do when we’ve got an early start tomorrow]
Ruby: [and equally as obviously if you found enough to talk about when you were around all your annoying relatives for that roast I’m not worried about you struggling for a convo tonight, you’re both cute and have things in common and there’s clearly a vibe]
Cosmo: [I don’t think anything needs to happen tonight but it’s obvious you like each other ‘cos you could both be bothered to show and do this]
Ruby: [agreed it feels legit to who you both are and your priorities to wanna take things a bit slower than that, like it’s clearly unlike her already to do this when you were literally on a date earlier and staying out later than planned is also something neither of you do a lot so]
Cosmo: [yes, we’re not that kind of boy, not saying you’ve never slept with anyone obvs lmao but we’re not a different gal every weekend energy at all]
Ruby: [likewise neither calling this gal a nun or a slag but I doubt she's been out with that many people cos of a) her busy schedule and b) the lowkey famous dad and brother thing that would make some lads wanna try it on for that reason]
Cosmo: [exactly dr phil, you wanna skip to the AM of it all?]
Ruby: [absolutely boo]
Cosmo: 🟥 or 🟨 for keeping you out past your bedtime then?
Ruby: Are you willing to take credit or am I blaming a messy friend’s man troubles?
Cosmo: That depends
Cosmo: we would have to find a friend we’d mutually not mind throwing under the bus and I’m not sure if my brain is capable rn
Ruby: it wouldn’t be taxing to mine to think up someone believable, if you’re keen to show up to my door with 💐 & fool my dad that it’s the first move you’ve made
Ruby: for rep’s sake
Cosmo: The 💔 is all around
Cosmo: a hangover will have you feeling that way
Cosmo: are YOU keen for me to show up at your door with 💐s, that’s the real question here
Ruby: I’ll start getting hangovers when I’m old, it’s a scare tactic before, not a real thing
Ruby: impressing my dad doesn’t necessarily impress me
Cosmo: 😂
Cosmo: That’s alright, I already have impressed him, so it’s definitely not my intention here
Ruby: let’s hear what your intentions are
Cosmo: Now you’re bragging about how un-hungover you are
Cosmo: How about you let me set up a second date and we can talk about it then?
Ruby: a brag would have a selfie attached, I was reassuring you I’m not suffering mild alcohol poisoning like most of our friends
Ruby: a second date for when?
Cosmo: I’m pleased to hear it
Cosmo: it doesn’t make for a pretty sight
Cosmo: [pisstakey shot of some of the lads dying in the changing room or wherever like ew lol]
Cosmo: Send me your calendar and I’ll see?
Ruby: 😬 lovely [but send him something similar of the girls obvs and then your calendar of course, I’m cackling because what if the only time they can both do is tonight so that looks really extra when you’re both not]
Cosmo: They’d kill us for that 😏
Cosmo: [we so could, lmao okay]
Cosmo: Well, it looks like either we double down and go for tonight or we give it a rain check and see in a couple weeks 🤔
Ruby: tonight works for me but it’s you who’d be doing the work to think of somewhere else with wow factor
Cosmo: Undefeated with two wins sounds a lot better than one
Ruby: yeah & I don’t want to talk about weeks on the bench
Cosmo: Be a bit of a dirty tactic to put the blame on you for not going out with me tonight if I get benched but
Cosmo: If it works I’m not above it
Cosmo: So, what kind of place are you looking to avoid tonight?
Ruby: do we need to avoid anywhere or flash photography? your cousin & the girl they forced you to date can’t stay mad forever
Cosmo: No, we don’t have to
Ruby: 💖🤩
Cosmo: Understood
Cosmo: I’ll get back to you
Ruby: 🚫🍷🥃🍸🍹 can be tonight’s rule if you need a break
Cosmo: I don’t
Cosmo: I just needed to know what you want to do, and now I do and I’m thinking
Ruby: I know you don’t need it to have or be fun, me either hopefully
Cosmo: I think you’re fun
Cosmo: and it’s definitely tragic if you have to rely on something like that, that’s not me
Ruby: it’s nobody I know or would count as worth knowing
Cosmo: Totally
Cosmo: Okay, I’m going on the pitch, send you deets later
Ruby: don’t mess up or I’m going to cancel tonight & I don’t want to so that’ll be us both in bad moods 😘
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purplesurveys · 4 years
Text
976
survey by chasingghosts
This time last year, what was happening in your life? I was reeling over Nacho’s death and had been crying every single morning in my drives to school. So, not great.
Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? I plan to. It’s a Saturday and I can definitely do what the Japanese call ‘revenge bedtime procrastination’ which is when you stay up super late during your free time so you can regain some sense of freedom after working your ass off all day/week. I recently learned about that concept and it’s so fucking relatable, haha.
Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? I was talking to Gabie, who was sharing her experience at work. She has a report due before Monday so she was forced to work ridiculously overtime - her shift is 9 PM–6 AM, but she worked all the way until 1 PM today. Brutal.
Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? Not yet but they’re currently constructing a new station in my area that is nearly finished, so we’ll be getting those trains soon.
Do you bathe your pets regularly? Cooper gets bathed every 3-4 weeks, but Kimi needs baths every 1-2 weeks. The skin on his underside is now more prone to becoming dry, so he needs them more often. 
Do you have a mailbox or do you collect your mail from the post office? We don’t have a mailbox, but our screen door has a handle where bills and mail can be hooked to.
What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? My dogs, and yep.
Have you ever had an ear infection? Yeah, on my right earlobe piercing :( Something, whatever it is, happened when I was 10 and it started smelling and we couldn’t figure out what was wrong, so I just had to take off my earrings permanently.
If you could watch any tv series right now, what would it be? I wish I had the energy to continue The Crown...I’ve been stuck on season 2 since July? or August. I’ll get back to it when I’m a little happier again.
What's your favourite thing to order when you get Chinese food? Century egg, yang chao, five spice chicken, minced pork with eggplant, xiao long bao.
Would you have any clue when your best friend last got their hair cut? I have no clue, actually. For both of them.
Someone messages you just as you're about to go to sleep. Do you reply? If it’s for work, if a friend is feeling distraught and/or needs help, or if it’s someone I care about in general, yes.
Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? NOOOOOOOO. My LEAST favorite sound ever. I’m so glad I don’t do it in my sleep.
What was the last documentary you watched focusing on? I don’t remember the last one I saw, actually. I think it was about an unsolved murder mystery since that’s my choice of docus these days.
Have you ever been hospitalised due to dehydration? When I was an infant, yes. Parents fed me the wrong kind of milk, didn’t know I was lactose intolerant, found out the hard way.
Is there anything you need to remember to do before the day ends? Nothing. Just take care of myself is all.
When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? It depends on the situation. If I’m beyond pissed, I like my music loud enough to rattle my eardrums. Otherwise, if I’m working and just need background noise, the volume is pretty low.
What's your favourite online radio site? I don’t check out radio sites. 
Do your parents have any authority over who you date? No.
How many different shades of nail polish do you have? Zero.
What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had an empanada. Barely counts as a breakfast though...I’d simply call it a snack I munched on in the morning. 
Are you lucky enough to have an ice maker in your refrigerator door? We don’t have one. The freezer works just fine lol.
Is your car messy, or do you like to keep it clean? When I still drove regularly it was very messy. I really don’t wanna sound sexist about myself (but I’m about to be, lmao hypocrite alert ahead) but I’m honestly one of those girls who makes their car their giant-ass purse. It’s pristine now because I cleaned it out during the lockdown, but on a normal, non-Covid day I can guarantee you that my car looks like a dorm room and I’m my own insufferably messy roommate.
Are you the type to wake up before the sun has even risen? Sometimes it happens. Not everyday though.
What's the name of your favourite coffee shop or cafe? Starbucks, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and a local place called Alice Tea Salon. OH and Tim Horton’s, but we only have a small number of branches here and they’re all located in very far places, so I don’t get to have that a lot. Their wraps are my favorite though so they definitely count as a favorite.
Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? No.
Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I do, but I don’t feel like typing...I feel like I already get into mini-rants in my surveys anyway.
How old were you when you started to pick your own clothes? I was a late bloomer. I didn’t start caring about my look until like junior year of high school.
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notveryglittery · 6 years
Text
wildest dreams
summary: the dream creating process doesn't always go as planned. ships: creativisleep (meant to be romantic, could probably be read as platonic). a little bit of CLAMS, mostly shown with patton.  warnings: fluff!! denial of feelings? idk, let me know! words: 2.2k (LMAO) notes: this took me almost two weeks to write WOW but i love this ship and i’m happy with the result!! thank you @alienjack​ for the prompt!! i’m also gonna tag @creativisleep ;)
read on ao3
“Alright, kiddos, Memory Lane’s all set up for you, okay?”
“Thanks, daddio. What would we do without you?”
“Suffer!” Roman cried, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “We’d perish!”
Patton giggled, shushing Roman by gathering him into his arms, and squeezing him extra tightly. “Now, now, Ro, you know I’d never leave you all to fend on your own!” His pause was mischievous and Remy expected the quip before it fell from Patton’s lips, “besides, I’m not sure you could manage without me.”
This time, Roman gasped, sounding positively betrayed. He twirled Patton out of his grasp, holding onto his hand still, and mock glared at the paternal Side. “I don't know about that!”
Virgil chose that moment to brush by them in the hall, “we’d all starve to death and you know it.”
“That’s my boy!!” Patton cheered, blowing a kiss after him. Roman let go of Patton’s hand and crossed his arms, scowling after Virgil. The darker Side shot him a wink before disappearing into his room.
The smile on Remy’s face was starting to hurt and he knew that if he didn’t break this up soon, they’d all be up later than Logan would have liked. “That’s enough cuddling and smooching for now, I think. Besides, you didn’t even invite me.” His pout was perfectly sculpted and a thrill of success rushed through him when Patton and Roman immediately fell for it.
