the odds are against us but we'll even the favor @multimuz - Tumblr Blog

⯙ — multimuz

bastien lenworth, the artful dodger as multiplied by dorian for @invictushq.

#the mun. DORIAN. HE/THEY. 27. CST.#dni if unaffiliated with invictushq tysm!#despite the url this is a single muse blog #intro.invi #death tw #parental death tw #violence tw #racism tw #discrimination tw

public starter - open

where: manhattan, nk

when: may 30, 2022

cw: none

It's crowded as hell, and sources say it'll only get more crowded as the years go by. Manhattanhenge is something that feels like it's fake, like a conspiracy theory or psy-op made for social media stories and keeping people distracted, because of how buzzwordy it sounds. But it's on the bucket list all the same, and if the timing is perfect, why miss out on the opportunity? On the curb of the street, there's an opening to squeeze in, but only if the other person's willing to share.

"Hey, mind if I stand next to you?"

#starter.invi #short but sweet lol #caps at 5 tysm!

waywardlegacies

₊˚｡ ❆ 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬

₊˚｡ ❆who: sabryna & bastien [ @multimuz ] ₊˚｡ ❆where: arden's hicking trail ₊˚｡ ❆when: may 1st 2022

Hiking.

At least half the dating profiles she's scrolled past already had it listed on their profiles. An interest. Sabryna did like to consider herself an outdoorsy person as her heart lived for the colder months and rain or shine she would still complete her 4am runs. Yet surely, could hiking enough be considered a lifestyle of it's own? Sure time ago, she messaged a girl who swore she was spiritually bound to the mountains and sent countless pictures of multitude of reusable water bottles. Yet Sabyna, hiking didn't rather understand as an interest.

To her, it felt like as if she listed something like... cosy jumpers. After all she loved the warmth of them wrapped around her a long day, the way the oversized sleeves would swallow her up as she'd curl on the couch to watch another episode of her new current hype fixation. And she had an alarming amount of them that overflowed her wardrobe that they wouldn't shut right. But yet she wouldn't call that an interest of sorts.

Maybe that was just her problem. She just didn't know how to market herself? Not that she had very long to do it. Tomorrow would be the first day filming Super♡Hearts and her bags were packed ready for all sorts of dates and judgements to come her way. She doesn't wasn't prepared for the story she would tell. Bring up the past? Leave it behind? Who is the girl she'd present on the camera. Sabryna honestly didn't know.

So instead of spending all day bed rotting, maybe she could try "hiking" and add that as a little anecdotal point in the small talk portion. With the grand reopening of the Arden Hiking Trails, why waste the chance. Besides, touching grass might be something that she needs to just let herself go.

With her shoelaces tied tight, tied back and headphones read- she pauses as her headphones greet her with a low battery tone- so yep no headphones- just herself and nature. She sighs to herself, as she scans over the broachers deciding the fate of todays's hike: maybe some bird watching? Oh taking the trail that anyone hardly wonders...now that does sound interesting.

All that she knows is her aim was to get all give of the stamp rally, her hand reaching out to grab one of the little stamp books needed to complete her mini side quest! Reaching out in hopes to grab the last one!

multimuz

⎯⎯⎯⎯ Ⅳ.

En and hir coworkers from the mech shop had made a plan to head out on a hike in Arden for team-building. Mad ting, 'cause none of the oldheads even owned hiking boots. Ze quickly learned Roberto had linked up with a woman who really loved hiking—not like jokers who listed it as an interest for show on FortiesMingle.Com. And being the goof who'd listed hiking for interest's sake, Roberto haffi turn an actual hiker.

Roberto said he'd been meaning to get back in shape since he was a teenager, but Yeray cracked that was back when the dinosaurs died out. So the gang set off together, half-expecting to witness a man throw out his back in real time. En was there because ze'd never touched Arden despite being alive nearly a decade. Lawd, life move fast, nuh true? En better get a cake from Sekan and a card from Topman, nah joke.

Water bottle pressed against hir mouth because ze was already too damn hot, En strolled near the back of the group, tossing quips whenever the oldheads got a little too Generation X and treated the woods like their personal jukebox. Van Halen's greatest hits. Harinder—better known as Greasy Harry—was showing off his sportswear turban to Roberto when Yeray, leading the line, bawled, "¡Diache! ¡La culebra! F-fuckin' snake!!"

