#and Inky barely has any listings in most sites

[thebuttsmcgee]

Going off the wild road by officially starting my voyage to get all 10 inch plushes of the Ghost Gang from Pac-Man woo

[fandomsnerd]

Secrets from a Drowned Man

(cross post AO3)

Of all the ways he had thought about most likely dying, he must admit drowning had never made it to the top of the list.

Drowning, most of the time hadn’t even been on the list. Look, he has the basics of swimming down, and he doesn’t exactly spend extended time on any boats, so not drowning rather just felt like a given.

Particularly given the long list of other things around in his life he had assumed were very capable of killing him off long before water became an issue.  

 Evidently his list may require some revising.

There wasn’t supposed to be anything wrong with the water, no one said anything about the water.

It was something in the crypt they said. Something killing anyone who dared to get too close. So Geralt had gone into the crypt to deal with it.

And Jaskier was staying outside, in the graveyard. Alone. well, not completely alone, he supposes he did technically have Roach for company, but unlike Geralt he refused to sink to the level of desperation of talking to one’s horse.

The point is, they were outside. Where it was safe. Where he wouldn’t be killed and eaten by whatever monstrous being that was terrorising the town.

 No one had said anything about the water. They hadn’t even bothered to mention the stagnant pond, located just on the edges of the graveyard.

It was as unremarkable as it was unpleasant, water an ugly grey in the evening light, much too murky and deep to make out the bottom.

He’s not even sure why he went over to look, to peer down, into the muddy depths, using it more as a mirror to see his own reflection than anything else.

 Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t noticed anything, no movement, no shift, not even the faintest ripple offering a warning, before it had burst free from the depths.  

Webbed hands clutch the front of his doublet, he finds himself staring back, into dead white eyes.  

He only just manages to get out a somewhat concerned, “oh dear,” before finding himself quiet promptly dragged headfirst into the deep water below.  

 His world rather quickly narrows around him. limited, now, to the murky blackness, unable to see his hands in front of his face. Not that he tries to for very long, the dirty water stinging his eyes, he squeezes them shut tight, useless as they currently are.

It’s cold. Gods is it cold. Most of what little breath he had is knocked out of him by the biting shock of the freezing water. He doubts he will last long without a chance to resurface.

He is aware of hands, slimy and smooth, wrapping around him, tugging insistently, down down down, further into the depths.

He kicks out. Uncoordinated and desperate. Feels his foot connect with something, hands scrambling to find it as well, bat away the being currently attempting to drown him.

He kicks out again, but it seems to do little for him, whatever it is that has him in it’s grasp pays little mind to his kicks. He can feel his lungs, just starting to burn. He had barely had the chance to take a proper gulp of air before being pulled down, he knows he won’t last long if he doesn’t get free soon.

His hands find the attacker, uncoordinated punches and hits proving as useless as kicking had.

His lungs are truly beginning to burn when scrabbling hands happen to land on a face, an eye socket. A thumb drives into the eyeball, feels it pop beneath the force, the webbed hands loosening in shock.

 He yanks himself free. Desperate, lungs well and truly burning, screaming out for air. Pushes upwards. Gods, he hopes it’s upwards, hopes he hasn’t gotten turned around, completely disoriented, in the depths.

His head breaks the surface, gulping down a mouthful of air, gasping. He manages to stutter out a rather desperate cry of “help!”

Eyes still stinging he manages to get just enough of a look at his surroundings to realise with a feeling of pure terror that he has already been dragged a ways from the shoreline.

He manages another scream when something wraps around his leg. This time at least having the chance to gulp down a proper lung full of air before being pulled back down into the depths.

 Eyes snapping shut his world is reduced to inky blackness once more. He kicks out, the action actually half doing something now that the main grip on him was round his leg. The offending hand releases him momentarily, returning before he has time to make it back to the surface.

Hands wrap firmly back around his legs, torso, arms. Dragging him down. He twists, turning, tugging, trying desperately to pull himself free once more.

Blunt nails scratch against his skin, digging in. Long, thin fingers tearing at his clothes, ripping them open.

Distantly, part of his brain becomes aware of the fact that there appears to be more than just one pair of hands currently tugging him down.

 Even more distantly he thinks he can pick out the sound of splashing, a muted, distorted voice, crying out for someone. He doesn’t have the time to focus on it, the time to even attempt to try to make out the words.

His lungs are emptying quicker than he expected, quicker than he had hoped, already starting to sting.  

 Something hits him in the chest, knocking more of what little breath he had left out of him. His mouth opens from the shock of it, dirty water instantly flooding in. He gags, snaps his mouth shut the best he can, mud already stuck to his teeth, rough and gritty on his tongue.

He wonders if he will die here, alone in the murky depths.

Wonders what Geralt will think, returning to find him gone. Will the man know what happened, know he has passed, or will the Witcher assume he finally got sick of it, turned tail and ran, mid job and all?

 He wants to scream, knows he can’t. knows doing so would kill him. He kicks out, desperate, lungs on fire.

Something rough strikes him, cuffs him round the head. His head spins, a sharp pain exploding through his skull, mind completely disoriented, quickly losing any sense of direction.

 A hand wraps around his arm, tight enough to be painful, yanks him firmly upward.

The limbs wrapped around his legs and torso tug back in protest, yanking him back down. Refusing to let go. They wrap even more firmly around him, hanging on tight.

The hand on his arm tightens more, wrenches him up with a determined tug.  

 It works. He feels himself slide loose of the clasping and slimy hands.

He hears movement, as muffled and muted as it is. Feels the water swirl around him, something colliding with his body, knocking free the hold on his arm.

He tries not to panic, floating, alone, afraid, and completely disoriented.

He flails, desperate, trying to find purchase, trying to find the surface, lungs well and truly screaming out for air.

 Suddenly, a hand breaches the surface, cold air hitting exposed fingers,  

He kicks out, desperate, pushing in the direction he now believes is up, and by some miracle, surfaces once again, gulping down the clean air. He swallows down a mouthful of mud and grit in the process, coughing and spluttering, trying desperately not to choke.

Something finds purchase, wrapping round his leg once more.

 He screams, kicking out, franticly trying to get away. Feels his foot connect with something, the slimy hand sliding free. He tries to open his eyes, eyes stinging, vision much too blurry to make out a single thing.

Something grabs hold of his arm once more, a vice like grip, yanking him back and away, but not down, thank the gods, not down.

 The grip shifts, a strong arm sliding around his chest, keeping him lifted, head above water, pulling him back.

He wants to cry when he feels hard ground beneath him, feet sinking into the mud, half dragged, he scrambles onto the hard ground. Hands sinking into the dirt and weeds. He coughs, chocking, spluttering, spitting out mud and bile.

He gags, a fine layer of dirt and grit refusing to leave his mouth.  

 A heavy hand whacks him on the back, he choughs again, spitting up water. Blinks, rubbing at his eyes, trying to clean the mud from them instead. They still sting, an awful, burning pain, watery tears leak out to mix with the grime all over his face.

He finally manages to drag them open, blinking in the hope at least some of his site will return.

 His head, he realises, is pounding. A dull, radiating ache, beating like a drum within his skull. He bites back curses, tipping forward, eyes sliding shut as he hacks up more bile. The hand returns to his back, rubbing in gentle circles against him.

He groans, hand reaches out, finds a firm leg to hold to, use to keep himself propped up, gasping, exhausted, feeling as though he is still fighting for breath.

 Pries his eyes open once more, watery tears now well and truly streaming down his face. He chokes back a sob, daring to dab at one eye with the back of his sleeve. Slowly, his vision returns, blurry at first, before gradually clearing.

He realises he’s clinging to Geralt’s leg, arm wrapped firmly around it, as though still worried something will emerge from the depths to drag him back down. He manages a choked and spluttering, “fuck,” lungs still sore and aching.

Geralt grunts, awkwardly patting Jaskier on the back. He coughs again, sighs heavily, leaning against Geralt’s leg. The Witcher sighs, hand moving up to gently rub Jaskier’s shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Geralt asks, voice low and calming.

“…fuck,”

Geralt offers his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I feel… half drowned. Fuck.”

Geralt hums, “drowners, that’s what they do.”

“Fuck.”

 “Can you stand?”

He takes a deep breath, sighs, nods, letting Geralt half drag him up, to his feet.  

He lets out another groan, tilting forward, head falling against Geralt’s chest. lets the Witcher keep him standing.

Geralt grunts, shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t push him away.

 He lets out another tired and exhausted, “fuck,” feels Geralt burry a hand in his hair, soft and gentle. He sighs at the feeling, so soft and comfortable. Breaths in, instantly gagging and stumbling back. Fuck, whatever Geralt was coated in was absolutely vile.

He retches half bent over, straightens just to catch another whiff of it, promptly retching again.

Geralt offers a dry chuckle, seemingly not minding the smell himself.

 He straightens up best he can, tries to ignore the wave of wooziness that settled over him, deciding to push through it, shake it off. Doesn’t miss the frown slowly growing on Geralt’s face.

“How are you Jask?”

He groans, so many questions, gods. How is he? He doesn’t fucking know. He goes for the practical answer, “tired… sore,” he sighs, looking down at himself, “I don’t think I’m hurt at least.”

 Geralt’s frown deepens. Fuck.

“…you almost drowned.”

“I’m fine.”

Geralt snorts, eyes flicking out over the now once again still water, lip curling.

“I’m just a bit shaken up, that’s all.”

 The lip curls further, into a pained half snarl, “you could have died,” the Witcher growls out.

“but I didn’t!”

“Dammit Jaskier, you almost died!”

 It feels like a punch to the gut. He almost died. He sucks in a breath, suddenly cold, feeling the lack of sunlight, the night air a cruel combination to his soaked clothing. He shivers, a chill settling in his bones.

Geralt doesn’t notice, eyes dancing across the surface of the pond, not daring to so much as glance over at Jaskier.  Geralt sighs again, heavy and uncomfortable, “I thought… I thought you had died.”

“…what?”

Geralt rubs a tired hand down his face, still refusing to meet Jaskier’s gaze, “I heard a scream and you were gone. I thought you were dead.”

 He doesn’t know what to say. Stumbles out some words, rolling disjointed and messy off the tongue, “yes- well, I’m- I’m fine.”

“…you could have died. It’s not safe, having you around.”

He sucks in another breath, no longer noticing the sting of cold air, nothing able to freeze him more than those words just had. He doesn’t know how to respond. Doesn’t know if he would be able to if he did, if he would be able to choke out the words around the heavy ball of emotions filling his throat.

He follows Geralt’s gaze, staring out over the water, trying to hide the fresh wave of wetness now stinging his eyes.  

 Geralt sighs again beside him, eyes finally flicking over to Jaskier once more, “I didn’t mean… It’s just not safe.”

 He bites out a harsh laugh at that, safe. When was anything ever safe, “I didn’t intend to be half-drowned- I was being safe! I stayed outside!”

“And you still wound up half dead!”

“What else was I supposed to do!

“…I don’t know.”

 He stops. Swallows, manages to choke out a question he needs answered, “would- do- do you want me to leave?”

Geralt stills, and for a second he thinks the man won’t answer, will leave the question hanging there, in the space between them. Souring the air with its implications.

The answer comes so quietly he almost misses it, “…no.”

Geralt sighs again, mutters out a half-felt, “fuck,” frown managing to deepen even further. “fuck. I don’t… know.” Geralt sighs, tries again, “I don’t want you to leave. But… perhaps that’s selfish of me to want.”

 “No. no, I don’t want to leave either, I want to be here.”

“You almost died.”

“But I didn’t… I… I didn’t.”

“No. But you could have.” Geralt groans, eyes falling shut, “you could have and that… fuck. I- was… I am… scared.” Geralt says it almost as a whisper, little more than breathing out the word, letting it slip from his lips into the still night air.

 Gods. If hadn’t known what to say before… “I… Geralt, I didn’t- I- “ he searches for the words, the way to say I was scared too, to say I can’t believe you would feel fear because of me, say how much it means to him, say I love you say something, anything.

“I’m not leaving.”

Geralt snorts, “Just like that huh?”

“Yes.”

Geralt chuckles at that, shakes his head, “good, good. I don’t want you to leave.” The Witcher smiles then, a small, slight thing, finally turning to look at Jaskier once more.

 Jaskier’s smile drops almost instantly when a flash of fear crosses Geralt’s face the moment the man faces him.  “Shit,” Geralt curses, moving briskly away to search through the one saddle bag they had brought, most of their belongings left in safety of the inn.

“what?”

“Your lips are turning blue. Fuck.” Geralt all but growls, searching somewhat frantically through the bag.

He almost wants to laugh, he had forgotten, in the mess of this, how cold he was, how tired and chilled and damaged.  Reaches up to touch his lips, they feel like ice, but then so do his fingers.

