#marina prompt

[starkholme]

"Your audition tape" Maya doesn't take her eyes off the camera screen "It was brilliant, a personal favorite of mine but I'm only gonna say this once: do not improvise when you're not asked to"

"Thank you" soon she added up "I promise it won't happen again."

"And Carina? You're doing great" this time her piercing blue eyes stared directly at the lead actress, whose heart stopped for a second after recognizing the fire and sadness merging themselves behind the wall of feelings in front her.

"Thank you, director"

"Maya, you can call me Maya"

Carina felt that a tiny part of her wanted to impress Maya, do right by the end of the production. And a massive part of her wanted to get to know Maya better, break down all the walls surrounding her.

"Thank you, Maya" she smiled as she left the room not noticing the director's mirroring her smile.

Maya Bishop is known for having a mix reputation: some loved her, some hated her, few were ambivalent about her, some believed she was a genius, some believe she was just ruthless. Working with her demanded perfection, actors who worked with her confessed the challenge made them more focused on their jobs and most of them we rewarded with either Golden Globes, Oscars, Emmys, Critics Choice, anything you could imagine. On the other hand, some claimed she made the scene way too coordinated, wanting and demanding it the way she envisioned, no space for creativity outside the script. In the end, everyone had an opinion about the director, and yet none of them knew her personal life besides her producer Andy Herrera.

Carina DeLuca was not expecting Maya Bishop to be her new director. She set it up her audition tap as soon as she could, the script itself was amazing, a drama film set in Italy with a main character who had lived years apart from her family now struggles with going back to her origin country, a story much closer to home than what she anticipated. Studio 19 needed someone — preferably Italian or fluent in Italian — to be the main lead, but Maya's name was not attached in any sort of paper, and she's been enough time in spolight to have heard rumors behind the director's workplace. Although Carina never really deemed any of them to be 100% true, she was willing to learn whatever she could took from Maya's guidance, but once things start to get hazy between her and Maya, she beings to see this movie as more than just a job.

[artsy-starfish]

Agent 24 Week Day 5: Grand Fest 🎉

look who Pearl and Marina caught at their stage — can't miss this grand of a selfie opportunity!

[annabelle--cane]

it's fascinating to me the way that different social media platforms result in different types of fandom behavior. while s5 of tma was airing, I spent a good amount of time on tma tiktok (I log back in about once every two months now, going back to in-person school after a year a half of lockdown seem to re-blanace my brain and made me once again not really enjoy the format) while still using tumblr as my main socmed, and while there was a lot of overlap in the fan culture, some things were notably different.

tumblr tma fans had near-encyclopedic knowledge of the source material, but it was kind of an ongoing joke for tiktok tma fans that everyone binged the whole show in a week-long fugue state and lost memory of about 35% of it. tumblr has virtually no character limit and allows posts to be passed around by users indefinitely, which lends itself to fairly in-depth meta analysis being made and shared until most any fan could say "the time and space discrepancies at hill top road? psh yeah, I know all about them, I've read seven scrupulously cited posts that lay out all the details." for the entire time that s5 was airing, tiktok videos could still only be a minute long, and I know from a lot of personal effort that there's only so much you can fit into a one minute script that you also have to memorize and record (and cc manually with tiktok text stickers, as they didn't add the caption feature until april 2021) if you want the process to take less than four hours of your one mortal human life. and then you only see the video if your following or fyp algorithm shows it to you. there were a few tma meta-ish videos that got popular because other people would make their own videos referencing them and tag the account so their followers could see what they were talking about, but it's much harder to circulate content you like there. several times I saw people post videos saying "I got into cosplay to film some [agnes or annabelle or gerry or another secondary character] and I just realized I have no idea what their deal actually is 💀".