“Remy, no!” Patton exclaimed, looking properly distressed. In the same moment, Roman was sweeping Remy into a dramatic dip. One hand grabbed onto the prince’s shoulder and the other to keep his sunglasses on as he laughed, an unabashed sound that had more than one stomach erupting in butterflies. “I was joking!”
Roman dropped a kiss onto Remy’s forehead before swinging them both back up. Patton bounced into Roman’s outstretched arm, and for a few sweet minutes, the three just basked in each other’s presence. Eventually, a yawn spilled from Patton’s mouth and Remy patted him on the head. “Bedtime for you,” he said in his best Dad voice and Patton’s drowsy grin slipped into something a bit more proud. Roman didn’t so much see Remy rolling his eyes as he felt it.
Remy tucked Patton in while Roman got everything prepared. It was second nature by now, but Roman was careful regardless. The last thing they wanted was to give Thomas a nightmare by being reckless. It took a bit more than creativity and sleep; sometimes, the best dreams were ones based off of the fondest memories. The first time they’d tried to use the Memory Archives, however, Logan had berated them for an hour. They’d learned their lesson after Virgil evaded sleep for two days, leaving Thomas exhausted and irritable.
“Your castle awaits, your highness,” Remy’s voice called from behind him, and Roman startled, barely managing to keep hold on his thermos of green tea. Remy draped himself over Roman’s frame, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Ready to go?”
Roman ignored the heat that no doubt was coloring his face a telling rosy blush. He was supposed to be the romantic one! He could handle this! They sunk out of Roman’s room and appeared in front of the Dream Palace. It was simpler than Roman would have liked (most things were; it was always go big or go home with him), not that he ever said so, but there was no denying that the colors really took it over the top. From reds and oranges, to yellows and pinks, it shimmered as if glowing in an eternal sunset. It wasn’t until Thomas’ head was finally at rest on his pillow, eyes shut, that it all darkened to purples and blues, looking more like a night sky free of any light pollution than anything else.
To their left, a path wound to Memory Lane; it was hazy and glittering as it trailed off. On their right, the way to the Fantasy Realm; the noises of birds chirping, swords ringing, and beasts grumbling muffled in the distance. “Well,” Remy cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms above his head, “let’s get started.”
Roman definitely didn’t get distracted by the sliver of skin exposed by Remy’s shirt riding up.
The Dream Palace was, from the eyes of creativity himself, really incredible. The fact that Remy had made this without any help would never cease to impress Roman. (Little did Roman know that Remy may or may not have made it for him; it’s not like Remy needed an entire castle just to make dreams). From the entryway, a staircase curled up along both sides of the walls, leading onward to the second and third floors. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling and casting light in every color of the rainbow (“it could be gayer,” Roman had joked, the first time he’d seen it).
Sometimes, they just plopped themselves in the middle of the foyer, conjuring blankets and snacks, and worked from there. Depending on how the day had gone, they might find themselves in the library, sitting by the fireplace, and creating dancing figures out of the flames. Roman was fond of the balconies, watching the shifting sky above them, where they could make figures out of the clouds. There were four bedrooms on the third floor, two to the left, and two to the right, and it was the second on the right that Remy liked best.
The ceilings were high which gave the room an airy feeling. The carpet was cream colored and soft to touch, the walls paneled in light wood; it seemed far more modern than the rest of the castle. The best part, though, was the bay window and the (far larger than necessary) window seat. The cushions were plush, the curtains lace, and the fairy lights strung above provided just the right amount of illumination without being glaring. It was comfortable and peaceful and allowed them a beautiful view of both the sky and the Fantasy Realm.
This was where Roman and Remy found themselves tonight, curled up with cross stitch pillows (Roman’s boasted “do encourage me!” and Remy's proclaimed “i don't need this.”), mugs of hot chocolate, and their preferred mediums. Roman was a writer, jotting down notes in the swirling font of his that often slipped into calligraphy when he felt like being extra fancy. Remy doodled with colored pencils, from childish sketches of animals and flowers, to full-blown landscapes and portraits. They worked well together, Remy bringing Roman’s words to life through comics, which they then turned into dreams.
When it came to the Sides, there was no doubt Roman was the dramatic one; his love for all theatre, and Disney, and exaggerated gestures. It was one of the reasons he got along so well with Remy. They both did the absolute most at every turn, were extroverts in all things, and sought out adventures as often as they could. All of the concerts and clubs and outings downtown led to looped arms, and entwined fingers, and tangled limbs. It was easy to dance without a care for how silly you looked when your partner was just as enthusiastic.
Somewhere down the line, Roman’s feelings for Remy went a bit beyond friendship. So, yeah, sure, romance was one of the prince’s many specialities, and it should’ve been easy to admit how he felt. That was just the thing, though; it couldn’t just be any confession. It had to be through a song, or during a picnic, or while stargazing, or—
There was a tickling sensation on his ankle and Roman startled, pulled from his reverie. Remy seemed unapologetic at being caught redhanded; Roman couldn’t help but snicker at how literal the term was. He was streaking swirling designs against Roman’s skin in red marker. Roman schooled his features and willed his tone to stay even as he chastised, “Remy!”
“You’re the one getting all distracted, sweetie,” Remy responded, glancing up at Roman, and wow, the lights were hitting Remy’s eyes just right, and Roman needed more of that liquid amber in his life right now, so he pasted on a smirk, and snatched the sunglasses off of Remy’s face. He spluttered, dropping the marker, and reaching for his signature eyewear. “Oh, girl, you do not want to get into this with me!”
Roman held his hand high up above his head, leaning away from Remy, and ignoring the heat spreading across his cheeks as Remy crowded into his space. “You’re inside, Rem!” He laughed, holding his forearm up and against Remy’s chest to keep him away, “it’s not even daytime out anymore!” That didn’t deter Remy, however, and he abandoned all care for safety, and launched himself at Roman. They toppled off of the window seat and onto the floor, mugs (thankfully empty) and pillows following suit.
Roman was still laughing, breathlessly now, “hey, we have dreams to make! Stay on track!” He tried not to focus too much on the bags under Remy’s eyes. He hadn’t bothered to cover them with makeup like Virgil did his nor had he tried using creams to to lessen their severity. Roman could recall with perfect clarity the first time he’d seen them; he had threatened to vanquish whatever beast was keeping Remy up so late while resisting the urge to reach closer and smooth the wrinkles out himself. Remy had laughed, a bitter sort of sound, and told Roman it wasn’t quite that simple.
He supposed, now, that it was even less simple. He kind of understood where Logan was coming from when it came to icky feelings.
In his reminiscing, Remy had gained the upper hand, and had one hand wrapped around Roman’s wrist, tugging it closer so that he could take his sunglasses back. “You’re awful absentminded tonight, honey,” Remy said with a tsk, “are you letting me get the drop on you on purpose?” There was a challenge in his voice and Roman was never one to turn down a challenge.
In one swift move, he used Remy’s focus on the shades to his advantage. He yanked his arm back towards himself, throwing Remy’s balance off, and rolled them over, so that Roman hovered over Remy, who now stared up at the prince from the floor. Remy didn’t just blush over anything and so Roman assumed the color in his cheeks had to be from exertion; it wasn’t like Remy would blush at their close proximity, because that would mean he might have possibly liked him more than he let on, and well, don’t get ahead of yourself, Roman.
The thespian gave a cry of victory and leapt up, dashing for the bed. He clambered onto it and thanked past Roman for having the good sense to take his shoes off beforehand. “You’ll have to defeat me to retrieve your treasure!” Roman declared, leaning down and grabbing a pillow. He tossed it to Remy, who had stood and was brushing himself off. The pillow very nearly hit him square in the face but he caught it at the last moment and gave Roman a stare that could’ve shot lasers, “not the face, Roman, you know better.”
Roman shrugged, retrieving a pillow for himself. “I do know better, sorry,” he apologized sincerely, all too familiar with the concept. Remy approached, carefully, weapon at the ready for the moment Roman made a move. He realized too late just where Roman was going with this and was groaning before Roman spoke, “it’s over, Remy! I have the high ground!”
“You absolute dork,” Remy laughed, “you underestimate my power!” It was ridiculous but the way Roman positively lit up at Remy continuing the scene was well worth it. Their battle began when Remy sprung forward, swiping his pillow at Roman’s legs. The royal Side seemed unprepared for such a quick move and while he managed to jump, avoiding the hit, his landing was less than ideal. He crashed down onto the mattress and barely rolled out of the way of Remy’s next attack.
“Give me my sunglasses back!” Remy shouted after Roman as he got to his feet and bolted out of the room. “Never!” Roman yelled over his shoulder, having perched the shades on top of his head at this point to make sure they wouldn’t break. They chased each other through the castle, into various bedrooms, down hallways, up and down the staircases, and onto balconies, until they found themselves at a stalemate in the library.
Both pillows were falling apart, a trail of feathers left in their wake. The sunglasses had slipped down onto Roman’s face and he peered over them at Remy, panting, holding his pillow up as a shield. “Tell me, kind sir, have you had enough?” Remy smirked in return, tossing his pillow aside, and full on tackling Roman around the waist. The prince let out a slightly undignified shriek, his defense absolutely useless, as the pair went tumbling to the ground. It didn’t take long for them to start laughing again, whether one was tickling the other, or they remembered all over again what an absurd turn the night had taken.
If Thomas dreamt that night of Star Wars and lightsaber battles but with pillows, well, he’d certainly had weirder dreams before.
