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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@softhums
★ SOFTHUMS — a dependent multi-muse blog for wicklowridge, penned and loved by min. ( 28, gmt, any pronouns )
★ babette mary-helen dutton, known as babs/bette. sienna miller, forty6, she/her. owner of the pit road. 01. introduction 02. visuals 03. musings 04. wanted 05. pinterest ★ phanida apinat, known as pim. pat chayanit, thirty2, she/her. tattoo apprentice at thistle and thorn. 01. introduction 02. visuals 03. musings 04. wanted 05. pinterest
there was an undeniable look of fondness that made itself present on alexander's eyes whenever pim was around that grew exponential upon seeing the newly colorful additions to her skin . truth be told , pim and her brother were perhaps the closer the author had to a sibling-like relationship of his own in a long time , had grown to appreciate both in ways he never deemed possible .
as the other registered his presence , alex walked closer to her slowly , hands tucked inside his pockets " it's not a bad look you know ? just sayin' . if you ever want to go past your usual a little bit of color could work " he granted with a playful smirk " what even did you use for such inspiring work ? be careful , don't go too hard you're gonna rub your skin off " the concern in his concern genuine , paired up with a frowned brow . " did you even eat today ? or were you too busy being a human canvas ? "
having alex around was comforting in a different way to that of her other friends. it was almost like having a piece of her brother here with her, a remnant of a version of her she both accepted and was glad to have moved on from – alex hadn't known her back then, but it didn't lessen the solace that he brought. ❛ thanks! i was thinking of going in a different direction, maybe next year i'll just bring the tattoo gun and see what happens. ❜ she threw the cloth and now empty water bottle into her bag, preparing to speak again before his words hit her, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he did. ❛ oh… no, i haven't eaten since i left my apartment this morning. ❜ as if on cue her stomach grumbled, finally protesting now that she wasn't distracted by the overwhelming festivities. ❛ is there any food left? ❜
He was making his rounds, wanting to do so without his daughter, just because he knew that her attention span was pretty little. They'd go from one thing to the next and he had no problem doing that with her, but he figured it was easier to attempt to converse at the picnic without her by his side.
Bette's comment made him almost let out a chuckle, "I don't think you could, even if you wanted to. Why are you trying to have me time at a picnic anyways?" It seemed kind of counterintuitive to him, but who was he to judge? As he got older, he really did try not to judge. It didn't help anything. "Someone's gonna definitely bother you if you look lonely. You know people around here, some people are way too nice." He didn't consider himself nice or mean. He was just kind of there. "So does that mean you're having fun if you're in a good mood?"
bette immediately sat up to defend herself, unimpressed by tyson's dismissal of her physical prowess. ❛ i could absolutely kick your ass, are you kiddin' me? what makes y'think i couldn't? ❜ though thankfully for all, she was enough drinks in that the offense dissipated faster than usual, even if a small remainder of her previous glare still stuck around. ❛ that's why. some of these people are too damn nice… still ain't used to it, so sometimes i like to take a minute and think of all the real bitchy things i didn't say today. pat myself on the back a lil'. ❜ she was only half-joking. ❛ i think i'm havin' fun, ask me again tomorrow once the hangover's set in… you havin' fun? ❜
"Unfortunately, a lot of people are extremely quick to dismiss anything they don't understand, or that they've never heard of before. They refuse to leave the past behind, and act like traditions are the gospel." While cricket flour, as an ingredient, wasn't something Talia would eat, she also wouldn't go out of her way to make somebody feel bad over it. "Between you and me," Talia lent in a little closer, lowering her voice in order to not be overheard. "The people who criticised you over it most likely can't bake a decent cake if it came in a box with instructions." Talia gave Pim a sweet smile before backing off a little. "How about next year we both work together and bring some muffins that have edible bugs on top? I'm sure the kids would love that."