a thing that tiktok tma fandom was definitely better at than tumblr tma fandom was accurately remembering certain pieces of characterization and the flow of certain scenes. I've seen a bunch of posts on here where someone is trying to argue a point with excerpts from the text ("x character is nicer than you all give them credit for" "x character is so mean to y character in this scene" "z theory can't be true because y character said a line that disproves it") where the argument only holds up because the poster has gotten these excerpts from a transcript dive and hasn't listened to the episodes they're from recently, because while the text alone can be construed to mean one thing, the way it's delivered on-podcast clearly intends another. tiktok, being an audio and video based medium, allows audio clips to be shared around a lot, and cosplayers would often all make videos acting along to the same show clips of juicy interpersonal drama, and so tiktok fans, though they may have had less overall memory of what characters said, always had a better grasp on how they said it. an average tiktok tma fan might not have remembered melanie's subplot about war ghosts, but they would know the nuances of how the way she talks to jon changes between mag 28 and mag 155.

[starscape724]

ScreamInkTober #2 Splatocalypse

kinda unrendered srry 👍

[tj3star]

🎃 Day 31 - Splatoween/Free For All🎃

Splatober • Linktober Complete!

[pearlinaweek]

We're BACK and announcing the prompt list for #PearlinaWeek 2024! We’re looking forward to seeing all the wonderful contributions in February to celebrate the release of Side Order!

This event is SFW only! Thank you.

Questions? Check out our FAQ!

February 11 - Springfest 2024

February 12 - Exporing New Music

February 13 - New OTH Merch Drop!

February 14 - Valentine's Day

February 15 - Alternate Universe (AU)

February 16 - A Day with Eight

February 17 - Side Order Reunion

[fangirlingpuggle]

Another Cuttletavio fic prompt idea where a collection of old records are found of two unknown singers and is dated pre-turf war.

Everyone totally loves them, the songs range form upbeat to stupidly romantic sings that make it clear that the two singers are totally hopeless for each other. Journalists keep speculation and have picked apart that songs have ocotling and Inkling elements and start theorizing about a romeo and Juliet forbidden love type relationship, ( Pearl and Marina are already working on their own cover of some of the romance songs and totally added them to their playlists).

Everyone is totally excited for any new records found and when Callie Marie and agent 3 find a new one while looking around an excavation site they are so hyped and so course listen to it right away.... and it's ... familiar.... really familiar it sounds like... Calamari inkataion... but their gramps taught them that and....

WAIT!

It's not hard to put 2 and 2 together after that.ad it explains why their gramps has been especially quiet as soon as the songs started playing not commenting on them just quietly listening to them a lot and why when DJ Octavio showed up to maybe cause trouble and then heard the song noped the fuck out and yep in hindsight he was blushing.

Callie and Marie are shocked especially since Octavio helped write our signature song?! oh god Gramps loved him... HE PROBABLY STILL LOVES HIM OH MY COD.

It gets worst when some of the other agents ask if they've ever actually seen their other grandparent? Ever? at all?

Callie and Marie busting in while Craig is all melancholic listening to the old songs: GRAMPS IS DJ OCTAVIO OUR OTHER GRANDPA???

[emeraldcitynerdfighter]

4 for Marina please and thanks!

...where it hurts.

//

They didn't even argue with Peggy and Dayna's offer to keep Liam overnight. In a wordless exchange, they both knew they needed to be alone.

As they shuffle into the house, Maya tries to stifle a cough, the irritation getting harder to ignore. She knows she'll be clearing dirt and ash out of her sinuses for days after. Carina gives her a pointed look, giving Maya permission -- or, perhaps, reminding her -- that it was best to clear everything out of her lungs now.

After a few moments of full-body hacks, her breathing returns to normal.

"Shower first," Carina directs.

Robotically, Maya finds herself in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes, turning on the tap.

Evidence from the fire start to appear. Bruises on her shins and upper arms from dropping to the ground to shelter in place. Brush suits provide mobility and fire retardant, but not the padding of her regular turnouts. The dull ache thrums under her skin like another pulse.

She finishes and she wraps a towel around herself and pads into the bedroom.

She freezes as she crosses the threshold.

The image of Carina sitting up in bed, reading through one of the countless parenting books --Carina knew plenty about fertility and gestation and pregnancy and childbirth, but not much that came after -- Carina, dressed in a tank top (and whatever else was hidden under the comforter --

An image of normalcy, of calm. Of indiscrete, indicating nothing out of the ordinary...