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sevenkookiejars · 7 years
Text
Part 2
Pairing: 2seok (Seokjin x Hoseok) Prompt: “I’m on a terrible date and you’re my waitor please help me” AU Rating: PG Word Count: 1,595 A/N: In case you guys are confused, this is Part 2 of a fic request I got from @comeherejimin -- you can find Part 1 here.  Much later, when Jeongguk's excitement had finally simmered and he's taken to watching a tv show before bedtime, Hoseok finds himself shoulder to shoulder with Seokjin by the sink. Hoseok found out that the pair of them actually lived just above the restaurant with Seokjin's uncle, who owns the place. Seokjin had said that his uncle wanted to expand the business and is training Seokjin to manage this restaurant for him. "I'll have my very own restaurant, can you believe it?" Seokjin had said, eyes sparkling. "It's always been my dream." And Hoseok had been a tad bit envious but mostly beyond proud at the passion that shines in Seokjin's eyes.  Now, Seokjin's washing the dishes and he insisted that Hoseok should not be doing any work, but Hoseok manages to out talk Seokjin into letting him help with the drying of dishes.  "I didn't ask earlier," Hoseok says. Seokjin gives him a quick glance to show that he's listening. "You know, Jeongguk just came running at me full speed and called me 'Daddy'," Hoseok pauses, remembering the absurdity of the situation. "I was so confused."  Seokjin laughs, "Right, that. I couldn't think of a way to help you aside from say, spilling a whole glass of wine down his pressed suit." He hands Hoseok a clean plate to dry. "So yeah, I enlisted Jeongguk to help." "And he agreed to it?" Hoseok wipes the plate, making sure it's fully dry before he sets it in the rack. He steals a glance at Seokjin who now has his lips curled up at the corners, as if suppressing a smile. Hoseok scrunched his nose. "Why do I feel like there has to be some sort of catch?"  Seokjin doesn't answer, focusing on rinsing the soap suds off the pot he used earlier. Risking a glance at the man beside him, Hoseok scowls a little at the barely concealed mirth dancing in Seokjin's eyes. Seokjin has his lips pressed tight, as if holding back a bout of laughter.  "Hyung," Hoseok elbows him lightly. His voice is inching on a soft whine now, but Hoseok pays that no mind. Seokjin's seen him all helpless already anyway, what's being whiny compared to that.  "You'd be surprised," Seokjin giggles. He actually giggled. Hoseok's so busy freaking over that internally that he nearly misses Seokjin's next words. "Jeongguk's dream is to be a superhero and he was all determined to save that pretty hyung from the mean ahjusshi."  "What the hell, hyung!" Seokjin's given up on washing, the pot resting in the sink as the water continues running. He's bent over laughing now, the sound of it making Hoseok's heart stutter, even as he feels undeniably indignant. Hoseok considerately turns off the tap before rounding on Seokjin with a pout. "How could you brainwash Jeongguk into thinking I'm some damsel in distress. I'm hurt."  "I didn't!" Hoseok narrows his eyes. "Okay, fine," Seokjin concedes, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe Jeongguk did overhear my phone conversation with Jimin - that's my cousin by the way - asking him for help in saving you from your shitty date."  Hoseok raises an eyebrow. "Jeongguk said that you called me cute."  "I did," Seokjin says without hesitation. "I also said that to your face right after I got you seated at your table."  Hoseok flushes at the memory. Clearing his throat, Hoseok frowns, "But that still doesn't explain Jeongguk calling me his dad?" "My Jeonggukkie is a child actor," Seokjin replies, voice tinged with a hint of pride. "As soon as he heard that you were in trouble, he wanted to help too. So I had the idea to let him play pretend and I just hoped you would play along." He glances over and Hoseok nods to get him to continue. "It isn't new, really. How my ex and I broke up was in an almost similar fashion, with Jimin bringing Jeongguk back early and Jeongguk basically criticizing my ex in his face. So I asked Jeongguk what he'd do if that was me stuck out there with a guy I don't really like and that's it, really. Jeongguk did the rest. He's a really smart boy."  There's a lot of things Hoseok wants to know, a lot of things he can ask. Seokjin's taken his free hand and tangled their fingers together. Hoseok doesn't even know when that happened. He's too busy taking in every expression, clinging on to every word, like he's afraid to lose it all. He is, after all. Afraid to lose it all, that is. It still feels like a dream.  Seokjin's quiet, waiting for him to say something. Hoseok doesn't want to spoil the mood with his heavy feelings. He scrunched his nose and chooses to grumble instead. "How'd I go from hyung to uncle then?" He says it without any bite. Those who know Hoseok well would know that he isn't capable of being snappy anyway. Yoongi says it's his biggest weakness. Hoseok likes to think that it's what sets him apart from everyone else.  Seokjin shrugs, thumb absently running small circles on the back of Hoseok's hand. "I told him you're probably way too old to be his hyung."  Hoseok's jaw drops. "You what?" Seokjin fixes him with a look of challenge. Sniffing, Hoseok replies, "I'll let you know I'm not all that old."  "You're barely two years younger than me," Seokjin retorts.  "And I'm still in my last year of university," Hoseok huffs. "Uncle sounds aged."  "Jimin's a year younger than you and he's Uncle too. You don't really get a say in this," Seokjin says haughtily. Then almost as if he's afraid he went too far, Seokjin gives his hand a light squeeze, half reassuring, half apologetic. Hoseok would coo at his concerned expression but he's been told that an overexcited him would scare people away. Hoseok settles for imprinting that look into his mind. There's a warmth blooming in his chest and Hoseok feels it travel up, the corners of his lips lifting into a smile. "I'm just kidding. Jeongguk can definitely call me Uncle. Just not Ahjusshi." Hoseok makes a face. "You should've seen my date's face earlier." Seokjin breaks into a laugh and Hoseok follows. It's addictive, Seokjin's laugh that is, and it's been a while since Hoseok's comfortable enough to carry a light, teasing conversation with someone he barely knows. Someone he wants to get to know better.  "What are you thinking about?" Seokjin's looking at him now, his smile warm. He's got the sleeves of his button-down shirt haphazardly folded up to his elbows, first two buttons of his shirt undone. All professionalism abandoned, Seokjin still looks more than amazing. Hoseok doesn't know how he got this lucky.  "Nothing," Hoseok replies quietly.  Seokjin's leaning in, gaze fixed on Hoseok's, as if gauging his reaction. Hoseok doesn't make to move away. Their noses are brushing when Seokjin pauses. "Liar," he whispers, before closing the gap between them.  Seokjin tastes like the kimchi jjiggae they had earlier and a tinge of something sweeter. Hoseok reaches his free hand out to grip at Seokjin's arm lightly and he feels Seokjin's hand wrapping around his waist in response, pulling him in closer. Hoseok's still basking in it all when he hears "Daddy!" and in the next second, Jeongguk barrels into the kitchen.  "Ahhh!" Jeongguk yells. Hoseok and Seokjin jump apart, and Hoseok feels a shot of pain as his back hits the counter edge. It's going to bruise tomorrow, he's almost sure.  Jeongguk has his hands up to cover his eyes. Now, he cracks a gap between his fingers to peek at them. "Are you done already?" Hoseok feels himself flushing in embarrassment.  "Yes we are," Seokjin sighs from beside him. "What do you want?"  "My show finished," Jeongguk says, dropping his hands to his sides. "Bedtime, then," Seokjin announces.  Jeongguk scrunches his nose cutely in response, casting a glance at Hoseok before turning to his dad. "Can Uncle Hoseok read me a bedtime story today?"  Hoseok blinks in surprise. He turns to Seokjin, only to find him looking at Jeongguk with an expression that probably mirrors Hoseok's own. Seokjin recovers quickly though. "You want Hoseok to read to you?"  Jeongguk nods, gaze shifting to meet Hoseok's. Seokjin's turning to him too, and Hoseok finds himself moving over to the both of them. He reaches out to ruffle Jeongguk's hair. "Of course I can! Let me tell you, I'm the best storyteller you'll ever meet!" Bending down, he lifts Jeongguk up and settles the boy on his hip. He's a little heavy but nothing Hoseok can't handle. Jeongguk giggles happily, wrapping his tiny arms around Hoseok's neck.  "What about me?" Seokjin pouts. "You don't like my story time anymore?"  "I still like it!" Jeongguk reaches over to poke at the corner of Seokjin's lips. "Daddy can do story time tomorrow. Don't be sad, Daddy."  A slow smile creeps onto Seokjin's face. "Alright, alright. Just one story from Uncle Hoseok then it's time to sleep, okay?" He doesn't wait for Jeongguk to respond, leaning in to plant a kiss on Jeongguk's cheek. It's in this moment with Jeongguk in his arms and Seokjin by his side that Hoseok feels a calming sensation wash over him. He could get used to this. If Hoseok dares to let his thoughts wander, he'd almost call this family.  "Uncle Hoseok, let's go!"  Hoseok snaps out of his thoughts to focus on the little boy in his arms. With a mock salute, Hoseok says, "Lead the way, my Prince!" 
A/N: Hoseok’s experiencing the ultimate woes of dating a single dad, like ooh that deja vu moment of Jeongguk yelling “Daddy!” is going to haunt him lmao. Anyhow, here’s the part 2 I promised -- hope you guys like it ^~^ 
Send me a prompt and a bangtan pairing, I’ll write you a short fic ♡
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LEVIATHAN | 9. The Mass Awakening | MASTERLIST
words: 8k+
A/N: im back!! with an extra long chapter lmao (and i tried to fit as much as i could without this chapter becoming a novel in and of itself ;v; ); anyway this is more of an interlude than an actual chapter but id pay attention to certain sections in this one, they're important (and kudos to the ones that are gonna get it i hope i executed it well enough jsgksf)
you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3
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Sedona, Arizona - Monarch Outpost 55 - Titanus Scylla
Alan drove down the winding road through the canyon that lead to the oil fields, admiring the view as he always did.
