#rugged spikes and perfect colors

[swan2swan]

Just give it time, Sammy. Give it time.

[siempre-bucky]

Could I request number 11 from list 1 with Hangman, please? 💙

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: a young Jake literally falls for the girl of his dreams showing her around his family's ranch.

eleven: falling head over heels in love

wc: 1.1k

a/n: I hope you like it!!

Join my blurb weekend!

Fanboy was the first to notice the dried flowers in delicate glass frames that were hung neatly on the wall. Phoenix came up next, spiked lemonade in her hand, and recognized the pink rose from your wedding bouquet. Payback slid another drink into Mickey’s hand and studied frames in your new home. “Yo, Jake,” He called out, twisting to look back at him, “What’s this one?” He pointed to a tried sprig of lavender with his beer bottle. 

Your friend's eyes turned to your husband and you smiled at the pink blush dusting his tan cheeks. “Well,” he sighed, dawning a signature Seresin smirk, “that’s from the day we met.”  

Years ago, before the medals, muscles, and jet fuel, Jake was a scrawny little thing helping on his family’s ranch. His father sat at the lace covered kitchen table, reading glasses low on his nose while he sifted through documents. His mother, as if she had a mud radar, turned around as soon as the door closed behind Jake. “Jacob!” She scolded, pointing her wooden spoon at his boots. “You’re trackin’ mud into my house.” 

He looked down and behind, perfect mud footprints on the light brown wood. “Sorry ma,” he apologized, stepping back onto the rug his mom placed just for that purpose and toeing out of his boots. 

“Jake,” his dad chimed in, rubbing his face and watching his son hurry to the fridge to stick his head inside the cold. “That botanist lady’s comin’ round to survey the plants that came up after last month's storm. I want you to join me, it’d be a good experience.” 

Jake grabbed one of the mason jars of lemonade his sister prepared and unscrewed the lid. He groaned quietly at the idea of going back into the Austin sun, he’d been out here all morning and now he was expected to help entertain some plant lady? He had a date with a cold shower and a bar of soap. As he drank, his eyes fell on his father who looked at him stoically. He’d rather not argue. 

“Yeah, alright,” he panted, looking at the now empty jar. 

The two Seresin men walked underneath the large trees and up to the stables, Jake’s frown attached to his lips the entire walk. There stood a taller woman, her long dark hair braided nicely down her back. She looks like a zookeeper in that get up, Jake thought to himself as he tucked his hands in his jeans pockets. He stood by one of the posts holding up the stable awning as his father and the woman shook hands, occupied by the ants marching past him.

They talked for about two minutes before the shaggy blonde grew bored, resulting in him leaning against the old wood. “Mr. Seresin,” the lady beamed, checking behind her. “This is my niece, she’s helping me for the summer. She’s got a true eye for flowers.” 

Jake looked back up, the lilac color of your sundress caught his attention. Oh shit. The way you smiled at his father, the sweet tone of your voice complimenting the ranch, the way you looked in the sun. His balance shifted, his shoulder losing its grip on the post and sending him straight to the ground. “That’s my son Jake,” his father sighed. You bit back a chuckle, holding your book of flowers over your lap. 

Jake quickly picked himself up and dusted himself off, trying to hide the developing blush on his cheeks. “Hi,” he recovered charmingly.

“Mind showin’ our guest those flowers growin’ by the house?” John Seresin knew the look of love when he saw it. Young love made the older man smile. He saw the shy glimmer in your eye as well as his. 

Jake sucked in his lips, but nodded. You followed him close by, not failing to notice how tall he was. “I’m Y/N,” you said shyly. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” he returned, unconfident in his tone. 

“The pleasure’s all mine.” 

His head whipped over to you, his pretty green eyes widened a little at the sudden boldness. Keep it cool, keep it cool. He would be if he wasn’t tripping over his feet, all the rocks were against him. “Shit,” he coughed after almost falling. 

“Are your boots too big or somethin’?” you joked, approaching the house. 

The crimson on his cheeks went a shade darker. He couldn’t believe this! Tripping over some girl like he was a newborn fawn. “You’re funny,” he grimaced. 