talia always spoke the truth – or that's what pim believed, at least. since her arrival a few months prior she'd become not only a confidant, but a much-needed familial presence. pim's nodding was individually intentional as the other spoke, her mind cradling every word as if it were its own separate teaching. ❛ i think some of them find their comfort in the familiar – when you've been here for decades, any sort of change must seem pretty scary. ❜ pim leaned in as talia did, mirroring not only that action, but the smile that came after it with one of her own. ❛ i like that idea. we can start winning over the masses, show them change isn't that scary after all! and if that doesn't work, at least it'll be a good story. ❜
nety had seen her from across the lawn, all sharp lines and scowl-softened eyes, hunched over like penance beneath the late sun. the breeze tangled itself in her hair as she crossed the grass, slow and aimless in the way she always moved when she wasn’t at the clinic — like time bowed for her, not the other way around. she didn’t speak at first. just took in the sight of pim, arms streaked in a child's daydream, all rainbows and tender graffiti. it suited her in a way she’d never say aloud — like her edges had been kissed by someone who hadn’t learned to be afraid of them yet. nety stood nearby with the grace of someone used to silence, hands folded loosely across her chest.
"you know." she murmured after a moment, voice warm and quiet. "i think the hearts are winning." her eyes glinted, but she didn’t quite smile — just tilted her head, like she was trying to memorize this version of pim too. "i brought lemonade. or, well. it used to be lemonade. now it's mostly thyme and honey and good intentions." she pulled the mason jar from her bag, the kind with the mismatched lid and the string tied around it, and set it beside her. "they really like you, you know." she added after a beat, nodding toward the distant scatter of children in the grass. "kids have a good sense for people. if that makes you feel better while you scrub your skin raw."
pim's shoulders jolted at the sound of nety's voice – not out of fear, of course, but out of genuine surprise at her sudden presence. she looked up at her with enthusiasm, previous misery and thunder melting away to reveal the true softness of her being underneath. ❛ nety! ❜ she near-sighed, consolation and familiarity presenting itself in equal measure, pim finding solace in the fact her friend had been the one to find her like this – all bright, bold lines and concerned scrubbing – rather than someone who'd seek to judge her for it. her glittering pupils followed nety's actions as she placed the mason jar down, pim picking it up and holding it in both of her hands as if it were the most precious of jewels; in her eyes, it was, it was from a friend, after all. ❛ what do you think ‘good intentions’ taste like?… what do you think ‘bad intentions’ taste like? ❜ she studies the jar for a few more moments, only shifting focus when nety does, following her nod to the children nearby. ❛ they just want someone to listen. a lot of them… they don't really have that, i don't think. ❜
It was probably that time for Adrian to hit the road from the town event. The later the evening rolled on, the more chaos was left to ensue or the possibility of such. But the live music and food certainly helped him pass the time easily. As he was about to pass, a voice of familiarity spoke up. He rose a brow and stopped. Adrian would have kept walking, minding his business as he often did but he recognized who had spoken immediately as his attention was now to her. "Stranger huh? Does this mean you finally have let off the gas in trying to poach me then for your shop?" There was a kind yet playful nature with the words spoken. The type that was reserved for a certain crowd which included the owner of The Pit Road. "I'm assuming you're just taking a break, I might be kind of shocked if you were tired this early." The playfulness returned slightly, but it wasn't heavy. Just the result of the shared interests they had. Familiarity bred comfort for Adrian.
a satisfied laugh escaped her lips as adrian very lightly teased her, tutting filling the air as she took a deep breath, eyelids still closed. ❛ you ain't getting away from me that easy, sarto. ❜ her hand reached out and patted the space next to her a few times, half-inviting, half-demanding; only in jest, of course – she couldn't tell adrian what to do until he finally came to his senses and accepted her offer. ❛ oh i'm exhausted. so exhausted, in fact, i need the company of a handsome, talented auto tech to keep me going… ❜ her voice is laced with a lick of honey and plenty of wine, her eyes peeking open ever so slightly to see if her typical comments on his talents would finally work today.