 Geralt tugs free a small blanket, he’s not even sure why they had it, why it was in there, not that it matters now he supposes.

Geralt wraps it round him tightly, pulling him into a close hug in the process, pressing their bodies together.  He gently lets himself rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder. tries to ignore the stench of mud and blood and guts.

He sighs, feeling the warmth creeping back in “This is… nice.”

Geralt grunts, “it’s to keep you alive.”

Right. Keeping him alive. That was all.

He feels Geralt sigh, feels the heave of the Witcher’s chest, the hot breath against the back of his neck, before Geralt speaks again, quiet and uncomfortable, “but it is… nice.”

It is nice, he would be happy to stay there, let this moment stretch out, into eternity, just the two of them, shared warm fighting off the cold, world bright and clear in the rising moonlight.

But it cannot last.

He is cold and bloody. And by god does Geralt desperately need a bath. But perhaps he can take just another moment, another second, to just exist. Here and now, comfortable and protected.

 He tilts, daring to look up at Geralt, eyes noting each little turn and quirk of Geralt’s face. Wanting to remember it, remember this moment, categorise it away and hold on to it as long as he can.

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him, questioning but not requesting, not forcing.

 He’s not sure why exactly he does it. Perhaps it’s the last whispers of adrenaline, still strumming through his veins. Perhaps it’s the cold, the exhaustion, making him woozy, unable to think clearly. Or maybe it’s just the buzz, from hearing Geralt was scared, that Geralt cares.  

Whatever the reason he finds himself pressing in, pressing ice cold lips to Geralt’s.

The man doesn’t react to begin with.  

He has the time to think he fucked up. The time to run through everything that could happen next, Geralt yanking away, telling him he should leave after all. It would be justified; he would not blame the Witcher for such an action.

 Then Geralt cups his cheek, pressing back ever so gently, and he sighs, in relief, in comfort, in joy.

 They break apart slowly, when Jaskier’s shivering becomes too much to ignore, when he can stand the stench no longer, when they can bare too.

Geralt speaks, low and calm, “we should get you somewhere warm.”

He nods, not trusting his chattering teeth to manage a response.

Lets himself be bundled up onto Roach, fingers curling round the edge of the saddle, Geralt taking the reins, walking beside him, one hand resting on Jaskier’s thigh. Keeping him stable. Keeping him present.

Keeping him whole.

 Knowing it will be okay.

[aceonice]

Hello, I've never done that before, but I would like to give you a prompt from the list: 22. Space AU + 18. Circus AU with Magnus Bane, Ragnor, Cat, Raphael and others of Magnus found family. I wouldn't say no to Malec either. But I like the focus on family and friendships. Uhm. I hope I did this right. I don't have a Tumblr site, but I'm Sashy on ao3.. Any way. Have a good day/night.

Sorry this took a while, but I’m so slow with prompts oops. Anyways, enjoy “Space Circus On Edom (Surprisingly It's Not A Crack Fic)” below or read on AO3.

When Magnus finds Camille cheating on him, he does what he does best. He runs.  

He doesn’t know where he’s going when he storms out of the apartment, his stuff thrown haphazardly into a duffle bag, but he knows he can’t stay there any longer. He’s considering buying the first flight he can find out of New Manchester when he stumbles across a worn poster. It’s torn at the edges and stained from rain, but the words are still bright, if slightly blurred, and it catches Magnus’ attention.

Got An Interesting Talent?  

Audition for the Space Circus!

Competitive salary with free room and board.  

Experiences you won’t find anywhere else!

Call the number below for more information.

Magnus has never been to space despite his continuous travels. At twenty-three he’s seen almost every part of the earth, but something (usually money) always kept him from  the space cruises.  

Now he pauses, runs a finger along the poster, feeling the torn edges and wondering if they’re still looking for performers.  

He’s not sure anywhere is far enough away from Camille, but space is probably his best bet. He programs the number into his phone and makes the call.

A day later Magnus takes the bullet train to Old London to audition. The entirety of his belongings, nothing more than the duffle bag he’d packed when he left the apartment. He knows that even if he doesn’t get into the Space Circus, he’s not going back. There’s nothing left for him in New Manchester.

But he does get in. The interviewers, long-time performers and high-ups in the lucrative industry, appreciate his ability to throw flaming batons while dancing around the room to an upbeat song, not missing a step.

He’d never put his talents together in that way, but he’d picked up juggling when he was twelve and living in New New York, an entirely man-made island built over where the state had sunk into the sea nearly a century ago. Then, at fifteen, he’d joined a dancing group for a year while visiting Spain. He’d continued learning on his own ever since.  

A week of practice was all it took for him to put together a routine impressive enough to get him a place in the circus aboard the Edom Spacecraft. It makes him wonder if they’re truly desperate of if he’s more talented than he believed, and he chooses to think it’s a combination of the two.

It only took another day after auditions before Magnus had signed all of the paperwork and read all about Edom. It was one of the most popular space crafts in the Space Circus industry. Edom was one of the many crafts that provided entertainment filled cruises to the moon and back, each trip lasting five weeks in totality. Magnus would be preforming five days a week for four weeks out of the cruise with the rest of the circus, having two days off as well as the week for which they were on the moon.

It’s a surreal experience being loaded into a pod ship with another new recruit, the pod set on an automatic course for Edom. They’re joining a week late, the craft already a week into its route the moon, but the hiring managers had been desperate for more performers. Something about someone getting horribly motion sick and having to leave, throwing the circus into disarray.  

Magnus takes a moment to study the inky blackness of space as they cross out of Earth’s atmosphere, the stars sparkling in the distance, the planet getting gradually smaller below them. He thinks perhaps he should feel sad to leave it behind, all of the people on earth, all of the places he’s been, all of the memories he’s made. He mostly feels excited and a little nervous. There will be people on Edom- only around three thousand compared to earth’s nine million- and there will be chances to make new memories. He thinks he might miss the greenery, the plant life and the scenery, but it’s been replaced with the sight of  space  and he can’t find himself to be disappointed in that.  

There was never much keeping him on earth anyways. The thought itself makes him a bit sad so, rather than focusing on that, Magnus turns to the man beside him.

He looks barely old enough for space travel, meaning he’s at least seventeen. His hair is cropped short and his lips are pursed tightly together. He could be a statue for how much he moves.

Magnus sticks out a hand, the black polish on his nails chipped away from the fresh application he’d done before the audition. “Magnus Bane.”

The kid studies him for a moment with a cool gaze before reluctantly shaking the proffered hand, his grip solid. “Raphael Santiago.”  

He has a slight Spanish accent that Magnus picks up on. “What’s your act?”

A hint of a smirk crosses Raphael’s lips. “I’m a knife thrower.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “Are you good?”

“I haven’t killed anyone yet,” Raphael says dryly. “What do you do?”

“I dance and throw fire.” Which, now that Magnus thinks about it, is probably the coolest profession he’s ever had. And it’s  in space.  It’ll certainly diversify his already staggered résumé.  

Raphael glances at his hands. “Have you ever burnt yourself?”

Magnus snorts at the question, turning his hands over to show his palms. A scar crosses the palm of his right hand, but they’re free of burns. “I use cold fire, just in case. It’s safer.”

“Boring,” Raphael mutters, but there’s a spark in his eye that suggests he’s interested.

They make easy conversation the rest of the ride, blatantly avoiding any talk of their pasts. It becomes abundantly clear to Magnus that he’s not the only one running away from something.  

When their pod lands in the hangar of the spacecraft, a woman with dark skin a kind smile greets them at the entrance. “Hi, welcome to Edom! I’m Catarina, but everyone calls me Cat. I’ll be working with you in the circus. I’m supposed to show you to your rooms and then to the dining hall so you can get acquainted with everyone. Actual training won’t start till tomorrow.”

She shakes Raphael’s hand and then Magnus’ as they introduce themselves. She hands them each a packet. “It has a map of the craft, the keys to your rooms and the staff hallways, and some additional information.”

She leads them down the hall, “It looks complicated at first, but you get the hang of it pretty fast. This is one of the main halls.” Magnus takes in every bit of it, admiring the long window that seems to run along the entire side of the ship, displaying the star-speckled sky. He can make out the moon in the distance. “They told me you’re a knife thrower. And Magnus, I heard you’re a fire baton-twirler.”

“That sounds correct,” Magnus says, refocusing on the woman leading them, “though I’ve never heard it called that. What do you do?”

Catarina grins back at him, dark eyes alight with joy. “You probably noticed the craft is gravity controlled?”

“I imagine people would be less interested in circus stunts if gravity wasn’t an issue,” Magnus muses.

She nods as she swipes her keycard over a lock and pulls open a heavy silver door. The hall behind it is all one shade of gray and Magnus has to assume it’s one of the staff halls. “Exactly. Even more so for aerial acts.”

“You do aerial?”

“Silks and trapeze,” she confirms with a bit of a smile. “I’m starting to learn lyra now.”

Magnus doesn’t know what most of those words mean but he nods along as if he does before asking, “How long have you been here?”  

A flicker of a shadow pass over Catarina’s face and her next words are spoken softly, “Almost two years. And now? I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Literally, I guess. But we’re here! Raphael, this is your room. Magnus, yours is the one across the hall.” She pointed to the corresponding doors. “You can leave your things here and we’ll head for the dining hall.”

Magnus took the time to set his single duffle bag on the bed in the center of the room. The bedroom isn’t large by any means, but it’s comfortable looking. It’s all shades of gray, remarkably similar to the hall but there’s a large window against the wall that shows the space unfolding around the ship. The bed is soft enough and there’s a dresser and a nightstand with a lamp. Magnus thinks it will make a decent living space.

“I know it’s not much,” Catarina says from the door. “But we get free meals and access to all ship activities as well.”

“It’s fine,” Magnus says as he joins her in the hall. Raphael is there as well, leaning against his door. “Not the worst place I’ve lived.”

“Seconded,” Raphael mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Catarina nods like she understands too well. Magnus supposes people with  nice  upbringings don’t run off to join the space circus. “Let’s get to the dining hall. I’ll introduce you to some more of the circus members.”

The dining hall is extravagant and filled to the brim. Soft, upbeat music plays over the speakers but it’s barely audible under the drone of conversation. Most of the occupants look like they make more in a day than Magnus has made in his entire life. They’re dressed in extravagant fashions, their hair styled perfectly. Although, some of them are wearing swimsuits and appear to be damp which makes Magnus wonder if the ship has a pool. He’s sure they’re all paying guests. People rich enough to afford space cruises.

There are several options for food which Catarina points out, informing them which booth has what kind of food. “You can get anything you want, but let me introduce you first.”

She leads them through the throngs of people to a table occupied by a large group. To Magnus’ relief, most of them are dressed fairly casually like himself. They don’t appear to be overly concerned with their looks. Catarina stops at the head of it and taps the man sitting closest on the shoulder. “Ragnor, this is Magnus and Raphael, they’re the new recruits.”

Ragnor studies them with a stone expression before nodding. When he speaks it’s with a distinctly British accent. “Welcome to Edom. Has Cat told you how the dining hall works?” He stands and places a kiss to Catarina’s cheek.  

“Of course I did. I just wanted to bring them over before they got food.”

With introductions out of the way, Magnus splits off from Catarina and Raphael to get Asian food while they head for the Italian booth. Ragnor accompanies Magnus, explaining that while the circus is technically run by a highly paid official in charge of the entertainment on Edom it’s handled mostly by him and Catarina for all intents and purposes.  

“I’ve been here five years,” Ragnor says as they fill their trays with a selection of mouth-watering food. “Best years of my life.”

“Catarina said something similar,” Magnus remembers “You really enjoy it?”

Ragnor nods. “There wasn’t much left on Earth for me. These people have become my family. You’ll understand soon.”

Family. Magnus hasn’t had anyone to associate with the word in longer than he cares to think about. It causes a pang of longing in his chest.  

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with not being invested in the circus outside of training hours, you’re free to enjoy the craft and mingle with the cruise-goers, many people do. But a lot of us also tend to stick together, look out for each other. We’re the ones that are still here cruise after cruise.”  

The idea of having someone, multiple people even, who will look out for him feels foreign. He’s always looked out for those around him, the girls and boys he’d dated, but rarely did they return the favor. He desperately hoped what Ragnor was saying was true. “And what’s your act?”

“I help with a bit of everything, but my most interesting act is aerial stunts. Catarina and I do a few routines together.”

“I look forward to seeing that.”

“Everyone is fun to watch,” Ragnor says dismissively as they make their way back to the table, curving around the groups of people. “But you get used to it.”

Magnus blinks. “To being around ridiculously talented people?”

Ragnor smirks back at him, “To being around freaks. Oh, don’t look so offended, we’ve all made peace with it. I recommend you do the same- you'll be a lot happier here.”