“I try,” you giggled. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence before reaching the house. Jake was the first to speak, “I think those are the flowers my dad was talking about,” he motioned toward the purple flowers lining the fence. You grinned at the pretty sight and carefully dropped to your knees to inspect them. Jkke sat beside you, careful not to crush the flowers, and leaned back against the fence. 

“Lavandula augustifolia,” you mumbled to yourself, your fingers gently touching the flowers.

 Jake raised an eyebrow, “What?” 

You chuckled and shook your head, “English lavender,” you simplified, “it typically grows in England but Texas can get it too. It’s pretty.” 

Like you, Jake smiled to himself and watched as you studied them and the ground it grew in. Jake carefully plucked one of the sprigs and held it up to you, “For you,” he offered with a shy smile, “it matches your dress.” 

You took the flower and held it to your nose, your eyes never leaving the handsome boy. A warmth went through you as your fingers brushed, his were surprisingly soft and comforting. “Thank you, Jake.” 

“You can take as much as you’d like.” 

You shook your head and opened your book to place the stem of the flower inside for safe keeping, “That’s alright—this one’s my favorite.”  

A round of lovesick awes pulled Jake from his memory, and suddenly he wasn’t at his childhood property anymore surrounded by freshly bloomed flowers. “Go back to getting drunk please,” he hummed sarcastically; he overheard Javy whisper that he’d tell them the story. “Honey,” he turned his attention to you, putting eucalyptus in your vase. 

“Yes, dear,” you smiled. 

“You never did tell me why that one was your favorite.” He slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. 

“It wasn’t obvious?” 

“No?” 

Well,” you sighed and leaned into him, “it’s my favorite because a handsome boy that literally fell for me gave it to me.” 

The man rolled his eyes, “I didn’t fall for you,” he defended badly, clearly lying. 

You reached up and kissed his cheek, “Yeah you did,” you hummed. 

He held you close and kissed the top of your head, “Don’t tell anyone.” 

“I won’t, but I think Javy might.” 

Their friends erupted with laughter which made Jake wince, “Fine. I did.”

[tobiasdrake]

If this asshole kicks me out again, I'm going to happen to this building in a way that makes the Dweller attack seem like a mild inconvenience.

Who even are your clientele? We barely even have a system of class and privilege. The only people of wealth I've ever met are Duke Aventry and the Watchmaker. "Duke" might be his name and the Watchmaker can't leave her castle.

Who are all these rich snooty assholes keeping this place in business!? How do you keep your nose so brown in a world suffering an intense anus shortage!?

...

I mean. Yes. We have a reservation. Because I am a lady of refinement and class. So you have to be nice to me.

The shit we had to go through to get that is beyond belief. I would demand a word with your manager but I just came from talking to him and he said you have to be nice to me. We are hosting a reverse funeral. No, I will not explain what that means.

SO HELP ME I WILL--

Oh. You're going to provide us with high-class luxury clothes. Please ignore the threats upon your life that I was in the process of making and, by all means, show me to your finest of garments.

Serai, I have seen you in Pirate, Ninja, and Robot, and you make everything work. This will be no different.

Better watch yourself, Malkomud. You call him out like that, he might just expect you to draw, pard'ner. Haha!

Oh, wow, we all look so good. Garl, absolutely dashing, that color looks so great on you. Zale, Yippie Ki Yay. Teaks, loving the suit, it's so refined. Valtraid, please don't muscle up and rip that suit because it makes you look like such refined gentry. Yolande, killing that blue dress, I love it. Keenathan, I know you can't see right now but very handsome.

Moraine... present. Sorry, the vest is very rugged but I'm not comfortable with complimenting you for attractiveness. You're like the deadbeat dad I never had.

Malkomud, I'm surprised they had Street Urchin available as an option but you're nailing the aesthetic. It's perfect. Could you do a cockney accent for me?

...I... guess... if the puppet's going to follow me around everywhere and not let me have a moment's peace then it makes sense to dress it up. Feels weird, though.

B'st, on the other hand, is easily the suavest gentleman in the room with his top hat and bow tie. It's not fair, B'st; You're giving Garl a run for his money on his own special day. ...hm. At a wedding, groomsmen aren't supposed to look better than the groom, but I don't think there are actually any social rules about outdressing the body in the casket at a funeral. You got lucky, B'st.