For forty years, he'd been taking this same drive, and for forty years he still found something to love about it. He remembered his father bringing him here, telling him that the canyon's stone, carved by mother nature's hands herself, had existed since the Permian period. And he remembered taking his kids, playing in one of the nearby creeks and looking for fossilized shells from a land lost to time. Alan has always been a paleontologist at heart, but that wasn't as reliable a job as working at the pipeline.
When he reached the field, pulling his truck around the small metal shed that passed for an office, he stepped out into the Arizona heat. He stood there for a moment, fingers hooked in the belt loops of his coveralls as he watched the rig's pumpjacks bobbing up and down like the drinking bird toy he had as a kid. They were, of course, drinking oil rather than water - or as his daughter Lucy liked to put it, "sucking the earth's blood".
There were other workers around, and about half a mile away he saw the government guys that hung around the area running around like chickens without heads. He squinted, they weren't usually this busy. A couple years back, they had taken some land near the fields, the reason being some sort of bio-hazard. It didn't matter to him, just so long as they didn't interfere with his work.
"Hey, Alan." Sawyer said, sticking his head out of the shed.
He nodded, clocking in.
"You get my text?" he asked.
"No, why?" Alan asked, pulling his phone out.
"It's your seismograph. Was goin' nuts not too long ago." he led him inside.
"Huh.." Alan hummed to himself. That thing was something he had helped his son, Evan, build nearly thirty years ago. It was mostly for fun, as his son had a knack for that sort of thing. Looking at it now, Sawyer was right. The usually flat line was now a mess of scribbles, as if there had just been an earthquake. As he watched, waves continuing to spike, he felt a rumble beneath his feet. The shed had also begun to rattle.
"You think it's one of the rigs?"
"I dunno, but I don't like it."
Alan stepped outside, looking at the field with a more critical gaze.
"I don't -"
The ground beneath him exploded, and something long and dark jutted out of it, arching over like a giant hook. He stepped back inside so hard he banged his arm against the door.
"Holy mother of.." Sawyer's voice trailed off.
Outside, more of those things were sticking up, jamming into the ground. Jointed, covered in bristle-like hairs the size of the shed, the earth jumped as the thing lifted itself up. With a metallic groan, the pumpjacks slid into the hole it left.
It.
He was barely aware that he and Sawyer were about twenty feet away from the pit it was pulling itself out of. He felt paralyzed, his mind overwhelmed by a primal fear, an instinct coded deep within the brains of his ancestors when they were still prey to things like this. The giant spider legs rose hundreds of feet in the air, holding a bulbous body and a face full of squirming tentacles that hung below a pair of emotionless eyes. It was like a cuttlefish on stilts.
Lucy, Evan, he thought, picturing their faces.
"The goddamndest thing." Sawyer said in breathless disbelief.
It was the last thing he ever heard.
Munich, Germany - Monarch Outpost 67 - Titanus Methuselah
The cork sprung from the bottle with a loud pop, sailing across the meadow with the breeze.
"Don't litter, Hugo." Mila said, not looking away from her canvas.
He ignored her complaint as he took out various snacks from the cooler.
"It's biodegradable."
"Right," she said, looking at the mountain range ahead of her before going back and mixing more colors onto her palette. "Still littering."
With a roll of his eyes he poured the drink into two plastic cups, handing her one. Narrowing her eyes, she took it, taking a sip.
"This was where I grew up, you know." she said, pointing her paintbrush beyond the canvas. "See that mountain there?"
He didn't question the sudden change in subject, so instead he played along, glancing over at the mountain rising above the trees. The same one she was painting.
"What about it?" he asked, popping a cheese square into his mouth.
"My grandfather told me it wasn't always there, that there was a village instead. It was pretty average, you know, quaint. But," she stopped to take another sip of her drink. "They 'wasted the land', he'd say. That the river that ran through town and just down over there," she nodded to the clear blue stream that trickled not to far behind them. "Had turned brown, murky. You know why?"
Hugo chuckled, knowing where this was going. "Maybe. And what happened to this town?"
"No one knows. He says one day the village was gone, and that mountain was there."
"I see," he said, still waiting for the punchline. "How long ago was this?"
She shrugged. "Middle ages, maybe."
"Your grandfather must have been very old."
"My family's been here for centuries." she said, continuing with her painting. "But do you want to know one other thing about the legend?"
He leaned closer, listening halfheartedly.
"That anyone who litters will be gobbled up by the mountain troll that lives on its peak."
He rolled his eyes, taking a swig from his cup. She chucked to herself.
"Of course it was just some bedtime story made to scare me. But," she paused, staring at the mountain with an odd expression. "There were times when I could swear I heard something from that mountain. Like something sleeping."
Hugo said nothing, and neither did she as she knelt down and took a strawberry from the array of food placed on the picnic blanket he sat on.
"Probably just my imagination." she said.
Slowly, his eyes wandered past her, past her canvas, and somewhere behind her. She tilted her head to the side as she saw his eyes widen.
"Are you alright?"
"Th-The - The mountain.." he pointed a shaky finger over her shoulder. She crossed her arms.
"So you're mocking me now?"
"N-No, the mountain, it -" he didn't finish his thought before he shot up from his seat, a scream gradually growing in volume leaving his mouth as he ran back down the trail they came from. It was so sudden it left her uneasy.
"Aren't you taking this a little too far?" she called after him.
But then she felt the earth shift below her.
Turning around, she saw that the mountain was now standing up on four thick legs. It had a stout face like a bulldog but jutting from its head were a pair of horns like a bull. And as she watched, it put one lumbering limb forward, and then another. The patch of forest that sprouted from its rocky back shivered with each step.
Mila didn't scream, but her heart was beating in her ears just as loudly. The thing was about a kilometer away at least, but she doubted it would notice her even if she tried drawing its attention.
Instead, she took one long chug from the champagne bottle and kept painting until the creature was out of sight.
Tingua Preserve, Brazil - Monarch Outpost 58 - Titanus Behemoth
The woman crawled through the hatch and into an access tunnel. Every alarm in the facility was blaring, and everyone was running for their lives.
Behemoth was awake.
He had been sleeping deep in a cave in the Tingua preserve not far from Rio de Janeiro. After the containment was set up, she had volunteered to stay on the team that oversaw the facility. It was an alright job. Behemoth was, to her, one of the more interesting titans. And when she could find the free time, Rio and its beaches were less than an hour away. Her job payed decently, she'd made some good friends, by all accounts the future looked bright.
But now, everything was changing.
She reached her destination, a panel on the wall of the tunnel. She did her job quickly, then continued down the tunnel, opened another panel, and dropped down into the room beyond. Mounted high in the cave, the room jutted out of the wall. And it was mostly transparent, giving her a good view of the titan below.
His legs were folded under him, his tusks curving above him. As she watched, he struggled against the containment field, trying to stand up. He looked like he was in pain.
"Sabine? Why didn't you just use the door?"
She turned and found of the techs - Erik - staring at her, his eyes full of bewilderment.
"I was checking the wiring in the access tunnel." she said. "The meter downstairs showed some resistance. It looked okay up here, though."
"You could've asked me."
"Yeah," she said, staring down at the titan. "But I wanted the view."
"Are you nuts? He's trying to break out like the others."
"I know." she said, voice void of emotion. "So what are you still up here for?"
"Backup. Dr. Singh has us on standby to use the kill switch."
Behemoth roared, almost as if he could hear and subsequently understand their conversation. The titan pushed up hard, swinging his head through the containment field and shredding the equipment that powered it with his tusks. The field vanished, and the floodlights overhead snapped on. Toward the front of the cave, dozens of security guards took their positions.
"Erik?" the voice came from the intercom. It was Dr. Singh.
"Yeah?"
"We've had negative results here, we're not sure why. Go ahead and enable the kill switch."
"Will do, doctor." he said, punching in a code and flipping up the cover. "Enabled."
After a short bout of silence, the doctor's voice rang out. "Do it."
Erik reached out flipped the switch. Nothing happened. He flipped it back, and then again. And again.
"N-Nothing's happening," he reported, trying not to sound nervous. He checked the diagnostics.
"There's no power!"
"No...there isn't." the Sleeper said.
Erik looked at her, eyes wide, then glanced at the hatch to the access tunnel. His confusion turned to anger. "You were in there, you cut the line to the kill switch - y-you traitor."
"Please, I was never with Monarch."
"Oh my god," he said, voice dropping to a whisper. "You're - You're one of -"
"Look at him!" she nodded toward Behemoth. "You think you have the right to just kill a god? He was here long before you were. You've seen the cave paintings of him in here. They're thousands of years old, and that's just after your people got here. This place's indigenous groups still have a name for him, you know - Mapinguary. You heard Dr. Russell. You have to let him go."
"You're insane - how long have you been working with her?"
"That's not something you need to know. If anything, you should be grateful. This planet's seas are dying, rainforests nearly gone, thousands of species exterminated. I'm only trying to help."
"You've killed us all." Erik said.
"..Maybe."
Below, Behemoth rose to his full height. Or at least his full height on four legs, as there was a running bet on the base about whether he could go bipedal or not. The Sleeper was in the "yes" camp. His tusks and shaggy hair made him look superficially like a mammoth, but he was really built more like a giant ground sloth. His limbs were longer in the front than they were in the back, and he rested on the knuckles of his paws with thick, sharp claws. The only way he could use those claws was to stand up on his stubbier hind limbs.
Behemoth leaned back, and his forelimbs came up from the floor. His tusks scraped across the ceiling, and the entire cave shook. He swatted at the soldiers firing rounds of bullets at his hide with his claws. It almost looked funny from a distance, like he was knocking over toy soldiers. She felt a little twinge of sympathy, but this was how it had to be. If the Controller asked her of this, then it had to be done.
