bakerstreet | Fish Out of Water

Fish Out of Water

the fish out of water shipping meme

The main conceit of shipping memes, it seems, is that both characters exist in the same universe. But what about something that tosses that out the window for a minute, and lets you play with the implications of "crossover?" Here, you can play with someone from a different canon (or AU or radically different canonpoint) and enjoy shipping that's truly out of this world.

It can be hard enough being ejected from your own home - imagine being plucked away from your home world! This could be because of your own doing (say, you were banished for being too cocky), you were too evil or too ambitious to stay, or even due to an accident. Those temporal shifts can be a little much. Whether by design or by chaos, however, you end up in the same place...or, rather, a different place. Theoretically, this world could be very much like your own, with only a few minor changes, like a purple sky instead of a blue one or lion-demons instead of tiger-vampires. On the other hand, it could be completely different, anywhere from more technologically advanced or less so or even filled to the brim with bizarre creatures. They still use cars? What are those infernal beeping devices? Why does no one have feathers or gills? Needless to say, this could be overwhelming if you are possibly powerless and definitely alone.

But you're not alone. Someone, a native of this world, has ended up tangled into this whole affair with you, whether they want it or not. You can't turn that down. They're your only ally, your only anchor in this brand new world. Maybe, just maybe, they can show you a thing or two to help you back up on your feet. Or, best case scenario, back to your home! When you're out of the frying pan and into the fire, though, nothing is cut and dry. Everything about this world may not be so horrible - it may be fun, even - and this person you've ended up with, oh, they could be worse. In fact, you may be beginning to feel at home with them.

Remember. This is not your real home. You want to go back, don't you?

And what about the other party? Of course, you may be less than thrilled that you now are playing tour guide to what seems like a crazy person. Perhaps this was out of the kindness of your heart or you may be forced to play babysitter, but it all leads to you keeping an eye out on them. They have to be lying about all this! Sure, they may talk strange, unconsciously insult you, and act like the simplest things confuse them; that has to be an act!

...still, act or not, you're starting to see that there's more to them than their goofy ways and there's more to your feelings toward them than you thought.

how to play

This meme is inspired heavily by the first Thor movie and also a great deal by those romantic comedies where someone from the past goes into the future or vice versa.
Comment with your character and preferences. Don't leave your comment blank! Mention something about your character's world in the comment for the canon blind (ie, "ancient Greece" or "dystopia with kids killing kids - the Japanese version"). It doesn't have to be long, it can even be a few words! If you have any other ideas, include them.
Reply to others. Use the RNG - or not. Whichever you prefer.

prompts

arrival → You've just arrived...and someone has seen it. What's your impression? Good? Bad? Get the hell away from them? It may depend on why you're here in the first place.
not so different → Huh, this could be your own home in the universe, except for a few subtle changes. But those changes stand out.
different time → The place you've ended up is either much more advanced or much more primitive than you're used to.
different world → They breathe oxygen? Where is their night vision?
magical moment → See the gif. Essentially, it's that moment of interest before everything goes absolutely wrong.
disbelief → So, they says they're an ancient Roman or a magic sky god. Did they hit their head?
argument → No, no, no. You're not going anywhere until we get you some clothes and some help.
forced to take them in → You have no other choice but to take this person in. You were either charged with the task or feel guilty.
offer of shelter → You actually want to take them in out of the kindness of your heart.
depowered → Were you a powerhouse before? Well, now you're an average joe. That'll teach you.
misunderstanding → Here, we don't walk around in loin cloths, draw swords, or barely bathe or eat toothpaste. We also don't ride dogs, either.
friendly fun → Being around here isn't always bad. You get to see new sights, taste new foods, and make new friends. Your milage may vary on the last one.
introduced traditions → Time for the newcomer to show their host something from the old country, so to speak, or the reverse.
romantic moment → Dancing or sitting under the stars or your own preference. Go wild and be creative!
showing you care → They have helped you out a lot since you've arrived. Perhaps you can return the favor by lending a hand or solving a problem?
the romantic shift → The typical turn of events where the two of you begin to see each other in a different light.
not my type → Your usual type is more glamorous or more...possessing of gills, but the bond between you two endears them to you.
jealousy → The newcomer misunderstands the dynamic that's already set in place.
someone back home → You find yourself growing closer to your new friend, but you're already taken back home.
confession → You both admit it's more than mere interdimensional alliances.
smut → You've reached that point in the relationship, or you're about to leave, or you're just curious about the people in this world (remember that scene in Howard the Duck where - nevermind, actually).
epic fight → Two worlds collide and big bads from the past are coming to threaten your temporary home and new love.
reformed → You've learned your lesson and turned over a new leaf. As much as you can, anyway. You're more open, less cocky, whatever the case may be.
sacrifice → Unfortunately, you won't get to go home. You selflessly put yourself in harm's way for your lover.
going home → Time for a heartfelt goodbye. Will you see each other again or is this it?
new home → You've learned and gained so much, you've decided to stay in this word.
WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Kitchen-sink mishmash fantasy world. Simon comes from the 'generic medieval Europe' segment of it, but there's Victorian werewolves and goblins with modernish technology and a city made out of a crashlanded starship from another dimension, so really, just take your pick.]