𝞋𝞎 ˖ ⊹ “ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 , 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 to get a sleeve touched up … most of them don’t involve kindergarten graffiti and a bottle of evian. ” bonnie's voice curled with amusement , hands full of tote bags , sunglasses perched high on her head. she gave pim a once over , then a twice over , lips twitching. “ you let ‘em draw on you, didn’t you ? god , you’re worse than my boys with a stray dog. ” ( and by her boys , bonnie didn't mean kids , she meant the yellowjackets ).
bonnie set the bags down with a huff , crouching beside her like she had all the time in the world. “ scoot. lemme help. they get you with the glitter pens too , or just the crayola mafia ? ” she didn’t wait for permission , just reached for the bottle like she belonged there — like she always did — dabbing gently at a pink , lopsided heart on pim’s forearm. “ you’re lucky. they don’t draw on people they don’t trust. ” a pause , a smile. “ 'course , now you’re screwed. once a kid likes you , it’s over. you’re theirs forever. ”
pim looked at her somewhat alarmed, the fumes of the sharpies perhaps getting to her as she spoke. ❛ your boys draw on stray dogs? ❜ though she did her best to not look outwardly confused as the other took a seat next to her, graciously accepting the help and not wanting to offend her… though, admittedly, pim was still pondering the logistics of sharpie'ing a dog. gratefully, she observed quietly as her arm was delicately wiped, pim perhaps equally impressed and intimidated by the woman in front of her. ❛ they tried the glitter pens, they don't work as well on skin… or hair, i learned. ❜ perhaps she was a bit too easy-going with the kids, but she couldn't help it. it made them smile, brought them a bit more fun that they wouldn't have had if she'd have said no, so it was a worthy trade in her eyes. the alarmed look returns to pim's features but this time it doesn't dissipate, ❛ oh no… i don't think i have enough room on my walls for all their macaroni art. ❜
she found her by accident, or maybe not. nety had been moving slow, sun-drunk and stretched thin, the kind of tired that lived in the marrow. the kind that didn't come from dancing or drink, but from holding too much for too long. her sandals whispered over trampled grass, eyes catching on faces, smiles, fleeting sparks of familiarity — but none of it anchored her. not until bette. splayed like a fever dream on someone else’s picnic blanket, like the summer had claimed her as its own. nety paused a few feet away, she hadn’t planned to interrupt. but bette’s voice — half-laughed, half-dared — caught her in its teeth.
"lucky me." nety echoed, low and wry, as she sank down at the edge of the blanket. her knees cracked quietly. her dress fanned around her. "i was starting to forget what good moods looked like." she didn’t look at her, not right away. just let her fingers comb through the grass, plucking at clover, grounding herself in the hush between their words. it wasn’t silence, not really — it was knowing. it was remembering. "you danced like you meant it." nety said after a while, voice soft as twilight. "like you didn’t care who was watching. i think i needed to see that tonight." another pause. then, quieter: "i never did thank you." she didn't elaborate. didn't have to. the words lingered, open-ended and heavy.
that warm voice seemed to strike like a dart even amongst the early summer haze – bette didn't need to open her eyes to know nety had taken perch near her, didn't feel the need to, she just allowed a contented smile to spread across her face. there weren't many she shared full silence with, even fewer who held meaning in that silence with her, but nety was one of them. for another moment in their lives, the two women were, once again, existing in one another's space fully and quietly. without pretense or expectation. it was nice. ❛ stick with me, honey, and you'll never forget again. ❜ an invitation, presented with subtlety and patience. i'm here, if you need me. when nety's voice fills the air once more, bette turns her head towards her and finally allows her eyelids to flutter open. the smile has transformed now into something more comforting, her deep blue hues trained on the other with intention. ❛ ain't no need to thank me. ❜ and she meant it, for once. ❛ the pit road's always open to you, you know that. ❜ but it wasn't just the pit road, was it? no, something weightier sat behind bette's words. nety had found herself in a position reserved for very few, those who exhausted themselves helping others, those who needed to be taken care of themselves lest they fall at their final hurdle – she was now under bette's care.