"I was right." she said.
"About what?"
"Bipedal."
With a puzzled, fearful look, he climbed into the crawlspace she came from. It didn't matter. There was no way he could fix it, not in time at least.
Suddenly, a blue-white flame spilled toward him. As Behemoth turned away from the gunfire, the titan screamed. He was facing her now, and she could see his eyes. The eyes of a god. An angry god, whose sanctuary had been invaded, defiled.
The same fire spewed at him again, but this time she saw where it came from: a nozzle protruding from the ceiling. The Sleeper hummed to herself. She hadn't known about that. Behemoth saw it too, roaring as he lunged forward.
"Come on," she whispered. "You know what to do."
The ceiling of the cave was high, but as he stretched to his full height, his face was just a few feet away when his tusks smashed into the ceiling. Huge chunks of stone tore loose, followed by an explosion as the reservoir of napalm spilled to the floor.
"Sleeper to X Base, requesting immediate extraction." she spoke into a device she pulled from her pocket.
Behemoth turned back toward the cave's entrance, covered in flames. But the fire seemed to find no purchase on his fur, and soon enough it burned itself out. He didn't look hurt at all. The cave, however, was filling with fire, and debris from the ceiling were still falling. The observation room shook, wobbled and tore loose from the cave wall.
The Sleeper had one last sight of Behemoth, crashing through the barriers at the cave entrance.
Loch Ness, Scotland - Monarch Outpost 64 - Titanus Leviathan
Dr. Noe paced back and forth within the control room.
The Monarch alerts had just began pouring in, and at this point everyone was on edge. Everyone, it seemed, except for Dr. Reid. She sat comfortably at her desk, lukewarm mug of coffee in hand as she stared at her screen through a pair of a large glasses. He had no idea how she could remain so calm in such a dire situation, knowing that hundreds of fellow operatives were falling at the hands of titans - and possibly even terrorists. He looked over her shoulder at the screen, eyes darting between the fluctuating bioacoustics and the murky water just outside the room.
"Relax, even if the containment field fails we still have the blockade." Dr. Reid reassured him, leaning back in her chair as she took a swig of coffee.
"And where does that leave us? We wouldn't have the time to evacuate if she decides to attack the base once she's figured out she can't escape." he said, nervously running a hand through his short, black hair.
The outpost sat a couple kilometers underwater, situated on the side of a submerged rocky outcropping on one of the lake's cliffsides. Nothing much happened around there, as Leviathan (or "Nessie" as the world had unknowingly dubbed her) was usually dormant, unbothered by the traffic the lake saw each year. Which made Noe's job much easier on his overly cautious nature. His colleague, however, wasn't so concerned.
"She won't, she barely even notices us. Why would she think of attacking this place?"
"I..I guess you got a point."
"Besides, it's her getting out that we should be concerned with, and even then we got a backup plan for the backup plan."
"I dunno," he mused. "The lake's far from shallow, and the level of radiation at its deepest point is a little suspect."
She let out a tired chuckle. "God, have you been talking to Rick again?"
"Wh - No! I'm just saying we can never be too careful."
He was a little hesitant to admit that he did, in fact, somewhat buy into the hollow earth theory. Or at least Dr. Brooks' vision of it. It wouldn't be too out there. He was in charge of looking after the goddamn Loch Ness Monster after all. At this point he was ready to believe just about anything.
"Uh oh." Reid said in a steady tone, hiking her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.
"'Uh oh' - what do you mean 'uh oh'?"
She gestured to the screen with her mug.
"Looks like 'ol Nessie isn't taking to the field so well."
Looking at the security feeds, Noe could barely make anything out - a long, paddle-shaped tail whipping about, kicking up mounds of lake muck into the water around her as she thrashed within the field, maybe a plesiosaur-like fin or two.
"What's got her all worked up? She was fine just a second ago." he said, getting increasingly nervous.
Reid shushed him, turning up the volume on the bioacoustic feed. The room quieted, only the sound of Leviathan's rapid heartbeat thudding through the walls. And something else.
"What is that?"
"Not sure. But it's not Leviathan."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to search for the source of the sound as the titan continued to struggle within the field.
"Uhhh, Reid?"
"What." she replied impatiently.
Hearing no answer, her eyes flicked up from the screen. "Spit it out, I don't have -"
Noe was pointing at something beyond the window, eyes wide. Looking up from her post, she saw that the struggling had stopped. As the dirtied water settled, she could see that the containment field was now empty.
"What the h -"
Noe let out a surprised shriek when a massive fin leisurely passed in front of the window. Leviathan made another pass at the base, her long neck bending as she peered inside with an indescribable expression. Slowly, he backed away from the glass. Reid was paralyzed at her desk. The titan let out a throaty grumble before turning away from the base with the flick of her tail. The tail made contact with the room, shaking it so roughly the lights flickered for a moment. But somehow they remained unscathed.
"Reid.." he gulped. "Blockades."
"Got it."
Across the lake, massive steel doors closed, damming off the lake from the sea. Leviathan wasn't going anywhere.
"How is she?"
"Looks like she's on the move, but..she's not trying to leave."
"Th - That's good, right?"
"Hold on, I'm picking something else up. Sending a probe."
Both of their eyes were trained on the drone's feed as it cut through murky clouds the titan had left, the floodlights illuminating the dark water. It was slow-moving, and Noe didn't doubt that they had long lost Leviathan's trail.
"Anything?"
"I'm still getting her radiation signature. Bioacoustics too but she's on edge. Like she's looking for something."
After what felt like forever, the probe came across a sudden dive in the lake floor. The radiation readings spiked. Reid raised her brows.
"Well," she said, taking a sip of her - now cold - coffee. "That's new."
"What is?"
"Was that cavity always like that?"
Soon enough, Noe could see what she was referring to. They had followed Leviathan to the deepest part of the lake, where the radiation was far more prominent anywhere else. But this was different. It was an underwater tunnel, going down - much, much deeper than anything their scanners had picked up. It was almost like something had carved it out themselves. Reid led the probe through the pathway, jolting when its speed increased as something like a vacuum pulled it under.
"Jesus -!"
"Damn, guess I owe Stanton those twenty bucks."
Noe gave her a puzzled look before realizing what she was talking about. The screen in front of them was showing a sudden increase in O2, and CO2 - an air pocket.
"You're kidding."
An incredulous smile grew on Reid's face as the probe's camera was picking up a dim, yellow-orange light. But the closer it got to the source, more static appeared on the feed.
"Shit, radiation's already taking affect."
"Can you get closer?"
"Dunno. I can try." she said with a shrug.
As the probe's camera breached the surface of the water, the floodlights barely illuminated what looked like a large cave. And on its shore was Leviathan, slowly turning to face the small probe that bobbed on the water's surface. Noe felt a chill down his spine.
The titan bared her teeth in a snarl, and in one swift movement Leviathan's tail whipped toward the probe, and with that the feed cut off.
"Aaand she's gone." Reid drawled.
After a long bout of stunned silence, Noe began pacing again. About a million thoughts were running through his mind but only one managed to make it past his mouth.
"What the hell are we gonna tell Castle Bravo?!"
Indian Ocean - Monarch Outpost 25 - Titanus Kraken
In his office beneath the sea, Dr. Ikande lay on his cot and watched the surface of the water ripple above him.
He had tried to take a nap - he hadn't slept in nearly a day - but sleep eluded him. He was too troubled. With the extremist attack in Yunnan to Dr. Russell's betrayal, it was too much to process. He knew her, his grad school dissertation had been based on some of her early work. He even had the privilege to meet her at a conference. It was there she recruited him for Monarch. And the fact that she had snapped like that was almost too hard to believe. Two titans were already on the loose because of her, and the running rumor was that she would try to release more.
He silently thanked himself that this underwater containment facility was probably one of the safest, simply from how far away it was from land. Anything that approached it would be noticed with ease. But that hadn't stopped him from worrying, of course.
He let the nap go, might as well get back to work.
He made his way out of the habitable part of the base - the living quarters, the control room, the labs - which were all relatively close to the surface. He kept walking until he came to an elevator - the one that took you straight down to the observatory, to Kraken.
They had discovered the sleeping titan on a seamount in relatively shallow water, curled around the remains of a nuclear sub that had been missing for decades. Monarch had ended up building the facility around him, but he was in such a deep hibernation he didn't seem to notice it at all. In the time since then they had learned quite a bit about him. Numerous x-rays, DNA analysis, and sonar scans had built a picture of what he must be like. His central brain was huge, far larger than it needed to be to control his body. And he had dozens of smaller brains associated with his limbs. Along with that, he had multiple hearts. There was no doubt in Ikande's mind that the creature held a certain amount of intelligence, possibly enough to rival a cephalopod's. Or a human's.
But unlike his octopoid cousins, his head was protected by a dense, curving shell not unlike a nautilus'. And his camouflage abilities were far superior to any of his smaller relatives. DNA suggested he could also change the color, pattern - even texture - of his skin and shell. When they found him he was nearly invisible, only being able to pinpoint his location by his radiation signature and bioacoustic emissions. But one of his more fascinating features - at least, in his opinion - was his ability to regenerate limbs, or virtually any part of his body.
As the elevator came to a stop, Ikande stepped out. One of the techs, Dr. Harris, looked up from her post and gave him a wave. Otherwise, the lab was empty.
He walked up to the window, and just outside lay one of Kraken's eyes. It was closed, and they had been closed for god know's how long. Dr. Jin, their resident paleobiologist, theorized he was in the middle of a sleep cycle that might last another decade at least. Unless he was threatened, of course.