An image she almost didn't get to see again.

It breaks her.

The sob escapes before she even has an inkling to stop it. A hand claps against her mouth, trying to stifle the incoming flood, but damming the emotion only makes her cry harder.

Her legs crumple under her. She collapses to the floor, towel still wrapped around her, damp hair falling into her face. Her chest feels like it's about to burst open and everything hurts.

In the din of the sobs that seem to wrack the whole house --it's not a relief Liam isn't home -- she hears Carina. Running to her. Calling her name.

"Maya!"

Smells Carina, who smells like fresh linens and home cooking and Liam's baby lotion, not like the brush fire that almost took them both.

No...all three of them.

She feels Carina's arms around her, not caring they're dampening , and she just cries harder. Her breathing, comes in ragged gasps that makes her light-headed and blurs her vision.

"What is it? What happened?" Maya can hear the strained edge to her voice, a calm that wants desperately to turn to panic.

"Show me where it hurts..."

Carina pulls her hands away, shaking and nearly fused to the towel. She holds Maya's face in her hands, her eyes searching, trying to latch on to Maya's, to calm her, to anchor her.

Minutes -- or hours -- pass before Maya gets a handle on her breathing. All the while, Carina stays, kneeling in front of her, holding her.

Eventually, Maya lifts a trembling arm, where a large bruise has already bloomed under her shoulder. She averts her eyes, the bruises also bringing back the old injury of shame of asking for help.

Without hesitation, Carina's lips graze against the sensitive skin. Warmth blooms in the spot her mouth touches, making Maya shiver, though she still feels untethered.

"Where else does it hurt, my love?"

Maya shifts in Carina's arms, pulling her knee up, now brandished with several smaller blemishes.

She watches this time, the slow tenderness with which Carina touches her, as if her healing is dependent on how much love she can imbue into each moment of contact.

Maya forgets to look away when Carina lifts her head, and their eyes lock.

Eyes only on me.

"Where does it hurt, bambina?" Her voice is barely a whisper.

Slowly, like she is moving through water, eyes still locked with Carina's, Maya lays a hand on her chest. Carina's chin trembles, but she leans forward and presses her lips to Maya's sternum once...twice...then on the other side...

As Carina moves across her body, what shattered moments ago begin to thread themselves together again. The world feels less dark and chaotic.

She is home.

And she is safe.

They are all safe.

When she wasn't looking, Carina captures Maya's lips with hers. Soft, but sure.

"It doesn't hurt there..." Maya manages, her voice still thick, as she pulls away.

Chuckling at Maya's furrowed brow and confusion, Carina rubs her nose against Maya's.

"Better safe than sorry, amore mio."

//

[missnatzooie]

Pearlina nose boop

[receding-tides]

Pearl and Marina: "oh fuck, OH FUCK!"

💜 hope you have a nice day!

Send me a pairing and a line of dialogue and I'll write you something

"Pearlie, is everything okay in there?"

Of course the collection of explicitives were going to draw attention from her girlfriend. Pearl, dragging the frying pan off the hob and frantically fanning the thin trail of smoke away with a paper towel, forced a grin even though Marina was on the other side of a closed door. "A'course! Everything's fiiine!" Phew. She'd managed to prevent the smoke alarm from going off. That would be a real snitch. "You know you don't have to worry about me, 'Rina!" Totally not. Pearl felt her grin turn to slightly more of a grimace as she observed the contents of the pan. "I said I'd make you a totally awesome breakfast and it's going, like, so awesomely!"

Well, she supposed somehow managing to burn specifically the middle of a pancake was awesome in its own way. At least she'd managed to prevent a fire?

"... Okay." Marina, unfortunately, sounded like she did not fully believe that everything was fine. She knew Pearl was putting a lot of herself into making this birthday breakfast for her, though, and didn't want to ruin that by interfering, unless there was an absolute emergency. Which there wasn't, because Pearl had things totally under control! "Call me if you want a hand, though."

