#agent 4 fic

[eikaprime]

M4rie

Another day, another day to ship Agent 4 with one of the Splatoon Idols. You can find this on AO3, or read the full text under the cut.

This is the second of six idol fics; the first, C4llie, can be found HERE or as Ch. 1 on the AO3 link.

M4rie

Art is not a waste of time. Prism folds up the latest letter from her parents (she stopped answering their phone calls weeks ago) and jams it in her pocket. She'll write back later, when she's not ready to spit at them.

Rent is due again tomorrow. So much for buying paints. She's keeping the lights on and eating ramen two meals a day, but what hurts is not being able to buy any paints. And with the Great Zapfish gone, electricity prices are rising. She's gonna need more.

This is depressing. She grabs her sketchbook (the last one she came here with, all the others are full and she can't afford more and this one's more than half full already, no don't think about it) and her favorite drawing pencil and hops a bus to the square. There, she spends a couple coins on a soda, sits in her favorite chair, and waits.

The elegant inkling is there again.

She's so pretty...

Prism sits with her phone on the table and sketchbook in front of her, using her phone so it doesn't look like she's staring. The umbrella. The kimono. Her white tentacles, tied back from her face; the red ribbon, dangling by one ear. She shades with quick, careful lines, and sits back at last.

It's not good enough. Prism glances from the page to the gorgeous inkling and back. It's never good enough, to capture how pretty she is. And she's always standing there, every time Prism comes back to the square. She must be waiting for someone.

She's probably already in a relationship. With a guy. A tall, strong, handsome inkling with short blue tentacles swept back in an elegant updo, with muscles that stand out beneath his tight shirt and a smile on his face as he leaves Grizzco. He probably gives her a quick kiss while she fake whines about salmonid slime and, after he takes a shower, they go out to dinner together and talk about their days. He's planning to propose next month.

Prism doesn't stand a chance.

The beautiful inkling smiles, and Prism realizes she's been staring. Oh cod. Her whole face burns and she looks away, fast, then back.

The beautiful inkling twirls her umbrella, winks, and... vanishes?

If that's not an invitation, Prism doesn't know what is. She jams her phone in her pocket and tucks her sketchbook under one arm, hurrying over. The beautiful inkling... was standing on a sewer drain. And swam down it.

Well, let it never be said that Prism backs down from a challenge.

~~~~

So, the beautiful inkling is named Marie, she thinks she's famous the way a lot of beautiful people think they are, and she's a secret agent. And now so is Prism, because she can't afford another energy bill. And also, because there are some really cool things to draw.

It's almost lunch time, so Prism takes a break. She sits on the railing by the superjump pad in Suction Cup Lookout and pulls out her new sketchbook, improvised from the insides of the envelopes her parents use when they write to her. A tree, the base and roots invisible, wrapped in a tentacle. The tentacle supports it; it grows from it. But it also traps the tree, away from the mountains on all sides...

“Distracted?”

Prism drops her pencil and almost falls off the railing trying to grab it; a strong hand grabs her hero suit.

“Let it go. It's just a pencil.”

“It's my last one,” Prism says, trying not to whine. She swings her legs back to the safe side of the railing, sketchbook folded and back in her pocket.

“It's just a pencil,” Marie repeats. She has a picnic basket hooked over one arm, the picture of elegance, and opens it. She offers Prism a sandwich. “Your favorite, tuna with lemon and garlic.”

Prism accepts the sandwich. She doesn't remember telling Marie her favorite sandwich, but it is. “Not just a pencil,” she says. “My last good drawing pencil.” She bites into her sandwich and almost moans. Cod, Marie must be a goddess. The goddess of sandwiches.

“Oh,” Marie says. “Sorry.” She bites into her own sandwich. When she chews, a smear of mustard on her cheek, she almost looks like a normal inkling, instead of a goddess. She swallows and asks, “What makes it a drawing pencil? Why is it your last?”

“They're expensive,” she says. “Good art things are graded, you can get lighter or darker lines with them. I usually stick to the H-level pencils.” She takes another bite of her amazing sandwich. “The lower numbered H's are great for sketches, and the higher numbers don't show through paints.”

Marie crouches over the picnic basket and emerges with two bottles of fizzy limeade. “You paint?”

Oh. “Yeah.” Prism finishes her sandwich and lays down on the railing, looking at the sky. She'd have to mix three or four different colors to match this shade. “I mean, not lately. Haven't been able to afford anything better than those squit packs for kiddies at the shell store. But we'll get zappy back, and prices will go down, and I'll manage.”

“I guess that explains why you main brush,” Marie says, and Prism sits up fast. “I've watched some of your matches. You're pretty good.” She smiles crookedly. “Could be great if you'd stop drawing on the ground all the time.”

“Hey, what's the point of a turf war if you can't draw hearts all over the base?” Prism asks.

Marie laughs. Prism hasn't heard her laugh before.

Marie has a pretty laugh.

~~~

Prism surfaces from the octoshower with a zapfish tucked under her arms and has to stop just to look at the sky. The stars are out; she's been down there for a while.

Marie's still crying over the headset.

A sigh rises through Prism, starting in her toes and leaving her empty. Callie, Agent 1, is down there. And Prism is up here.

Just a replacement.

Well, someone's gotta do it. And if she could tell her parents, at least they'd think this is worthwhile.

Prism gets a better grip on Little Zap-Zap and superjumps back to the canyon. There's a zapfish cage, all prepped and ready to go, by the bench; Prism places Little Zap-Zap inside. Listening to Marie like this feels wrong, feels like intruding, but she can't just go inside, so she turns off her headset and sets that on the cage... then sits down and looks up.

Stars. So many stars. The night sky isn't black, not really. Prism strains her eyes for the color she knows is there. In the shadows around the stars is the deepest blue, a blue that can suck you in and swallow you and make you feel like nothing matters. It's a blue she's never managed to make, no matter how she mixed her paints.

She doesn't know how long she sits there before the door opens. “Callie and I used to look at the stars together,” Marie says, her voice clogged.

“I never had anyone to look at them with,” Prism says.

“No one?”

Prism shrugs. “Some people make close friends, some people just... don't. I always had kids to hang out with at recess, and partners for field trips, and wasn't chosen last in gym or anything. And people showed up for my birthday and I got invited to a lot of parties. But I wasn't the inkblot others wanted on a sleepover, or to go to an amusement park, or anything.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“I guess?” She forces a laugh, her eyes on the sky. “I mean, from everything I know, you and Callie grew up together. Hard to say if you were best friends or squiblings, but either way, I never had that. How can you miss what you never had?”

“You must think I'm silly,” Marie mutters. “But Callie's... she's...”

“I do miss it,” Prism says.

Marie makes a tiny gasping noise, and she grabs Prism's shoulder, turning her until Prism's looking Marie straight in the eye. One of Prism's heart stops, because it's just not fair that Marie is so pretty, even with the skin around her eyes the slightest bit green from crying so hard. “You what?”