They had taken great care to make him as comfortable as possible.
"Anything new?" he asked.
Harris shook her head. "Same as always. Bodily functions are normal, but at fairly low levels. How's topside? Any more titans on the run?"
"If there has, we haven't been informed. I almost feel slighted, why wouldn't our friend here be invited to the party?"
"Don't even say that." she replied, frowning. She leaned closer to the screen in front of her.
"What?"
"Nothing, I guess." she shrugged. "There was a little spike, but it went right back down."
Suddenly, the com light blinked on. He answered it.
"Ikande here."
"Doc? It's Teresa. We just got a flood of reports, titans have been released in at least four other outposts. Simultaneously."
"Released? By who, those extremists?"
"It's unclear. Things are kinda chaotic at the moment."
"'Course they are." he muttered, looking back at Harris, whose brows were deeply furrowed in confusion. "What is it, is he waking up?" he demanded.
If he was, at least the containment field still functioned. At least it was supposed to, there was no way to be certain, really. As much as it hurt him, their best bet was to use the kill switch. He was determined it wouldn't come to that.
"No, the opposite." she said. "His hearts are shutting down...he's dying."
"What - why?"
"No idea. It's like he's having an allergic reaction or something. Everything's dropping off, even his radiation signature."
Ikande stared at Kraken's lidded eye, trying to decide how he felt. The titan was put under his charge, and he had failed it. He knew how many Monarch scientists - Serizawa, Emma, Chen - felt about them. And even now he felt a twinge of sympathy for them. But on the other hand, if he died naturally, he wouldn't have to pull the kill switch.
"I..I don't understand." Harris whispered as she continued to watch the titan's vitals plummet.
"Call it in," he said. "Tell Castle Bravo we'll be sending them our data. Maybe whatever happened to -"
His mind stopped, voice catching in his throat. Kraken's eye was open, and it was staring right at him.
"Harris.." he said slowly. "Turn on the containment field."
"D-Done." she said. "But doc, I'm still getting nothing. All our scanners, they say he's dead."
"His eye just opened!"
"Maybe some postmortem reaction -" but then her voice broke off too.
One of Kraken's tentacles was suddenly right at the glass, pushing against the containment field - no, pushing through it. Effortlessly.
"Harris.." he said urgently.
"Th-The field, it only works on living titans," she said, getting up from her station so fast she knocked over the coffee cup that sat on her desk.
Ikande's skin prickled with goosebumps, suddenly feeling very cold as he pieced it all together. Shit.
The tentacle was already reaching for them as he sprung for the kill switch. But with a force greater than he ever could've anticipated, the pane of glass shattered as gallons of water poured into the room. Along with a river of limbs. He tried to swim toward the surface, desperately trying to reach the elevator but Kraken was far faster, grabbing the entire segment of the base and dragging it down to the depths.
Karnak, Egypt - Monarch Outpost 74 - Sekhmet
Chief officer Nadia Zaahir drummed her finger against the desk.
Surrounded by techs that busied themselves with their work, she was restless at the sudden gap in action. It wasn't that she was bored, but looking at the thing in the facility filled her with unease. The big cat in the heart of the temple had been sleeping like a baby for the past couple decades, but it wasn't until earlier that day that they were forced to use the emergency sedatives under Monarch's orders. As the hours passed, and the alerts poured in, it became startlingly clear as to why. At least they had taken affect, the titan's vitals holding steady. But in the blink of an eye something seemed to snap her out of the medicated haze.
With another rumble that shook the temple and its surrounding facility, everyone's panic only increased.
"What's going on? What woke her up" she asked one of the techs - Ibarra, if she remembered correctly.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, everything's working fine." she said. "It's like something told her to wake up."
Zaahir spoke into her earpiece. "Squads, you see anything?"
The aircraft that hovered around the facility reported negative, and the scanners remained empty. The entire desert was quiet.
"It's Sekhmet." Dr. Halla said. "The sedatives, weren't they enough?"
"Containment field?" Zaahir said.
"On it." Ibarra said, switching it on with the flick of her wrist.
In that moment, the giant feline roared - yawned? - as saber-like teeth unsheathed like swords the size of a car. The titan struggled against the field, quickly rousing herself from hundreds of years of sleep. The coarse fur on her back raised itself in alarm, eyes darting around the temple at the scrambling security personnel below.
"What the hell's going on now?" Zaahir shouted.
"She wasn't happy about that," Ibarra said. "And I'm getting something else, something on the bioacoustics monitor."
"Is it her?"
"Yes, and no. Her heartbeat's definitely increasing but I'm getting something else. It's out of our range but just barely detectable."
"Uhh, Zaahir?" Ibarra interrupted.
"What?"
She motioned toward the temple. Behind the glass, Sekhmet looked ready to pounce, repeatedly ramming herself against the field and yowling in frustration.
Zaahir spoke into the intercom. "All security personnel, ready your weapons."
"The field's collapsing," Halla said, nervous.
Outside, the containment field flickered the more she rammed into it. As if figuring out it wouldn't budge, she clawed at it, her massive claws sinking into the earth through the field and uprooting it from the temple.
"Shit, shit - all personnel, evacuate immediately." Zaahir shouted into the intercom.
The moment the words left her mouth, the field was torn apart, a rumble shaking the entire temple. Zaahir didn't have to tell them to get out before they all began scrambling for the exit.
As they ran through the hall of the facility, the ceiling was caving in on itself, pieces of stone falling all around them. Dozens of Monarch operatives were crowding the halls as well, pushing past each other for the exit as the big cat was undoubtedly ready to break out at any moment.
Looking behind her, she lost Ibarra and Halla in the stampede. Above the heads that sped past her, she found a hand flailing in the air. With a grunt, she pushed back, tugging up the tech by her arm before she was trampled.
The lights in the facility had already begun to flicker, the deep rumbling behind them getting louder before exploding altogether, sending debris flying their way. Everyone hit the floor like dominoes, and as Zaahir finally came to, she found many that had been similarly flattened. Chunks of wall and ceiling had crushed a good portion of the people in the hall, but that wasn't what caught her attention.
Eyes wandering to what remained of the containment field, Sekhmet was slowly rising to her feet. Zaahir was only a meter or two away from the exit when Ibarra started screaming next to her.
Immediately, she covered her mouth, shushing her as the cat's eyes zeroed in on them. Ibarra's leg was swallowed by a chunk of stone, and it didn't look like she could walk any time soon. So she stayed still. Not moving, her breath was caught in her throat as the creature's eyes assessed her form through the ruins. Not a creature, she thought. A god.
In her eyes, Zaahir didn't see the malice she had expected to find. Instead, it was something tired, irritated at most. The titan turned away, tail swishing behind her as she lowered her body, coiling to pounce.
Frantic, she pushed the stone from Ibarra's leg, the other biting down so hard on her lip to hold in the pain that a drop of blood dribbled down her chin. It was broken, a splinter of bone jutting out from skin, and she was bleeding pretty badly. Not wasting any time, Zaahir lifted her in both arms, running out of the ruined outpost as fast as her legs could carry her.
Outside, wind and sand whipped around them as one side of the remaining temple suddenly burst into nothing but crumbling stone. As they both scrambled through the burning sand, they could see the cause of the sudden explosion - Sekhmet, her matted fur flapping wildly as she shook herself free of the debris. Zaahir turned and stared.
She definitely resembled something like a smilodon - a slightly hunched back with a scruffy, mane-like crown circling her neck and fading down her back, long claws poking out from heavy-looking paws, a long whip-like tail with a thick wisp of fur at its tip. And of course, her two long canines. But her fur was far from any of her native cousins. Spots and stripes melded together like a natural camouflage, her sand-colored fur blending into the environment around her. Standing at her full height, nearly dwarfing the temple that had been built for her, she looked like a sphinx statue come to life.
The cat looked down at her feet, a confused hum building in her throat. Parts of the facility were still somehow intact, almost like the titan was trying to be careful. Nevertheless, survivors were scrambling from the building, screaming and tripping over one another in sheer panic. Sekhmet watched them like mice, and with a low careless sweep of her tail she knocked over at least a dozen people.
Just then, a squad of Ospreys flew over their heads, ready to unload what they had on the titan. But before they could even focus on her form, Sekhmet's ears flattened, hissing at the flying objects before pouncing on one. The rounds that landed didn't seem to bother her at all, but it definitely pissed her off. With an earth-shaking growl, she swatted an Osprey, easily knocking it out of the air like a fly. The barrage only continued, but it didn't last long as Sekhmet's claws shredded the aircraft with ease, splitting another in half with her teeth. Tired of the unwelcoming welcome party, she bounded away into the desert - straight toward Luxor. The remaining Osprey followed her trail.
Ibarra passed out in her arms before she could flag down an emergency evac.
Jebel Barkal, Sudan - Monarch Outpost 75 - Titanus Mokele-Mbembe
The ground twitched beneath Sergeant Carole Deschene's feet.
She almost didn't notice, but then she saw that nearly everyone in the control room was looking around, puzzled. Then the floor lurched, and everyone began to scream.
"Satellites?" she snapped.
"I've got nothing." one of the techs - Larson - said.
"Squads," Deschene spoke into her headset. "What are you seeing out there?"
None of the helicopters they had sent out had seen anything approach the outpost from the air, nor had they seen anyone on the ground. Nothing on any of their radars, either. The desert was quiet.
"It's M&M," Dr. Keller said. "He's moving."
"Hit the kill switch." Deschene said.
He shook his head. "We still have the containment field."
"Way ahead of you." Larson said, turning on the field.
In that moment, the floor kicked up hard, overturning tables, sending people and equipment into the air.
"What the hell's going on now?" Deschene shouted.
