number 10,008.

rp blog for agent 8 of splatoon 2. affiliated with isola. house 123. WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.

[havenochill-blog]

regdelete‌:

This entire conversation felt uncanny. To be speaking of the insecurities she held about this realm, about her own role, and to an octopus talking in her arms at that. It was strange, but a welcome and calming strange when compared to the things she endured back on her Earth.

“Depending on your definition of ‘child’, it’s possible 9S could be called ‘child soldiers’ as well. We’re designed like this, we’re given our personalities, but we only have enough experience to cover a few years.” Even then things were erased and forgotten. 9S surely didn’t have many memories of those days, and even her own had been tampered with for the good of YoRHa. “Whether I’m a ‘woman’ or a ‘child’, I only really perceive myself as an ‘android’.”

Gingerly, she patted what she assumed was Eight’s head. “Erm… You keep making these music references, but I don’t really listen to music.” Only what played in shops or at events, really. Supposedly music only stoked emotions, so she made a point to avoid it all. 

The octopod felt her face grow hot as 2B caressed her head, large eyes averting out of embarrassment. She was probably sticky, or at least damp; it was hard to avoid sliminess as a sea creature made of ink. Hopefully she didn’t feel too repulsive. With self-conscious setting in at a rapid pace, she decided to shift back to her humanoid form, slipping through the android’s fingers as a puddle of ink only to reform at her usual height. It was easier to hold a heart-to-heart this way... At least, that was her excuse.

“I guess we’re even more alike than we realized.” Eight smiled shyly, moving to fold her arms across her chest. “Maybe, if you want... We could have a listening party sometime?” Her tentacles twitched in nervous agitation. “Um, that’s when a bunch of people get together to hang out and listen to an album. We could invite Nines and grab a bunch of snacks... It’d be fresh. But only if you want to!”

[havenochill-blog]

“What’s the big deal about these biscuits?” She balances a stick of pocky atop her fingertip with surprising skill. “I like my cookies a little bit more round, personally...”

[havenochill-blog]

bunjijumping‌:

“Tonight, we die like women.”

“Let’s do it.”

[havenochill-blog]

bunjijumping‌:

“Wow! It sure is a nice night to go jump in the ocean!”

“That would kill me.”

“... Actually, that makes it sound like an even better idea.”

[havenochill-blog]

regdelete‌:

This exchange, from 2B’s point of view, wasn’t as significant as it seemed to be for Agent 8. She wasn’t very good at comforting people and had only really done it for two individuals: 9S and 6O. Apparently she was better at it than she thought, but considering she usually kept her feelings to herself it simply felt more awkward than anything. 

She was confused for a second as 8 suddenly reshaped. Almost instinctively 2B, however, picked her up and lifted her into the air. To see an octopus like this up close…

“It’s the same for me. Aside from 9S I don’t spend much time around other androids, particular models designed after females.” But when 8 mentioned that 2B should be free, it almost seemed like she was looking past the octoling at something she couldn’t quite reach out to. “I’m ‘free’ here. But I’ll never truly be free from YoRHa. 9S is the same… If we ever return home, we’ll just end up in the same position we always have.”

“So, for now, this chance is almost like we’re playing pretend.”

The octopus watches as 2B’s gaze shifts elsewhere, staring into something unfamiliar. She knows this look: It’s the thousand-yard stare of someone who has removed themselves from hope. She places a tentacle on the android’s hand, hoping that her suction cups won’t be too off-putting.

“I was a child soldier,” she admits. It feels like an abrupt confession, but she’s never been good at holding a conversation -- as far as she can remember, at least. “I thought I’d never get out of there... But I did.” Her inky body sags beneath the weight of her limited recollection. “It took a lot. I had to give up my memories, and everything that made me who I was, but I felt like freedom was more important than all of it.” The stray tentacle pats 2B’s hand in a comforting gesture.

“Maybe I’ll have to go back some day; I don’t know. But I’m having fun in the meantime.” It’s hard to convey emotion without a visible mouth, but she curls her fore-tentacles anyway, hoping to mimic a smile. “I think you should try to enjoy yourself while you can! It’s like hearing your favorite song on the radio. Yeah, it’ll be over in a few minutes, but that doesn’t mean you should change the station. You’re supposed to enjoy those fresh beats until they’re done... That’s kinda like how life is, right?”

[havenochill-blog]

regdelete‌:

…Ah, so that was it. Stigmas, stereotypes. It wasn’t like the androids on Earth didn’t have them against YoRHa androids as well. For the most part they saw the soldiers as killing machines. They weren’t exactly wrong, either. Still crouching, 2B reached up with her free hand to free her eyes from their cloth prison.