“I had my paints,” Prism said. “I had the television, and Blob Ross, and sneaking onto the roof to paint the landscape and I knew I was liked. But everyone else just, they all had someone who made them happier than they were alone. I used to wish I could have that, just once.” She turns away from Marie and gets to her feet, because this is a bit too personal. “But no use wishing for what you can't have! Come on, boss. You said the final area was Slimeskin Garrison, right?” Prism grabs her headset again. “Betcha I can find all the kettles before sunrise.”

Marie's jaw drops open and her eyes widen. It's the first time Prism's seen her speechless, and it makes her smile. She pulls on her headset and turns squid, ready to superjump, when Marie grabs her tentacle.

When Prism reforms, Marie's holding her hand. And she doesn't let go. And Prism tries not to read into it, but guppies, the prettiest inkling to ever ink is holding her hand.

“Don't go tonight,” Marie says. “Go home. You need to rest.”

“But Callie—”

“I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

~~~

The night after Callie's return is the best clam sleep of Prism's life. Or at least the past two weeks, since she basically moved into the Canyon Hut. Which, once she gets to her kitchen, is a problem.

She's completely out of food. And she left her sketchbooks there.

Shoot.

Well, it's—she checks the clock, oh g-zap, eleven in the morning, she really did oversleep. She'll get dressed, pop into the canyon for the couple outfits and the sketchbook she left there, grab breakfast at whatever cafe and turf until she's got enough for groceries.

That plan lasts until she pushes open the cabin door to find Callie and Marie sitting at the table, scrambled eggs in front of them both, and is stunned for a moment just how gorgeous Marie is with her tentacles tangled and sleep in her eyes. “Oh, you're Agent Four!” Callie says, getting to her feet. She hesitates a step away, then offers Prism a hand to shake. “We never made it back to Inkopolis last night, just too worn out, and I need to thank you.”

Prism shakes her hand. “Don't need any thanks, I'm happy to help,” she says. “Sorry, I kinda left some things here, and I need to grab them.”

“Oh, like your sketchbook? Your drawings are excellent!”

Prism stops dead, hand still mid-shake. “You looked at them?”

“Well, yeah.” Callie laughs and lets go of Prism's hand. “It was open on the table. You're a really good artist. And,” she leans close, “it seems to me that—”

“Callie.” Prism's never heard Marie use that tone before.

Callie giggles. “I just wanted to say, there were an awful lot of drawings of—”

“Cal!”

Just let Prism die right here. She wishes the cracks in the floor were big enough to slip through in squid form, and then she could slip into the earth, right through the Octarian bases, down and down until the earth swallows her.

Callie laughs again, but Marie's on her feet, pushing past Callie. “Here's your pajamas, and your sweatshirt, and both pairs of jeans and those t-shirts you wore, I washed it all,” she says, holding a bundle of clothes in her hands. “Thank you very much for stopping by I'm gonna get Callie settled back into the routine and take her to the doctor and crud howsabout you come back next week and we can do some recon just to make sure things are okay now bye!” She shoves the bundle into Prism's hands and keeps pushing, making Prism take a stumbling step back, out the door.

Prism knows when she's not wanted. Marie missed her cousin, they must have a lot to catch up on, between whatever torture Callie went through under the hypnoshades and Marie's new radio show. Prism turns to go, only to feel something hard in the bundle of clothes.

She peels away the top layer of clothes to find four sketchbooks, new. The barcode's been peeled off the plastic holding each one, tearing it, but Prism knows what they cost, she never goes for this brand they're too expensive they're too good. One of them's even the stiff tougher paper meant to hold paints, watercolors, even though Prism never told Marie the types of paints she used. And four individual brushes, H quality, each a different number.

Prism clutches the precious bundle to her chest and does not cry over it.

~~~

It takes Prism a month of patrols—of careful glances, of sketches of the landscape as cover, of refusing to stare at that crooked smile—for Prism to get a good drawing of Marie, not just a sketch. She thinks Callie knows, Callie's looked at her and giggled a few too many times, but she's also asked Marie just the right questions to make her laugh when Prism's got the sketchbook out. The final drawing she carefully, carefully transfers onto the sheet of canvas she splurged on, the one on sale for having a dented corner, and pulls out the tempura paints that are the best she can afford right now.

She captures Marie's kimono, the way it drapes and folds when she's leaning back on the bench. She captures Marie's parasol, carelessly dangling from one hand, almost to the ground. She captures the curve of Marie's neck. She spends hours mixing colors to get her tentacles just right, the way one half-fell from their bow the time she drew it, and the ribbon brushing her forehead. She even captures that cute little mole she'd like to kiss.

Marie, frozen in mid-laugh, her crooked smile wide and her eyes closed.

She wants to give it to Marie. She wants to ask Marie out. But if she's wrong... that could ruin everything.

But Prism is not a coward. She moved to Inkopolis by herself and she's a secret agent and a salmon run profreshional. She's started calling her parents again and only hangs up when they start talking about how she should be an accountant. Or a lawyer. Or whatever squit they want this time.

Besides, it'd be kinda creepy to have this on her wall. It's not some celebrity, this is her friend. And...

But when the time comes, Prism can't look. She desquids in the canyon on her day off, clutching the painting wrapped in brown paper, and walks over and shoves it in her hands "I made this, I hope you like it" and turns to run.

Only for a hand to catch the back of her shirt.

"And you don't wanna see me open it?"

Prism swallows down her fear. She doesn't answer, but when Marie tugs her shirt again, she turns around.

Callie's got the biggest grin on her face, and Prism looks away. She looks at the ground, her whole head the lilac of her ink and burning, as Marie unwraps the paper.

The silence when she sees what Prism made stretches forever. "I'm sorry," she says. "I, uh, I guess it's creepy, or,"

Marie grabs Prism's shirt, pulls her close, and kisses her. Smack on the mouth, the sort of kiss Prism's dreamed of for months, and she's too stunned to kiss back at first.

Only when Marie pulls away does Prism remember, and her burning face doesn't matter, because maybe she will get to kiss that cute little mole. "W-would you like to go for a picnic tomorrow?"

"Yes," Marie says. "I would. I'll—”

"FINALLY!" shouts Callie. "Cod, I was starting to think I'd need to get you together myself!"

[eikaprime]

Seriously, I've learned to trust my subconscious, because I jump into a story or series (fic or otherwise) with a Vague Idea. I don't do outlines that often because then I have to STICK with them and they're rarely as good as me just tossing the crud in my head onto the page, and I've been doing this long enough (and finishing things!) enough to trust myself.

I can tell if I've written myself into a corner within 5 chapters, so I do my darnedest to keep a buffer at least that large, but there's a huge number of things in my fics that are in there because I threw the initial thing in there because it struck me as appropriate, or it made me laugh, or it seemed like a good idea at the time.

in the Snapshots series, some of those details include that Marina had a brother (I put no more thought into Harbor's first appearance than giving her a brother would make that first scene easier), that we don't know anything about Inkopolis Power, that Callie's always a little distracted, and that I kept getting my coworkers Mary and Marie mixed up.