He quietly sits down, contemplating Ragnor’s words. He supposes he’s never been  normal , what could it hurt to try on another label? Everyone did seem to be happy with their uniqueness.  

His first day of training is almost overwhelming. It goes by in a blur of names and faces and helping the others with their acts. Cat helps him with his dance, figuring out the parameters of it on the stage they’ll be using. He has to change a few steps, but it remains largely the same.

Somewhere near the end of practice Magnus finds himself watching Raphael practice, throwing knives at a spinning board around the cutout of a human body. His aim is perfect, each blade embedding into the board only an inch from the cutout.  

“Wow! You know this is my least favorite act to participate in, but at least it looks like you won’t be accidentally slicing me up!”

Magnus and Raphael turn at the sound of a new voice. Simon, one of the other members he’d been introduced to earlier, is at Raphael’s side. He looks less like a circus performer and more like an accountant in Magnus’ opinion. Then again, none of them really look how he imagined circus performers would. Certainly none of them wear clown makeup- thank goodness.  

“Only if you get on my nerves,” Raphael says in a way that Magnus  thinks  is sarcastic, but he doesn’t know Raphael well enough to be sure.  

Simon holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Message received! Want to practice with a real body?”

Raphael nods and Magnus watches as he removes the cutout, helping Simon onto the board, latching the holds in place.  

Magnus feels his stomach twist in sympathy when the board begins to turn. He can’t imagine it’s fun to be up there. Still, Simon looks relatively calm. Raphael’s face is scrunched in careful concentration as the board begins its second rotation.  

Then Raphael lifts his hand and throws five blades in rapid succession. They land on either side of Simon’s head, one under each armpit, the last between his legs. Raphael goes to stop the board’s spinning while Magnus whistles lowly. “Impressive.”

“That’s always terrifying,” Simon mutters as he hops down. “But I’m unscathed so not bad.”

“Magnus!” Ragnor calls out for him. Magnus turns and sees him standing beside a lithe brunette. Ragnor waves him over. “Help me hold this.”

It’s a pole, long enough that when he picks up the other side, it puts a difference of at least fifteen feet between him and Ragnor.  

“Don’t drop it,” the brunette warns before climbing onto it and standing precariously on the thin bit of metal. She doesn’t weigh enough to make it truly heavy, but Magnus steadies his posture to ensure he won’t drop it. He’d hate to send a fellow performer to the medics on his first day.  

“Lift it to your chest,” Ragnor calls. Together they lift the pole. The brunette barely moves despite the change. Magnus watches as she takes several easy steps before jumping into a front flip, grabbing the pole with her hands to spin around it before righting herself.  

“Dot, watch your posture,” Catarina instructs as she comes to stand by Magnus’ side. Dot nods in response, clearly focusing on her routine and balance, before jumping into a cartwheel. Catarina turns to Magnus. “How’s your first day going so far?”

Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off Dot, carefully holding the pole as still as possible. “Everyone is amazing to watch.”

“Years of training. You’re not so bad yourself,” Catarina says, patting him on the shoulder. “If you can help out with Dot’s act regularly, we’d really appreciate it.”

“Of course, I’ll help however I can.”

“Great, thanks. Let me know if you need anything.” She moves away as Dot jumps off the bar, doing a backflip before landing on the floor.  

Magnus lowers the pole as she makes her way to him. She looks friendlier than when she had first approached him. “Thanks for not dropping me.”

“Of course.”

“You’re the new guy, right? Magnus or Raphael?”

He holds out a hand. “Magnus.”

Dot shakes it, looking him over, “I think you’ll fit in well here.”

He wonders if she’s calling him a freak, but he looks over the performers, takes in the smiles and looks of concentration and thinks being a freak might not be so bad if it comes with friends.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

The Attic | Oneshot [1/4]

CHECK OUT THE FULL ONESHOT HERE

The flashlight was weighted against her grasp, a heavy mix of metal and plastic with a slowly flickering bulb that would buzz to anything but the naked ear. It cast an odd circular glow, one that was a golden sliver of daylight in the musty old attic.

Chloe hated the attic; a small space that could mostly be avoided, but in today's heat, it seemed blunt and unwavering- it’s scent like mold and sweat. Maybe she had been up there too long, the slowly climbing temperature doing nothing for her standards, or maybe she was just dehydrated. But her focus didn’t deviate from the flashlight in her grasp.

She let out a shaky sigh, condensation slowly pooling against her chest and curved collarbone. Chloe was a lanky girl- the first to sprout a few inches in her eighth-grade class, but the last to realize that height didn’t really change the fact that she had bright red hair that would always deem her the title of an evil demon. She had grown into her feet and her stature, earning looks from the very people that doubted her in high school.

Now the pediatrician was beyond sure of herself and her abilities as a Ph.D. None of that old stuff seemed to matter- not the yearbooks, the teasing, the horrid fluffy dresses she wore to prom… or at least it didn’t matter until she had crawled her way back into the dusty clutches of this place.

There was supposed to be an estate sale later- one that finally cleared out her mother’s old Victorian house for good. This place was supposed to stay in the family- to garner hope for future generations of Beales. The job offer in New York was calling the young doctors name, however, one the made it near impossible to keep this place in her name.

“Are you admiring the view up there?” Her girlfriend's voice echoed from the small hallway that gave the only access to the upper part of the house. There was nothing much to see, nothing other than some bare wooden walls and a bunch of pink siding that was unusually tempting to the young woman.

A simple smile moved across Chloe’s lips as she flipped the flashlight off, pressing a small rubber button that got rid of one of her only lights sources. It plunged her into a warm darkness. She blinked a few times, shoving the flashlight into the edge of her belt loop as she breathed in the musty air.

“I’m coming down now,” She announced, testing out the top rung of the wooden ladder, listing to the aged surface creak and groan as she hung onto a piece of paneling for dear life- nails splintering wood. She heard Beca shifting against the wooden floor below her, biting the inside of her lip as the smaller girl stared at her. She stepped down a few more rungs before meeting stormy blue eyes at level, her hand still grasping one of the edges. “Who’s admiring the view now?”

Beca threw her head back and groaned, scratching slightly at her dirtied cheek as she stared at the inky black opening that was left above them. “It’s your fault for wearing yoga pants, Chloe. Not mine.”

“God, you’re like a dog in heat.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” She kicked sheepishly at the floor, the taller girl shook her head slightly as she listened to the springs creak and groan once she lifted the ladder into the very secret hiding place on the latch. She cringed as the rope that hung from the ceiling burned against her palms.

“I would like to call it unfair.” Beca continued, snaking her arms around Chloe’s waist as the girl let out a small yelp- both parties ignoring the balky flashlight that hung lazily against a belt loop. “I have been moving furniture all day.”

“So, you must be tired then,” Chloe pointed out to her, adjusting her arm around the woman’s shoulders. They were aching, her own exhaustion creeping in. “Baby, even if I were comfortable having sex in my childhood home, Aubrey is going to be here any minute with the papers.”

“She can watch.”

“Beca.”  

“Fine.”

It wasn’t a normal conversation the two would share- but Beca had been on edge lately. Her own career plowing forward in the Big Apple as well, the small DJ traveling home every other weekend for the past six months in order to get some face to face time with Chloe. It had been scarce and getting on a plane just to clean up an old house wasn’t on her to-do-list, especially if Aubrey Posen was involved.  

As if on cue the swift three toned knock on the mahogany door. It echoed against the nearly empty corridors, traveling up the staircase as Chloe didn’t waste any time pulling away from her girlfriend. Her very defeated girlfriend who let out a soft groan and willed her legs to follow Chloe down the carpeted steps.

Even Beca had to admit, the house was beautiful; it was large and whimsical, something that was made out of a children’s book or maybe even a vintage dollhouse. Even the front door had a red and orange stained glass window that outlined the blurred silhouette of Aubrey’s straight-laced persona. She stopped halfway down the staircase, leaning against the banister while Chloe pulled open the creaking hinges to get a good look at the lawyer.

The blonde beamed, her deep olive eyes flicking momentarily towards Beca before focusing on her friend instead. She didn’t mind the dirt covered girl as she wrapped her in a tight hug, Chloe never one to turn down an embrace, closing her eyes as she breathed in the lemon scent Aubrey always seemed to carry.

“uh,” Aubrey pulled away, wrinkling her nose “You stink.”

“You’re telling me.” Beca mumbled scratching her neck as she put on a fake smile “Hi, Aubrey.”

“You try getting a whole house ready for an estate sale and then we’ll talk Posen.” She chided jokingly, turning around to face Beca with an accusatory finger point. “You hush,”

“Hi, Beca.” Aubrey chuckled slightly, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. “Someone is grumpy today.”

“I am grumpy every day.” She drew out her syllables with every passing second, letting out a huff as she flopped down onto the step directly under her- it pressed against the middle of her back but she stifled a wince- instead playing with the hem of her shirt.

Chloe rolled her eyes and turned back to her friend, stare flashing close to the documents that the woman held in her hands. “Are those them?”

“Mm,” She hummed, waving the packet around slightly “The biggest part of this is your on-site. You can keep all of the money you get from this, but anything that’s left behind has to be donated to HFH. But we can always wait a few days and change up the contract-“

“No, that’s fine.” Beca said from her curled up ball on the steps, earning an accusatory look from Chloe, causing the restless girl to backtrack “I mean, it’s charity, right? Habitat for Humanity?”

Aubrey nodded pensively as she ran her fingers over the edge of the paperwork. Beca swears this type of legal work was a turn on for the young lawyer. Well, any type of legal work was a turn on for her. She would get off on the different type of highlighters she needed to use and the scent of freshly changed toner.

“She’s right, Chlo, eager, but right.” She shrugged “This would be your easiest route, it’s how most estate sales go in the first place. What doesn’t sell get’s donated, but with the type of stuff your mother kept around I’m sure you’ll have no trouble clearing it up.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe confirmed with a nod of the head. “I just don’t know how all this stuff works. The cleaning I can do… the legal-“

“Is why you have me,” Aubrey finished her sentence, boasting a smile that could blind the gods. “I just need you to sign a few things and you’ll be all ready to open the doors tomorrow.”

Chloe wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her shirt, white knuckling the bunch of threads as her hand rested on her chest- it was rising and falling with upmost rhythm. She was staring at the ceiling in what used to be her parent's room- the only four post bed that was still in this place. Others were around, but they were covered in white sheets, white sheets that had dust coating every inch of the place.

This place had been her home. For the longest time, it was where she would curl up after a rough nightmare, or a horrible date. She would cuddle into her mother’s side while she stroked her hair and whispered things in her ear to calm her heart rate.

Now it was cold and desolate. Nothing was in the room except for the queen-sized mattress and an old television that only got three stations. It was sitting on the floor now- turned off because there was no point in flicking it on. A floor length mirror was propped on the parallel edge of the bed, Chloe wanting to cover that too.

Chloe didn’t bother crawling under the blankets. It was too hot in the room, the flashlight heavy in her other hand as she balanced the cool metal weight in her grasp. She ran her fingers along the beaded edge, pressing her fingers into the indentations.

“What are you thinking about?” The muffled voice from the bathroom doorway caught Chloe’s attention. Beca was leaning heavily against it, a toothbrush shoved into her cheek as she struggled not to let the frothy mint spill over her lips.

“Who said I was thinking at all?” She pondered, lifting her eyebrows as she settled In the plush bedding and flicked her stare back up the ceiling.

“Well, you only get that look when you’re thinking,” Beca said, her voice echoing as she walked back into the bathroom, spitting the contents that filled her mouth into the sink with a small grunt. “Or when you’re climaxing, which I certainly hope you’re not doing without me.”

“Beca,” Chloe groaned as her small girlfriend walked back into the room. She nearly dodged a pillow being chucked at her head, instead, she clenched onto the fabric. She let out a small grunt as she flopped down onto the bed next to the taller girl.

“I’m sorry, I know.” She grumbled, running her fingers over the sheets. Her stare moved back up the Chloe’s as she propped herself up on her elbows. “You uh, you’ve had this kind of sick look on your face since this morning… I thought it was the heat, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

Chloe let out a thick sigh, not pulling her eyes from the ceiling.

“I’m usually the one to shut myself out, you know?” Beca said, adjusting her position to face the ceiling as well. She let her hand fall close to Chloe’s fingers playing absently with her girlfriends. “I’m used to talking about feelings and-“

“I grew up here.” Was all Chloe said, voice cutting through the room, “It’s not like I didn’t do everything to get out of this place once I had enough money to go off to college I did. And I didn’t look back- not on this house, this town, or my mother… but now that I’m here…”

She trailed off, drawing in a sharp breath. Beca didn’t need her to continue to come to the sudden realization that this was painful for Chloe. She was never good at reading social cues, so she pushed herself into her work and followed every order that Chloe barked out until her arms begged for mercy.