And... Serai. I was right, you make anything look good. The crown of spikes in particular is an amazing addition. It lends an air of elegance while still highlighting the strength underneath. Do you like my little moon brooch? I think it brings the whole look together.

I would like to say that the two of us are going to be the brightest lights in the constellation of Garl's reverse funeral but, alas, there's still one person here who has us beat. There's just no competing with Keenathan's squiddy over there. Just a top hat and tux jacket, and yet somehow they outshine even my great luster.

I guess you can't win them all. Congratulations, squiddy; You win this round.

I still don't think it will compare with Garl on quality but credit where it's due, I'm very impressed with the quantity.

Oh yeah, when we realized this poor kid was just neurodivergent and getting picked on for it, I was about ready to start chucking molekin off a cliff. I'm not saying blocking the wind tunnels was a good thing to do or anything, but it never should have come to that in the first place.

Malkomud got to witness Garl's bottomless kindness and compassion firsthand. And his people got to witness my, uh, incendiary temperament firsthand.

We all did it for Garl. ...well, okay, I was chomping at the bit to slay a legendary volcano monster. Which I did by myself, don't ya know. But in the big picture, it was still for Garl.

All of us except Morai-- OW. Serai, did you just kick me under the table?

Ugh. Fine. You're right. I won't start drama at Garl's reverse funeral.

I'll fucking drink to that. I would be so utterly confused if it weren't for her.

Odd sentiment given that I'm pretty sure he's like ten and the young have an easier time turning their lives around than the old, but okay.

*vibrates excitedly* Do me do me do me do me.

We'd be lost without our crew, to be sure. They've done so much for us, ever since that fateful day when they swindled us into an arrangement they could have just bartered for anyway.

That's a crock and a half, he-- OW. Fine, I'll bite my tongue.

And the second-sharpest-- Squiddy, goddammit.

The third-sharpest... no, there's B'st over there.

You look nice, is what I'm trying to say. I don't words good when I'm reverse grieving.

Could have happened sooner if anyone had communicated properly but, uh... *sweatdrop* We all make mistakes, let's not make a thing of who knew what and when.

In all honesty, we owe you far more than you could ever possibly owe us. You gave your eye for me. And then you did it again and gave your life for me. In the future, I am begging you, please just let me deal with the consequences of my bad choices.

Yeah. Okay. The Golden Pelican will be spared my fury. Their weirdass business practices are probably going to bankrupt them anyway.

This was a great event and I'm happy to have attended it. Welcome back, Garl. You have been dearly missed.

[walnutridgelandscape]

How To Find The Right Hardscape Border For Your Garden

Selecting the right hardscape border for your garden will help you define the aesthetic and functionality of your outdoor space. 

Whether you aim to create a rustic vibe, a sleek modern look, or something in between, the material you choose for your garden border can significantly influence the overall design. 

Here's an in-depth look at various hardscape border materials and why they might be the perfect choice for your garden.

Stone Borders

Stone is a timeless and versatile material for garden borders. It offers durability and a range of aesthetic options:

Fabricated Stone: For those seeking a more refined and uniform appearance, fabricated stone borders are ideal. They come in consistent shapes and sizes, making them easy to install and perfect for creating neat, geometric garden lines.

Natural Stone: If you prefer a more organic and unique feel to your garden, natural stone is an excellent choice. Each piece has its own shape, texture, and color, contributing to a more free-flowing, rugged look. Natural stones like fieldstone or flagstone provide an earthy charm that blends beautifully with any landscape.

Wood Borders

Wood borders add a warm, rustic touch to any garden and are highly customizable:

Aesthetics: Wood borders can instantly make a garden feel more inviting and homey. They can be painted or stained to match any desired color scheme, fitting seamlessly into your garden’s design.

Material Choice: Landscape timbers are a popular choice for wood borders due to their robustness and size, suitable for framing large beds or pathways. To ensure longevity, it's important to use pressure-treated wood or naturally rot-resistant species like cedar or redwood to withstand the elements and prevent decay.