"Radiation levels are rising," Keller said. "And I'm getting something on the bioacoustics monitor."
"Mokele?"
"Yep. His heartbeat's speeding up. But there's something else - something more distant."
"Sir, he's pushing against the field." Larson interrupted.
Deschene switched on the radio. "I want all choppers back here, now. Recon units, you too - be ready to fight."
"He can't get through the field," Keller reassured her. "He can push all day but that thing won't budge. Yunnan was sabotaged, ours is still intact."
"Well, I call bullshit. He's trying to break out - you know what you have to do, and if you don't, I will."
"Sergeant, these creatures -"
Suddenly, the lights dimmed.
"Jesus.." Larson muttered.
"What?" Deschene snapped.
"The containment field, it just overloaded."
"Evacuate the base. Now." Deschene demanded, pushing past Keller and bolting toward the kill switch.
It was only a few feet away before the entire building flipped. Flailing through the air, she hit a wall so hard she swore her lungs would tumble out. She came to with the taste of blood on her tongue, the smell of something burning, and a sound like a rockslide that just wouldn't quit.
Bodies littered what used to be the containment facility, and the whole place was still shuddering. The power was dead, but light poured in through cracks in the metal ceiling.
As she rose to her feet, the room tilted again, slower this time, until it steadied itself. She was only a meter or two away from the exit. But as she made her way towards it, the door burst open with sand and debris pouring inside. The facility was sinking.
"Everybody out!" she called.
Keller was clearly dead, half-swallowed by the sand that had begun to fill the room. Larson was still moving, but dazed. Blood leaked from an ugly gash in her temple. Not wasting any time, she ran to her, throwing her arm around her shoulder as she lifted her out of the room.
Outside, the once level ground was now sloping down into a cavity in the earth. As they both scrambled up the mound of sand that was quickly forming above them, the building dropped another few feet, burying the door. Deschene turned and stared.
It was like watching a plant sprout from dirt, Mokele-Mbembe emerging from beneath one of the pyramids that surrounded the facility. Most of the outpost was still somehow intact. Monarch personnel were scrambling from the building, screaming and running with their arms flailing in fear.
The titan's back emerged first, pebbled like most lizard's hide. But then enormous five-clawed limbs pulled at the edge of the pit he created, and a long curved horn jutted out like a knife from the sand, followed quickly by his head. He looked like somewhat of an earless elephant, except his tusks turned down rather than up. His tail uncoiled like a snake, it was twice as long as his body. Then his trunk flared out, trumpeting an awful noise as if announcing his own arrival.
An Osprey whizzed over their heads, and then another, shooting out rounds of ammunition at the titan. Deschene looked back in time to see one of them hit Mokele on his back, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Still, he whipped his trunk about, like swatting flies. In seconds he had knocked over dozens of people, taking out at least one Osprey in the process. As he stepped out of the pit, lurching forward on four strong legs, his tail sliced through a pyramid.
This world never belonged to us, she thought. Now they've come to take it back.
Skull Island - Monarch Outpost 33 - Titanus Kong
Alone. Quiet. Peaceful.
Kong sat on the mountain ridge, gazing upon his territory. The water around him glimmered with the rising sunlight, the waves crashing on the shores below. The grasslands and the jungles between the mountains were all hushed in the mellow morning. Creatures chittered to themselves as all began to rise. He scratched the space along his ribs, feeling the first rays of sunlight warm his fur. The last of his most recent wounds were already beginning to heal, and for the first time in a while he felt at ease.
Once the sun had reached its peak, he climbed down from the ridge, walking down his old paths, to the places where the world of night and day crossed into twilight - the hollows where the crawlers lived. He found that they were quiet too, their scents faint and old. He did not feel the rumble of their burrowing, so he went from valley to valley, searching. Maybe they had already made their way above ground to hunt.
He passed by the little ones that spoke to him in voices like wind, but they hadn't seen sign of the crawlers either.
Kong huffed, returning to his ridge and watched the colors of the sky fade from blue to orange to red, eventually fading to a deep purple. The sun burned behind the clouds until it too started to vanish, the moon rising in its wake. But there was something else in the evening breeze, something from a distant place - a place he did not know.
That was when he heard the call.
He had heard calls before. Not from the enemies who had slain his parents - the crawlers. Others somehow more like him in ways he couldn't explain. When he was young, he did not hear them often, but in recent seasons the calls were more frequent. Once he had heard one very near - too near - the island. His island. But it had wanted nothing of him, so he did not care.
But this one wanted something. Wanted him to leave his island. To hunt with it.
And from that call he heard responses. Dozens of them.
For decades upon decades, each season had been the same. The rains came and went, the island's subjects lived and died. And he went on as always. But something had changed now, made him restless, like an itch he couldn't scratch. It made him a little angry. He knew change was good, that was the way of nature. But this change wasn't good, wasn't right.
Let them hunt, he thought. He did not care about their islands, their kingdoms. Best they did not come after his.
But then he felt a familiar rumble in the stone beneath him, and his anger grew stronger. The crawlers had heard the call too, and they were waking.
Alone. Quiet. Peaceful. All of that was over.
With an irritated chuff, Kong began to hunt.
Yunnan Rainforest, China - Cocoon Site - Titanus Mosura
Dr. Houston Brooks woke up to a humid, misty morning in the Yunnan Province's highlands. Taking a science team and a squad of soldiers with him, they drove down to the waterfall.
The storm continued to roll above them, high winds bending the tops of the trees. Rain thundered down in nearly solid sheets, and he nervously gripped the radio in his hand. There had been another titan released - Rodan. And now all hell was breaking loose. They had lost contact with Monarch HQ, and all outside communications were sketchy as hell.
By the time they reached the camp, the road was close to being a river. As he pushed his way into the command tent, Brooks was met with chaos. He pushed through the rabble to Dr. Gillian, who stood hunched over a radio.
"Castle Bravo? This is containment team Mosura, do you read?" she shouted into the radio. She looked worried.
"Anything?" he asked.
"No, sir, we've been completely cut off." she yelled over the cacophony. "We've been trying for hours but we haven't been able to make contact with the Argo, Castle Bravo, and the other containment sites."
"Which ones?"
"All of them." Brooks hadn't known Gill for being easily spooked, but hearing the fear in her voice gave him a chill. "Angkor Wat, Skull Island, Stone Mountain - all the titans, they're escaping."
Gill played back the last transmissions they had received from the other outposts: Behemoth shattering buildings in Rio de Janeiro, Methuselah stomping through Munich, Scylla stalking through Phoenix - among dozens of others.
"Jesus.." he murmured.
Only one monitor was different - Monster Zero, the three-headed dragon, sitting atop a volcano in Isla de Mara. They were roaring. And then something clicked in Brooks' mind.
"It's him," he said. "He's the one doing this. They're all responding to his call."
Out of nowhere, the power within the tent flickered for a moment, then fading out altogether. He turned to Gill.
"Where's Dr. Ling?"
_____
Ling stood before the waterfall, staring through the glistening curtain of water at Mothra's cocooned form within. Feeling her presence.
From the moment she arrived at the site she had not informed her superiors of everything she knew. She felt a little bad about it, but there were simply some things she could not explain with words. If she were being honest, she wasn't sure of all the facts herself. Only what her mother and aunt told her, and her grandmother and her great-aunt. The stories they had passed to her and her sister were not collected from their culture, but instead passed down from an endless line of mothers and daughters.
We're connected to her, she'd been taught. Connected for numberless generations.
She had wondered if it was true. How much of her matriline's mythology was real, and how much was mere fantasy created by time? Her sister had always been one to easily believe such things, but Ling needed more proof than what was essentially a long game of telephone.
But there was no denying that Mothra was real, she could never deny that. She had learned of her existence at a very young age, and not just from stories. Firsthand. It was so long ago, and it was so strange that sometimes she thought she had dreamed it. But the connection was tangible. She'd felt it then, and she felt it now, growing ever stronger.
In the past couple hours, something had changed. In the cocoon, Mothra shivered, as if she felt a jolt of some sort. All scanners within the camp confirmed that her metamorphosis had quickened in response.
In the back of her mind, Ling felt a presence pushing through. She let her in.
In an instant, she was met with a flurry of images - lightning, fire, death, the sea, light. It took all of her concentration not to fall unconscious right there, but her lineage had prepared her for this moment. But unlike the stories she had been told, she was alone. Dr. Ilene Chen was half-way across the world, but Ling couldn't fail the sleeping goddess, not now.
As the typhoon continued to swell overhead, she stood in the rain, ignoring the chill - listening, urging Mothra to hurry toward her second birth.
_____
Gill had known where Ling was, although it wasn't hard to guess. Since arriving at the site she was almost always at Mothra's side. Running out into the rain, Brooks following close behind, they found her kneeling with her backs to them. Rain pelted her from all sides, and her coat was more than soaked. And yet she remained as still as a statue.
"Dr. Ling?" she shouted, trying to cut through the howling wind. "We've lost contact with Monarch!"
She didn't turn around.
For a brief moment, the rain slackened, winds dying down to a harsh whistle. Above, the clouds seemed to part, and somewhere beyond the treeline creatures of all sort began to stir with unrest. Or in worship. A trail of what looked like fireflies began pouring from the jungle and the roof of the grotto that held the waterfall, flickering in tune to a rhythm Gill couldn't hear. And the cocoon flickered too, rippling, glowing with bioluminescence. Tears began to form in the fabric of the chrysalis, the fireflies dancing around it like a thousand tiny supplicants.
But as they passed before Gill's eyes, she could see that they weren't fireflies at all - but rather hundreds of bioluminescent moths. And they were all converging around Mothra's cocoon, almost as if they were assisting her entrance like minuscule handmaidens. A tiny smile grew on her face as they fluttered past her, watching in awe.