〔 ✱ 〕 … 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎 make a habit out of hovering , but she had practically crash landed onto his blanket like a falling star , all flushed cheeks and the kind of messy joy that made him pause. not that he was gonna say anything right away — he just stood there for a second with a paper plate in one hand , coffee in the other , squinting down at her with that lazy little grin that meant he was deciding between being charming or a menace. “ yeah ? ‘preciate the mercy , love. was worried i’d have to wrestle you for it. ” he crouched beside her without asking , stretching long legs out like he owned the place. the coffee sloshed a little when he set it down , and he plucked a lemon bar from the plate , eyeing her like he already knew she’d protest.
“ you look like you danced yourself clean off your feet. either that or someone slipped whiskey in your sweet tea , “ he teased , voice low and rumbling , more amused than anything. he nudged her boot with the toe of his sneaker , a not so subtle test to see if she’d swat him away. “ didn’t mean to interrupt your moment , but c’mon … gorgeous woman snoring on my blanket like it’s a damn hotel bed ? what’s a gentleman supposed to do ? ” his grin widened , eyes twinkling with mischief. “ don’t worry , i’ll keep the paparazzi off ya. captain’s honor. ”
call her shameless, call her predictable, but the sudden sound of that mancunian accent was enough for her to slowly open one eye to take note of who it belonged to. ❛ you couldn't wrestle a piglet, let alone a woman like me, sweetheart. 'specially not off this blanket. ❜ a bare-faced lie and total untruth, of course, considering the man in front of her had more than enough stature to ‘wrestle a piglet’, as she had so generously put it, but she liked to prod. liked to feel around in conversation for the buttons.
before she could protest he was there next to her, so she opened both eyes fully and propped herself up on her elbows to take a good look at him. familiar, but not in the way that was usual to her – irritating, too, if his little footsy moment was anything to go by. childishly she tapped him back with her boot, a bit more forcefully than he had, ❛ didn't your mama ever teach you any manners, oliver twist? first you scuff my nice, shiny boots and then you say i was snorin'? ❜ a glimpse of humour flashes across her face. ❛ ain't nothing honourable about that, if y'ask me. ❜
At least Pim was someone he enjoyed having around which was why he ended up gravitating towards her at the Potluck. He couldn't help but chuckle at Pim's whole...situation. This was why he liked having a resting scowl, it meant that no one really bothered him. Especially not kids. "Are you done dealing with sticky hands for the day? It's not worth it to get it all out if you're not," He noted, as he inspected the coloring job that was done on her. "Some of these kids could really stand to learn about color theory." He was half joking but also not. "I'm not sure they're gonna come out until you end up soaking it. What kind of markers did they use?"
❛ i made sure to wait until they all went home… i don't think i could deal with the looks on their faces if they saw me scrubbing it all off. ❜ she turned to ry with an exaggerated, upturned mouth, mimicking what she believed would be the children's reactions if they were to see her erasing their handiwork. she held out her arm as he took a look, allowing him to get a better view. ❛ next year you should join me… maybe you could teach them a thing or two. ❜ pim pressed her lips together to repress her smile, knowing that her afternoon would've been his ideal of hell – but it was always worth a shot. ❛ sharpie. ❜ she sighed, letting her arm drop back down in defeat. ❛ seemed like a good idea at the time. ❜
open starter for : 𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 & open [ accepting 0 / 5 replies ] location : wicklow ridge's town green / park
ciagrette smoke escaped the lonesome wolf's lips , jett black hair and piercing hazelnut hues scanned his surroundings for known and unknown . escaping to a secluded area had been his intention as he didnt feel like being scolded for smoking amongst children by their mothers . wicklow was known for it's festivites and bringing its residents together , even those like him who would rather crawl into a back alley than stand in the middle of the crowd . this has been home for five years , his little escape from a world he'd ran away from so long ago and now he revelled in his sanctuary . putting the last of his cigarette into the bin a sigh escaped his lips . would he need to join the masses ? or coulde he perhaps linger behind in the shadows , like the wallflower he wished to be .