Steel/Aluminum Borders

For a sleek, contemporary garden edge, metal borders made of steel or aluminum are an excellent choice:

Industrial Look: Steel and aluminum provide a clean, modern edge to your garden, perfect for achieving an industrial aesthetic. Their shiny or matte finishes can serve as a striking contrast to the soft textures of garden plants.

Flexibility: While traditionally used for straight edges, newer forms of steel and aluminum borders are designed to be flexible, allowing you to create smooth curves around your garden beds. This versatility makes them suitable for a variety of garden designs.

Plastic Borders

Plastic borders offer an economical and practical solution for garden edging:

Cost-Effectiveness: Plastic is the most budget-friendly option for garden borders. It’s ideal for gardeners who want a functional, low-maintenance edge without a significant financial outlay.

Ease of Installation: Installing plastic borders is relatively simple, often requiring just a hammer and spikes. Many plastic edging products are designed for easy interlocking, making DIY installation a breeze.

Durability and Maintenance: High-quality plastic borders are durable and resistant to weathering, pests, and rot, requiring minimal upkeep. They are available in various colors and styles, some even mimicking the look of more expensive materials like stone or wood.

Choosing the Right Material

When selecting a hardscape border, consider the following factors to ensure the best fit for your garden:

Style Compatibility: Choose a material that complements the style of your garden and home.

Maintenance Requirements: Consider how much time and effort you are willing to invest in maintaining your garden borders.

Climate Considerations: Some materials may be better suited to your local climate than others. For instance, wood may not be the best choice in very damp climates unless properly treated.

By considering these aspects, you can select a hardscape border that not only enhances the beauty of your garden but also aligns with your practical needs and aesthetic preferences. Now, get started — either by hiring a hardscape professional or embarking on a DIY journey!

[flingcat16]

Depth (PART 1)

HI UH...... SPLATOON OC LORE???? YES?????

This took WAY TOO LONG. This was a few month project of planning, revisiting, re-writing, adjusting, proofreading, all of that author/writer nonsense when writing, yet It's DEFINITELY not perfect in the slightest. I tried to explain some background lore for my ocs without spoiling story. It's very scuffed, but I did my best.

Certain bits of dialogue will be color coded to make them easier to understand. The names in the prologue will be color coded with their respective color. There are also a few other things to note.

Italics used in a block of text are thoughts.

EXAMPLE:

"Woah, really?" ___ thought with shock, "I can think?"

Lines of italic dialogue separated completely are long distance communications.

EXAMPLE:

"Where are you?"

"I'm still at the store, idiot."

"Oh, right."

As I stated before, some radio/long distance communication conversations will be color coded depending on the characters speaking. I ran out of colors to use eventually, so I did what I could to separate voices while still following the code.

I hope you all like what I wrote

Enjoy.

WORD COUNT: 25,198 Words TOTAL (Two posts)

PART ONE

“Blythe!”

A faint but audibly distorted voice.

“Blythe! Hey!”

Can be heard through disorientation.

“No… No!”

A slight bitterness in the darkness. 

“Please Blythe!”

Familiar now… The voice is clear.

“Wake up!”

It’s always been rough for those affected by Commander TarTar’s actions. Tens of thousands were sanitized and experimented on, possibly only a few thousand survived, if even that. One of said survivors being an octoling soldier by the name of Blythe Dusan, the nine thousand, nine hundred ninety ninth sanitized octoling. Blythe is a dark orange and dark magenta octoling with orange and purple eyes, and she was kidnapped by some of Commander TarTar’s sanitized after being exiled by her squad for treason. She was only partially sanitized, and was aware and kept her free will the entirety of the time she was trapped in the Deep Sea Metro, right up until TarTar was killed. Her entire left half was sanitized. 

Akuji Vendetta, an octoling whose profession is within the high ranks of Grizzco Industries, found Blythe, who was twenty two at the time, on the outskirts of Splatsville after moving there, taking her in to help her readapt to society. The journey was rough for Blythe, but Akuji, her brother, and her friends helped keep Blythe afloat and thriving. 

They had named themselves the “Depths” some time ago, and Blythe became their newest member with the name of Hadal.

