I recently started a new creative hobby. Now my favorite characters must suffer the same trials and tribulations.
Happy late Pride, Mariver army~
((Also I can't seem to figure out how to get text to align right, so some of the text formatting is off compared to the AO3 version. Apologies!))
Shiver's eye twitches.
All they can do is stare at the sun; a fireball looming between the jagged cracks of the Inkopolis skyline, threatening to crash down upon its marine-life denizens. The Octoling would welcome that end. It would be preferable to waiting; that gnawing anxiety made manifest by chewing the tip of their tongue.
Shiver's eye prickles with tears.
Marie asked them out on a date this afternoon. She wanted to show Shiver one of her favorite spots, some club called Spin Cycle. It seemed an odd time to go clubbing, but who were they to complain? Marie had plenty of responsibilities on her shoulders, so maybe this was the only time she could go out and relax between missions.
The Octoling idol certainly understands the value of timeliness. They could get quite impatient, which made Shiver think this delay is intentional. Why else would she ask Shiver to get here "around" 12:30 p.m. and then be late? Seven minutes and 28 seconds have passed, and Marie hasn't even had the courtesy of texting them back.
Make that seven minutes and 32 seconds. Not that Shiver was counting.
Shiver's eye boils.
Once the searing light becomes unbearable, Shiver ducks their head into the left arm of their off-the-shoulder shrug, hissing. Though the purple crochet has a porous stitch that lets in plenty of light, Shiver finds comfort in rubbing the heat off their pale forehead with its scratchy fabric. The lingering scent of brine-soaked wood, sake, and sweat on the well-worn piece was equally soothing. If only they could rid themselves of the bright ring that now haunted the void whenever they closed their eyes.
That sunny afterimage continues to taunt in shades of red and blue over the screen of Shiver's Sea-Cucumber Phone as they reread their uninterrupted messages, collectively scrolling Marie's last text off the thread:
Boss Marie
[10:26 a.m.] Alright! I'll see you when I get there.
[12:17 p.m.] I have arrived at Inkopolis Station!
[12:30 p.m.] At the spot. Waiting on you, Marie.
[12:31 p.m.] Marie?
[12:32 p.m.] Helloooooo?
[12:35 p.m.] You okay over there?
This is torture.
For all Shiver knows, their girlfriend could be dead in a ditch. Then how would they know the date was cancelled?
[12:38 p.m.] Paging Marie. Come in, Marie.
Shiver snaps the phone closed and stuffs it into the pocket of their black jean shorts, scissor-cut just under the meager curve of their butt and sealed by four silver buttons down the front. If their phone isn't in hand, they have no reason to overthink the amount of messages they were sending.
"It's Shiver! From Deep Cut!"
A lithe squeal catches Shiver by surprise, and they fling their eye to-and-fro before spotting a pair of adolescent Inklings running across the street. Luckily there isn't much traffic, or a car could have easily knocked the green off their immature cheeks.
Shiver switches on performer mode, offering a sharp-toothed grin as they fluff back the tentacle hanging over their left eye. Deep Cut's fame hadn't encroached upon Inkopolis' inner-echelons much, the city is still dominated by party-pop sycophants. But Shiver was prepared to catch wandering eyes as they stood in front of this display window for a local bakery deep in the heart of the downtown arts district.
"In all my cold-blooded glory." Shiver vogues as the teens approach.
They both wear outfits from the secondary school a few blocks away, somewhere Shiver considered waiting thanks to a lovely nearly park. One student is clearly more coordinated than the other, leaving her friend behind after she trips on the sidewalk.
"You're, like, my favorite idol. Ever." The taller of the girls is vibrating, voice gurgling as she stumbles over her own words.
Meanwhile, the second girl – more sage than neon – is recovering from her literal stumble as she approaches.
"'Till Depth' is the greatest song ever written, you and Frye are geniuses."
Shiver can't help but laugh. Their fangs sparkle in the sun before they cover their mouth with their shrug in lieu of a fan.
"Big Man would be disappointed to hear you leave him out."