it was nigh impossible for pim to hide the joyous look on her face when she finally spotted ren off in the distance, her legs accelerating to some sort of fast shuffle pace as she approached him with speed. ❛ ren! ❜ she half-whispered, half-exclaimed, not wanting to draw too much attention to them, a thought she was sure they both dreaded. ❛ i've been looking for you all afternoon. ❜ her joy takes a momentary backseat, though, as she glances around, taking note of their more isolated surroundings – it was much quieter over here, much calmer, it was the sort of change of pace she'd been looking for when she went on her journey to find him in the first place. ❛ did you go for a cigarette without me? ❜
status: open. location: potluck picnic – late evening.
with her cheeks flushed and hair tousled, bette collapsed onto the nearest and most comfortable looking ( and hopefully abandoned ) picnic blanket she could find, having excessively indulged in her favourite part of the event – the dancing. sure, the booze enveloped her in a hug similar to that of an old friend, the gossip and the giggles that came with it lit a youthful fire in her chest, and the food… well, the food was okay ( she was still the best comfort cook around, after all ), but the dancing? it took her back to a time she could never quite explain, and that was priceless. she breathlessly pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, eyes blinking slow as they focused in on her home screen. an update from the sitter lit up bette's pink features, dafne was home safe and in bed, and she took a moment to swipe over to her photos and admire the pictures she'd taken of her at the potluck earlier in the day. it was a moment of bliss – fortunate news for whoever had approached her, then. ❛ it's your lucky day, stranger. ❜ she was a few too many drinks in to care about identifying the newcomer, instead she locked her phone and allowed her head to fall back onto the picnic blanket, her eyes closing. ❛ you caught me in a good mood, so i won't kick your ass for interrupting my me-time. ❜
status: open. location: potluck picnic – late afternoon.
whereas adults were often befuddled by pim's outward demeanour, her hardened lines and off-putting scowl screeching a misplaced warning, kids were not. kids, on the other hand, seemed to gravitate towards her. that was how she had ended up here, slowly emptying water bottle in one hand and kindly donated cloth from a local in the other, scrubbing at her tattoos with a bit of gusto. whereas her generous black work had once been all darkness and sable lines, there now sat a colourful adornment of sharpie'd on stars, love hearts, and rainbows of varying skill levels. her once two-toned skin had burst forth into glorious technicolour… and now she was paying the small price for entertaining the local kids in the early afternoon. she struggled to pull herself from her concentration as a figure approached, trying and failing to address them as she continued to zero in on her prismatic limbs. ❛ sorry… i just need to… ❜ scrub. scrub. scrub. ❛ just one second… ❜ glug. glug. glug. ❛ i don't think this is enough water… ❜ scrub. scrub. glug.
who : open to anyone
where : the great ridge potluck
summary : sparking up conversation in the early afternoon around where the food is kept
"I really hope that it's not frowned upon to bring store bought food," Talia expressed in a concerned manner. As her first time at the well loved event, the brunette felt a sense of pressure to impress more seasoned veterans. "I'm really not trying to poison anyone with my own cooking." One detail about the eccentric woman that shocked most was her lack of skills in the kitchen. Cooking up a potion was easy, but putting together a simple dish felt like rocket science. "It's not going to get me permanently banned from future potlucks?"