In my Agent Four series those details include that Lucky doesn't know who Marie is, that an inkling growing up in a rainy city would probably have some problems, that Callie can pick locks, and it would drive the Squid Sisters nuts to have someone refuse help. (among a LOT of others...)

There is no joy like the joy of a writer who has just figured out that a throwaway line they put into the first few paragraphs of a story is actually the key to a major plot point and possibly even the theme underlying the entire thing.

Just…yesssssss.

[delicatebarness]

bridges to burn | chapter one

Summary: Struggling with the pressures of the compound, you seek an escape leading to you meeting another not much less like yourself.

Warning: Sexual Tensions and Implied Sex. Smoking. Uncontrolled Powers.

Word Count: 2030

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A/N: Flame on? Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

BTB Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @preeyansha | @thoughstofaredhead | @barnesxstan | @brckenmemories | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @chimchoom | @bstan01 | @starkillazz | @lostinspace33

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan | @lanabuckybarnes

The first few days at the compound you tried to keep to yourself, barely leaving your room. The weight of your situation, and the simmering tension between Bucky and yourself, kept you in your own head, and you found solace in solitude. Yet, as the days went by, the four grey walls of your room started to feel like you were being locked within The Raft. 

The compound was quiet one restless night, and you decided you needed to get outside and fill your lungs with fresh air. The halls were empty as you slipped out of your room, making your way toward the grounds. The cold air of night soothed your flaring skin, a welcomed change from the suffocating indoors. 

As you reached a secluded spot near the edge of the property, you pulled out a cigarette. Fishing through your pockets, your frustration grew as you realized you’d forgotten your lighter. Quickly glancing around, you contemplated using your powers, but the fear of losing control held you back. 

Suddenly, you heard a soft click behind you. As you turned your hand began glowing as you raised it toward the sound, and you saw a man, not much older than yourself, standing there, his thumb ablaze with a small, controlled flame.  He was tall, with a chiseled jawline and an easy, confident grin. He was, clearly, the type of guy who knew exactly how good he looked and wasn’t shy about it. 

“Need a light?” he asked, the flame dancing merrily.

You couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face at the unexpected assistance. “Yeah, actually. Thanks–” you said, leaning in to light your cigarette. The tension in your shoulders eased as you took a drag, then exhaled slowly. 

“I’m Johny,” he introduced himself, extinguishing the flame with a casual flick of his wrist, “Johnny Storm.” 

Recognizing the name, you raised an eyebrow toward him. “Wait, Johnny Storm? As in, The Human Torch, Johnny Storm?” 

“The one and only,” he said with a mock bow before shooting you a wink. “And, you must be Stark’s daughter. I’ve heard a bit about you.” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nodded, your tone filled with annoyance. “I’m still getting used to this place, and just needed some fresh air.” 

Leaning against a nearby tree, Johnny's posture relaxed. “I get that. This place can be a lot. Especially with all the… expectations.” 

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, taking another drag. “It feels like I’ve been under a microscope since I got here.” 

Johnny nodded sympathetically. “It’s not easy being part of a team, especially when everyone is watching your every move,” he paused, sending you a knowing look. “But, it’s not all bad, just gotta find your own rhythm.” 

Appreciating his straightforwardness, you chuckled slightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been known for playing by the rules.” 

“Rules are overrated,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes you’ve got to break a few to get where you’re going.” 

You smiled, and a feeling of ease coursed through your body. “I think I’m going to like you, Flame Boy.” 

He flashed that grin again, his gaze wandering over your figure, lingering a moment longer. “The feeling’s mutual, Firecracker,” he said with a playful smirk. “And by the way… you’re hot.” 

You rolled your eyes, taking his comment in stride. “Was that supposed to be a compliment, or are you just making a play on this?” Smirking, you let your irises begin to shift, their usual coloring draining away as they ignited into a fiery, glowing orange. 

Johnny’s smirk only widened as he witnessed the transformation in your eyes. “Oh, I definitely meant it as a compliment,” he said, a notch dropping in his voice. Taking a step closer, his played demeanor added a new edge of curiosity. “I bet you’re full of surprises, Firecracker.” 

You smirked, and Johnny’s eyes lingered on your glowing irises for another moment, intrigued. “Well, it has been a pleasure, but I should probably get back before Reed sends out another search party,” he quipped, flashing that grin once more. 

With a wink, Johnny stepped back, his hands raising in a casual wave. “Flame one!” he called, and instantly his body ignited in a brilliant, controlled blaze. The heat radiating from him would have been intense if you weren’t already accustomed to it. You watched in awe as the flame flickered and danced around him like they had a life of their own. Shooting into the air, he left a trail of fire as he soared back toward the compound, the fiery streak cut through the dark sky. 

As you continued to watch him disappear into the night, a voice from the shadows startled you. 

“He’s an idiot,” the low, gravelly voice of Bucky cut through the quiet, causing your entire body to flinch slightly. 

Turning sharply to see him stepping out from behind a tree, you snapped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealed by the dim light of the compound, illuminating his features. 

“I’m doing my job, babysitting a dumb little princess,” Bucky replied, his tone dry and laced with sarcasm. For a moment, his eyes flicked down to the cigarette in your hand, and his expression changed, now holding disapproval in his features. “Shouldn’t smoke: Bad for your lungs.” 

The tension simmered just below the surface as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Good job they repair themselves then, isn’t it?” you shot back, defiance edged in your voice. 

“Are you always so quick to talk back?” he asked, eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed but slightly amused. 

“It comes with the surname,” you retorted, the glow in your eyes beginning to fade as you lifted your chin in defiance. 

Bucky took a step closer, hardening his expression. “When Stark said I’d be babysitting, I figured a quiet, sweet kid, not… whatever you are,” he smirked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Ouch,” you replied with an exaggerated wince, feigning a hurt expression. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, and here I thought we were bonding.” 

Tilting his head slightly, Bucky’s gaze unwavering. “I should have known Stark couldn’t produce anything but a little brat.” 

“Hey,” you snapped, your temper beginning to flare as you took a step closer to him, almost closing the distance between you. “You haven’t earned the right to call me that yet.” 

“Yet?” Bucky echoed, his smirk growing as a challenge flashed in his eyes. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tensions locked you in a silent battle of wills. Neither one of you was backing down, your eyes daring each other to make the next move. 

Bucky’s gaze was intense, his eyes searching deeply into yours as if trying to figure you out. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and filled with annoyance. “Just stay out of trouble, Princess. I’m not here to play games.” 

“Please,” you let out a short laugh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. “If anyone’s trouble around here, it’s you… Winter Soldier.” 

His smirk returned, this time more amused than before. “At least I know what I'm doing. You? You’re a walking hazard waiting to happen.” 

You couldn’t let him see that his words stung more than you’d like to admit. Your heart pounded against your chest, and you couldn’t place the tightening in your throat. The space between you dwindled to almost nothing as the frustration bubbled up within you, threatening to spill. 