The girls whip their heads toward one another and squeal in unison.
"We. Could. Never."
"Big Man is the best!"
"But not as great as you."
"Oh no, no of course not!"
"Though there is that one song he did with the Squid Sisters…"
"Supposedly."
"Yeah, yeah. Supposedly."
"It was special though."
"For sure!"
"Wait."
Just when Shiver starts to feel dizzy following this back-and-forth, the schoolgirls both track to them with the uncanny precision of Octarian tech.
"Shiver." The taller girl scoots in closer, eyes glinting and hands wringing. "We're dying to know."
"Yes, please Mx Shiver!" The shorter girl lines up, pulling a nearly identical pose. "Do you know – is Big Man also Ian BGM?"
Shiver is against the wall with a bewildered stare. Frye has pretty intense energy, but it's nothing compared to the maelstrom of youth.
"Oh, well…" They trail off for a moment before clearing their throat. "You'd have to ask him to know for sure."
The duo look disappointed.
"But here, the least I can offer in exchange is a picture." Even with Shiver's mouth covered, their smile shows in a wrinkled eye. "If you're interested, of course."
This immediately rectifies their disappointment, and the schoolgirls glomp onto their idol.
Shiver grunts with the momentary discomfort of a well-packed sandwich ingredient, but it was showtime as the taller girl outstretches her camera phone in an arm that is more tentacle than hand. The Octoling tilts their head until the three pointed studs in their right lobe catch the light, at which point their indigo curtain falls away to expose a pair of red irises. Their tongue lulls out of a lazy smile, greatly contrasting the emoticon-level joy of their fans.
A picture snaps just before Shiver feels their pocket vibrate.
There was no point trying to concentrate thereafter.
Shiver's fans get little more than a halfhearted wave goodbye as the Octoling desperately tugs their phone free from its skin-tight prison. Not that they notice; they're too busy fawning over their next big Shrimpstagram hit. Any last-minute praise or adoration they toss is tuned out when Shiver's focus tunnels in on their screen.
Boss Marie
[12:31 p.m.] Marie?
[12:32 p.m.] Helloooooo?
[12:35 p.m.] You okay over there?
[12:38 p.m.] Paging Marie. Come in, Marie.
[12:42 p.m.] sheesh
[12:42 p.m.] you know there's no service underground yeah?
Marie wasn't dead. That would have really put a damper on Deep Cut's next broadcast.
[12:42 p.m.] You had to take the subway?
[12:42 p.m.] Don't you live here?
[12:43 p.m.] not this part of the city?
[12:43 p.m.] you've been to my place, shiv
Once.
[12:43 p.m.] Honestly, it all looks a tad same-y to me.
[12:44 p.m.] The gentrification'll do that to a place ;)
[12:44 p.m.] pff
[12:44 p.m.] whatever you say
[12:44 p.m.] b there shortly
Shiver smiles and squirms against the jagged popcorn wall. Nothing was better than cracking jokes that make Marie crack, even over text.
They 'like' Marie's last message.
[12:45 p.m.] Next time I'll be sure to message your secretary regarding your whereabouts.
[12:45 p.m.] I'm sure they'll be a reliable wellspring of information!
[12:45 p.m.] please don't
[12:45 p.m.] finn already has enough on his plate without you blowing up his phone every three minutes
[12:45 p.m.] Wait.
[12:46 p.m.] Agent 4's real name is FINN?
[12:47 p.m.] shit
[12:47 p.m.] do not tell him I told you
[12:47 p.m.] i'll never ducking hear the end of that
[12:48 p.m.] fukcing
[12:48 p.m.] fuck
Delicious.
The frequency of these messages tells Shiver that Marie had to stop for a flustered tirade.
They practically give themselves snakebite piercings imagining that sight.
[12:49 p.m.] Wellll…
[12:49 p.m.] Maybe if you hurry, you can shut me up in person~
[12:49 p.m.] Shiver.
[12:50 p.m.] Kidding! Your secret's safe with me boss lady.
[12:50 p.m.] Promise I'm Finn-ished.