That sent Harry backing off, later explaining to En (a little too quickly) that it was out of Sikh respect for all creatures. He bumped into Roberto, who swung back in surprise and knocked En's water bottle straight out of hir mouth.

"Mangs, dat a moss-covered branch, man!" En pointed out, as hir older coworkers suddenly showed spry agility and hid behind hir. Bwoy, dem oldhead move quick when dem tink danger! Rolling hir eyes, En turned to retrieve the bottle, spotting it rolling down the patchy, grassy path toward someone who looked way more prepared than hir and the mechanics at N&K Auto Repair.

"Dat water bottle deh at yuh foot—could yuh pass it?" En asked, walking up to the person.

#4 #4&sabryna #no gifs since 4's look is from s4 of se and there is no gif pack of it tysm for understanding!

mincedoaths

Joaquin had never had the opportunity to meet the any of the Naiks before, obviously, given how far apart their world were — but he’d heard many good things about the patriarch, Kintan, and seen the faces of his children on the tabloids he’d skim through while waiting for his turn at the checkout lane at the Gristedes near his apartment. He had assumed, perhaps naively, that the apple must not fall far away from the tree and that a lot of the rumors on those pages had been completely overblown or at the very least, heavily editorialized; reality, though, often times did not match with his idealistic worldview.

The smile on Joaquin’s face dimmed the moment he got a better look at the expression on the Naik heir’s face and only continued on its downward trajectory with every impertinent word that left his mouth.

The other man — ‘Sunny ? ’ — was talking to him as if he was beneath him, someone inherently lesser, like the way his father sometimes did with the housekeepers back home. Had Sonu confused him for someone who worked at Soma, perhaps? But weren’t they all like family or something? Shouldn’t he know their faces? Joaquin had known all the names of the staff at his father’s estate before he left, and he was certain he would recognize each and everyone of them if he ever saw them again. He had been closer to some of them that he had ever been to—

Joaquin realized belatedly that that he had no idea what kind of expression was currently on his face. Pressing his lips together, he tried to school his features to something more neutral, briefly making eye contact with some of the faces in the crowd that were now staring.

At the ' chop-chop ,' Joaquin’s confused astonishment flipped over to irritation. Sunny Naik was not someone he ever wanted to be friends with. Ever. Unless he actively made the choice to make changes in his behavior and endeavored to be a better person to those around him.

Clearing his throat, he said in a tone he hoped was stern but did not give away how annoyed he was becoming. “ Yeah, so, actually, the flowers aren’t free, they’re for my friends. I paid for them with my own money and I don’t want to give you any. Thank you. ” The money actually wasn’t technically his, if they were splitting hairs. But Sunny didn’t need to know that and Ronnie didn’t care what he did with it.

retrocausalities

CONTENT WARNING: Sonny continues to be a grade-A asshole. Warnings for strong language and elitism !!

All people are a series of shifting masks, faces aging in real time, like a grotesque slideshow. Sonny read about cellular turnover once, in some glossy health mag displayed on the calacatta paonazzo marble table in his office. You can’t be in pharma without paying respects to the anatomy of your constituents, can you? Cells die, cells regenerate, sometimes in four days flat. People are like that — contradictory, no spine, just reacting to whatever force hits them.

The community clown flips his smile to a frown. And nobody asks why. Nobody asks why the clown cries. Sonny knows. He’s the guy who made it fucking happen. That’s what being The Guy is. Ripple effects. Luxury liner cutting into open water. Baby whales, get the fuck outta the way. Daddy Titanic’s in motion.

BYOH Boy clears his throat, trying to flex alpha with no dawg in him. His siblings can do better. But Sonny? He’s above that, certified Sigma. The posturing doesn’t land when your net worth could buy a network. If money’s the problem, money’s the solution.

You don’t need to be a Division President of a multi‑billion behemoth to figure that basic shit out.

Sonny slides his hand into his suit. Two rings only — he’s not gaudy like the new‑money asswipes flashing three, or fuck forbid, four. Green flashes under his fingers. Crisp Benjamins, more than this guy would ever see doing charity gigs, fold into a fan. Sonny whips them out, slaps them gently, deliberately, against BYOH Boy’s face. Gotta keep societal cogs turning.

“There. Paid in more than full, plus... You’re welcome. Buy your crew dinner on me at a nice place for once, my dawg.”