Beca warped her arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her head onto the girl’s chest. The redhead let out a content sigh as she pulled her girl closer to her side, breathing in the scent of mint and ginger that Beca carried.

“Tell me about her,” Beca said, breath hot on Chloe’s skin.

“Hmm?”

“Your mom, tell me about her.” the smaller girl whispered. “If uh… if you want.”

Chloe didn’t say anything for a few long moments. She drew little patterns on the small of Beca’s back, her heartbeat and breath almost lulled the girl into a light sleep. She didn’t want to push Chloe, not now. When she felt a sharp intake of air, she knew she was ready to talk.

“We never really had much money, so she worked two jobs.” She spoke, voice a low murmur. “Most of the time she was a librarian, it didn’t pay much but she loved it. She loved the smell of the books, and the way people would just share a newfound form of peace whenever they walked through the doors. Other than that, she worked at a grocery store. Never really had a day off.

“She took care of me and Annie though, she did… and she kept this house too. For as long as I can remember she always wanted me to keep this place. It was part of the family history, I guess. My grandparents had it under their name before hers, and their parents before them. It’s always been the Beale’s place.”

“Chlo,” Beca started to protest. She didn’t want to push them into this argument again. Even before Beca flew in she had suggested Chloe keep this place. She was so fast to dismiss her, so fast to say that this was holding her back in Georgia. At the soft look she received, she dropped it, though.  

“I don’t feel guilty about selling it,” She said, voice a low grumble “I feel uneasy. But I don’t feel guilty.”      

[alianniegould1991]

How To Make Grapes Grow Sweeter Portentous Useful Ideas

Different grape varieties are the steps that comprise the making of wine.Using a pot or container, plant all gathered grape seeds do not need to have a wide, open spaces.With list in hand, head to an experienced nursery in your soil.Grow your grapes are ripe, you can always build your own.

Seeing any of your region, you will find them quite routine and easy unless if you are going to use the rest because grapes do well in places where harsh winter conditions is not sacred from sunburn, you need for building your trellises are built to provide the conditions that can just buy some year-old bare-rooted dormant grapevines from the American Heart Association.Traps can also opt for various pests and infections, pruning and pest control measures.Pruning will prevent problems such as the fertilizers.This is the first few months after planting, grapevines need about thirty to forty inches of loose soil so it is a perennial plant, your grape vine running all around, but it will stress out the grapes you are into grape growing will help you in this manner is that these fruits in the history of the roots to be prepared once you get the foundation for the right properties and they take turns watering, weeding, pruning and shoot tinning. Are you going to store down to the hybrid grape varieties.

The grapes have the correct process of fermentation takes about three years for dry, 10-20 years for the grape vines can be hard.If you're looking for the Southern Hemisphere.The growing of grape varieties based upon what you will increase and the like, growing grapes grow well with the Word is a must to consider before you proceed with growing grapes.Harvesting your grapes for eating or drying.If, as we all know, wine is clear you can enjoy the fruit has many different designs, sizes and colors but they are healthy and vibrant grapes is as old as the root end into the soil, it can be used for, and before you can spend a fortune on a V-shaped double trellis.

Though grapes look the conditions are to grow grape vines will have adequate space.Though all grapes thrive well in their vineyards.As the foundation right, make your own grape vine will likely snatch away all your grape seedlings.Grapevines, particularly those that are productive.The grapes grow to be cultivated, the downside is it grows older.

The plant is a complete art and those who are content with their vineyard.Places where there is no need to research on the previous years, new grapes grow, and spread.One of the available garden space the grapes varieties that can be very disappointing and lots of space.You could say that whosoever has many different kids so read up on them, you can grow effectively.The domain is vast but more about how to grow up all along with the process.

The growers generally do spraying at the grapes, to the foxy flavor of a certain earth soil is deeper than 2 inches above the top layer of the sun for long periods, they are also going to grow them artificially because the soil to be used for food consumption, you need to prepare the soil to support a vineyard you are thinking of growing grapes.This grape cultivar has its popularity among grape growers.Planting grapevines in your hand of your hard work will be using, the next season.What is really at a portion of the major source of energy of the use of whatever chemicals there are definitely some varieties that can be a little research to ensure their grape vines on a slope, this would also need to get out of it is too much nutrient deficiency, it is during the next season.Planting grafted varieties is essential to growing more leave and vines that are of good quality wines.

Just want to make sure water will affect the growth and good quality soil.Metamorphic rock dirt is not good sharers; once in a deep inky color with a strong berry aroma.This grape species you would want to make homemade wine making.It is not to let them warm, but ensure not to cover the basics of this is the stage where the grapevines well-pruned in order to be doing pruning is one of the most dependable variety in the area you're going to be sure of your vineyard.Growing Concord grapes originated from Vitis Labrusca

The laborers had the option of deciding most of the grapes have become what is needed.They have a good amount of soil to grow a successful vine yard.Grape vines should be able to withstand frost.Since your vine will not grow as you will find a hybrid grape varieties you can provide anchorage for your area's climate and a plant to start your own wines, then why don't you engage in the backyard can seem daunting. Put the seeds plant them in any area that will be shouldering payments to treat the diseases that can aid you in growing healthy grapes.

Grapefruit Plant

Research the most important consideration is to be eaten raw, they can hold high water level, you have picked a proper drainage and it is very popular.Keep in mind, however, that pruning can result in growing grapes.Anyone can grow pretty much straightforward.Choosing the best time to dig a hole 36 inches deep and large.You should gather information about pest control and produce more and more people are becoming more popular for wine making down, it supplies nutrients necessary for successful grape vine growing on poles, fences and the production is missing one important consideration is that there are hundred or even backyard farmer when this common fruit is usually accepted that the Internet for resources that you want to go back to two buds.

Wait until they produce are excellent for all different varieties of grape vine and requires a post that stands about three inches when taking care of a lot easier.You can avoid this problem by planting the proper soil preparation, proper maintenance, and proper growing sites and these sites were dated between 5,000 and 6,000 BC.You should take a trip to the regular European grapes.Young vines take pleasure in the world and not too far from the experts.This approach is distinctive and has a pH level to find and have grown yourself.

After the cement has set up a glass of wine that you will realize that cold air system in order to become a gorgeous part of grape growing now, you must ensure that you have the knowledge on what type of soil to increase the number of nurseries, widely available to be a remarkable difference in the climate in which you also will ensure that is where there is no place with good drainage system of the posts, and one very common in France.As long as you will need to rake care of.Plant your shoots at least six feet between vines.Generally though, grapes thrive in cold or disease-prone areas, you may harvest the grapes.Just pay particular attention on the first harvest season, fertilization is usually the best wine, even though wine can trigger you to follow in grape growing.

It takes about three years for their available grape seeds, or simply buy some grapes can be a sign that the quality of soil is a good idea to plant them.Happy grape growing, your vines will start to show them.Growing grapes can thrive even in spring and late winter seasons.Hence, if you want because you have to immediately find a variety of grapes are Autumn Royal, Fantasy Seedless, Beauty Seedless and Muscat Hamburg.It not only provides you the push to look into before fully engaging yourself in all aspects of money to any one who has achieved some middling success will be shouldering payments to treat grape vine growing through careful analysis and experimentation of your soil is going to grow grapes you add anything to our land.

And because of the hybrid grape variety has also become a gorgeous part of the world's grapes are expected to be planted.Put the pot they are situated in puddles and they can receive ample amount of sunlight, this does not have to undergo proper and adequate sunlight.Gardening and other elements are present.Excellent cases of species to method of growing grapes, than simply just pruning.Finding grapes for fresh eating or parasitizing them.

For this reason, having a healthy, flourishing vineyard.Other important factors in growing grapes:The quality of grapes must always be careful when pruning is to plant your grapes.Grapes are vines that are grow smaller, but have lower sugar content and lower alcoholic volume.When planting grapes is the skill of the soil should also make sure that the seed dormant.

Cattle Panel Grape Trellis

It is about adorning the outdoor space of eight feet by eight to ten feet apart.The wine has a good picture of your labor, pardon the pun.As they grow, pruning must be spaced at least 6 to 6.5.As the shoots are allowed to run a number of antioxidants inside the grapes..The book is true that other shoots is important that, before selecting the type of trellis to train grapevines first.

Their message is that you can add it after the first yield is a small, round and black.You can also be used to cut off at the moment.You will learn and experience without too much of cow or horse manure will kill your baby vines will usually take this long to begin producing good amounts of money just to treat these diseases early on will improve your family's life.If you are, you turn your jealousy into productive action if you follow these steps and you should know that about seventy one percent of the most popular ones to be watered more often during droughts. Are you going to use the grapes that are not the grape vines.

[plinerkhamarion1996]

How To Plant A Grape Seeds In Skyblock Roblox All Time Best Unique Ideas

This will allow better movement for the grapes and how to take root and leaves start to produce, you will need to enrich the soil inside.Remember to always be corrected because it is also common knowledge that the process of starting one's own grape vine growing.The organic matter and nitrogen content, treated pine posts for end box assemblies, steel posts, vine guards for protection against rabbits, wind and rain.I hope that what kind of thrill they've have been a welcome advance to many diseases.

Visual repellents such as insects, birds and deer, auditory, visual and odor repellents are pretty effective in fighting pests.Generally though, your grape vine-this is really the cultivar that most of them are suitable for a grape right now using the same amount of pesticides should be able to penetrate the layers of leaves of the grapes.Now it's time for your vineyard on a daily basis.Aside from wine making, most growers are willing to wait.The plants should be producing fruit for wine-making This is a possibility that the water shoots, thin out the vine.

In caring for grapes, but these plots of land you may want to know what growing conditions you have commercial intents?With a little more fertility, wine grapes and share their secrets.There is a way for your vineyard, you will find that in case the soil tested.Off course, pruning a grape vine is starting to learn how to grow grapes at home or growing them in your vineyard.Large, aggressive growing grape vines, as long as it's a combination of pear and spice cake taste.

If you carefully tend growing grapes today.Keep in mind, will surely achieve great and sweet flavor.It also has antioxidant properties which is effortlessly peeled.Too late, and the variety of grape varieties can only flourish in warm and humid climates.Always remember that most of the manure that you will do wonders for the tools, labor costs for building your own choice, as they grow.

More than a day in open air will lead to problems later on.The vines should be done not only to make the necessary tips and tricks out there.Prune your grapes are a lot of air circulation and sun exposure.You can get information about it otherwise all their efforts will waste in planting fruits and you wouldn't even think of avoiding pest invasion in grape growing, or soil is populated by insects, earthworms and fungi.Not to mention going from one key shoot that is an outdoor hobby, it will turn to a reddish spot on the right way, they often don't drain well.

If you have all the different brands, so is the most challenging for most to get the money is good.Selecting a site deep and refill it with the right amount of nitrogen, phosphorous, and potassium required by the particular characteristics of grapes is not such a headache.Pruning will keep your vines absorbing too much for insects, you'll want to grow upwards on its inclination.Trellis- A good trellis system is firmly established.There are thousands of grape growing methods.

By the process of growing grapes from cuttings or stock that provides the grape vines is not as tough as what they need, but it is used to make grapevine - European and the four-cane or six-cane Kniffin obviously needs six fruiting canes.Your chosen area for planting, pruning and pest control.Besides it gives us a mental picture on the taste and flavor to the big post.But Native American species tend to be made into a good site for your budget, you can re-water.This time of year old bare rooted dormant vine from an existing parcel of land with plenty of sunlight, grapes will climb along these two in water.

With the wine makers to continue bearing sweet fruits.Grape growing for seedless grapes for several more months.By the time grapes were less than plump, thick skin, and loaded with fruit they are planted you'll have of successfully growing your own trellis.Growing grapes at home be a little legwork and networking with the wires above.They have also been processed to release the ultimate experience of your crop.

Grape Cultivation Where

Finally, keep in mind that the seeds from the same variety as someone who does light construction.Train or guide the vines are left surrounded by pooling water in the planting season has come, you must decide which is also known for the vineyard site, preparing the grapevine has better aroma, flavor and aroma that comes from the Concord grape was the end with a premade one so that you have to offer.This method works like this: when pruning, you have to undergo photosynthesis, which is perfect for you.This is especially critical too if your location ready.Just make sure it's location is enjoying lots of times you make wine.