“We’re more similar than you realize. But you’re not bound to those stereotypes anymore, right? It might be a struggle to make them change their opinions, but you’re free of the force that was oppressing you.” At least from what she could recall of earlier conversations. 

“You have the potential to be whatever you want to be, 8. That’s a freedom I’ve always wanted myself, but…” There was too much blood on her hands. If she defected she would just be hunted. Would it truly be any different? The quiet life she desired wasn’t attainable. Despite these thoughts 2B managed a calming smile. “I may not be the best judge of things like beauty, but I think there’s something uniquely beautiful about you. And not just your appearance, your story as well.”

2B’s eyes are like the sky.

Eight struggles to swallow, feeling her throat tighten with an emotion she can’t name. It feels like hearing the Calamari Inkantation for the first time; it feels like seeing the sun. Liberation. She regards the android as if a fog has lifted, wordlessly awed by her wisdom. Now she understands how Nines feels: The admiration that erupts from him in droves whenever 2B is involved... It’s hard not to be moved by her presence.

Belatedly, the Octoling shakes free of her stupor, noticing that her hand is tucked against 2B’s glove. With a muted gasp of embarrassment, her body dissolves into a stream of ink and -- plop! She reforms into her secondary cephalopod shape. The pink octopus covers her eyes with two tentacles, positively steaming with embarrassment.

“Sorry -- sorry! I didn’t know what to say, so I turned into an octopus!” That’s certainly an explanation. “Ugh, I choked. It’s... I’m not used to touching people, so...” She rubs the back of her round head with a third tentacle, sheepish. “... But, um, that was really nice. What you said to me. So... Thanks. You should be free, too, if that’s what you want.”

[havenochill-blog]

regdelete‌:

“…?” Had she said too much? She was only stating her own opinion, but that reaction was unusual. 9S got that way sometimes as well, like the odd time she said ‘Nines’. She’d been getting a little better with it lately… Even if she’d been so adamantly against it at first.

“Are you unwell?” She crouched and took her hand, but quickly realized she knew nothing about Octoling first aid. “9S was telling me I should speak my mind more, so… Maybe I shouldn’t have.” In a way, in this pose, she almost looked like a knight kneeling before a princess.

Of course, 2B wouldn’t understand that.

“Muh--ha, I-- n-- no! No, no, I’m fine!” The nameless agent barks a terrible laugh, stiff and awkward. She can feel an inky blush boiling hot all the way to her rounded ear-tips. “It’s, I’m just...”

“Back home, um, I’m-- not really anything but, like, a slimy Octarian soldier, you know? Like -- everyone thinks we’re savages, and -- sorry, this is totally lame of me, I can’t stop flapping my gills!” She slaps a hand over her face in abject horror, leaving its twin to limply flop against 2B’s palm. “What I’m trying to say is... Nobody’s ever said I’m cute before. That’s all.”

[havenochill-blog]

regdelete‌:

“It doesn’t matter if you’re an octopus or not, your opinion has value.”

Reaching down, she patted 8 atop the head. “You shouldn’t think it doesn’t. Your life has just as much meaning as a humans.” Of course, she couldn’t realize just how much she contradicted her own self-worth with that statement. “For what it’s worth, you’re pretty too, 8.”

“Heh. It’s okay, I know I’m just a--” Hold up. Amber eyes widen as she looks up at 2B, her mouth hanging open in stunned silence. It takes a moment of awkward gaping for her to process the compliment.

“Wait, wait. You think I’m...?” Her tentacles coil around one another, and her face darkens, turning a vibrant pink that rivals her hair. “Bu-- wha--?”

[havenochill-blog]

[havenochill-blog]

regdelete‌:

“I often hear passersby compliment my appearance. ‘Cute’, ‘beautiful’, ‘sexy’, things like that… I suppose I feel flattered but even a moment of joy could lead to a wrong decision being made on the battlefield.” There were reasons YoRHa forbade emotions

“To begin with, they wouldn’t think that if they knew I was an android.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty. Even if you’re an android or whatever.”

“But... Um, I’m an octopus, so maybe my opinion doesn’t count.”

[havenochill-blog]

How selective are you? I want to interact with you but I’m not sure if you are private or something.

ooc; thank you for your interest, friend anon! I’m affiliated with isola radiale and strictly group-only. if you’d like to join us, we’d be happy to have you here!

[neozoid]

ink sweat and tears

[havenochill-blog]

thiefpaint‌:

“Goemon!” He slides in front of, mask adorned and outfit properly fitted. The ghostly persona floats up and in front of him and makes quick work of the undead that threatened to surround them. Thank goodness he had come when he did, otherwise this young lady would have probably been much worse off. When the threat is no longer upon them and they’ve been given breathing space does Yusuke finally turn and look down at her and instead of hair, he sees…tentacles? Yes, well, he can’t afford to ask questions right now. “Are you hurt?” Kneeling down, he offers a hand to her. A closer look and he’s able to see that she’s a bit upset as anyone would be in their current situation. 