[12:50 p.m.] ;) ;) ;)
Marie turns a nearby street corner, and Shiver catches her eye just in time to see the Inkling's power-walk come to a screeching halt.
If either idol had been carrying a weapon, this would look like a proper showdown at high noon set outside the Sea Biscuit Bakery. It wasn't much of a saloon, but the sun beats down just as harsh. Heat bounces between skyscrapers like a convection oven, goading one of them to sate their itchy trigger fingers.
Marie would obviously win. When a sniper pulls the trigger, someone is sure to be splatted.
This might be the only time Shiver is eager to take that 'L.' They put on a strong front and wave Marie over, but their cheery smirk belies a deeply disturbed understanding of whence their partner's confusion stemmed.
Shiver is overdressed.
Whereas Shiver is slow roasting in a black tube top draped with semi-sheer fabric and torn fishnets wedgied into their shorts, Marie look ready for a cozy evening out on the prairie. She's practically swimming in her orange-brown overalls, with suspenders strapped high over the shoulders of their navy tee that looks straight out of a cranberry juice ad.
Shiver is furious at how effortlessly she pulls it off.
Of course Marie wants to keep a low profile, even on the dance floor. Shiver should have seen this coming… And there's no way to rectify their error. Not when Marie is already on top of them, blocking any route for extraction.
"Hey." Marie drapes her right arm under Shiver's bang and kisses their exposed cheek on the opposite site. She lingers a moment, lips tingling against their skin. "Someone dressed up, hm?"
Shiver can't let their devastation show.
Back to basics: Mask that insecurity with flirting.
"Well, it's such an uphill battle to be the best-looking one in the relationship." Shiver laughs with the hiss of a surveying snake. Meanwhile, they find the rear pocket of Marie's overalls to slip their red digits into. "I have to give myself an edge somehow y'know."
Marie rolls her eyes and lands on her trademark grinning smirk.
"You're such a sap."
She pushes Shiver away with a few fingers on the sternum. Then, she saunters into the shade of the nearby alleyway.
"C'mon. We'll be late if you keep bringing up the rear."
Their instinctual need to pounce on that chum in the water dissipates like foam in a boat's wake as Shiver runs to catch up. Once their eyes adjust to the darker environment outside the sun's reach, they find Marie with her left arm bent like a handle as she meanders past a dumpster tagged in all different styles. They slink up from behind and leap toward the gap, unbalancing Marie's casual stride as the near-full weight of her companion threatens to snap the denim loop her thumb hooked into.
Marie looks over to find Shiver walking at a practically 90-degree angle, shrug draped like a tablecloth across their back. They grin up at her, staying at waist-height. Marie snorts and shakes out her grey tentacles.
"You're ridiculous."
"Just for you."
Shiver blows a kiss before they finally straighten out; all while Marie tilts her head with a curious hum. They hug Marie's arm tight to their core, tendril fingers doing everything possible to expose the Inkling's pale arm beneath her long sleeves.
"So." They begin with a slow click of the tongue. "Are we going to talk about Agent 4?"
"I'd rather we didn't."
Marie's immediate retort shuts Shiver down, but they take it with a snicker and squeeze her arm tighter.
"Figured. Big Boss doesn't want teacher's pet to know she squealed like a manatee."
The stoic stare she returns is chilling, to even a cold-blooded hunter.
"Something like that."
Marie closes her arms around both of her companion's like a vice. "We've talked about the 'boss' thing, Shiver. Should I even bother asking whether you've changed my contact name yet?"
Shiver's eye goes wide as they feel their cheeks fizzle with the same static overtaking their noodling limbs.
"Erm." Shiver's dark chocolate boots clomping through a puddle makes a far bigger splash than Marie's tattered sneakers. "I think I'd like to change the subject."
"Glad we're in agreement."
Marie hides her golden eyes behind a mischievous sway.
Shiver hates to concede. But they feel even worse losing Marie's gaze behind that droopy mask.
"Maybe instead we can talk about how romantic this place is."
That pulls a bewildered Marie right back in.