Sonny’s words spill fast as he lets go of the cash, sharp, no rebuttal space as hundreds flap mid-air like park pigeons. His sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he leans in. He doesn’t wait for acknowledgment — his hand’s already reaching, fingers clawing stems, bouquet half‑formed in his grip. This is how Real Moguls make moves.

multimuz

⎯⎯ Ⅱ.

Tien feels damn foolish preeing the bashy Bring Your Own Hero guy from two park benches away. If En, Lennie, or Worthy knew, they start teasing. Crushing on the guy they briefly spoke to while he fulfilled their BYOH request was pathetic, nuh true? Tien can't even recall why they'd even send out a request, maybe it was for restocking at the restaurant during a dinner rush.

But back then it did feel a real emergency, months ago, and @yourpaljoaquin was a true hero for stepping up. And man wasn't hiding himself or nothing like that, it was real easy to find his alt on AlterEgo and what was Tien's simple idea of raising their pal's follower count lead to "creepin," as Lennie said, stush as xe could be. Coo pah dah one yah, as if Lennie wasn't keep check pon Sangrienta from RealHero, and everyone acted Sab wasn't some AxiaL groupie.

At least Tien wasn't buying into RealHero's stewards. More product than people, them. Even the authentic ones weren't into being people, no, they wanted to be legends, all that korouchi. Honest living was what Tien was after. As honest as one could be carrying a copy of Bas' I.D. and helping Sab fudge their claimed household income with the rest of the... family? Group? System? Aren't they just all Bastiens at the end?

Tien's restless leg shakes up the park bench some, which is a feat since these things are bolted down. A mother with her child is cutting her eyes at Tien that they self-consciously stand up. Aw cho. Sitting back down would be another crassis, so Tien searches for another bench within observing distance, and there happens to be one across the plaza. Aw cho. Holding in a breath as if it'd make them invisible, Tien powerwalks by Joaquin's setup, hoping to meld into the flak.

But then some rawtid guy starts demanding shit from Joaquin. Ay wot? Who's this bastard? Then he slaps Joaquin's wonderful face with a bunch of paypas.

"Ey! Stop!!" Tien blurts because they've never been good at the chilling, that's Topman, or socializing, that's on Fout to Siks. Realizing too late what they've shouted, all Tien can think they would like Bas to show up and reabsorb them.

"You ap-pologize to this good fellow, right now, you."

#2 #2&joaquin #2&sonu

thebuzzkills

With every word the younger man says, Sami becomes a little more on-edge.

Call a steward. Stewards should've stopped him. And here he stands, looking like some criminal or a vigilante, or a sixteen-year old trying to be brave, in his mask and hood, doing nothing.

"They look like they'll be fine." He says, glancing back out onto the street. The less any authorities need to be involved, the better- he's not ranked, he's not going to assume that the steward who was just attacked is. "And if they need medical attention, it doesn't seem urgent."

The younger man's accent doesn't slip by Sami's notice, but he doesn't remark on it. He's used to hearing plenty of different ones in his line of work, and his used to be significantly more noticeable when he was younger.

If anything, it makes him a little bit more trusting towards the man.

"Yes, I've got everything. You're alright?" He asks, even if he taps pockets one more time to check, and steps out toward the street. The Cleaner is long gone, now, but... he can't get that moment out of his mind; waiting for a spark that wouldn't come, and then his senses being totally overwhelmed by the rush of the crowd.

"Why hasn't a steward stopped them? You saw," Sami says finally, readjusting his hood, "That happens. It's not worth the risk. Leave that business to the people who are in the business."

Still, he can't help his own curiosity- or, really, a desire to keep himself safe working a job he'd always resented. If this... Cleaner- a term he'd only seen in half-read AlterEgo notifications and emails from the B.Y.O.H. higher-ups.

"Did you see anything?" He asks after a long moment of hesitation. "About any of it?"

multimuz

⎯ Ⅰ .

What the hooded man says, Bastien believes. Cockroach nuh business inna fowl fight. From the chaos that sometimes inhibits New Everwick City, Bas is fine keeping themself and selves away from that rabble. A slow, methodical nod sways their head as the older man remarks on the situation.

"Guess I gotta watch my back around here too," Bas lets out a light-hearted complaint, hoping to ease the tension in the air a bit. They've never done too well with adrenaline rushes, or crime in general, as bad memories start to dredge up. "Even if it's not worth a risk, I sure hope someone stops it soon. Speaking from, um, outside the biz."