"I got things under control! No hands necessary. I mean, other than my own." Pearl waved one of them, still unseen, and almost scalded her hair with a fresh-out-of-the-frying-pan spatula. "You are going to go back to bed and wait and feel loved and appreciated."

That did bring a very adorable laugh out of her. The best sound. The confidence booster for Pearl that she could, in fact, make an extravagant breakfast, even if she was significantly worse at multitasking than Marina was. "Okay, Pearlie," she said, affection in her voice. "I know it'll be great if you're putting so much love into it."

Of course it would! Marina had done the same thing for Pearl on her own birthday earlier in the month, and it had been the best meal the little squid had ever experienced in her life. Also one of the biggest, even if that had been a measurement-conversion mistake, and Pearl had felt too stuffed to move for half the day afterwards. Knowing Marina had put so much love into doing that for her motivated her to put in every bit as much effort now. Without giving her girlfriend mild stomach cramps in the process, hopefully.

It was... a little disheartedning that the pancakes were the first thing she was messing up, in a significant way, when that was something she was used to making, but... it was fine. There were just a lot of different things for her to keep track of, and she'd stopped paying attention for a moment.

The rest of this pancake seemed done, though, even if there was a very charred patch in the middle. She could cut that part out and style it so it had Marina's '8' logo in the centre! Pearl was a genius.

With the distraction now out of the way, she could hear a hissing sound.

"... Ah, shit, the eggs."

Maybe it seemed that she struggled a little bit, to the average, uncultured-in-Pearl person. And, well, some parts were a little cold by the time she'd finished organising the four different foods she'd been cooking at the same time.

The look on Marina's face, the sparkle in her eyes, when she took the first bite, was worth every ounce of effort.

(Plus, only about ten percent of the food was totally inedible! That was a new personal record. Pearl really did a good job today, after all!)

[geraskierfanficprompts]

MAYBE IM JUST GAY BUT

I was listening to MARINA (I'm sorry, she will always be Marina And The Diamonds to me :sob:) because i'm gay and I just wanna say that Starring Role REALLY fits Jaskier's pov of Yen and Geralt's relationship "You don't love me, big fucking deal I'll never tell you how I feel You don't love me, not a big deal I'll never tell you how I feel

It almost feels like a joke to play a part When you are not a starring role, in someone else's heart You know I'd rather walk alone (rather walk alone) Than play a supporting role If I can't get the starring role"

and post-mountain Geraskier... "You're like my dad, you'd get on well I send my best regards from Hell" I'm thinking of fanonically abusive Jaskier's dad kicking Jaskier to the curb for being a bard/being gay kinda thematically rhyming with Jaskier being dropped off the side of a mountain by Geralt

So if anyone wants to make an animatic or songfic for this I will literally become the abysmal forces (in joy) I'd appreciate a happy ending of course (because Netflix slacked off and didn't give one to Jaskier, Geralt's "apology" was shit and we all know it)

[lixenn]

A mishap with a malfunctioning Ten Year Bazooka resulted in some de-aging shenanigans. After the Varia got sick of dealing with a grumpy baby Chief who was suspicous of everyone except Squalo they called in the big guns aka Marina lmao

Naturally Marina was delighted by this turn of events because pocket sized Dan is extra cute so she instantly proceeded to dress him up in all the cute onesies (taking lots of pictures for bribery purposes of course). She picked a shark onesie because Rina looooves teasing Squalo nearly as much as she loves teasing her brother after the two of them started dating.

reference

[wyldblunt]

okay really niche OC chat prompt today but. you know that common trope where a character is transported into an illusory world that shallowly fulfills all their wishes/removes all current conflicts ("oh my god, i'm back home in my warm bed, none of the horrible Plot Events actually happened, my dead loved one is alive and says 'what are you talking about, silly? are you feeling okay? i made breakfast! ^^'", etc), usually as a way to delay them from finding + defeating whoever is making the illusion or whatever

say your commander (or anyone) gets trapped in one of those. how long does it take them to figure out something's wrong (alternately if u have multiple ocs u wanna answer for, rank them from "immediately sniffs it out" to "would blissfully waste away there forever"). extra credit: what's everybody's insidious wish-fulfillment illusion world

[lilysunseed]

Splatober Day 8: Favorite Idol!