"Dr. Ling?" Gill said as she got closer to the woman.
Over the sound of the waterfall and Mothra's increasing thrumming, she heard a voice. It was soft, faint, and it almost sounded like someone singing. It was Ling. As she knelt before the cocoon, hands clasped together, a stream of words in a language she didn't understand streamed from her mouth. Though Gill didn't know the words, it almost sounded like a prayer, a plea.
In that moment, the cocoon split, one long insectile leg stretching out. Ling's singing became louder, more passionate.
Everyone in the camp was outside now, bathed in the light that encompassed the waterfall, watching in wonder at the goddess' rebirth. Despite knowing that she should feel afraid at the thought of another titan breaking free, there was something different about this one. Something more important.
From one second to the next, a head slowly broke through the curtain of water, more legs landing on the ground almost gracefully. Carefully.
Ling rose, lifting the hood of her coat as her gaze followed Mothra's rising form. As she sang, her words seemed to harmonize with the titan's own vocalizations, until they both seemed to be singing the same song. But much bigger and far more meaningful. Gill could only watch in reverence as the titan unfurled her wings, a wave of light surging from Mothra's body to its gossamer tips. Gill could almost feel her throat want to close up at the sight of it, instead taking a deep steady breath.
She was beautiful.
The other titans were free, and Mothra had heard their cries. Now it was her turn.
As Mothra stepped from the waterfall, looking down at the tiny beings all staring back up at her, Gill felt something stir in the back of her mind. Mothra leaned down, antennae twitching as she locked eyes with Ling. The doctor looked a little otherworldly in the blue light, and her expression was nothing short of reverential. Slowly, as if asking for permission, she outstretched her hand, placing it on a patch of the downy fuzz that covered the titan's head. But then Mothra's gaze went past her, towards Gill, and Ling's followed soon after.
Ling brought out another hand, gesturing to Gill. Confused, it took her a moment before she pointed a finger at herself, questioning.
"It's alright," she said. "She remembers you."
Remembers?
Gill nearly gasped. All those times back in the temple - where she would examine the pupating larva with Ling, Chen, and Emma - she would talk to it. She thought that maybe, it would comfort the larva, prepare it for the strange new world she would surely be born into. She never would've thought it'd have any impact. Sheepishly, Gill took Ling's hand, letting her guide it to rest on top of Mothra's head. It was soft, if not a little damp from the waterfall. Gill let out a breathless laugh.
Suddenly, one of Mothra's forelimbs raised itself, stopping just between Ling and Gill. Ling hoisted herself upon it, sitting on the rough chitin.
"Wh-What are you doing?"
"There's no other way to contact Monarch HQ, right?" once again, she extended a hand. "She knows how to help."
"I-I don't - um.." nervously, her head whipped around at Brooks. He looked just as clueless.
"Well?"
She knew there wasn't any time to waste, so with a giddy smile, Gill took her hand. Mothra lifted them closer to her head, allowing them to climb comfortably to the space just between her antennae. Jodie's not gonna believe this, she thought to herself.
With a loud, melodious cry, Mothra pushed herself off the ground and took flight.
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elsewhereuniversity · 7 years
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[Right, so. P sure I’m officially obsessed lmao. Anyways here’s the third and probably final part of the tale of The One With Many Names, also known as My Blatant Self Insert. Hope it doesn’t break canon too much, please enjoy, and sorry for spamming! (also i still have No Idea What I Am Doing ahahahaha.)]
—-
Eventually, as everyone knew ce would be, The One With Many Names was Taken.
Spectator, the junior who watched people and noticed patterns, sharp-eyed behind the shadows of their hoodie, collected their bet. They placed a pittance of their winnings on Many-Names coming back.
It was mostly out of pity.
~~~
Your memories are doing The Thing again, and you cannot for the life of you remember the sequence of events that led to place you in the Elsewhere. But you know you are without iron, and your backpack is missing, and you should be terrified. Except They took you Elsewhere early in the morning, when you were stumbling your way to your eight am class, and you are far too tired to really care.
(You still have your dog tag necklace. Putting it on is too deeply ingrained into your morning ritual for you to forget it. This is a small comfort.)
You stare up and around at the Elsewhere despite knowing that you shouldn’t. Your eyes settle on something with too-sharp teeth like needles, shades of blue like ice and ocean, vaguely humanoid in shape but with proportions defying normal physics. You close your eyes and take a shuddering breath. Your eyes hurt. It’s too fuckin’ early for this. You consider the questions you could ask, from the informative (‘why have you taken me’) to the Actually Helpful.
You go for the latter.
“If I tell you a story,” you say slowly, carefully, “will that work as payment for my freedom?”
The fae hisses, and you flinch, wishing that you had your notebook with you, or at least another hour of sleep on your side. “You presume?”
“I, I, I have heard your–the, the stories humans tell of you,” you say, stumbling over your words, “the stories the students tell of you. They say you will free us if we bargain.”
“And you come,” the fae says contemptuously, “and bargain a mere bedtime tale? Stories have power, child, but I have heard so many before. You would have to pay something more than a paltry rendition of a well-worn path to return to your realm.”
“If you don’t want my stories,” you say in return, “then why?”
You blink, and the shades-of-blue creature is upon you, cupping your chin with icicle fingers. “You shift,” it says, “You are not fixed. You have a touch of us in you. Thus, you are ours.”
You squeak, and cower, and cover your eyes. You take deep breaths until the frostbite of the creature’s fingers fades. Then–your fear carrying you beyond terror and out the other side, knowing you are dead or worse than anyways, you speak.
“If you have not taken me for my stories,” you say, and pause, and swallow hard, “th-then y-you, you don’t–” You stop. Collect yourself. Attempt to speak with confidence. “You do not know of my skill. I would not tell you a mere bedtime story. It may follow a similar path as others, true, but…”
The fae tilts what passes for its head at an unnatural angle. You breathe in deep and make your bargain. “A story. A tale. If it pleases you–if it pleases an audience, mayhaps–I am to be released. Sent back to my realm. If not…” You swallow hard, knowing your next words would seal your fate. You are not willing to speak them. You hope the fae will speak for you.
It does not, of course. You close your eyes and damn yourself. “If not, I accept the fae–the touch of You I have inside me.” ‘Do with me what you will’ is not said, but you both know They will if you lose.
“Deal,” the fae says delightedly, “Begin telling.”
“If it pleases an audience,” you repeat. Perhaps a variety of opinions would be what damns you, but relying on the tastes of a single fae…if the story you have in mind displeases it, then you are lost. Better to have a security net of varying opinions.
The fae narrows eyes dark as ocean abyss and hisses. You flinch. “An audience,” you repeat anyways, “I said, if it pleases an audience.”
“You said mayhaps.”
“My stories are my talent,” you say, “if this is the last one I tell, I want it to be remembered.”
Amazingly, this works. You get your audience.
You stand in front of the fraction of a Court, wishing you could write or type the words rather than say them. You are afraid.
But you know your talents. You know your stories, you know your characters, and it is not the first time you have told this tale. If all else fails, you have the phrase ‘but there is always more to the story,’ a gimmick you can pull out to expand and continue if the fae do not like it quite as much.
If you are honest with yourself, you will probably pull out that “gimmick” anyways. You love your stories and characters too much to not expand on them. You close your eyes.
You gather your thoughts. You take a deep breath.
“This,” you begin, “is the story of Phoenix Song.”
~~~
It is nearly a year before Many-Names stumbles back into the normal world. Ce comes back somewhat confused and half-glowing, as though some internal light has given cer an aura of confidence. For all that, the glow is entirely human and largely metaphorical. Cer changling leaves as ce moves back into cer dorm, all smiles and laughter. The kind of smiles and laughter that covers deep, deep relief.
People ask how. Ce replies with a grin. “They love a good story, didn’t you know?”
Spectator attempts to get a fuller explanation, because for all their perceptiveness this has still totally blindsided them. Many-Names explains about the world ce’d spent five years in the making.
“I picked the one that I thought would appeal the most to Them,” ce explains. “Well, that and I actually had it figured out to the end.” Ce says maybe ce’ll show you cer old notes. “If they still exist, anyways,” ce adds thoughtfully, “I think I might have given the story to the F–Fair Folk. It’s a worthy trade.”
Many-Names leaves out drawings with cer ice cream and milk now. Sketches, colored with pencils, sharpie-lined, printed digital art in full color and shading. All labeled with names. They are always gone in the morning. Spectator thinks, to their great disbelief, that Many-Names has managed to create a fandom.
This is bad for cer. This is very very bad.
“They aren’t going to let you leave, you know,” they tell cer, “Not if you keep giving them content.”
Many-Names pauses in the middle of a sketch. “Well,” ce says eventually, “there’s always the internet.”
“You’re not getting it,” Spectator decides, and tells cer, “You can’t leave, Many-Names. Can’t go home. Can’t see your mom. Can’t go out and get another job. You’ll have to stay. Become a teacher, or whatever. You have to stop talking to Them.”
Many-Names considers this. “I can’t just cut off,” ce tells them, “That would be rude. I mean, they’ll forget soon enough. Or I’ll get tired of drawing stuff. But as long as we’re both interested, well, they get art, and I get these things.”
“These things,” Spectator repeats. Many-Names flicks a hand at cer windowsill. There is a bright red feather that almost glows, an image of a hammer, a glass crafted phoenix that seems to burn internally, a music box, and a crude, human-like figure.
“It’s like fanart,” ce says in a delighted tone, and Spectator gives up. They’re graduating this year, they don’t have time to pull a delusional freshman out of cer dealings with the Gentry. Ce seems happy, anyways.
~~~
And life in Elsewhere University carries on.
[x]
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