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you hissed, your voice remaining steady despite the storm brewing inside you. You managed to keep your composure, refusing to let him see you rattled. 

His face was mere inches from yours, his proximity caused you to feel his breath against your skin, and his voice was low, almost a growl.  “I don’t have to know you to see what’s right in front of me,” he replied, his tone cold and unyielding. 

His words lingered, sharp and cutting, leaving you torn. For another moment, you stood there, breathing beginning to pick up pace and eyes locked in a fierce stare. But, something shifted in Bucky’s gaze– a flicker of something softer. His jaw tightened as he broke the stare, glancing away toward the compound. 

“Look,” he muttered, his voice gruff and lacking the earlier bite. “I’m not here to make your life hell. I just… I’ve seen what happens when people are careless. I don’t want that for you.” 

Surprised, your defenses faltered for a brief second. Shaking your head, you quickly rebuilt them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten through to you, even if for a second. 

“I can take care of myself,” you scoffed. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.” 

Carrying a weight, heavier than either of you would admit, the words hung between you. Creating a distance, Bucky turned, stepping back, a relieving yet strangely disorienting feeling rushed through your body. 

“Just… be careful,” he said over his shoulder, his voice almost reluctant. Before waiting for a response, Bucky walked back off into the shadows, leaving you standing, the night feeling colder than ever before. 

Your mind raced with everything that had just happened, and for a moment longer, you stood there, staring after him. And, the more you thought about the conversation, the more frustrated you became. 

Then, with a sigh, you stomped out your cigarette, embers hissing as they met the ground. Your thoughts churned as you turned on your heel and made your way back to the compound. 

~

Back inside the compound, the halls remained quiet as you wandered back to your room, your mind replaying the confrontation with Bucky. Wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the large figure leaning against the wall until you almost walked into him. 

“Woah there, Firecracker,” the playful voice of Johnny snapped you out of your daze. Stopping short, you looked up to see his grin, the same one that had begun etching itself into your memory. 

“J-Johnny,” you shuttered, more of a surprise than anything else. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” he quipped, his eyes sparking with mischief before sending you a wink. “What’s got you so deep in thought? Looked like you were about to walk right through me.” 

For a moment, you hesitated, but then you shook your head, deciding to not burden him with the Bucky situation. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you replied, forcing a smirk across your lips, matching his energy.

Clearly unconvinced, Johnny raised an eyebrow but did not press further. Instead, pushed his body off the wall and took a step closer, his gaze scanned your face as if he was trying to read what you weren’t saying. 

“Well… if you’re ever looking for a distraction,” he began, his tone dropping to something slightly more serious. “I’d be more than happy to oblige.” 

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips, grow. There was something about Johnny that made it hard to stay angry but also, made you want to release all that fury and chaos swirling within you, out on him. 

“Is that right?” you teased, your eyes meeting his, an unspoken understanding charging the air between you. 

“Absolutely,” Johnny replied in a low voice, his once playful manner giving way to something more intense. “So, what do you say, Firecracker? Wanna blow off some steam?” 

You felt your heart skip a beat, but the double meaning in his words did not get lost on you. And, without fully thinking it through, you grabbed Johnny by the front of his suit, pulling him closer. 

“Come on, Flame Boy,” you murmured, your voice low and barely a whisper. “I’ve got just the place.” 

Without waiting for his response, you led him through the halls toward your room. His surprise quickly morphed into anticipation as he followed. Then, when you reached your door, you pushed it open and pulled the man inside with you. 

Right then, you didn’t want to think. Not about Bucky, the compound, nor the weight of your own existence. Just the fire, and the heat. 

---

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[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[itsmoonchik]

Robbie Reyes as textposts

[froostedsheep]

yurr

[sailorsplatoon]

Splatoon fandom, I’d like to propose a rarepair ship. They’re going to be in Side Order together, it is entirely plausible that they are gay for each other.

[space-woomy]

Happy 4/8

[inkysquelched]

Them.

I drew my bozos and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now get ready for a long post as I talk about my headcannons for them. Feel free to ask me anything about them, I love rambling:

Agent 3: Has a major RBF, but she’s nice I promise you. She’s been enjoying her role as captain but was overwhelmed at first.

Weapon preferences: shooters, chargers

Fave Special: Splashdown

Agent 4: Just vibing honestly, she’s gotten pretty good at hacking/research over the years.

Weapon preferences: daulies, brushes

Fave Special: Boyah Bomb

Agent 8: Curses in octarian at least 5 times a day. Remarkably relaxed despite all the bs shes been through.

Weapon preferences: shooters

Fave Special: Triple Inkstrike

Neo 3: A chaotic child, will occasionally eat stuff off the floor.

Weapon preferences: tri-stringer, blasters if shes feeling spicy

Fave Special: Super Chump

Some Honorable Mentions:

3 has a major sweet tooth and she won’t apologize for it. (shes awful with spicy food tho gchfxgfz)

Neo really likes bread.

8 will eat the most criminally offensive spicy food without a reaction.

3 likes to sleep in her squidform, it’s kinda weird to others. It’s honestly more worrying if she doesn’t shift forms. (hc that people usually only do that when theyre really sick…..and then theres 3)

4 listens to her music too loud.

3 and 4 bicker all the time, but it rarely gets to a point where they’re actually upset. They especially fight about how to lead on missions (this is moot bc 3 is the captain lol) because 3 prefers the “slow and steady” approach and 4 prefers to play “fast and loose”, if that makes sense. (8s just here for the ride)

The squid sisters like to say that 3 and 4 are twins and they both hate it.

3 is a runaway, Neo is an orphan. Different circumstances, same outcome. They relate to each other a lot and I think thats awesome (and sad).

Neo (and 8) will occasionally say some out of pocket shit without realizing just how messed up it really is: “what? you’ve never had to eat out of the trash before?”

3 is very emotionally numb and has a hard time expressing any care towards others, so she ends up showing it through favors/giving advice/“are you ok?”s. She’ll tell you to put on a jacket when it’s 70 degrees out lol. (this is also why she’s a mess around 8, those are feelings she has no idea how to deal with)

3 is terrified of being sick (like bedridden sick, haha sanitization go brr) and will inwardly panic the whole time.

3 has the worst alcohol tolerance behind Marie and 4. (Callie will drink 12 shots of vodka without flinching)

Octolings have a very different view on relationships than inklings do; inklings will date/marry out of love while octolings will treat it more as a transaction (not saying they can’t, love just isn’t a priority). 8 as had and infatuation for 3 for years but doesn’t act on it because she wasn’t sure if she really felt the way she did. She knows inklings hold more weight to relationships and didn’t want to risk hurting 3 if she was wrong. (the events of side order really helped her figure it out)

After the events of Splatoon 2, 4 took a back seat on being an agent. Less frontlines and more research focused. (like Marie lol) She hated this at first, but grew to like it.