“If you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.”

@havenochill

Humans are not like Octolings. When they die, their bodies rot, and they leave traces of themselves behind -- bones, a structural component that her kind lacks. She’s heard stories from a bygone era, fantastical yarns where the dead would rise from their graves and terrorize the living... But they were fiction. Seeing the real thing is vastly different from the face paints and costumes of Splatoween. Still, the gore of a mammalian corpse is so far removed from her reality, it doesn’t do much to agitate her at first.

Not until they arrive.

She recognizes the sickly greenish pallor of their flesh, the frigid blue of their hair. The red hypno-goggles are cracked, stained with rose-colored ink, and in some cases hanging from tattered straps. These are a brand of undead that she remembers all too well. They walk among the shambling corpses of the humans, moving much slower than she remembers -- but once they spot her, they change their course, moving as quickly as their fetid limbs will allow. Eight freezes at the sight, unable to so much as grasp for her Octo Shot as cold fear hollows out her stomach.

Not again. Please, not again.

In the time it takes her to overcome panic, she finds the area clear of all threats. Small pools of sanitized ink are all that remains of her pursuers. The Octoling glances up at Yusuke, her eyes shining, and realizes that her face is streaming with pink-tinted tears.

“I’m good,” she manages, sniffling as she dries her eyes. “Thanks.” Her fingers wrap around the offered hand, and she uses it to pull herself upright, wobbling as her legs tremble. “Just... a little spooked. I guess.”

[havenochill-blog]

“What the almighty shelling [REDACTED] [CENSORED] is that?”

[havenochill-blog]

“This holiday blows.” The Octoling murmurs bitterly under her breath as she writes, scribbling a hasty message across a scrap of parchment. The boats are scheduled to go out soon, but she doesn’t feel comfortable with joining the ceremony yet -- not until she’s sent her feelings into the universe, regardless of where they might land. Her throat constricts as she pours long-suppressed emotion onto the page, amber eyes burning with a watery sheen. She can only hope to rapidly blink it away.

To everyone that’s gone for good: My fallen comrades, I’m sorry that I can’t remember your names, or your faces. I know we had a bond once, and I know that I mourned for you, even the ones that didn’t have arms or legs. I hope the others are honoring your memory. My poisoned sisters, we might have known each other once. You didn’t deserve what that freak did to you. I wish that destroying him was enough, but it didn’t undo the torture he put you through. You all had names once, too. 10,007 names that are gone forever. Mine makes 10,008. My old self, I guess you’re dead, too, in a sense. I wonder what you were like. I wonder if you had a family. I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you, but I’m doing my best. The only way left is forward. See you guys later.

As the remaining ships set sail, Eight folds her note into a square and sets it beside the lantern. She nudges it onto the glassy surface of the water, careful not to touch any liquid in the process, and watches it travel to meet the others, burning like a star through the night. She hugs her knees to her chest and pretends that her eyes aren’t watering.

“Talk about dry.” She scrubs at her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. “I don’t even have memories to be sad about, but still...” Somehow, it hurts all the same.

[havenochill-blog]

hatkidofficial‌:

W-was that blood?! Was she okay? Did she bite herself? Her teeth looked pretty sharp. I wish I had a bandage, or–oh! I dug around in my pocket and pulled out a roll of colored tape that I’d been meaning to use for crafts, but I shoved it at the octo-person to use instead. It was better than nothing, I guess.

“Hey, hey, it’s cool! Don’t worry, I’m--” Before she can assuage the ‘human’ child’s worries, the roll of tape is thrust towards her. After a moment of puzzled silence, she breaks into a pink-tinted smile and accepts the offering, inky palm and all.

“Thanks, bud.” She starts wrapping her hand, sighing in a short burst of relief as the adhesive closes her wound. It won’t be long until it knits back together -- the ink merely needs to solidify and harden back into flesh. “Sorry if I spooked you, or whatever.”

[havenochill-blog]

hatkidofficial‌:

The octo-person had paint all over her shirt, but it didn’t look like she’d gotten it there on purpose. It was kinda weird, though, because there wasn’t any wet paint nearby, or paint stores, or anything. Was she hurt? She had their finger in her mouth like she’d gotten a papercut…

“Oh... Uh, hey, kid.” Eight attempts a smile, only for ink to dribble from her open mouth. She doesn’t hesitate to wipe it away with her spare hand. What is this, a low-budget horror film?! “Don’t worry, it’ll stop soon.”