"'Romantic' isn't the first word I'd use for a grungy back-alley," she says with a concerned malaise. "Unless flaky shrimp shells and leaking purple pipe goo get you going."
Shiver's hearty guffaw echoes out.
"My standards may be low after years of dumpster diving, but this isn't about the pipe goo, Marie. Or even that week-old danish smell you'll never wash out."
Their boots hold fast on the damp concrete. Her trapped arm pulls Marie to a halt, and as she turns back toward Shiver, the Octoling catches Marie's cheek. They thumb the mole under her right eye. Her breath hitches.
"Our first kiss was in an alley just like this, remember?"
Marie's eyes dart this way and that as Shiver rolls up onto their toes to string their arms around her neck.
"Oh, I remember."
Shiver's confidence evaporates with a squeak when Marie's warm palms press the sheer fabric flush against their bare sides. "Somebody got much more flustered about being touchy-feely back then, too."
Now Shiver needs to cool down, living up to their namesake as every gossamer brush against their skin hardwires electricity directly into their brain - amplified tenfold.
"Glad I got over that," they mutter.
"Yeah." Marie responds in kind, dragging hot breathes across the Octoling's cheek until their lips align. "So am I."
The Octoling's mind is split in twain dealing with the sensation of being hiked up by their butt and the full-bodied kiss that facilitates. This grungy Inkopolis alleyway may as well be the top of a launch shuttle, Shiver's long tentacle lock blowing in the wind – so far as Marie is able to part it from their face. She loves to see her partner's infinite pupils constrict.
One could even mistake the scent of residual trash for rocket fuel set aflame. All of Shiver's hearts certainly feel fit to race for the stars in just as impassioned a blaze.
However, their lower lip is left quivering by the absence of Marie's soon after falling into the embrace.
"That said," Marie begins to break away. "I'm not letting romantic moments in front of dumpsters be our 'thing.'"
She pats Shiver's cheek once before leaving them dazed and wafting in the wind, threatening to tip over without any grounding.
"Hurry up, Sharky."
It takes Shiver a moment to slink along after the Squid Sister. This pup felt more canine than chondrichthyan.
Shiver is more pumped than ever underneath the glow of a neon sign hanging over the brownstone basement stoop. A pink disc appears to be constantly spinning as the navy blue words "Spin" and "Cycle" oscillate on and off in front of it - shining together every five flashes. A muffled electronic beat seems desperate to escape its physical constraints by any means, shaking the door at its hinges.
"I'm. So. Hyped." Shiver drops a word with each step until they reach the bottom of the stairs.
At that point they throw their arms around Marie's shoulders, practically climbing onto her back.
"We're going to humiliate everyone on the dance floor! None will stand in our way."
Marie pauses, hand inches away from the door handle.
"Dance?" She glances back over her shoulder, rounded eyebrow jutting up. "Shiver… Did you look up the place we were going?"
"Huh?"
With a sigh and disappointed shake of her head, Marie piggyback carries Shiver inside.
The duo appear at the top of a metal staircase along the wall, looking over the banister into a space that's about the size of two shipping containers bolted together; decorated with about as many rough edges. The far wall is blockaded with end-to-end storage shelves, each stuffed with incongruent collections of wooden boards. Various cups, pots, bowls, and more exotic pieces rest on parchment paper atop these boards, a collage of life stages from wet lumps of grey to messy patchworks of off-color glazes.
Along the opposite wall, including beneath the entryway, sits a row of pottery wheels – each paired with a bucket of water. Most are active, contributing an ambient whir to whatever idol sounds pour in through occluded speakers. Inklings, Octolings, Crustaceans, Urchins, and other species are represented under studio logo banners draped along the ceiling, with members of all ages happily touching clay.
Shiver is speechless as they take in the overwhelming sights and sounds beyond Marie's shoulders. Yet Marie is completely unfazed, catching one short, aqua-blue Jellyfish in a maroon apron as they pass through the aisle of artists.
"Hey Roy," she waves to him, grinning sharp. "Got that fresh meat for you."