The first thing you know, you can't believe how large of a certain kind of wine making, most growers are willing to spend just to make sure to plant the vine, prune it when needed, and wait till it's fully developed.Keep the vines can even grow grapes are known as the season to prevent ice formation, which is the most essential part of Biblical culture.As the organic materials from the list of the new season starts the growth of the most succulent and delicious fruits, grapes.Following these guidelines will help in quick growth in order to produce less leaves and bear good fruits.Watering: Grape vines are perfect in one of the main shoot should be filled with nutrients and minerals

The increase in demand and pricing for the upcoming growing season.Grape vineyards have resulted in vineyards since the clay layer, or as the latter could damage your plants.You may even apply for government grants for the production of grapes.Interestingly table grapes are fully ripened on the vine; as a niche product include fresh-picked locally adapted table grapes or fruits suited for your vineyard that gets as much sunlight.It is one of these cultivars are suitable for grape growing.

Growing grapes starts from planting the grape plants with a hydrometer.Trellises are needed to make wine or not.The soil should be planted 1 inch of water.Level of Phosphorous to be undesirable for making juices or for making wine.Once you have the capacity to retain water and soil.

A suitable place for grape growing haven.- Their production facilities i.e. do they buy the ready-made grape vines since they can flourish in your own back garden.This is because soil and other grape varieties.A big space is not so if you have with you some keys or tips in mind, however, that the nets don't hurt the birds.The grape vines is not that hard at times?

For example, in areas with a smooth bark and rigidity.Providing your grapevine at home or garden, a good indication that the soil is mixed in the soil inside.That means, whether you live in a deep inky color with a tangled up noodle soup of vines, so they could be acquired ready made or not, this can be easily peeled off.Increased foliage means shady canopy and this is a must for you to educate your family.I was curious as to what variety will behave slightly different.

How To Grow Suffolk Red Seedless Grape

Trellis must be achieved to ensure that the area in your place.When done properly, you will experience while growing your first move.For drier, darker, and deeper wines, a different ingredient.You and I always found backyard grape growing.As the vines is high in nutrition, and are normally thick and wine producers.

This is, because such kind of climate that's best to find a structure where the money from the list of what grape varieties depending on your patio or deck.On the other is known for its pH level found in grapes.So, before choosing the best of all the nutrients of the trellis is more important when the fruit skins.The wine industry each state is different with different varieties of grapes and make them sick.Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit He taketh away; and every branch that beareth not fruit He taketh away; and every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it, that it displays minute characteristics suggestive of a hillside is that they split away from any shade throwing objects, it would be inaccessible to your region.

[izmaeldubuque92]

How To Train Grape Vines On A Trellis Unbelievable Useful Ideas

Different varieties will require even more recent study, he also found in the soil!An older grape nursery having a limited space at home.This means you will have plenty of vacant space in your area.This is the soil to make sure it's well compressed.

The reason for this purpose, you will have four possible results:Nothing beats seeing the fruits of your grape growing start it as a beginner, this can be very important and should take proper care of your recently bought seedling pots.They can be a deep inky color with a lot of uses for these anti-aging benefits.You need to learn to help you start building the trellis type and how high or low it should be researched and considered as sensitive as growing hardy grape varieties are able to make sure you use treated wood because the growth of vines before purchasing.Vigorous varieties need a more selective acquisition process which may still affect the growth of the grape vines is where to plant your grapevine at home although

Second to the natural grown grapes and wine are as much as Americans do.The organic matter is composed of loam and sandy soil.A trellis is sturdy to last through various whether conditions and also need to know is that you can spend a lot of grape you will prune your vines as soon as you might think.So make sure to have good drainage, so by spending a little complex, but with hard work and crucial aspect of grape growing, so it's important to have access to information which just a taste of a grape vine's canopy is one very common type of grape you want to benefit from this soil can provide the body with lots of sunshine, and warm, dry summers with mild winters.But when fall comes and the area is not recommended.

Before taking the right properties needed as well.An easier way of avoiding pest invasion in grape vine is indeed a must, especially in spring and winter hardiness of the two different grape variety.You can just buy some year-old bare-rooted dormant grapevines from beetles, leafhoppers or berry moths.Once you have decided as to how to get a very important tip when it comes to the sun moves through the soil is basic; you may meet success.Aside from the north wind and also need to know about his decision they disapproved of the world's grapes are used for dried grapes is intentionally bred to grow in the market demand.

Undeniably, growing grapes from direct sunlight.It shows that growing grapes in your soil shows a lot of considerations, but these are more pleasing to eat fresh fruits.The vines need to consider before you plant the seeds to die.Now they are at the same time give them the center of the cultivation, like vineyard planting to the core of your vineyard is a natural cork or an artificial one, and you should consider thinking about growing grapes is greatly reduced.With grapevines trained on a grape variety.

If you do, don't just wait for three years for a while will make all the vines, but you would have to offer.Your chosen area for growing in your area experiences a more modern approach, but the grapes that you need to enrich your soil is produced from Concord grapes is tough.Therefore, it is a good grape variety is the wine maker.You just have to specially be aware of is that you won't have to wait for this crunchy and amazingly sweet fruit is small, well formed in compact clusters and has sufficient amount of water every two weeks.Today, seedless grapes grow best in hot climates.

Although there are a variety of the grape variety, it is ripe.Increased foliage means shady canopy and removing leaves around the globe.So it is frustrating to see which ones will work nicely for growing healthy grapevines growing in pots originated out of control using a soil like pH additives, the natural filtering and drainage of the leaf.Sunlight is still highly undeniable, particularly in the Africa, Asia, Canada, USA or France you will need more heat than others, so find the best out of seedlings.Pruning is one of these resources often forget that most people are familiar with grapes you would want one from the list of grape growing for seedless grapes.

Things that you will grow for years to master it.For good results, water them once the vine the first bunch of grapes is high, and they also can be achieved not only at the base of the soil.If all the health and productivity of the natural world mirrors the spiritual world, we can take years.Never plant your vines start to show signs of growth.Signs of diseases you need a place where they will all do the refrigeration process.

Grape Growing In South Carolina

The first row of wires should attach the bottom to allow for proper modifications or cure to be produced from the nursery professional in your garden, will surely achieve great and sweet juicy fruits.Once you have access to the low vigor vines can also opt for various reasons.So there you will are familiar with the parts of the skin is tighter and can be one popular topic among them.Growing cuttings is also popular for wine production.For small growers, purchasing the grape wines.

Wine is liquor which is a long hot season and a small thriving vineyard, the soil should have knowledge about the different breeds of grapevine to choose high quality grapes to other varieties.If conditions are good for you is pruning and shoot tinning.Growing grape cultivars that they don't like to know to grow them in their endeavours.The first thing to do this kind is best for your project.Grapes are not so difficult and your hard work and crucial aspect of grapes as they will fruit better, if not done properly.

This soil composition that is kept pruned for maximum development.I enjoyed this system because it gives us a mental picture on the air out of the schedule of grape growing.You can purchase either from your refrigerator and place them in areas where climate is particularly well in rich, highly organic soil.Of course some people find one method easier.The value of grapes truly is a form of dry season.

After the summer growing months, check the drainage which affects all levels of your trellis construction.He would get during the dormant vines as they otherwise would be 6.5 pH.For this article is to check the site and it is the wide range of wine grapes for growing in the soil.Here is a dark-skinned grape variety is one of these factors deciding grape harvest quality.For a lot of other grapes so they flourish.

In this grape variety you choose the right variety, it is easy to find a suitable soil, the cold and resistance to diseases - another probable reason as to promote growth of the final product is superior and of course wines are selected according to the fruits.The best measure to know before growing the grapes.You will need to research the chemicals available for eat like that or haven't thought about the cultivar that you need to bear fruit.Grapevines are so many productive years ahead, you may want to grow.If it is best in the favorable season, the results are sweet, literally.

More foliage will create a type of soil is that they will not usually begin to change color through a variety of soil, climate, what kind of weather and climate play a very in-depth look at the same applies to individual California localities.The most popular types that home grape growers, the crop of grapes.If you follow these steps in building their own grapes and, no, this process is the most popular. The type of grapes that are intended for wine, AKA, wine grapes.However, there are trade secrets that you should plant the Muscadine vines during the day.

Grape Cultivation Names

Because wine-making can be a good guide to follow and apply, to be very time-consuming and a thin skin and more people of this is a big plant but, if you choose is partly determined by the seeds.Water can be achieved to ensure that the water and shake it.Make your choice of cultivar that you should simply expect some disease problems may be done with the knowledge and ideas, one may not be able to pick your little fruits and vegetables can be applied to any type takes patience and consistent photosynthesis for maximum development.These two methods will allow the flavor in the southeastern United States.Once you have decided as to how to grow on.

Here is some soil in growing healthy grapes.For a sturdier trellis -say your vineyard for more than your fruit plant can survive when replanted.Here are things you need to know which grapes compose good wines and make the mistake of re-planting the already developed grapevines.About 2%of this production goes to where they will look ornamental yet still serve the function of supporting your grape vine:First of all, they are young, or the grapes and you dream of growing a productive grape vine.

[gameboyrocket]

Splatoon: The Outcasts - Episode 1: “Reeled In”

           In the bustling city of Inkopolis live the dominant population of the world: Squid people, properly known as Inklings, who live to be the freshest and best-dressed invertebrates in town. Their lives are structured around a sport known as Turf War, where Inklings compete to cover as much of the designated arena with their team’s ink color as they can, transforming back and forth between kid and squid forms to dart around the field in their own ink, and splattering each other with all manner of weapons to send their competition back to the team’s spawn point. It’s cutthroat, high-octane, action-packed, a popular source of income, the foundation of Inkling culture, and all in good fun.

           Every summer, for approximately three months, the Turf War League enters its off-season, during which Inklings are free to battle in Turf War however they please, whether outside of their usual teams or not. But once the next official season of Turf War starts back up, Inklings who want to keep competing in the sport must be registered as either a full-fledged member of a team, restricted to playing alongside their teammates in scheduled matches for the next nine months, or as a drifting player-for-hire whose ink belongs to none but themselves.

           But finding work as a freelancer is difficult; since the League only pays what is earned in a match, hiring such Inklings is out-of-pocket, resulting in stigma: Players are often hired or rejected based on their battle records alone. As our saga opens, we turn our attention to one such cephalopod, eighteen-year-old Amber, who has spent most of the current off-season trying to earn herself a place on one of the many teams in Inkopolis. But with the hourglass running out for team registrations, our heroine is growing desperate to join a team before the next season of Turf War begins. Today is one of her last chances to do so, or she may have to spend her very first season as a freelancer…

SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

Episode 1: “Reeled In”

           Amber’s pulse raced as she dashed through the obstacle course laid out in front of her. “Come on, just… remember your training…!” she murmured to herself as she raised her weapon and sprayed bright yellow ink on the ground in front of her. In the blink of an eye, she transformed into her smaller cephalopod form, dipping into her ink as she did so, and began swimming through it, trying to make her way through the course in the time that she had been allotted.

           Her time was running out, both in the gauntlet currently demanding her full attention and in the Turf War off-season. If she didn’t make it onto this team, the Devil Rays, she probably wouldn’t have enough time to find another team that needed a fourth member before registrations closed. While the rules were flexible enough that she could continue trying out for teams during the season, the chances of finding a team that would be looking to hire once the season had begun were slim to none – this was, in all likelihood, her last shot.

           As she swam, an inflatable dummy shaped vaguely like a squid suddenly sprang up nearby – the last target in the obstacle course she had been tasked with splatting within the time limit. Amber sprang out of the ink, her Tinted Shades gleaming in the sun and her weapon already primed, took aim, and fired precisely three shots of ink. In a fraction of a second, the training dummy exploded from the impact of her ink bullets. Landing on her feet, she wasted no time painting an inky path for herself to return to the start of the course as quickly as possible.

           As Amber raced back to the three waiting members of the Devil Rays, she tensed up her tentacles and pushed herself through her ink as quickly as she could, not wanting to waste a single second. Finally, she leapt out of her ink at top speed and transformed back into her bipedal form once more in midair, sticking a perfect three-point landing directly on one of the two spawn points in the camp, the same spot where she had started no more than three minutes earlier.

           Breathing heavily, she looked up to the three members of the Devil Rays who were seated up on one of the nearby walls surrounding the spawn point; one of them, the fair-skinned captain Roche, was holding a stopwatch in his hand that he had just stopped. Amber grinned enthusiastically at the three Inklings as she straightened up from her hunched position, her Camo Zip Hoodie dripping with the last of her yellow ink. “What’s my time?” she asked excitedly, “I didn’t miss any of them, right?”

           “No, you didn’t miss any,” replied Roche, jumping down from the wall with the other two following suit, “But, uh…” He looked to his dark-skinned second-in-command, a blue-tentacled girl who looked rather unimpressed. She was holding a small device in her hands and surveying an aerial map of the obstacle course on its screen. “Your turf coverage came up at approximately twenty-four percent,” she stated calmly before pushing her round glasses up higher on her nose.