Tbh, it's a tie between Marina, Callie, and Shiver. But since it's Octopus Day and Lesbian Day, I wanted to draw Marina lol

[weepylucifer]

3 or 50 for the dialogue prompts!

50. “People are staring.”

Ulixes' hand hovers for an uncertain moment but then, at last, settles like softly drifting snow on his comrade's back. Five fingers splay between tense shoulderblades. "Take a deep breath, Steban."

"I'm sorry," Steban whispers. "I don't know why... I... this shouldn't be happening."

"It's going to be alright," Ulixes says.

Steban shakes his head. "I know this isn't normal. People are staring."

In reality, Ulixes surmises, the staring is probably mostly in Steban's mind, a manifestation of his very reasonable reluctance to embarrass himself in public. There are not many other shoppers present in the Frittte, two or three people drifting along the shelves, and most of them are absorbed in their own tasks. Sure, maybe some shoot them a slightly strange look, but disinterest takes over within seconds.

"Nobody is paying attention to us," Ulixes says, keeping his voice level and steady. "You can take your time choosing what you want."

Steban puts his hands on his mouth. Overwhelm is making his whole skinny frame shake. "I'm going to throw up. I'm going to throw up right now." Fevered, his eyes dart along the wide, expansive shelf crammed with garishly colorful packets of chips and nachos in flavors ranging from reasonable to outlandish. Dozens of brands, dozens of meaningless choices... freedom, under capitalism. "They're all the same, but really they're not... but really they are..."

"Yes, Steban." Ulixes begins to search his pockets for a handkerchief. Preferably a fresh one...

"I can't even afford these, really. I... this is the first time this week I have food money, and..."

Ah, and here is the crux of the problem, Ulixes thinks as he wraps an arm around Steban's quivering shoulders, here's why he's witnessing his best friend have a panic attack inside a Frittte. They're well into the week. And yes, of course, rent was just due... and Steban managed, again, to dodge eviction, but at a price. Really, Uli should have caught on, known what it meant that Steban was smoking a lot more and not inviting him over for dinner. Not that Steban would have simply told him. He never does. Maybe he doesn't want to be a burden, maybe he's too proud, maybe it's a bit of both.

Ulixes emphasizes. He hasn't known hunger himself, not like that - but right now it's as if he can bodily feel it. That yawning pit in his stomach, the nausea, the lightheadedness of too much nicotine and too little else. The emotional toll of the situation. Brittle, fragile, fit-to-crack emotions. He feels it all so acutely it makes his teeth ache. Just his imagination? Or... is this plasm? Is he really picking up Steban's real feelings?

Be that as it may, it is time for him to step up now. Ulixes straightens his back. "Step outside, Steban. Get some fresh air. Hand me your grocery list, I'll finish up the shopping for you."

For a moment, relief and stubbornness do silent battle beneath Steban's eyes, but he gives in. "Okay. Here," he says and tries to, along with the list, press a few pathetic, crumpled bank notes into Ulixes' hands. With his eyes lowered, his voice an anxious husk of itself, he adds, "Please make sure to budget."

Ulixes sighs. "Keep these." He has a little money left from his latest job - he takes commissions, occasionally, for translations: from Walder into Suresne or the other way around. It's irregular work and the rates are disturbingly low, but at least it's the occasional something. "Just buy me a coffee sometime," he says, knowing full well that he is never going to call in any sort of repayment for this as long as they both live.

--

They worked on the presentation together, because they naturally collaborate on most things now, but the assignment was ultimately Uli's: he's the one who must stand in front of the professor and his fellow students and, well, present.

Ulixes is not the words guy in his revolutionary cell of two. He sees himself as Steban's pillar of support, chiming in when needed, putting enemies of the cause in their place by any means necessary (any day now his chance will come), but not taking center stage. The syllabus is less than accomodating towards his vision. He can't just let Steban orate in his stead: he has to give some kind of talk, and it will affect his grade.