3s alter ego is DJ Sango, she uses her rapping/singing to vent. 4 and 8 play dumb and pretend they don’t know about her account. (They both listen to her music tho 😶)

8 is extremely calm, you’d have to be trying to piss her off.

Inklings are like mood rings, there tentacles will change color depending on their mood (think like streaks or spots of other colors) The more intense the emotion, the deeper the color.

8 and 3 both have to clean/replace their weapon filters more often than most but for different reasons: for eight its bc shes an octoling (their ink is more abrasive) while 3 has thicker ink than normal as the last remnant of being partially sanitized.

3 isn’t actually as stinky as the squid sisters will have you believe. She one time came back from a mission smelling particularly RANKED that day, and they’ve never let her live it down.

There’s probably more but I can’t think of any rn

k bye <3

[cloverzbandit]

Post Side Order. Four isn’t… quite there yet…

Without effects

[eikaprime]

Pe4rlina

You've already seen C4llie and M4rie, but do you know who else we should ship Agent 4 with? Marina and Pearl, of Off The Hook. Yes, both of them. Yes, at the same time. This is the third of six planned chapters of a fic on AO3 (Chapter one found HERE), and I don't know what *you'll* think of it, but *I* think it's cute.

Pe4rlina

"You have nothing to worry about," Marie says. "Don't give me that look. I know what expression you're making, even over the phone. You really have nothing to worry about."

"But it's Pearl," Rain says. "As in, Houzuki. As in, Off The Hook. As in—"

"A loudmouthed hyperactive gremlin, as Marina would put it, who trusts my recommendation."

Rain's ears lower. "You recommended me? I've only had the shop for a couple months."

"The arrangements you did for Callie's birthday were gorgeous," Marie says. "Better quality than a lot of profreshional florists, and Pearl likes supporting small businesses. Now just drive up to the side entrance, say you're there to interview for the landscaping position, and don't let her intimidate you."

Easy for Marie to say. Rain didn't believe it at first, but Marie's at home in front of crowds and signs autographs in line at the grocery store. She may not be in the same league as Off The Hook, but she's in a neighboring one. "But—"

Marie hangs up on her. Rain wants to call back, to keep panicking, but there's no time. The turn for the Houzuki Mansion is just up ahead.

Like Marie told her, there's a side entrance with a small gate and a guard station. Rain rolls down the window. Her van, bought from a junkyard and fixed with spare parts, rattles to a stop; she has to figure out what's doing that later. "Weatherclear Florists and Landscaping, here to meet with Pearl Houzuki about—"

"You're expected," interrupts the shrimp. He opens the gate. "Follow the path on the right for a hundred feet, until you see the wall of hedges; you'll meet her at the table there."

Rain gulps, but drives on, barely going five miles an hour. The wall of hedges turns out to be the wall of a hedge maze, and there's a place to park right by the entrance. Rain's engine dies with a grinding whirr when she turns it off. She'll be able to get home, but she'd better spend some money on real parts soon. 

Like the guard said, there's a table nearby, a nice patio table with an umbrella that pokes over the top of the hedges. Rain carefully does not confirm if it's edged in real gold. But there are some decorative hedges nearby, and after waiting a few minutes, she can't help but go over for a closer look.

Whoever pruned these had no idea what they were doing. Rain wrinkles her nose. That one looks like a seahorse, carved by someone who'd never seen a seahorse before. It's recognizable—barely. But...

Rain leaves her laptop on the table and retreats to her van for the hedge trimmers and gets to work. Whoever did this was lazy, too, and didn't properly support anything; she gets some wires. It takes a little, wrapping supporting wires around the fragile parts, snipping carefully at the overgrown bits, detailing the tail's curl, but she—

"Shell yeah, you just jumped right in!"

Rain jumps a foot and snips off the whole tail. OH COD.

"My bad." Rain almost stabs Pearl with the hedge trimmers when she bumps Rain's elbow. Pearl doesn't even notice. "Squit, I didn't think anyone could save these hedges. Marie said you were the best landscaper she'd seen, but I wasn't expecting miracles!"

"I cut off the tail," Rain says, her ears drooping. She tucks one of her long tentacles behind her ear. "I—I'm sorry, I wasn't told to work on it and it'll take weeks to fix—"

"You kidding? It looks fresh as shell, and you said you can fix it!" Pearl grabs Rain by both arms and moves her aside, and Rain gets a view of the top of Pearl's head, a view she never gets watching them below the stage during splatfests. It's cute. "Come on, let's go to the table and thrash out all the stupid business stuff. Rina's running behind."

Pearl releases her, and Rain takes a deep breath and sits at the table. She does pretty well, keeping her head. There's going to be a party—a massive shindig, Pearl says, for her grandparent's sixtieth clammiversary. "It's not for a couple months yet," Pearl says, "but they love this place. I guess when they were dating they'd come down to the hedge maze all the time and escape their parents by wandering around in it. Guess they got so lost they spent the night a couple times." She throws her head back and laughs, loud and long, and Rain can't help but grin at her. "Might be why my parents declared it off limits!"

Even from here, Rain can see it's overgrown. "So you want me to trim everything back into shape?" Depending on the size of the maze, that could take an easy month or two, and she'd have to come back for touch-ups just before the party. It's good she has so much time.

"Nah, I want as much of the party in there as possible! I'm talking buffet tables set up in any open spaces and lawn games for the kiddos in the dead ends." Pearl kicks her feet up on the table and leans back. "No one's been in there for about twenty years, not even Rina's touched it, so I want you to map it, then tell me if we need any new hedges or moved hedges or shit for that sorta stuff."

Holy squit. This is the sort of job that could have her set for life, balloon her reputation until she can hire employees and have a wait list for clients. And it means she gets to use graph paper. Time to start the price negotiations. "I can absolutely do that for you! The price would be—"

"Done," Pearl says. she hands Rain a blank check and Rain stares at it because maybe Pearl is stupid, to do this. "Write down what you want, plus expenses."

Rain swallows hard. She wants to take it so bad it hurts, but she wrote down her plan and she's gonna stick to it. "I'd prefer to work on a weekly basis, with similar payment, in case at some point either of us decide to end the relationship. Those weekly meetings would also ensure I can keep you up to date on progress or unexpected developments, and you can let me know anything you want fixed or altered."