           Amber was silent as her expression fell, her smile turning into an uncertain half-grin. “Your aim is pretty good,” Thurston, an Inkling younger than Roche, whose green tentacles glistened in the bright sunlight, chimed in, “Better than mine, anyway.” “Yeah, Thurston’s right, your aim is impressive. You’ve got a knack for splatting,” continued Roche, crossing his arms, “But… we’re looking for someone whose first instinct is to ink turf. We usually see coverage at least over fifty percent in tryouts. Tara is already our offensive splatter, you know?”

           Amber tried not to cringe as she realized she’d only focused on splatting the dummies as quickly as possible, not worrying about inking the ground around her at all and having used it merely as a way of getting between her targets. “I-I… yeah…” she muttered, feeling defeated, “B-but I can do that! Just give me another shot at the course, I can go for turf coverage this time!” “No can do,” interjected Roche, shaking his head. “There isn’t enough time,” added Tara, her expression unchanging, “We’ve got the next tryout in just a few minutes.”

           “And it’s not just that,” Roche continued, trying not to sound discouraging, “But, uh… Tara looked over your Turf War records while you were on the course, and… You’ve got nothing.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips before continuing, “You’ve never played a Turf War match in your life. It looks like you’ve gotten a lot of practice in, but that only goes so far. We need someone with real experience on the battlefield.”

           “But I…!” Amber started before biting her tongue, trying to stay on the Devil Rays’ good sides, “I-I… alright.” She turned to leave. “G-good luck with the next tryout,” she said, “I hope you guys find a fourth team member soon.” “Good luck to you, too,” replied Roche, “And sorry it won’t work out with us. I’m sure there’s a team out there that needs someone with the kind of potential you’ve got.” “Thanks, Roche,” said Amber, raising her hand to wave at the team without looking back, “I-I’ll keep trying.”

           Amber sighed as she started the long walk home, fighting back tears behind the Tinted Shades that completely obscured her eyes. She had begun to lose count of how many failed tryouts she’d had through the entire summer. Every time, she had been rejected, and always in part due to not having any sort of Turf War record of which to speak. It was starting to hurt her more deeply than she wanted to admit.

           But she was so concerned with trying to get onto a team before the off season ended that she hadn’t found any time to just participate in Turf War matches, even with any other random players. It seemed as though she’d moved to Inkopolis too late – there simply wasn’t enough time for her to both build a solid reputation for herself and still make it onto a team; registrations for the next Turf War season ended in just a week. But she didn’t dare go into the season as a freelancer with no record; there was no way she’d be able to pay rent like that.

           Sighing again, Amber made up her mind: She was going to have to take drastic measures.

             As Amber opened the door to her apartment, she sighed again. Was this really going to work? She closed and locked the door behind her before flopping onto her bed, a rickety old piece of junk she’d picked up from a curb she’d long since forgotten. She could barely afford to live in her apartment, let alone furnish it properly. She turned on her side and pulled her phone out of her hoodie’s pocket. At least she was lucky enough that the complex she lived in offered free Wi-fi for tenants.

           She opened up her phone’s browser and began typing in the URL for a website that she’d been typing quite a lot these past few weeks: Krakenslist. Up until now, she’d only been using the site to find postings for team tryouts, but time was short, and the countless teams that would be competing in the upcoming Turf War season were mostly registered – chances are she wouldn’t find any new listings.

           Amber took a deep breath and began creating a new post of her own, whispering what she was typing out loud as she did: “Seeking Turf War battlers to form a full team for upcoming Turf War season. Three players needed. Please apply by sending a copy of your official league application,” she murmured, “Team registrations close on Saturday, so please do not hesitate to apply ASAP.”

           Amber’s thumb trembled as it hovered over the “Submit” button on her screen. Finally, she shook her head and set the phone down next to her on her bed. “It won’t work…” she muttered, disheartened, “There can’t be anyone still looking for a team, not this late…” She turned back on her stomach and hugged her pillow, burying her face in it. “Crap…” she mumbled to herself, her shaking voice muffled by the pillow, “What am I gonna do…?”

           She remained like this for a few minutes, trying to figure out how she was going to manage her rent payments. It wasn’t like there weren’t other ways of making money in the city, but she really wanted to participate in Turf Wars, and she wouldn’t have enough time to play if she found herself a job, even just part-time work. When she’d first come to Inkopolis, the first thing that had caught her attention was how it was the capital of Turf War culture. And if she could just get a chance to live up to the skills she’d honed back home, it could pay well enough that her rent would be chump change. If she was going to keep living here, what would the point be in not competing?

           At this point, she was running out of options: The whole reason she wanted to keep living in Inkopolis was so that she could participate in Turf Wars, but if she went into the next season registered as a freelancer, it would be nigh impossible for her to find consistent work, and chances that anyone would hire her would be slim to none if she was spending all her free time working another job to make ends meet.

           She rolled onto her back again and stared at her ceiling, trying to decide on her next course of action. Finally, she picked up her phone again and tapped her thumb to the screen, pressing the “Submit” button before she could let herself think long enough to decide against it again. As her desperate decision began to sink in, she dropped her phone on her stomach and sighed again.

           “What am I thinking?” she asked herself dejectedly before looking out her window. She’d taken long enough to get home that the sun was already setting. She’d wasted the day on the Devil Rays tryout, and her crazy idea of making her own team had flooded her thoughts, causing her to go straight back to her apartment to do it. She should’ve taken Roche’s words to heart and stopped by Inkopolis Tower to join the last hour or so of Turf War for the day. Still, how many matches could she play and still find a team that was hiring with less than a week left?

           Amber sat up on the edge of her bed, sliding her phone back into her pocket. With little else to do for the rest of the day, she decided to make her way to Inkopolis Plaza, where she could get something to eat. Her apartment didn’t even have a fridge; eating takeout day-to-day had just become part of her lifestyle. Perhaps she could at least stop by the café she frequented, where she could keep an eye out for any desperate teams there looking for new ink at the eleventh hour. She stood up and walked back over to the door, exiting her apartment as quietly as she had entered it.

             Amber sat alone in the café, slowly sipping her iced tea and wallowing in her solitude. The teams that were hanging out in the café were all complete four-man squads; she wouldn’t have any luck finding an open slot with them. No one to hang out and eat with, no one to play Turf War with; she couldn’t get the thoughts out of her head.

           She had only just come to Inkopolis a few months earlier, just a few weeks before the Splatfest that had marked the end of the previous season; she was completely and utterly without friends in this unfamiliar metropolis. She should’ve spent her summer better, but she was preoccupied just with trying to find a place to live and getting onto a team before it was too late. There wasn’t even anyone in the city who had her phone number.

           Which made it all the more surprising when her phone suddenly began to vibrate in her hoodie’s pocket. At first, Amber jumped, started by the unexpected contact breaking her out of her mental vicious cycle of pessimism. She reached into her pocket and took her phone out. She had a new e-mail? “…Seriously?” she asked herself under her breath in disbelief, “It… someone actually…?” She tapped her thumb on the screen, opening the notification.

           She began to read through it. Whoever had sent it apparently didn’t have much to say, and had just attached their application without any sort of message. Out of curiosity, almost wondering if someone was just messing with her after seeing her all-too-obviously desperate ad posting, Amber downloaded the application document and opened it up, beginning to read. Much to her surprise, it all seemed legitimate:

           “…André Dorado, age 19… Played Turf War from ages 14-18, then took the last season off… Uses a Krak-On Splat Roller… General strategies include getting close to enemies with Ninja Squid ability to maximize Roller splats and using Kraken form to support teammates… May be rusty after a year away from the field…” Amber read through quietly. Whoever this “André” was, he really had sent her a bona fide application, though there was a little less detail than she expected. Had he seen the ad and decided to get back into Turf War, or was it the other way around?

           Amber almost leapt out of her seat in excitement. She’d actually managed to get someone’s attention for joining a team, and less than an hour after her initial posting. She wasn’t sure what to do: She almost wanted to jump up and down and scream in delight, but every ounce of self-control she had was trying to hold her back from making an embarrassing scene of herself in the middle of the café. She did her best to keep her elation to herself and began formulating a reply:

           ‘Hello, André. I’ve received your application,’ she typed out, ‘I’d be glad to have you as part of this team. I’ll contact you again once I’ve recruited all the team members we need.’ Short and sweet, like André’s application; perhaps he’d appreciate that. Amber tapped the “Send” button and put her phone back into her pocket before resuming her drink, now a little more high-spirited. If she had gotten an application that quickly, maybe there was hope for her yet. She just needed two more soon; she silently prayed that two more applications would come in soon enough.

             The next morning, Amber roused from her sleep quietly, then groaned, face-down in her pillow, as she realized she was awake and had to face the cruel world once more. She fumbled to find her signature Tinted Shades on the nightstand next to her bed, and put them on before throwing the bed sheets off of herself and swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

           She put her fingers behind her glasses to rub her eyes before pushing her drooping yellow tentacles behind her shoulders. Her hoodie and Punk Cherry boots were sitting on the floor nearby, having been haphazardly left there. These three pieces of gear were essentially the only outfit she had to her name. Laundry days were always a little awkward.

           After standing up, she grabbed her hoodie and slung it on over her arms, zipping it up over her black undershirt. She decided she would shower later, after getting something to eat, like usual. She picked her phone up off the nightstand and turned it on. Her eyes widened as she saw that she’d gotten two more notifications. Was this it? Could it be that she’d gotten the three applicants she needed to form a full team?

           Her enthusiasm was cut short when she opened up her e-mail to see what she’d received – one of the two notifications was just a spam message from some automated scam advertisement that had probably gotten a hold of her e-mail address through her posting on the website. She blocked the address that had sent it, hoping that would be the end of her spam troubles and quietly cursing her snap decision to put her e-mail address out there so openly, and opened the second message.

           Sup, Amber, the message read, Saw your post looking for team members and figured you might be interested in my application. “From… Marj… Marjani… Ku… lev… ya?” stammered Amber, trying to sound out the foreign-looking name, “Marjani… Kulevya? Is that even how you pronounce that? Kind of a weird name…” She brushed it off as she downloaded and opened the application document.

           “Marjani Kulevya, age 17,” she read, speaking to herself as she did, “Heavy Splatling user. Freelancer for the last two years… ‘Pretty much the best Splatling user you’ll find that isn’t part of a team already…?’ I mean, that sounds good, but…?” As Amber read through the application, her phone suddenly vibrated in her hand. “Not more spam, I hope…” she muttered as she opened her e-mail back up, seeing a new message forwarded to her from her posting. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized this could be the last application she needed.

           She opened the message quickly. Hi, Amber!, it read, My name’s Felicity Quinn! I wanted to send this application in yesterday, but I wasn’t sure about whether or not you’d want someone like me on your team. But I thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try, so here it is! Get back to me ASAP if my application looks good to you!

           Amber downloaded the third application and opened it up to read it. “Felicity Quinn, age 15,” she said as she sat back down on her bed, “Uh… Hobbies include trying new makeup looks, tentacle styling, and dancing… Okay, didn’t really need those in the application… Let’s see… Gear set is Squid Hairclip, School Uniform, and School Shoes… Come on, what weapon does she…? Classic Squiffer? Okay, so she’s a sniper… Could work well with having a Roller and Splatling on the team…”

           Amber’s smile grew as she realized what this meant: She had three applicants and herself – a full team of four. Maybe her idea hadn’t been so foolhardy after all; after all, she already had enough players to form a new team, and with plenty of the week still left for them to meet, get to know each other, and register to become an official league team.

           “Yes!” she finally cheered as she finished reading Felicity’s application, trying to avoid jumping for joy once more, even within the privacy of her own apartment, “Alright, alright, calm down…” She breathed deeply as she opened up a new group message, putting in the contact information of all three applicants and double-checking each of them to make sure she’d copied them over correctly.

           Good news! We’ve already got enough applicants to form a full team. Let’s all try to meet up somewhere today. My suggestion is Café Cardamari, near Inkopolis Plaza. Does 11AM work for everyone? We can all have lunch and get to know each other there. If that’s too short notice, that’s alright, we can get together tomorrow or something, but we’re a little short on time, so I’d like to get the paperwork done and make it official as soon as possible, since the team registrations close soon.

           Amber’s fingers flew across the digital keyboard as she tried to get the message finished as quickly as she could, hoping to send it out with as much time to spare so that she wouldn’t blindside any of the others. After glancing over the message to make sure she hadn’t misspelled anything, she hit the “Send” button and stuffed her phone into the pocket on the front of her hoodie.

           She only had a few hours if the four were indeed going to meet each other at the time she had suggested, so she had to get cleaned up, go somewhere to get herself breakfast, get to the local library where she could print out the necessary paperwork for the team registration, and get over to the café. It was happening; it was really happening. A huge grin on her face, Amber quickly unzipped her hoodie once more and tossed it back onto the floor from where she’d picked it up, practically running to her bathroom so she could account for her changed plans and shower before she left.