Now here he stands, seriously rethinking his every academic ambition. A lecture hall filled with students, their expressions ranging from bored over sleep-deprived to hungover, are looking at him. His palms are sweaty. The lights are too bright. He's all alone up here.

His eyes seek Steban, seated somewhere in the middle of the room, not up-front but not back row either. Steban smiles at him. Why can't you be here with me, Ulixes thinks. By my side as always. I can't do this. People are staring. They'll think I'm weird, they always do.

For a moment, he imagines Steban answering him, his voice so soft and kind and soothing as always, You'll be alright. You prepared for this, and you know your stuff. You can make them listen to you too. I have faith in you.

Clammy and tense with stage fright, Ulixes imagines Steban actually projecting those thoughts at him through an inframaterialist connection, through their strong bond, to show his support. Wishful thinking. Or is it...?

His hands unclench.

--

It felt right when they linked hands leaving Steban's apartment: like safety, like belonging, like doing something fundamentally correct. Steban felt something inside his chest swell with pride then, about fifteen minutes ago. Now, in the middle of the sidewalk on Rue du Saint-Ghislaine, in the middle of the afternoon, he's beginning to grow worried.

He tugs lightly on Uli's hand. Misinterpreting the gesture, or maybe just being stubborn, he merely takes this as incentive to walk closer.

There's nothing for it. Somehow, the topic has to be breached. But how to do that, and not hurt Uli's feelings?

"Maybe we should... erm..." Steban falters. Uli looks so uncommonly relaxed. He hates to take this from him.

"Yes? Maybe we should what?"

"Well..." Steban tugs at his hand again. "Maybe this isn't our... best idea to date."

"What do you mean?" Ulixes asks.

"I..." Steban squirms mentally. "I mean, it's nice like this, but... and I hate to reduce this to identity politics, but... look, it's like this. People are staring. We are going to get hate-crimed."

"I'll teach anyone who dares a lesson," says Ulixes ferociously, or what he thinks is ferociously. Steban finds himself endeared as well as concerned.

If only it worked like in Nilsen's theories already, he thinks, if only we could master that mind-melding technique. Then I could get him to understand why I worry. As it is, if I refuse him now, it's just going to look like I don't want to be seen with him.

Steban rolls his shoulders in defeat and submits himself to a near future filled with ambiguity and miscommunication.

--

"Don't worry," Steban says, "They're going to love you."

Ulixes wonders how Steban knew he was worrying. Maybe they're finally cultivating sufficient plasm, starting to read each other's minds? Or maybe it just shows in his face and posture. "I... hope you're right," he says.

"I know I'm right. Look, my family don't expect... I mean... they don't need you to impress them somehow. They're eager to meet you. They're simply, well... happy I have someone."

"That sounds nice." Ulixes can't even imagine bringing Steban home to his parents' house. Maybe once the revolution is at hand and it's time to torch the place. And even then, only maybe.

He's not actually that worried about meeting Steban's relatives. Steban talks often enough about how great they are, how tolerant of his idiosyncrasies - what, really, can go wrong? Okay, fine, maybe he's a little worried. The worry is being exacerbated, subtly, by his surroundings. Or maybe just his thoughts about the surroundings?

Revachol is enormous in size, so much so that a person can spend their whole life in one's quarter of town and never feel the need to leave. Consequently, there are whole neighborhoods of Revachol West where Uli has never gone, and this part of Jamrock is one.

Steban grew up here, which renders these streets sacred. Uli is not sure how to tread on sacred ground. Surely every other pedestrian on the sidewalk can see that he's never been here, that he doesn't belong here, that only by the grace of Steban's leave is he permitted to traverse here. Is he imagining it, or are the locals giving him hostile looks? Hostile looks out of black pool eyes...

"What's with you?" Steban asks. "You've gone all fidgety."

"Sorry." Ulixes tries to get a grip. Surely if Steban has noticed, so has everyone else on the street. Noticed him, the interloper, the intruder. "I just... I don't know, I feel strange. People are staring."