Edited 2016-12-16 01:57 (UTC)

[normal human; comes from the modern world with a side of regular alien invasions]

(Straight up D&D Forgotten Realms edition. Medieval fantasy world with just about every mythological or fantasy creature in it you can think of. She is one of the Bhaalspawn, a daughter of the God Bhaal, Lord of Murder, conceived to be a battery for the dead god's resurrection.)

[Modern nights setting. There's vampires, werewolves, fairies, mages, wraiths, constructs, were-everything, etc. Their existence is not common knowledge in the human societies of the world.]

"I would prefer not to go out again."

The words sound soft-spoken and very gentle: just a preference to stay in. However, from Louis, they have a much more complex meaning that might be translated thus:

"Your world is more messed up than mine and I hate mine already. There is no way you're dragging me out of that door."

Bet has been many things, and the occasional babysitter is one of them. Sometimes, she does it for free. This is one of those times.

She eyes the pretty vampire, brooding away on her couch. She considers the merits of seeing if she could physically outmatch him and drag him out with her. Eh, maybe next time.

She gets up, walks across the bare wood floor in boots that announce each swaggering step, to the kitchen. He'll hear the refrigerator door open and close. Then she walks back in and tosses a plastic blood bag, unceremoniously, into his lap, as she strolls past.

"Okay, pretty boy, but tomorrow I'm not bringing take out. Stuff doesn't grow on trees." She flops back onto her chair, lazy and loose. "And you gotta eat."

"Is this common for your kind?" he puzzled, turning the bag over in his hands. His ilk's distaste for anything but fresh warm blood leads even Louis to seek out victims when he's thirsty enough, or else he likely would drink donated blood as well. Still, it was better than nothing.

"Thank you, and that won't be necessary." Tomorrow he'll go without blood, he decides. Tonight he won't refuse a gift.

"When it's necessary, yeah. But only if you've got funds and connections. It's not like you can just walk into a hospital and ask politely for a pint of A negative." She can tell he's not really keen on his vampire TV dinner, and that's kind of amusing. Especially since he's refusing to get up off his pretty ass and get the real thing.

"It is necessary. It's my job to take care of you, for better or worse. Keeping as low a profile as possible is part of that. And a vampire that doesn't eat tends to draw attention sooner or later, whether he means to or not. So we can stay in and couch surf tonight, but tomorrow we go out."

"No, but the funds and connections should be no challenge. Should they?" They wouldn't be at home, at least for his coven, but he has no idea how things work here. He's really not too keen on anything about this place, including the bloodbag, but that's nothing new. The offering is still appreciated, even if it's not ideal. "Do you have glasses?"

He shakes his head. "Not your job, Bet, your labor. You took this on, and while it's admirable of you, it's not required. I can hide my nature if need be." Sticking to darkened backstreets makes that easy.

"A glass," she chuckles. "So posh. C'mon." She waves him up as she stands again and walks into the kitchen. She clearly expects him to follow, since she keeps talking.

"And actually, you're wrong. Yes, I volunteered, but that means more than you think, Louis." She says his name correctly, with French inflection. Perhaps a bit surprising, considering she sounds very Midwest American.

She takes down two glasses, one microwave mug that has sailboats on it, one that's just a normal glass. She holds out her hand for the blood bag she'd just given him.

"You're my responsibility, so that means if you fuck up, its my ass. There's rules. I hate most of them, but until we get things figured out, is really appreciate you not getting me killed. Or worse. Because you feel like being mopy."

She doesn't sound nervous or scolding. In fact she's very casual about the idea of being tortured or killed, or both. She'd just rather not, if possible.

The notion of glasses as posh makes Louis raise his eyebrows, still trapped in his 18th century mindset even after 225 years. The poor boy has never drank a juice packet.

"And why is that?" he asks as he hands her the bag. The Vampire Connection and its laws must be stronger here than in his home, or rather more like it had been before Akasha had culled all but a few of the blood-drinkers. Not that he'd ever paid much mind to their laws. "You aren't my maker, Bet. Even if you were, it wouldn't follow that you could control me. If anyone is punished for my actions it should be myself alone."

"Okay, so here's the nutshell version." She takes the bag, and produces a knife, not of the kitchen variety, to slice a small hole in the corner. She then pours the blood into the mug.

"New vampires are under what's called the Accounting, a probationary period to determine if they're going to be good little vampires or ruin fucking everything."

