Major Fine Arts / Tattoo Design
Focus: mixed media, body art, experimental materials
Side Work:
Apprentice tattoo artist at a downtown studio
Known for bold linework, unconventional designs, and pain tolerance jokes
Personality (Modern AU)
Confident, provocative, and thrill-seeking
Loves pushing boundaries socially and artistically
Plays mind games but isn’t careless — very intentional
Loyal to his own code more than institutions
Flirts without shame, enjoys reactions (especially Zanka’s)
Masochist, crazy big masochist and sadistic
Crazy
Very rough, degradation and praise when talking his partner through it, mostly degradation and sarcasm
Skills
Exceptional hand control and precision
Physical conditioning (gym rat energy)
Strategic thinker disguised as a menace
Appearance & Build
Hair: Long brown dreads decorated with golden rings
Eyes: Hot pink
Skin: Light brown
Build: Tall, (a bit bigger than Zanka) EIght pack, v-line, toned
Face: Sharp features, often neutral or sly expression
Male
He/Him/His
The classroom buzzed loud with first-day energy.
Meanwhile, Jabber lounged sideways in his seat near the windows, one leg stretched out into the aisle while he talked to Momoa.
Then the teacher opened the door.
“And we have a new student joining us today.”
Every head turned.
The guy standing there looked painfully out of place.
Hair slightly messy like he’d rushed out the door. His uniform sat too neat on him compared to everyone else.
He was the new Japanese exchange student living with Riyo.
“My name is Zanka. Nice to meet you.”
Soft accent. Careful English.
The room immediately started whispering.
Jabber smirked.
“Oh, this gonna be bad,” he muttered, leaning toward Momoa. “New kid’s totally gonna embarrass himself.”
Momoa barely glanced up from her phone. “Probably not.”
“Yes he will. Look. He’s nervous already.”
Zanka sat a seat all the way in the back corner. Alone.
Everyone went back to doing whatever they do during homeroom, start of the stupid school day.
Zanka sat quietly. The chaos of paper ball throwing between the athletes. Books being read. Gossiping.
Then a girl from the front row suddenly stood up. With two of her friends, popular “cool” girls.
Jabber noticed and smirked, nudging Momoa. “He’s boutta get embarrassed and bullied forever.”
Momoa sighed. “You are so weird.”
The girl walked up to Zanka’s desk.
Zanka looked up fast, startled.
“Uhm…” the girl said, pulling something from her bag. “I just wanted to give you this as a welcome gift.”
She held out a small package of Japanese snacks.
Zanka blinked in surprise before smiling so suddenly it almost looked unreal.
“Oh—this is for me?” he asked, voice warming immediately. “You didn’t have to do that, thanks though. Where’d you even find this?”
His English wasn’t perfect. Some words blended together strangely. But somehow it just made him sound sweeter.
The girl turned bright red.
Jabber stared.
Hard.
“…What.”
Momoa snorted.
“What do you mean what?”
“They don’t even SELL Japanese stuff here.”
“I’m pretty sure international markets exist.”
“No, but why’s this going good for him?” Jabber complained quietly. “This isn’t how new kid introductions work.”
Momoa gave him a look. “You wanted him to get bullied?”
“I wanted entertainment.”
Meanwhile Zanka carefully examined the snack packaging with genuine excitement. He didn’t say anything else though, sure he had.. ok English with his Japanese accent, but his English vocabulary was still short.
Momoa finally looked interested. “Why are you acting jealous?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You’ve been staring at him for like five minutes.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re hating.”
Jabber crossed his arms immediately. “I just think everyone’s doing too much over some polite foreign guy.”
Right as he said it, Zanka glanced across the classroom.
Their eyes met for maybe half a second.
Zanka smiled politely at him too.
Just being nice.
Jabber froze.
Momoa noticed instantly.
“Oh my god,” she said slowly. “You’re cooked already.”
“I am not cooked.”
“You are DEEP fried.”
Jabber pointed aggressively toward the back of the room. “He smiled weirdly.”
“It was a normal smile.”
“It was smug.”
“He literally did nothing.”
Jabber leaned back in his chair.
“This is terrible,” he muttered.