Steban pats his shoulder as they continue walking. "Oh, come now, they're not going to eat you. Yes, this is Madre turf, but you don't have to keep squinting over your shoulder. I doubt you'll meet even one banger today."

Ulixes feels like his brain is lagging behind. He hadn't been thinking of any of that sort of thing at all... or had he? Somehow, subconsciously? "Uh... what turf?"

"La Puta Madre. You know, the gang. They're not that interesting, they're just like the RCM or something." Steban shrugs. "No need to be such a gringo about it."

"Sorry." Ulixes lowers his eyes, appropriately chastised. Steban must see him hunch in on himself, because he squeezes his shoulder again.

"Hey, it's no big deal," he says, because he's just that nice, and intuitive. Or maybe...?

--

Ulixes tries to huddle in a doorway, but it only provides scant protection from the rain. He doesn't have an umbrella, or the right clothes for being out in this weather, and he hadn't planned on it either. He'd planned on a nice, cozy afternoon of drinking coffee inside, maybe reading, maybe chatting, maybe listening to the radio, perhaps even making some love if the evening took them that way. But then Steban got that faraway look in his eyes that he sometimes gets and started muttering about there being "something in the wind" and that he had to "get out to it", rubbing his arms as if suddenly chilly. Idly, Ulixes wondered - and still wonders - if Steban got his hands on some kinds of drugs somehow.

(That would be alarming.)

He raised his reasonable concerns about the weather and the chill and the weirdness of it all, but Steban had brushed him off and said again, "There is something in the wind," in an urgent-sounding tone, and now he's standing out in the rain with his head tilted upwards, eyes closed, arms spread at his sides, listening intently. He's getting soaked to the bone. His hair and clothes stick to him. Still, there's a blissful little smile on his face - whatever he's listening to, it is in some way making him happy.

Uli crosses his arms. The cold is starting to get to him. He's sure he sees people passing by, huddled up in their coats, giving them irritated looks from beneath their umbrellas.

"Steban, come on, this is getting seriously weird. You're going to catch your death out here. People are staring."

Steban only raises a hand in his direction, pointer finger extended, Wait. Be silent. His eyes do not open. His lips move silently.

"What? What is it?" Ulixes shouts across the empty plaza.

Steban's eyes still do not open. "In a basement pub on Boogie Street, a man has just lit his cigarette the wrong way round by accident," he announces. "To the North, down the coast, three men are pissing into the canal. Competitively. No-hands-style."

"Grand revelations," says Ulixes.

"Whatever else it is, she says it is not yet time." Steban lowers his hands and blinks. "Like I'm not ready yet. Still, she's there. Isn't it amazing?"

"She?" Uli asks, and thinks, would that I could see what you see.

--

A day after this, Ulixes wakes up to golden morning light filtering in through the window, and Steban shifting languidly in his arms, still mostly asleep. He murmurs something unintelligible and nestles closer and wraps an arm around Uli's skinny chest, and it's a moment worthy of preserving in amber and gold, the kind of moment he'll remember to cheer himself up during harsher times. And ever so briefly, in this moment without thought and barrier and pretense, everything seems to slot into place, the universe to right itself. And in the quiet of his own mind, still in that floaty place between waking and sleep, Ulixes becomes convinced he can feel a current of drowsy, pleased emotions permeate his mindscape that are not quite his own, that feel sun-warmed and shimmery, and smell like soap and herbal shampoo and library shelves, and taste like a hint of some mellow, spiced tobacco: finally, real, actual Stebanthoughts.

Warm,

the sun-yellow feeling whispers,

Safe.

Pleasured.

Affectionate.

Then Steban's eyelids flutter and he drops off again, his breathing deepening.

Later, when he wakes up properly, maybe Ulixes will decide that he imagined this, or that it was a fragment of a dream, nothing more. Perhaps he will be right. But then again... who can say for certain? For now, he closes his eyes again, and permits himself to bask in the complete contentment he was given.

[galaxyseclipse]

yay! fluff!

and angst, but more importantly: fluff