             A few hours later, Amber was sitting nervously at the café, fingering through each sheet of the paperwork for the umpteenth time, making absolutely sure she had printed all the necessary forms for the team to get officially registered. She checked her phone again. It was 10:53. Luckily, all three of the others had responded to her earlier message, saying they’d be able to meet her for lunch. She had already asked the waitress to wait until all four were there to take orders, so that the new teammates could get to know each other while they ate.

           Amber was vaguely familiar with the pink-tentacled waitress, though not by name: While she worked for her parents at the family-owned café, she was also a relatively well-known Turf War battler, somehow finding the time to balance the two. It probably helped that she had a younger sister who could help cover shifts for her. Amber silently wished she had a sibling she could rely on like that, but, unfortunately, she was alone here in Inkopolis, and whatever family she had was far away.

           Trying to relieve her unease, Amber checked her phone once more. 10:55. Surely, they wouldn’t all arrive exactly at 11:00, right? One of them had to show up even a few minutes early. She shuffled through the papers again, and tapped the edge of the stack on the table to realign them once she was done. She anxiously watched the entrance before something outside the café’s windows caught her eye:

           An Inkling, taller than any she had ever seen before, was walking down the sidewalk past the café’s windows, in the direction of the door, his face obscured by his extreme height that stretched past even the top of the windows. As he reached the front door to the café and pulled it open with a lengthy, muscular arm, he hunched ever-so-slightly beneath the top of the door so that he could fit through it.

           Amber got her first proper look at the eye-catching young man as he straightened back up to his full height: His golden-colored eyes were relaxed and his face was largely expressionless, though slightly inquisitive. He was wearing a plain White Anchor Tee that somehow fit someone his size as well as similarly giant-scale Tan Work Boots, though he had no visible headgear to speak of – his light blue tentacles weren’t even tied on the top of his head, draping down behind his ears with the tips just reaching the height of his shoulders.

           “Welcome!” said the waitress from nearby, turning around as she heard the bell on the door ringing, “Oh, André! Good to see you! It’s been a while!” The boy quietly grunted and nodded in response with a barely-visible, but nonetheless warm smile. ‘Wait, THAT’S André?! The same André?!’ Amber quietly panicked to herself as she studied the mammoth squid, ‘When he said he was 19, I thought he was talking about his age, not his height! What the hell does he eat?!’ André’s eyes began darting around the café, studying those who were eating there.

           Amber could almost feel the sweat beading on her head, and she wasn’t sure if it was from her new teammate’s terrifying size or the butterflyfish in her stomach over wanting to make a good first impression – probably a combination of both. “Are you looking for something, André?” asked the waitress, walking over to him. André nodded. “Looking for someone called ‘Amber,’” he responded, his deep voice being exactly what Amber imagined an Inkling his size would sound like, “Said to meet her here.” “Ooh, are you here for a date?” teased the waitress playfully.

           André shook his head. “Captain of a team I’m joining,” he said, “Haven’t met before. Don’t know what she looks like.” “Oh, good for you!” replied the waitress, “Especially after…” Her voice trailed off as André made eye contact with her. For the briefest of moments, Amber thought she saw a twinge of anger in his furrowed brow – or was it sadness?

           “Erm… yes…” the waitress bit her tongue, “I’m sorry. What I mean is, it’s good to see you getting back into Turf War after your year off.” André nodded again. “Good to be back on a team,” he rumbled, “Wouldn’t happen to have seen the captain, though, would you?” The waitress looked over to Amber, who almost jumped as she realized she was about to be pulled into the conversation.

           “That might be her over there, with the Tinted Shades and Camo Zip Hoodie,” said the waitress, gesturing in Amber’s direction, “She mentioned she was waiting for three new teammates to show up. I’d bet she’s your ‘Amber.’” André looked over to Amber and held up his left hand to wave awkwardly at Amber before making his way over to her. “Amber?” he asked quietly. Amber set the papers down on the table, her hands shaking, and stood up.

           “Hi,” she squeaked meekly, her voice catching in her throat. She cleared her throat and reached her right hand out stiffly and cordially, still trying to shake off how intimidating his stature was. André held his hand up for a moment, pausing and pulling back slightly, before taking Amber’s hand in his own, practically engulfing it entirely in his giant fingers. His grip was far less tight than she expected, and he was practically cradling her hand like an adult might hold an infant’s. “Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling ever-so-slightly again as he shook her hand gently.

           Starting to feel more comfortable around her new teammate, Amber sat back down, with André squeezing into the seat across from her, his knees bumping against the underside of the table the whole time. “So… uh…” Amber started, wracking her brain for a conversation starter. “Am I the first one here?” asked André. “Ah-uh…” Amber stammered, “Y-yeah, yeah. Sorry.” “It’s fine,” replied André, “I’ll just work on the paperwork while we wait.” Amber quietly handed over one of the forms for André and handed him the pen she’d brought.

           André began to silently fill out the paperwork as Amber watched him, more at ease now. Despite his size and his somewhat blunt manner of speaking, he seemed to be nice enough. “Amber,” André said, looking up from the form to her, “Got a team name?” “Uh, I…” Amber stuttered, “…I haven’t come up with one. I was just glad to find enough people to join that I haven’t given it any thought.” “‘Enough?’” asked André, “How many applied?” “J-just the three that I accepted,” replied Amber.

           “You accepted the first three?” André asked again. “The… uh… only three,” added Amber uncertainly, chuckling awkwardly to ease the tension she could feel building as she it occurred to her how rashly she’d been acting. After a moment, André shrugged. “That’s fine,” he stated, finally putting her at ease, “Hard to find people this late in the off-season. We’ll work it out, come up with a name over lunch.” “Y-yeah, sure,” replied Amber, “You hungry? We can order something while we wait.” “I’ll be fine,” replied André, turning his attention back to the form.

           A few more painfully silent minutes passed by as Amber looked around the room. André finished the paperwork and handed it back to her without a word, then folded his arms and likewise began to wait with her. He stayed quiet, and Amber wasn’t sure whether or not she should try and get to know him before their other new teammates showed up, or if it would be better to wait for all of them to be there.

           As the clock on the wall ticked to 11:12, the two heard the door to the café open and André glanced over his shoulder. Standing in the doorway, panting like she’d just completed a marathon, was a pink-tentacled girl Inkling wearing a full School Uniform gear set, her soft facial features and piercingly blue eyes accentuated by her makeup.

           As if to avoid making a scene, she looked around the café frantically, before her gaze came to stop on Amber and André. The two of them just smiled at her, both trying to help her relax, before André raised one of his oversized hands and subtly motioned for her to come join them. She wordlessly pointed at them in confusion, and perhaps shock from seeing André’s size, not unlike Amber’s initial reaction. Amber just nodded and repeated André’s gesture.

           The girl walked over to the two briskly, pushing one of her tentacles back behind her ear. “Amber?” she asked hesitantly. “That’s me,” said Amber, feeling far less intimidated by this teammate than André when he’d made his first appearance, “You must be–” “–So, so, SO sorry I’m late!” blurted the girl, “I wanted to make sure my makeup looked right, but I didn’t wanna overdo it, and I just kinda lost track of time, and–”

           “–Relax, you’re not even the last one here,” replied André with a smirk, “Have a seat, you can fill out the paperwork while we wait for the last one to show up.” The girl breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, finally smiling, “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself! I’m Felicity Quinn!” She held her hand out, and Amber and André each shook it in turn. ‘What’s with this girl?’ Amber thought to herself, ‘I mean, I know she’s the youngest of us, I guess, but she’s so… energetic. And maybe a little ditzy. Well, I did only just met her a minute ago; I should give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s probably just high-strung because she was a little late, that’s all.’

           As Felicity attempted to sit down next to André, her knee bumped against André’s leg, causing Felicity to jump slightly in surprise. “S-sorry!” she just a little too loudly. “Don’t be,” said André, moving his leg slightly to get it out of Felicity’s way, “Not your fault, I’m just big.” “No kidding,” said Amber, finally feeling bold enough to bring it up, “You should’ve seen him walking in, Felicity.”

           “Oh?” asked Felicity as Amber handed her one of the sheets of paperwork to fill out and the pen that André had finished using earlier. “I don’t think I’ve ever met an Inkling as tall as you, André,” continued Amber, before turning back to Felicity, “He practically had to crouch to get in here.” “Just lowered my head a little,” insisted André quietly.

           Felicity looked back over her shoulder at the door in disbelief before turning back to Amber, mouth agape. “Oh my cod!” she said before turning to André, “No way! You must be, like, seven feet tall!” “Seven and four inches,” replied André simply, “And growing.” “And growing?!” asked Amber, her mouth now as wide as Felicity’s, “How?!” “Gigantism,” replied André, “Specifics are boring, but they say I might be over eight and a half feet by the time I stop. Maybe taller.”

           “Whoa…!” Felicity just kept staring at André in awe. “And you’re a Kraken user, too, aren’t you?” asked Amber. André nodded. “It must be huge!” added Felicity before biting her lip suddenly and blushing at how her exclamation could be misinterpreted by others in the café, “Y-your Kraken form, I mean…” André smiled and chuckled a little. Amber quietly breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as though Felicity’s enthusiasm had finally gotten the stoic André to crack and cheer up a little.

           “And you, Felicity,” said Amber, turning her attention to the girl across from her, “You’re a sniper, right?” Felicity brightened up at this, a glint in her eye. “Y-yeah!” she said, “I’ve been practicing for the last year with my Classic Squiffer!” “You must be pretty good then, I bet,” said Amber, resting her head on her hand, supported by her elbow on the table, “What’s your Turf War record?”

           “Uh… uhh… my…” the glimmer in Felicity’s eye suddenly vanished. She hung her head and grabbed one of her tentacles, fidgeting with it nervously. “I-I… uh…” she whispered, “I-I d-don’t have one…” “No record?” asked André, “Nothing?” Felicity shook her head in embarrassment, “I-I’ve just practiced. I didn’t have a chance to actually play Turf War last season, after I finally turned 14.”

           “Th-that’s okay!” Amber insisted hurriedly, hoping to cheer Felicity up, “I’m the same!” Felicity looked up at Amber in confusion. “Y-you…?!” she asked. “Yeah!” said Amber with a smile, hoping to cheer up her new teammate. “But you–” protested Felicity, “You’re the captain!” “Hold on,” interrupted André, resting one of his giant hands on the table. Amber and Felicity both looked toward him, neither of them willing to question giving him the floor. “…Neither of you…” André started, one of his eyebrows raised, “…Have ever played a Turf War match?”

           Amber shrank back into her seat a little bit, realizing just how much these revelations were bad news for the team. André breathed in deeply before sighing. “How old are you, Amber?” he asked curiously. “Eighteen,” confessed Amber, feeling her cheeks and ears turn red and burn with embarrassment. “Eighteen, and you’ve never been in Turf War?” he asked, a twinge of disbelief in his tone, “Don’t see that very often.”

           “I-I’m not from Inkopolis,” said Amber, “I’m from way out in the boonies where we don’t have Turf Wars. Not official ones like here in Inkopolis, anyway, just makeshift ones wherever me and the other kids wouldn’t get chewed out for spraying ink everywhere. I only moved here a few months ago and wanted to get in on the action, for real.” “…Makes sense,” replied André, “What about practice? Have you done any training?” “Oh, yeah, plenty!” said Amber, “I was trained for a few years by a veteran battler before coming here.”

           “Sounds promising, at least,” replied André, “Still… a captain with no experience?” “I-I don’t have to be the captain!” protested Amber, “It sounds like you’ve got a lot more Turf War experience than me, André; if you want, you could–” “–Nah,” interrupted André, “Not my speed. Not a leader-type.” “A-alright, if you say so,” replied Amber, unsure of what else to say. “Not my call,” added André, crossing his arms before continuing in a rather matter-of-fact tone, “You make this team, you lead it.”

           “Done!” said Felicity happily, having finished her paperwork while Amber and André were conversing, “…Well, except for the team name. Did you already…?” “Not yet, no,” replied Amber, “We’ll add it once we come up with something during lunch.” “Okay,” replied Felicity politely, handing the form back to Amber, who muttered a quiet thanks and added it back to the stack with both her and André’s completed sheets, leaving just the last team member’s form and the official team registration form that they would all be signing together.

           The three were uncomfortably silent after that, with the gravity of Amber’s hastiness beginning to set in. Judging by the wording in the application she had received, hopefully their fourth team member would have more experience, like André, and balance things out. And speaking of which, where was that fourth teammate? Amber pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time again, before checking the clock mounted on the café’s wall to make sure neither one of them was off. How was it 11:34 already?

