#fiskesprett

[neoimpetu]

💌📩 for reina!

LOADING… IMPROVED COMMUNICATIONS

💌 for a heartfelt text the receiver sent to the sender

[ r:s reina ] thanks for today and sorry for keeping you up this late

[ r:s reina ] i know i'm not the easiest one to work with, so i appreciate your patience

[r:s reina ] rest well

📩 for a drunk text the receiver found in their drafts that they haven’t sent to the sender

[ r:s reina ] ichanged my mind i hte itt please use the othre skin!!!!

[moonsnitch]

give her the guillotine. give her the ego death. give her the martyr blood. give her the holy choir. a round of laughter fires off from the other side of the room and haerin wonders just how much her rating would tumble if she was to scream. a party thrown in gyuok’s name, and here she is, front and centre, on jaehyun’s arm as if they weren’t at each other’s throats a moment ago.

a misplaced smile here and there, fleeting as a bird in flight, she just about plays the role. takes the picture. clinks the glass. you should smile, she hears her father’s voice, look grateful to be alive, in the glory of– 

but haerin has never been good at faking it.

‘give me one sec.’ haerin excuses herself quietly, squeezing jaehyun’s hand lightly as she moves away. finding the nearest toilet as refuge feels like defeat but a moment alone is warranted. there her breaths are stilted. she takes a few deep ones that press her feet into the tile beneath her, swigs her champagne and lets the haze settle in. a sigh falls from her lips. she hasn’t a clue what happened to gyuok, hasn’t really slept since the broadcast had graced the panel’s screen. but one thing is for certain. she chews her lips as she fixes her hair in the mirror, tendrils slipping through her manicured fingers.

terrascape is fucking lying.

she leaves the bathroom, is quickly swallowed by the throng of partygoers. the music, temporarily muted by the bathroom walls rushes back towards her like an angry tide. ‘my love,’ she says, pulling him away from a group of people. she musters a smile for him because at the end of it all, he is her happy place. and although sometimes it’s as if she is seeing less of him and more consequence of their virtual endeavour, it is no mistake that the man with the golden smile is hers, as she is his. she can do this much. 

‘i’ll head off first but you should stay, yeah? axel probably misses me and i should probably relieve his sitter.’

i don't know you w/ @fiskesprett

[indolamine]

l'inconnue, with @fiskesprett

tw: little mention of body issues

he’s sorely visible from her balcony view. an island of a person, astray among the languid bodies floating effortlessly around him, unrelenting and indifferent to his searching eyes. she watches him look out towards the pool when the guy next to him walks out apparently mid conversation, but he probably wouldn’t be able to notice the floral mosaic of the tiles warping beneath the water surface like she can from her angle. it amuses her how he makes the contrast between the muted terracotta and the shimmering cyan look starker than the golden wash of an afternoon sun could.

jiyeon takes a long drag of her cigarette before putting it out halfway through on a heavily used ashtray sat precariously on the marble railing of the balcony, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she walks back into the room. her friend stirs on the bed when she opens the top drawer of the dresser, so she makes a quick, quiet job of fishing out the pack of cigarettes. when she catches her reflection in the mirror, she looks for a few seconds too long. she turns and rests her weight on a single foot, angling her head to watch how her hair drapes over her shoulders, then dragging her eyes across the curve of her body and readjusting the strap of her bikini over her ribs. whenever she thinks she’s satisfied, she has to keep searching. her fingers ghost over the flat of her stomach for just a moment, as though feeling for something she can’t see, until they pause. she takes a new cigarette and leaves.

the swelling synth of a house base greets her downstairs, some guys dancing on one another in the living room seem fun, but she heads towards the pool anyway. maybe daytime parties are no longer her speed, either they’re getting old for her or it’s the other way around. it should be a depressing thought, but she feels vaguely profound as it crosses her mind – a moment of sobriety so refreshing it's cool to the touch. even a sign of maturity, if she's hopeful.

he’s still there, sticking out even more when she can see the dejected boredom from up close. jiyeon is armed with microscope and scalp to investigate an anomaly, but she can still feel sympathy. she holds the cigarette out between her fingers in a gesture when she approaches. “got a light?”