"Every other Monday, and we'll start at two hundred for expenses," Pearl counters. That's fair, and Rain shakes on it.

~~~~~

The first thing Rain does is buys two new tape measures, a hundred tall gardening stakes, index cards, waterproof sleeves for the index cards, permanent markers, a mallet, a more secure lightweight ladder, and a special notebook just for this project (she loves new notebooks). Then she starts her measurements. It hurts her to ignore the overgrown branches but she can trim it all down once she knows the height she's going for. Then she walks around the edges of the hedge maze, driving in a stake every twenty feet, until she knows the size.

One poster sheet of graph paper should do it, prefolded so she can work easily. She'll have to come back with that tomorrow; it's getting late. Rain shoves her equipment in the back of her van, straps the ladder securely to the side, and turns it on.

The engine rumbles, coughs, and doesn't start.

Rain swears, smacks the horn once (it beeps a satisfying six notes of Nasty Majesty), and pops the hood. Five minutes later, she's got grease marks all over her hands and good gardening clothes—least it'll blend in with the dirt streaks—and she's tying the engine back together with garden twine.

"Oh!" says someone behind her, and Rain jumps and bangs her head on the hood. Swears she hasn't used since discovering octosnipers leave her in a stream, and she backs up to turn around properly and ah, carp, she's swearing in front of Marina. "Sorry," Rain says. "Sorry! Oh, geeze, am I late? I know Pearl's and mine agreement said I had to be out of here by eight o'clock and—"

She's interrupted by a giggle. Marina covers her mouth with one hand, her tentacles writhing. "No, no, you're okay! I heard the horn and wanted to see what was happening. Car trouble?"

"I've got it handled," Rain says, but Marina's crowding up next to her and one of her tentacles brushes Rain's arm and that does it. She blushes, her ears going straight up.

Marina doesn't seem to notice, thank cod. "You've done pretty good work, but that twine's a hazard," she says. "You need some wire at least, if not a completely new engine."

Rain swallows hard as Marina's tentacles wiggle. So, here's what she didn't tell Marie, when Marie was talking her through getting this job: Rain has the biggest celebrity crush on Off The Hook. Both of them. But she's here as a landscaper, as... is the correct term client or contractor or, whatever. Either way she has to be profreshional.

"It'll hold for a couple days," she says. "I'll be able to buy parts once I get my next check from this job."

Marina nods, reaching in with hands and tentacles to shift some of the car's innards. "I haven't gotten to work on a car before," she murmurs. "All of Pearl's are new, and I had my bike, and we were so busy..."

Rain takes a deep breath and moves closer to Marina, shoulders brushing as she leans close and refuses to ink out over who's touching her. "A lot of this is jury-rigged, and I've gotta make some major improvements to pass the next inspection," she says, touching the patches on the oil tank and the mess of wires. "But I did it all myself."

"It's beautiful," Marina whispers. "Would—would you mind if I worked on it? Like, it'd be a learning experience for me, so I'd buy all the parts and you could keep them, but I just wanna get head and shoulders into an engine."

Rain's ears twitch. Marina made the shifty stations. More, Marina's a domes defector, who made the flooders and helped with the Great Octobosses. She can handle a car. Still... "Can we work on it together?" Rain runs her fingers over the engine and reaches for the twine again. "I wanna know what working with new parts feels like." Shoulder to shoulder with Marina, oh cod, she cannot ink out over this.

"Come again tomorrow, if you're finished by five we can eat together and then work on it," Marina says. Rain's ears shoot so high they almost bounce off her head. 

"That would be great," Rain says, and cod, she sounds like a fangirl. One more tie, and that should do it. She steps back, and Marina steps back, too. "I'll make sure to bring my supper."

"Nah, I can take care of it, you're doing me a favor." Marina closes the hood, and stands by as Rain gets the engine. It coughs and sputters, but starts. "See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah," Rain says as she drives off. "See you."

~~~~~

Putting garden stakes with laminated index cards at every intersection takes most of the day, and Rain sketches the last of it on graph paper. Mapping's all done, accurate to... she'd like to say completely, but realistically, she messed up somewhere, so she'll say things could be off by three feet. She's gonna need some outside assistance: there are five large clearings, one of them big enough for a couple buffet tables and a few places to sit and eat (gotta remember this is for Pearl's grandparents) and the smaller ones big enough for two or three tables each. Or a pinata or something.

But Rain's no caterer, so Pearl's gonna have to hire people for that. And to fix those absolutely gorgeous but broken fountains, and they need to discuss the sort of benches she wants to replace those old ones with, and...

Squit, it's already after five!

Rain rushes to the front of the maze. She makes the last turn and sees Pearl peering in. "Hey, Rina! Told you she lost track of the time."

Rain's whole face burns. Hopefully it's a sunburn, but she ducks her head anyway, ears twitching back.  "Sorry," she says.

"Rina does the same thing," Pearl holds out a fist, and Rain bumps it. She can't resist doing the explodey part after, making Pearl chuckle. "You won't believe how often I've gotta drag her to bed, she gets stuck in recording or working on that bike of hers..."

"Pearlie!" Marina rushes over to cover Pearl's mouth with her hands; Pearl still manages to smirk. "Ignore her. Come sit at the table, I packed us a picnic!"

Rain looks at her dirt-streaked hands and shrugs. but when she sits at the table, Marina passes her a wipe, and Rain flashes her ink to pink so she can clean her hands. Marina unpacks the picnic basket: a good dozen or more sandwiches, a container full of still-steaming fries, a few big bags of chips, pasta salad, regular salad...

Marina notices Rain staring and blushes. "I may have gone a little overboard," she mumbles, her tentacles writhing, two creeping up to cover her face.

Pearl grabs one tentacle, wraps it around her hand, and squeezes it, palm to sucker. "Chill, it's sweet," Pearl says. "We'll eat leftovers at the studio tomorrow, and Rain can take some home."

Rain realizes she's staring, and grabs for the nearest sandwich. "Um, thank you for supper, but you can keep the leftovers. I won't need them." She bites into it and almost spits it out. Who the carp makes tuna salad with ketchup?

Pearl snorts. "Nope, I insist," she says. "Couple sandwiches, some pasta salad—I made that—and a bag of chips, minimum." She releases Marina's tentacle and sits next to Rain, knocking her paper plate (and sandwich) on the ground. "Woops! Guess you can't finish that one."