Mug goes in the microwave. 45 seconds on high.

"If the neonate, that's old fancy vampire talk for baby vampire, causes problems, then it's their Sire's fault. If the sire doesn't deal with the problem appropriately, then they can end up sharing their childes punishment."

The microwave beeps. She takes out the mug and pours the warm blood into the clear glass, holds it out to him.

"You and me are smart enough to know that we adults. Old ass adults. And we're responsible for our choices. But The Camarilla doesn't give a rats ass about common sense. You're new to this territory, with no lineage to speak of. If I didn't vouch for you and take responsibility for you, they'd have killed you. If the normal ways work on your type, anyway. And if it didn't they'd have found you out and God knows what they'd be doing to you right now. So I'm your legal guardian and meat shield until the Prince says you're cool. Just the way it is, sweetie."

Edited (Autocorrects) 2016-12-29 01:12 (UTC)

This preparation of the blood is nearly as intriguing as the world's politics, at least for a vampire who has never prepared his own food even in his mortal life. Louis makes note of this process, including the 45 second mark on the microwave. It's hot when he takes the glass, hotter than it's ever been from a living body, and he frowns when he takes a sip (partly because he's not sure what to do with his fangs).

"And why did you take responsibility?" The blood tastes of plastic, and feels lifeless until he swallows. He's forgotten how to sip, and he fights back a cough. It's been so long since he even played at being mortal. "I'm nothing to you and I have nothing to give you. Wouldn't it have pleased you just as much to leave me to them?" It's certainly the move his kind would likely make, barring perhaps Marius or Khayman.

He asks for a glass and chokes when he tries to drink from it. Cute. She opens a drawer and takes out a plastic translucent blue straw that has three loops in it.

"Stir it a bit, the temperature will even out. Crazy straw?" Because who doesn't want to drink blood through a crazy straw?

"You're really beautiful. Like Entrance a Toreador inconveniently beautiful. If it hasn't been me, it might have been someone else. Someone else who would take advantage in bad ways. Just cuz a vampire is part of the Cam, doesn't mean they aren't deviant. Don't get me wrong, I'm no saint. I've killed more than my share, even before I got Embraced. But I've got my own lines. I'm not keen on letting people be abused."

Edited 2016-12-29 05:03 (UTC)

Louis is at least familiar with glasses, even if not practiced with them. The only familiarity he has with blood bags is from medical dramas on television, and he knows that if he'd tried to drink from it he'd spill. Vampires can't abide a bloody mess, at least not his kind.

"A crazy what?" He reaches for the bizarre little object in bemusement. "Do I just suck from it?" That he could do. Talking, biting, sucking blood, and kissing are the only things he's done with his mouth in over a century, though he'd often made a habit of doing each as rarely as he could.

Slightly embarrassingly, the crazy straw presents no problem. Her reasoning lasts him through the end of the glass and he's visibly surprised by the slurping sound as the straw pulls both liquid and air.

"I'm no more beautiful than any of my kind. Less than some, in fact." And while it's true his kind is gorgeous, virtually all of them would disagree here. He will never believe them. He does believe Bet, at least insofar as he's sure she doesn't mean him any harm. "Do you feel guilt for those you've killed?" he asks, with little judgment. "Is that why you took me in, to rescue me and assuage it?"

"Now that is a little terrifying, if there's prettier than you out there. Could've hit me with a truck full of stakes and fire and I wouldn't have noticed." She sounds a wee bit exasperated by that fact. Clan flaws, man.

Oh, but his question makes her grin. "Not even a little bit. It's always ever been them or me. I don't do survivors guilt. Or guilt in general. I took you in for the exact reason I said."

"Don't exaggerate." He'll never think he's that distracting. "It's not as if I'm any more beautiful than you are."

He arches his eyebrows, rising to put more blood in the microwavable mug and then the glass. 45 seconds, he remembers. "I mean to entrance no one, Bet. Others of my kind have told me I can enthrall without meaning to, because I never mean to. Is that enough to stay with me?"

"Not exaggerating. Okay so I'm a Toreador. That's my clan, my bloodline. Each clan has its own perks and drawbacks. We're the artists, the debutantes, the pretty ones. So our clan flaw is when we see things -people, objects, whatever- that are a certain level of beauty for the first time, we become Entranced. Can't look away, unless someone interrupts the view, nudges us, or we waste very precious mental resources to stop.

So literally, I could have been hit by a truck the first time I saw you. You can be humble if you want, facts are facts. You took a lot of my resources, pretty boy."

Oh no. Louis's shoulders droop and he slaps his palm against his forehead, holding the almost theatrically wilted pose until the microwave dings. "And your clan, I assume it has the run of this city?" If this is the way her kind react to his so-called beauty he really may never leave her house.