❛ i made some clearly labelled muffins with cricket flour one year – perfectly edible and the kids loved them, some of the parents? well, i don't think they were quite ready for the leap forward in science… ❜ pim smiles a comforting smile, the best she can muster in this particularly large crowd, in order to try and quell some of talia's concerns. ❛ if i can bring bug muffins and get invited back year after year, i think you're safe! unless you've brought store-bought bug muffins, then i'm afraid we're entering uncharted and suddenly confusing territory. ❜
open starter ( event one )
location : wicklow ridge's park , mid - evening .
it's not a common occurrence , to spot alara out in town past 9pm . well , it used to be when she was younger & had absolutely no obligations or worries but now at the age of thirty - two , while running a business & raising a 5 year old , things definitely took a different turn . which perhaps explains why she keeps on refusing any strong liquor tonight , opting for a non - alcoholic beer , despite her friends begging her otherwise . " who's gonna drive y'all home , huh ? somebody's gotta' , and besides , i was promised dancing not drinking until morning , " she stands her ground with a sigh , taking a sip of her beverage before turning to the person now beside her . " do i sound like a buzzkill mom right now ? i do , don't i ? "
❛ oh sweetie … ❜ a pause, as bette places her free hand on her chest in a show of mild sympathy and dramatic compassion, as if alara had announced some sort of terminal disease related to buzzkilling-ness. ❛ yes, the biggest buzzkill mom i ever laid eyes on. in fact, i'm hopin' it ain't contagious. ❜ her free hand now moves to the younger's shoulder as she takes a generous sip of her own, very alcoholic beverage, speaking again once the liquor had passed her lips and warmed her throat. ❛ ali, you're thirty fuckin' two, child-free for the night, and – i hope! – not workin' in the mornin'. we're all big girls and boys, i'm sure we can all find our way home just fine, ain't that right? ❜ bette turns to the rest of the group with open arms, resounding nods and enthusiastic encouragements echoing from them like gospel. ❛ see? ❜
𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 ›› ft. yujin hume where: the great ridge potluck status: accepting replies
❝ i kept going back and forth between lemon bars, blueberry tarts, and mini strawberry shortcakes. so, ❞ a soft shade of pink dusted her cheekbones as she gestured at the spread of desserts. ❝ i made all of them. ❞ indecision had marred the afternoon before, all the ingredients gathered in the bakery's kitchen as she'd waffled between options, unsure what the majority would prefer, before finally glancing at the clock and realizing there was time to bake all three. now each dessert was carefully arranged across the three serving plates, fresh blueberries and strawberries added as garnish to the tarts and cakes respectively while a dusting of powdered sugar coated the tops of the lemon bars like snowfall. ❝ please, help yourself. ❞
pim often found herself in awe of her friends' abilities and skills, even more so during times like the annual potluck, where yujin's baking was one of those aforementioned skills on full display. ❛ yujin… ❜ she whined, eyes glimmering and wide as she carefully watched the treats, gaze trained on them as if they were ready to sprout legs and leap from their delicately decorated plates. finally, she tore herself from the plates and straightened up, admiration on full display as she spoke. ❛ you've outdone yourself this year! they all look so delicious, i can't decide which one would find the most comfort in my stomach. ❜
who : open to anyone
where : the great ridge potluck
summary : sat around a campfire, late morning/early afternoon
'It's five o'clock somewhere' was a quote Harper lived by most days as she pulled out the half bottle of whiskey, filling up her travel cup for the second time already. The annual potluck wasn't exactly her thing, yet it was a spectacle she never missed. Most people enjoyed the company of friends, playing games and engaging in pointless activities. Whereas Harper enjoyed the messier side that came with such a large group, thriving on the people watching. "Want some?" She offered the other who mistakenly made eye contact with her. "I'm taking bets on the first person to lose their shit over a bad review of their food. Who is your money on?"
❛ what kinda' fuckin' question is that? ❜ bette retorted, holding out her own cup in anticipation of however much whiskey harper would deem appropriate for her – which, she had no doubt about, would be an absolutely exorbitant amount. she allowed her eyes to take in the nearby crowd, plucking pieces from each of them to craft scenarios in her mind. ❛ my bet's on that timid lookin' blonde over there… she's got all the marks of an over-eager first-timer tryin' too hard to please – it'll push ‘er over the EDGE to hear someone doesn’t want second helpings of her cherry pie. ❜ she turns back to harper with a wicked smirk, expectant brow quirking. ❛ who’s your horse? ❜