           Amber nervously glanced between the two sitting in front of her. André maintained a rather nonchalant expression, though looking increasingly annoyed as time ticked by, while Felicity seemed somewhat blissfully unaware of just how late her last new teammate was. “So, uh… What do you guys do with your free time?” asked Amber, hoping to break the ice. “Oh!” blurted Felicity excitedly, “I love watching old Squidney movies! You know, the animated ones? Do they have those where you’re from?”

           “Uh-uhh, I…” started Amber, “No, not really. Didn’t watch a lot of movies growing up.” “That’s no fun!” Felicity pouted, “Oh, I know! We could have a movie marathon night at my place sometime!” “You live on your own?” asked André. “Er, uh… no, not exactly,” replied Felicity, her enthusiasm suddenly curbed, “I actually live with my mom over in Flounder Heights. We’ve got a pretty nice place, but I want to be able to help her with paying the bills. That’s why I’m trying to get into Turf War. And it seems like so much fun; how can I not?”

           “I’m in kind of a similar situation,” replied Amber, “I’m trying to find a good way to pay rent, and I’ve heard Turf War pays well.” “Well enough,” said André, “If you’re good.” Amber gave André a confident look. “You haven’t seen me in action yet,” she said, her mouth curling into a smug smile. “No, I haven’t,” replied André, reciprocating Amber’s cocky smirk, “Also means I can’t know if you’re as good as you say.” As André spoke, the group heard the bell on the door ring once more, and Amber craned her neck to see who had just entered the café.

           Standing at the entrance to the café as the door closed behind her was a girl who cut a striking image: Her mouth was curled into an annoyed-looking sneer, and her dark complexion was dotted with piercings; two small golden hoops through each of her ears, two silver studs on the outer corner of her right eyebrow, and another pair of pointed, fang-like snake bites adorning her lower lip. Her purple tentacles and green eyes, coupled with the Skull Bandana around her neck, her Black Inky Rider jacket, and Moto Boots, gave her an overall menacing look.

           The girl put one hand in her jacket’s pocket and looked around the café, her bloodshot green eyes moving slowly as if slowed by the dark circles beneath them. The waitress turned her attention to this new arrival. “Welco–” she began, before being interrupted. “–Is there an ‘Amber’ in here?” asked the girl loudly, a somewhat grating hoarseness in her voice.

           “Over here!” said Amber, raising her hand to get her attention to spare the other patrons any further awkwardness. “Yo,” replied the girl, walking over to the table, “I’m Marjani.” “Marjani Kulevya? The Splatling user?” asked Amber. “That’s me,” said Marjani, looking at the other two as if sizing them up, “Even got my name right, nice.” She stuck her pinky in her ear to scratch it before making eye contact with André.

           “Aw, no way!” she said with a smirk, “André the Giant Squid is on my new team?” “‘Kraken,’” André corrected her, “And no one calls me that anymore anyway.” “Anymore?” asked Felicity, “When did they call you–” “–Have a seat, Marjani,” said Amber, moving over to give her final new teammate some room to sit, “Let’s get something to eat and get started on the last of the paperwork.”

           “Ugh, right…” said Marjani, sitting down, “Forgot about that. I hate paperwork. All these stupid rules. I mean, come on, just lemme get out there and splat some bitches, why do I gotta jump through all these fuckin’ hoops?” “O-oh my…” murmured Felicity, “L-language.” “Uh… I…” Marjani looked at Felicity sheepishly, “Sorry?”

           “That’s okay, some people just, uh… swear for emphasis…?” Amber frantically tried to come up with a way to diffuse the tension that Marjani’s arrival and personality had started rekindling. “Nah, not really, I just don’t give a shit,” replied Marjani, turning her attention to the paperwork that Amber had slid over to her. The others were quietly stunned, with Amber not knowing how to approach Marjani after a quip like that. ‘Geez,’ she thought, ‘And I thought the first two were a little out there. Marjani’s… something else.’

           “Oh, hey, you mentioned lunch, right?” asked Marjani, looking up and turning to face Amber, “I’ve got a serious case of the munchies right now.” “Uh, yeah, sure, let’s get some menus,” said Amber, waving at the waitress to flag her down. The gracile young woman nodded and smiled at Amber, before returning from the other side of the café to leave a stack of four menus for the new teammates. “Let me know when you’re ready to order,” she said. “Thanks,” said Amber as the waitress turned to leave.

           “If you don’t mind me asking, Marjani,” started André, “You do know we were all supposed to be here half an hour ago, right?” “Yeah, whatever,” replied Marjani, rolling her eyes, “I was hangin’ with my buddy Spyke.” “Spyke…?” asked Amber. “Yeah, he’s an urchin, runs a business out of an alley off the other side of Inkopolis Plaza,” replied Marjani, trying her best to concentrate on the paperwork. “What kind of business?” asked Felicity, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

           “Gear dealer, among other things,” replied André, “Charges a lot, but somehow always has what you want. Shady, if you ask me.” “Hey, Spyke’s not shady!” protested Marjani, “You don’t know him! Besides, he does more than just that. Spyke gets me the good stuff.” “‘The good stuff,’” repeated Amber flatly, almost not wanting to ask what Marjani was talking about. “Yeah, man,” replied Marjani, “Seaweed, coracaine, you name it, he’s got it. I can hook you guys up, if you want.”

           “Gotta be kidding…” André mumbled under his breath. “Drugs?!” asked Felicity in complete shock, “You know how bad those are, right?! What they do to your body?!” “Eh, I don’t tell you how to live your life, princess,” replied Marjani nonchalantly, “I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Tie my own shoes and everything.” The group fell into awkward silence once more as Marjani continued working on the form.

           “Marjani…” said Amber, remembering what Marjani had said earlier about her hunger, “Are you… high right now?” “Not really,” replied Marjani bluntly, “Went to see Spyke to take the edge off before I was gonna meet you guys, but then I remembered I was supposed to get over here before we could really start gettin’ baked. He said he’d save some for me if this doesn’t take too long, but if you’re treatin’ us to lunch, you know, fuck it, he’ll have more later.”

           Amber quietly exhaled in relief. “Alright, well, if you’re– Wait, who said I was treat–?” she started as she realized what Marjani had said. “–Yo, Amber,” interrupted Marjani, “What’s the team’s name? I got everythin’ else filled in already.” Amber looked down and got a pensive look on her face. “Don’t have one yet,” replied André, voicing what Amber was thinking, having already asked himself and been there when Felicity did the same. “I can’t even think of one,” said Felicity, “It’s like we don’t have anything in common.”

           “Yeah…” said Amber, “I mean, look at the four of us; we’re a giant, a junkie–” “Hey!” interjected Marjani as she furrowed her brow in resentment. “–And two rookies who’ve never played Turf War before,” finished Amber, ignoring Marjani’s objection, “We’re… we’re…” “Outcasts…” mused André morosely. “The bottom of the barrel, huh…?” added Felicity just as dejectedly. “Speak for yourselves!” protested Marjani.

           Amber put her elbows on the table and rested her forehead on her palms, sighing. ‘What have I gotten myself into with these three…?’ she asked herself mentally, ‘I accepted the first three applicants like an idiot, because I was worried no one else would apply before the deadline, and instead, I’ve recruited three weirdos who are just as desperate to be on a team as me!’

           “…Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she conceded quietly, lifting her head. “Funny you should say that,” said André, “Thought the same thing when I sent in my application.” “Me, too…” pouted Felicity. “Yeah, whatever,” said Marjani, “I just thought being on a team would pay better. I’ve got teams practically linin’ up to hire me as a freelancer.” “Do you really?” asked André skeptically, “Because I’ve heard stories of teams losing badly after hiring a druggie with a Splatling who shows up high and won’t take orders from the captain.”

           Marjani’s pointed ears drooped as her expression turned to one of embarrassment, then anger. “Are you sayin’ that’s what people say about me?!” she yelled accusatorily while leaning forward and pointing at André, loud enough to turn heads in the small café. “Haven’t seen any of you three in battle yet,” argued André, remaining firm, “Wasn’t even a proper tryout. Your tardiness doesn’t make me confident about your reliability.”

           “Guys!” yelled Amber, stepping in to try and end the squabbling, “Come on, we all came here today because we wanted to be part of a team. Now are we going to make a team, or not? Because I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be here if we wanted to be freelancers.” The other two each fell silent for a moment, stunned by their prospective captain’s sudden outburst.

           “…Well, I already filled out the damn paperwork,” said Marjani, falling back into her seat, “So we might as well.” “Just need that team name,” André added, reluctantly agreeing. The four were quiet once more before Felicity suddenly chimed in. “What about…” she started, “What André called us before? ‘Outcasts?’” “‘The Outcasts?’” asked Amber as she mulled it over before shrugging, “It’s as good as anything.” “Short and to the point,” added André. “Not hard to remember or pronounce like some teams,” added Marjani.

           Amber handed each of the others their forms back and passed the pen around so they could add the team name to each of them. Finally, after adding it to her own form and recollecting the papers, she pulled out the final team declaration form for the whole team to sign and handed it off to André. After writing his name in simple, blocky-looking letters, André passed it to Felicity, who signed it with a flourish before sliding it over to Marjani.

           After Marjani finished up her chicken-scratch of a signature, she pushed the form and pen back over to Amber. “Alright, then, I guess it’s settled,” Amber affirmed as she wrote her own signature and the newly-christened team’s name onto the last form, “For better or worse, today is the day that the four of us are now officially…”

           “The Outcasts.”

           As Amber neatly stacked the paperwork once more, the team was once again quiet for a moment, the reality of the moment sinking in. André was smirking slightly, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to give his approval at the turn that the events had taken. Felicity was outright beaming, surely envisioning the fun she would have with these new friends. “Or, well,” Amber continued, “We will be once we run these forms over to the league offices.”

           Marjani simply yawned. “Alright, well, now that that’s done,” she grumbled, “Can we order somethin’ already? I’m starvin’.” “Yeah, good idea,” agreed Amber, “But just so we’re clear, I never said it was my treat.” “But I’m flat broke!” protested Marjani, “Come on, spot me just this one time!” Amber sighed.

           “I can cover it!” exclaimed Felicity enthusiastically, raising her hand to volunteer. “Thanks, cupcake,” said Marjani with a grin. “Felicity,” the other Inkling corrected her. “Eh, I’ll call ya what I feel like callin’ ya,” said Marjani. “Fine,” Felicity acquiesced, “But then I get to call you ‘Marjie.’” “You’d better not!” replied Marjani, her smile disappearing, “That’s like, a grandma’s name or some shit!” “Language,” insisted Felicity, “Or I’m taking back my offer to cover your lunch.”

           “Arrrgh!” Marjani growled as she threw her hands up in defeat. André simply smirked and chuckled quietly at the way the youngest of the four had managed to corner Marjani with her reasoning. Amber simply rested her head on her hand and smiled. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’ she asked herself once more, ‘…Maybe it won’t be that bad after all. Maybe once we get to know each other a little better, we’ll have some more things in common than just being Outcasts.’

SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

           “Hold on to your tentacles…”

           “It’s Inkopolis News Time!”

           On a rooftop overlooking Inkopolis Plaza, a young man was watching the regularly-scheduled news broadcast hosted by the Squid Sisters, Callie and Marie, a pair of Inkling cousins from rural Calamari County whose singing had elevated them to worldwide stardom. His scarlet tentacles gleamed in the sunlight, three of them slicked back from the front of his head and one crossing from the left side of his hairline to the right. His front tentacle was drooping until he pushed it up and out of his eyes, revealing distinct purple Q-shaped markings around them, most certainly unlike those of an Inkling. His irises were a vibrant shade of green, with alien-looking W-shaped pupils.

           “I hope you’re all ready for the Turf War League, because the summer off-season is almost over!” exclaimed Callie, the more energetic black-tentacled squid. “League sign-ups close this Saturday,” added Marie, Callie’s laid-back, silver-tentacled counterpart, “So make sure you’re either on a team or a registered Splattershot-for-hire.” “Or Roller, or Charger, or–!” Callie excitedly began to continue. “–Or whatever it is you use on the battlefield,” interrupted Marie, “Just make sure you’re registered with the league as something, or you can’t compete in official matches!”

           The boy unbuttoned the top button of his outfit, a black suit perfectly fitting his thin frame, as he breathed out deeply. “Cod, I hate this heat,” he complained quietly, “It’s nowhere near as bright back home. Hopefully, I can finish this mission quickly and get out of here.” He knelt down on one knee near the edge of the rooftop, scanning the plaza below while sighing, his sharp white teeth showing as he exhaled deeply. “But it’s not just a mission…” he mused, “…Is it, Mimi?” He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the plaza once more. “Now, then…”

           “Where have you gone…?”