[psychdeath]

where shall we begin? story has it that wontaek isn’t a curious man. for years he did not mind the limitations of man, a concept that lay buried in the deep recesses of his mind. his childhood painted a picture of the banal; who knew there could be violence in ubiquity? the same breakfast, lunch and dinner to promise nutrition. the same uniforms to ward off envy. the same routines to foster discipline. he’s eight years old when a man in a grey pinstripe suit and a mahogany cane visits the orphanage and changes his life forever. 

though, it didn’t take very long for wontaek’s father, a inky smudge on the bucolic horizon, to spread his blight. a miserable man, concerned with the fleeting numbers of his rating. wontaek tries to think very little of him but it is becoming increasingly difficult as of late. that morning he had watched the man, age having pulled his features downwards, slide between panic and paranoia as he waved around an outdated will. one that did not name wontaek as heir. and as he and his grandfather sat as audience to the man’s tirade, he couldn’t help but ponder upon quandaries such as blood and water. 

another name, stark in century type, had stood out in both editions of the will. a high flying woman who’s wings may have melted for she may have flown too close to the sun, so much so that the only trace of information he could get on her was that she has a daughter. and so what? story has it that wontaek isn’t a curious man, right?

certain of his grandfather’s penchant for philanthropy but more so of his father’s need to create a life only to abandon it, wontaek thinks that perhaps his father had made another mistake, another blunder that he tried very well to sweep under a rug. one that his grandfather had tried to put the pieces back together somehow. and if his suspicions are right then he could be that same life changing force for a certain maruyama reina that his grandfather was. which is why he waits outside the glass doors of re:skin, a lit cigarette perched between the plush of his lips. 

he stands straight, his leather briefcase stationed by the tip of his italian shoes. the suit he’s donned for the occasion seems a little on the nose but it made sense at the time. moments go by as he watches people leave the building until… he’s sure… ‘maruyama reina?’ he calls out, his hand jutting out to a woman he’s sure he has spent the last few hours poring over her online presence, trying to figure out if they possibly share a father. ‘i’m sorry to bother you but do you mind if i ask you a few questions?’

hereditary w/ @fiskesprett

[serialeclipse]

the majors are one of terra's biggest events each year, with the popularity of e-sports in their digital age. it's just that the start of the season is when everyone's focused on talking instead of gameplay, and domi's busy dodging the former because she put her terra-registered name and face to the fighter and doesn't want the heat that might come with a misplaced answer.

the professional roster's changing these days, anyway, and the iron fist player would rather spend her time keeping an eye on the new crop of players that'll inevitably be taking over from her someday, the way she did her predecessors. though she definitely has more than a few years to go before that happens, if her physical body holds up. shadow's seeded for the majors this year, like she was last year, and domi's feeling pretty good about this one too.

a new round is starting, the names of the fighters being announced over the speakers, and a corresponding roar of support for each. domi grins, making her way to her favourite spot, where the screen's just big enough to hide her little avatar in comparison. it's more exciting, watching the games than playing it. or maybe it feels that way because domi'd started her approach to iron fist all wrong, and it's easier dying in a game when you aren't ( supposedly ) doing the same thing somewhere else.

there's already someone there. he doesn't seem to be watching the round, though domi just might not be seeing his face, darkened by the shimmering graphics as the fight plays out. she recognises the other guy from one of the earlier rounds; a newly signed player, but he'd been wiped out pretty fast. it's funny, because she recognises his playstyle, too—it just isn't working for his fighter like it does for domi.

"hey!" she taps the guy from behind, joining him on the steps. "this was your first tournament, right? bummer about how your round went, sorry." domi glances up at the screen, watching a green blur take down one of the older iron fist players, someone who'd been in her batch when she first signed on. "i'm domi, by the way. shadow, but we'll be coworkers, kind of, so domi's good!"

ft. jeong domi & park jaehyun, @fiskesprett / one year prior

[serialeclipse]

@fiskesprett / reina

for what it’s worth, jeong domi is far from the worst celebrity reina’s had to deal with. the iron fist gamer is respected in her field, yet lacks the usual condescension to accompany her longstanding fame. but reina is far from the sort of person to be bossed around by some nepotistic stylist working at a superficial company like re:skin. in saying so, reina descends from a remarkable woman and likewise, inherits her cross to bear. so she does as she is told, steps aside and raises an ushering hand. she utters a painfully compliant, “please come in,” through softly gritted teeth. in the living room, there is a framed image of reina and her parents from back when they once deemed themselves a family. reina steps in front of it as she guides domi to the couch. “thank you for agreeing to meet me at my home. if you could wait here, i’ll bring your mod out for your final fitting,” the instruction is recited in a robotic tone that is absent of inflection, “can i offer you a drink while you wait?”