"I think I'd like some pasta salad, anyway," Rain says. 

~~~~~

"Nice work," Pearl says, and Rain almost falls off the ladder. A hand on her ankle steadies her. "Yeesh, careful. I thought you heard me come up."

"I was getting into it," Rain says. She walks down the ladder backwards, pausing at the bottom to wipe her forehead. "Shaping isn't hard, but there's a lot of them to do."

"I'll say." Pearl looks at the neat rows of hedges stretching all on one side and down half the other, where it turns into a snarled mess of haphazard branches.  "Wanna show me those fountains? I need pictures and an idea of the problem if I'm gonna get some repair people out here."

Rain smiles down at her. "One fountain, coming right up. I can leave direction signs for all of them, too, so they don't have to get lost dealing with it."

"Nah," Pearl has to trot to keep up, and Rain slows her pace. "I kinda like the thought of some repair dudes stuck out here overnight. Give them the chance to rethink those candid pics they always take of me and Rina."

Rain sucks in a breath. "Want to check my phone? I haven't taken any, but—"

"Nah, dude, you're good," Pearl pats Rain's arm as they enter the big clearing. "I trust you... damn that's a big fountain."

A jumping shark with spouts by its three fins; over it, held up by smaller 'splashes' of stone water, three fish try to escape, their open mouths more spouts. "This is the biggest," Rain says. "I figure the caterers would want to set up here."

"So what's wrong with it?"

Rain shrugs, getting on her knees by the fountain's brim. "To start with, it's filthy. Only water in it now's rainwater, not proper ink or something," she says. "You can't see the drain under all the leaves and muck, and..."

Rain loses her train of thought when Pearl touches one of her ears, and it flicks reflexively. "Neat," Pearl says. "I noticed yours moving a lot, more than mine or Rina's; it's cool to watch."

Rain's whole head grows hot. Cod. "I, uh, it, uh, I mean..." she knows learning to manage your ears is a normal part of growing up, just like being quiet in class, but Rain's never gotten the hang of it.

Pearl chuckles. "You're cute when you're all flustered," she says, touching Rain's other ear, and, okay, this is, it's, uh.

Rain pushes herself backwards, onto her feet and out of Pearl's range. "A-anyway there may be something, with, uh, pumps and solar or power or pistons or, uh, yeah," she babbles. Pearl called her cute PEARL CALLED HER CUTE no no no she's a profreshional business squid. Oh cod, what are her ears doing? She can't cover her burning cheeks and her twitching ears at the same time!

Pearl smiles at her, a smile Rain's never seen on stage, and Rain's hearts pound. "Sensitive," she says. "I'll remember that. Anyway, if you can clear a drain, I'll take pictures and get Rina to try to find the power source. Who knows, maybe she can fix it." She smiles again, and it's the same smile she gave Rain, but softer. "Cod, Rina's amazing."

~~~~~

"Pass me the wrench?"

"Don't you have to line up those—"

"They are lined up!"

"No, they're a little off," Marina says. "Here," she leans over Rain, her chest pressed to Rain's back, and Rain's brain stutters. Marina pushes the wrench into Rain's left hand, then wraps one of her hands around where two pipes connect, moving the whole thing the slightest bit sideways; she wraps the other around Rain's spare hand, holding her—and the new oil tank—in place. "Okay, now you can tighten that bolt."

Rain tries to breathe, but everything is oil and Marina, and she's getting light headed. She fumbles to get the wrench on the bolt, and it's pure muscle memory that gets the job done; all Rain can think about is the way Marina's pressed against her, her legs on either side of Rain's, her tentacles lazily curling around Rain's shoulders.

Then she steps back, and Rain can gasp in one deep breath. "I think that should do it!" Rain straightens and turns to see Marina stretching, her arms interlaced overhead, and she presses up enough that her shirt lifts and shows her stomach which should not be so enticing after watching all those splatfests but it is. "Ready to add the oil and see if it works?"

Rain swallows hard. Marina looks at her, one eyebrow raised and tentacle curled in a question. "Sorry," Rain lies, "I'm just nervous."

"We've been working really hard on this," Rina says. "I love seeing you so focused, you get the sweetest expression on your face. I promise, this is gonna work."

Rain's still stuck on the compliment as she nods. Marina lifts the oil can, pouring it in, then puts a hand on Rain's back, ushering her to the driver's door. Rain swallows hard and turns it on.

The engine starts with a purr, no coughs or stutters at all, and  a smile covers Rain's face. She closes her eyes to listen better. It really works.

"You did it!" Marina cries, clapping her hands.

"We did it," Rain corrects her. She turns the car off and gets out. "All it needs now is a fresh coat of paint, and it's just like new."

"I can't wait to see it," Marina says.

Rain can't wait to do it, but with all the work she's got, that won't be for a while. "Would you," she swallows, because no, this is taking it too far. "Never mind."

"No, tell me," Marina says. She grabs Rain's hands in her own and looks down at her.

Rain looks up, into those beautiful eyes. "When it's finished, can I take you for a ride? It's, uh, I don't know where we'd go, and it's kinda stupid just to sit in a car to go around in a circle or something, but—”

Marina stops her with a finger to her lips. "I'd love to," she says.

Rain floats through the rest of the day.

~~~~~

With the party a week away, Rain doesn't dare ask for time off. She gets up bright and early and goes in before she's supposed to, instead. She checks every corner of the maze, stopping frequently for last-minute trims of the hedges, and sets up tiny tables and old-fashioned torch holders for the day of; the bouquets will be set out that morning, and the party's supposed to last into the night. The materials for the flower arch arrived yesterday, and are being kept fresh until the night before; she'll have to stay up late to handle that...

There's so much going on in Rain's head that when she reaches the center, with the large shark fountain, it takes her several seconds to register that there are balloons, and streamers, and a table with a cake, and Marina and Pearl grinning at her behind the table. She drops her sheers. “Oh cod, did I screw up? Is the party today?!”

"Chill," Pearl says, hopping from her seat.  She strolls over, casual and confident as their first meeting. "Ya didn't miss anything."

"A little jelly told us it wasyour birthday today," Marina says. "And you were planning to work through it. So happy birthday!"

Rain stands there, mouth opening and closing, lost for words. She hadn't told the NSS; with Eight's recent arrival, it seemed self-centered, to want to celebrate a birthday. And she doesn't know that many people in Inkopolis.

There's a lump in her throat, and Rain swallows it away, puts her hands over her twitching ears. "Thank you," she whispers.

Pearl grabs her hand and drags her to the table, where she's pushed into the third seat and sung over and has to make a wish; this close, she can count all twenty candles. When there are large slices of orange cake in front of each of them, Pearl says, "Rina and I wanna ask ya a couple things."

Rain sets her fork down (the cake is delicious) and turns her full attention on Pearl.

"First, and I want ya to know this offer stands n matter what ya say to the second part, I'd like to hire you as a landscaper for Houzuki house year-round," Pearl says. "We can cut it back after the party; the lawns already have maintenance people, but one week a month, if you'd deal with the hedges and shit..."

Good reliable pay for a job she can handle. Enough that she can build her business and not worry about bills. "Absolutely," Rain promises.

"Right, that's settled. Second question." She drums her fingers on the table, head tilted and smiling at Rain. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Rains jaw drops. Her ears start doing something. Did she hear that right?

Pearl bursts out laughing. "Your ears omicod I love that so much."

Rain's dream just turned into a nightmare. "Marina is right there," she says, pointing at the Octoling. "I ain't breakin you two up! What do you take me for? Shell, Pearl, what's wrong with you?"

"Actually," Marina says, "I'd like to take you on a date, too."

Any thoughts remaining in Rain's head melt into a puddle in the bottom of her brain.

"Me and Pearl have talked about it before," Marina says. "Having a romantic relationship between any number of people requires a lot of trust and conversation, but adding a third person doesn't seem like it'd be harder than two. Just gotta watch for jealousy issues." She narrows her eyes at Pearl. "And we can handle those when they come up."

"Hey, I want this too, I ain't gonna get jealous—"

"Pearl, do you know yourself?"

Rain sputters a laugh. That jogs her out of it She's had the biggest crush on them both for forever, but this... "Can I think about it for a couple days?" She cuts a bite of cake with her fork.  "I really wasn't expecting... well, anything."

"Course."

"Of course!"

The two members of Off The Hook smile at each other, then turn back to Rain. "Nothing has to change," Marina says. "We can be friends, and celebrate birthdays, and work on your car together."

"But bringing in a little romance could be awesome!"" Pearl flings up her hand, icing flying off her fork and into the statue's ink pool. "Take a risk, and we may all get something awesome out of it."