When the hooded man asks questions, Bastien hesitates. You don't know who's under a mask, right? But seeing as they've had a decent, polite conversation after all that has happened, Bastien feels like telling the truth wouldn't hurt, hopefully.

"Uh, I didn't... Sorry, man. Only people starting to shout and shove. But I did hear about Mister Clean. I know that they only seem to go after Bring Your, uh, Hero people? Never swung at a Valerian guy, so maybe they're scared of them?"

Bas shrugs, knowing they're not much help. They try to keep a low, low profile on the indie steward app too, mainly to help with lowkey tasks, like running errands that other people are too busy to do.

#1 #1&samir

thebuzzkills

the witness(es)

˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ — status: public open starter for @invictushq ft. byoh muses for the cleaner event ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ — setting: 4pm ; april 28, 2022 ; a street corner in brooklyn, nkc // set directly after sami witnesses a cleaner attack ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ — cws: mentions/very gen. description of a cleaner attack, otherwise :>

Sami's head is still buzzing. Well, all of him is.

Most people can feel their heart thudding in their chest when the pace jumps too quick. Sami, however, can feel the sharp, quick way the current transmitted by his heart flows faster than it should. He's just glad that the unsteadiness in his hands is anxiety, and not the firing of nerves that he never intended to activate.

Tilting his head back against the brick building behind him, he lets out a long, tired sigh and closes his eyes. As much as he's happy to be safe- he wishes safety wasn't something to be relieved about.

A current- familiar, if only vaguely- pulses at his fingertips without him having to reach for it. Maybe someone from the crowd? His senses are still on edge, the already loud and rushing crowd filling with panic- every heartbeat jumping up in tempo as some figure caused a b.y.o.h. freelancer to topple to the ground, every current speeding up as the crowd pushed and shoved, sparking until his fingers twitched and he could feel it thudding in his ears- had overwhelmed him. Even minutes later, the feeling hasn't quite subsided.

He opens his eyes.

The light returns first, then-

Sami schools his expression from some sort of strained exhaustion into something closer to a weary smile. "You saw that, yes? Not just me?"

He gestures back out to the street- the few stragglers of the crowd that remained, the freelancer reorienting themselves as they got to their feet- before pushing himself off of the wall.

"Because if you didn't, well... You are either very quick or very blind." After tapping a hand against the pocket of his jeans, just to check that everything was still there, he glances back up.

He realizes how it looks all at once- cap still down, mask still up as a precaution from the initial panic, speaking as if he was Samir and not this. Buzzkill.

His hands raise in a placating gesture as he further away from the street corner. "No bother. Still, ah-" He glances back down the street. "I suppose I was hoping the rumors would stay as rumors, no?"

multimuz

⎯ Ⅰ .

Bas very much lives and breathes a life on the down-low. Kibba yuh mout, Antie Kimona has told Bas countless times, and it's a lesson Bas has taken to heart. He wants no spotlight, no bangarang, just enough to cover for rent and keep for a rainy day. Conditioned to move within the safety of the crowd, or what was left of it, Bas knew better than to stand out. Someone fell, people screamed, and they had to find a place where they wouldn't end up like Mufasa in The Lion King.

Standing beside an older man, Bas winces and gives a slight nod at the stranger's question. They scan the scene. Since everyone pressed the panic button and fled, only a few people remain on the Brooklyn streets, including the BYOH worker who took the dive.

Bas answers, "That person who fell? They just got back up, but should we call an ambulans, or one of those hero—uh—stewards on the way?" They scrunch up their face at the man's comment. Quick? Blind? Well, Bas is neither, but at least he can piece together the happenings.

He remembers a sub-alt from brooklyn cryptid, one of his favorite AlterEgo accounts to follow on account of her being absolutely ramps, and she had mentioned a rawtid Santa that someone else graciously explained was the badman stalking indie heroes.

"Was that Mistah Clean? Why hasn't a steward stopped him?" Bas asks, crossing his arms. Then panic strikes them too, enough for them to slip their accent. "Shit, mi stuff!" Fingers fly into jean pockets. Thank Jah, they've got their things. Composing themselves, they check in with their conversational partner. "Yours there too, sir?"

#1 #1&samir #flashing lights tw #sup! :D #hope it's OK to reply!

museify

#BASTIEN. musings.

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the odds are against us but we'll even the favor