being famous is a strange kind of experience. it gets domi through places almost as fast as a port, sometimes, and other days domi's painfully aware of all the things her fame is too big to get through, like her reputation balloons out and blocks her from slipping through the cracks to where she needs to be.

specifically, trying to find even a question to her current problem seems impossible as jeong domi, iron fist’s shadow. there are suggestions hidden around, though, and domi has just enough connections to pick up on someone who might be able to help her out. but first, she needs to be someone else for a short moment, so she can get there, wherever that might be.

which is why the iron fist gamer's commissioned her first personal mod, taking a page out of seojun’s book. the designer is someone who’d come recommended and eager for reasons that she supposes could be taken as insulting, but domi doesn’t mind her new stylist’s excitement to give her a makeover. she's trying to look as different from herself as she can, and her new stylist seems to agree with her on that, at least.

the working hours, though, domi’s not sure they agree on. the stylist herself is nowhere to be found, but she’d been directed to a different location with the intern, that’s shaping up to be her own home instead of an office space.

"oh, thank you," domi agrees, following reina in. “no, it’s okay…” her gaze drifts over the furnishings, settling awkwardly with her hands on the family photos by the couch that she’s directed to. definitely not an office, she thinks, and feels pretty sheepish to be intruding in someone else’s home for a job off hours. “sorry about this,” she apologises, “this mod was meant to be more, um, lowkey, but I didn’t mean to intrude like this.” she gestures over to the family photo, “do you live with your family? i hope i'm not disturbing them.”

[missmeltycat]

Ahhh jaaam mm! 😋 🍫 #kvikklunsj #fiskesprett #kjekssjokolade #plopp #cloetta #cloettaplopp #toms #tomsguldbarre #skildpadde #chokolademedromcreme #chokolademedkaramel #overtrukketmedchokolade #nammin #nammi https://www.instagram.com/p/CKhn5JKjFS_/?igshid=3e28esaga8zg

[neoimpetu]

PANEL UPGRADES for jaehyun hehe

LOADING… PANEL UPGRADES

the receiver can create a playlist, moodboard, web weaving, or any other aesthetic that they’d like about their muse’s relationship with the sender, and terra will upload this to their fully customisable shared panel.

[neoimpetu]

to say that the recent event hasn't made seojun more paranoid would be a lie. ever since it happened, the male found himself unable to leave his house without this sick feeling of being watched, of eyes following his every move. his walk to the electronics shop wasn’t any different. every few steps he'd steal a glance over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever (or whatever?) was following him but each time, all he saw were what looked like ordinary people getting on with their lives. being part of the group came with its own set of risks, a fact he acknowledged when he made the decision to join. however, the emotions that came along with their activities– anxiety, paranoia, fear, adrenaline… were all heightened. there’s no doubt the heat on them was rising and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

as he ventures deeper into the shop, eyes scanning the aisles in search for specific items, his attention shifts when he catches sight of a widescreen display showcasing one of his friendlies against shadow and a grin immediately spreads across his face. the outcome had been in his favour back then, but shadow was a tough opponent and she could’ve easily flipped the tables more than once. unconsciously, seojun’s mind switches to analysis mode, watching every move and countermove from both avatars. reviewing his matches has always played a huge part in his improvement process, unfortunately, recent distractions have him completely neglecting this part.

“holy shit.”

barely above a whisper, but the sound reaches his ear and his head follows, turning to face the source of the noise. there stands a young man, notably shorter he has to look down to actually meet his gaze. eyes a vibrant green… his hair orange.. the exact same shade asㅡ “martian? you’re martian right?! shit, sorryㅡ that’s actually you, i knew it! holy fuck! i'm your bigg—”

the rest of the sentence completely fades into background noise, the man could only stare, struggling to make sense of the situation. he hadn’t been wrong, he’d sensed it— his suspicions were once again confirmed, it just wasn’t for the reason he had anticipated. is this some kind of glitch? a new type of virus, perhaps? or maybe someone is trying to trick him for one of those viral videos that seem to pop up every other day? seojun can't decide which is worse— "did you know most people think you're ugly? man, they're gonna be so shocked whenㅡ hey wait–!"

fight or flight, fight or flight... for his own sanity; definitely flight.

& @fiskesprett // reina!