~~~~~

Once the flower arches are installed at the maze's entrance and exit, and the vases full of flowers placed on tables at every dead end, and the banners hung between the poles, Rain gets to attend the rest of the party as a guest. Pearl introduces her as 'The miracle worker who got the maze back in shape... and my friend!' and  that was all it took for the rest of the Houzuki clan to accept her.

But she doesn't know any of them, and there's only so long she can make awkward small talk. Rain accepts the congratulations and hug from Pearl's grandparents, who want to walk around the whole maze reminiscing (she suspects if they do the whole maze they may need those wheelchairs later) and heads for the furthest corner of the maze, the only one without any decorations because someone would have to be really, really lost to end up there. It'll be a nice spot for Rain to catch her breath.

But when she reaches it, she finds Off The Hook making out. Rain... really wants to join in. She really, really does.

Marina catches sight of her and taps Pearl on the shoulder. The two break apart and turn to face her, and Pearl's expression morphs to a softer, smiling one when she sees Rain. "Yeah?"

"If I say yes," Rain says, "to, well, to both of you, do I have to be famous? I don't really like that squit much..."

The two glance at each other. "I ain't gonna lie and say Rina's my one and only if I've got you, too," Pearl says.

"But we can discuss things like, say, not showing up with us in public, or not calling you by name on stage, and such," Rina says.

Pearl sighs. "Yeah, guess I can avoid devoting concerts to you and shit. By name, anyway."

Rain's not sure what her ears are doing, but she knows they're moving, sideways and up and oh shell what the shell why not. She takes a step forward, pulls Pearl in by the collar of her shirt, and kisses her. Pearl kisses back, and Rain closes her eyes and enjoys it, the plankton in her stomach and all. Pearl is... this may still be a dream.

They're both panting when they break apart, and Rain glances at Marina, who has her hands clasped in front of her face, bouncing on her toes and grinning. "Damn," Pearl says, still out of breath. "She kisses better than you."

"Really?" Marina asks.

Rain's ears twitch back. "Of course not!"

"Yeah," Pearl says, stepping away from Rain. She grins at Marina. “You should try it.”

Marina steps forward, reaching for Rain with hands and tentacles, then hesitates. “May I?”

Rain's face burns again, and she nods. Why is Marina so intimidating?

But, as Marina draws her close, hands cradling Rain's cheeks to tilt her head up and tentacles holding her shoulders, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to close her eyes and let Marina lead, to press into the kiss Marina has her in and just enjoy it.

Rain pulls away first this time. Marina grins at her. “Yeah, you're better than Pearl, too.”

Rain laughs. She doesn't know why. She can't help herself. She giggles so long and hard she has to sit, right there, on the ground, and Marina and Pearl sit with her, even though they don't know why it's funny. She doesn't either.

But if any day deserves joyful hysterics, it's this one.

[theosphobia]

IVE GONE CRAZY

Posted my first fic 2 ao3 ....

how do u ppl do rhe link preview

[ask-the-sagents]

so why did 4... do what she did?

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Askbox is open

[mctwilight-mcd]

WE'RE A DAY LATE BUT HAVE THE PRESENT LESBIANS

[itsmoonchik]

Robbie Reyes as textposts

[desired-misery]

Leon "leave me alone when I'm sick/injured" Kennedy | Whumptober WIP, Ingrid's POV

[Condor = Leon Hawk = another agent]

...

When the agent who is arriving to take Condor’s place almost gets shot, Ingrid still does not worry that much. She assumes it is Condor being Condor; a solo agent, not used to having friendly support while deployed, getting startled while not completely sober. The agent is Hawk, one of Francine’s main operatives. Ingrid does not know Hawk that well, and clearly this is the first time she and Condor have met.

“Who the fuck’re you?” Condor asks. His word choice says he is irritated, but he cannot muster up the right tone.

“Condor, this is the replacement agent for this mission. Please don’t shoot Hawk,” Ingrid says, making sure to stay extra patient for all of them. She has no reference for how Hawk feels about being pulled for an unplanned mission (while she knows exactly how Condor feels about it). 

“Hey, I brought more meds. I’m here to save you, be nice,” Hawk says, not offended at all. 

“Don’t need saving,” Condor grumbles. Ingrid restrains herself from either laughing or correcting him. Hawk does both for her.

“Isn’t that massive blood stain outside yours?” Hawk asks. “I’m impressed you’re still conscious.”

“Piss off.”

“Sure thing, bud.” Hawk replies, patronizing. It is not undeserved, but Condor still growls.

...

An hour into the conversation, Hawk dutifully goes to check on Condor. She startles Condor all over again— and Ingrid has to again remind Condor that yes, Hawk is supposed to be there, she’s an ally.

Condor sounds more confused, definitely groggy. He must have been asleep. Hawk sarcastically tells Condor that he needs more beauty rest (is sarcasm a solo operative thing, too?), and closes the door again.

“What’s goin’ on?” Condor asks, words slurred. He grunts, then groans in pain.

“Lay back down, Condor,” Ingrid says, feeling more like she is dealing with a grumpy old man and not a highly accomplished agent. “Hawk’s going to do the mission while you’re injured.”

“‘M fine,” Condor says as if he has any leg to stand on in this situation. Figuratively and literally. 

“No, you absolutely are not. This is the second time we’ve had this same conversation about Hawk.”

Condor grumbles, but quiets down.

...

As the two men get into a more serious argument over why Webster is trying to find the upper limit of how long Condor can wait, Hawk swearing brings Ingrid’s attention back to her.

“Dude, you’re heavy. Help a little?”

Condor almost sounds like he is close to saying something.

“Fuck, really?” This is the most annoyed Hawk has sounded yet.

Condor’s answering croak sounds pretty close to ‘sorry’.

“It’s okay, bud. Not your fault.”

“Head hurts.” Condor’s response is barely understandable, but that is a good sign that he is capable of being somewhat alert. 

“Yeah, it’s your head that’s bothering you.” Hawk’s sarcasm is surely too dry for Condor at this point in time. “What about your leg?”

“Head hurts more.”

“Uh-huh.” Hawk does not sound impressed. “Can you help me help you get to the car? We’re springing this joint.”

Condor does not respond verbally. Ingrid listens to Hawk get positioned to haul Condor to his feet. Both agents grunt, Condor’s more of a low sound of pain. 

“Oh good, you can stand. That’s better than I was expecting.”

Condor grumbles. “... can walk…”

Typical Condor stubbornness. It would be funny if it wasn’t so predictable.

“Sure, bud. Let me help so you don’t knock yourself out.” At least Hawk sounds amused.

...