A released prisoner quickly disappeared mysteriously upon release years prior to Blythe’s reintroduction to society, his sudden disappearance causing concern and rumors to spike up around Splatsville and Inkopolis. No one knew where he went, and some others began disappearing soon after, most notably Sanitized individuals. This alarmed the Depths, as they knew that Blythe was half sanitized, and decided to start working on protective measures. A new communication system was organized and created by Volt Splatna, the husband of Forest Vendetta, Akuji’s older brother. The group also developed better ability upgrades on their gear with the help of Blitz Splatna, Volt’s older sister.

Then came the day of training and testing, a distance into the outskirts of Splatsville; the only location open at the time.

Blythe’s eyes snapped open, her lungs heaving as she coughed, her ears ringing. She laid on her side, curled up a bit from how she landed after an inkstrike. Her body was shaking, her vision was blurred, and her limbs were weak. She couldn’t move after her lungs finally stopped heaving and coughing, the pain truly setting in. A burning, stinging pain. Sharp and deep. A rugged feeling in and around the wounds she was now painfully aware of. The dirt and ink below her and the ink splotches in the air splashed over her skin, finding its way into her wounds. The rocks under her jammed into the side that she laid on as the burning worsened from the ink in her wounds. 

The sky was dark, the clouds dim and dull. Despite her weakness, she felt a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her as her hearing slowly began to clear.

“Blythe, please!” A desperate and broken voice, raspy and distraught in tone, “They’ll be on us again any moment!”

Blythe’s eyelids dropped nearly closed with exhaustion, leaving barely any visibility. Her throat was locked up from pain and she couldn’t speak, she could only groan softly in pain, telling the person with her that she was conscious again.

“Blythe..? Thank the Great Zapfish!” Their voice had a tinge of relief, “We’re out in the open, we have to go!”

Blythe tried to respond, nothing but pained cracks in her voice and small breathless groans came out.

“Shh… Save your remaining strength, Blythe.” The person with Blythe spoke quietly, gently pressing their fingers against her neck. Her pulse was faint, “Shit, you’re weak. There’s not much time.”

As Blythe’s hearing began to clear more, she could hear that she was practically in a warzone, yet she couldn’t remember why. She felt the person with her lift her under her shoulders and legs, being lifted up to the back of their shoulders.

“I’ll get us out of here, or at least buy us enough time.”

Blythe was finally able to recognize their voice. It was Blitz, a bright orange and blue inkling with mostly black clothes. She was wearing her usual mask over her eyes, the one she always did.

Blythe was completely limp, almost unable to even maintain her breathing, alive but barely. She felt a small smooth metal bit in her back, most likely Blitz’s Nautilus Splatling.

Blitz carefully carried Blythe into a building and behind cover, trying to remain low.

The gunfire began to die down. Not a good sign considering Blythe’s condition.

“Blitz!” Static. “Can you…-” Static. “-hear me?!”

Blitz knelt down behind a cracked wall, Blythe still on her shoulders, “I hear you.” She replied quietly, but loud enough for her small mic to pick up.

“What’s happening on…-” Static. “-your end?! Are you…-” Static. “-and Blythe okay?!”

“She’s barely alive, Volt. She’s conscious and breathing, but she’s unable to move on her own.” Blitz carefully took Blythe off her shoulders, gently lying her against the wall, “She’s in really bad shape, bound to splat nearly any second now. She was hit by an inkstrike.”

“Damn it!” Volt’s voice was clear now, the connection had solidified, “I heard and saw that inkstrike at your position, and I don’t hear any gunfire anymore. Are you two in a safe position?”

“No. They don’t know we’re here from what I can tell, but I have a feeling it won’t be long before we’re found.” Blitz took her earpiece out and brought it as close to her mouth as she could so it could still pick up her nearly silent speech, “Everyone else is probably down and out by now.” She placed the earpiece back into her ear.

“Stay where you are. I have your location pinpointed. I’ll patch into Forest’s communication and update him. We’ll get there as fast as possible. Lay low.” Volt’s audio cut out, nothing but silence.

Blitz shrunk down behind the wall, taking her splatling off her back. She looked over at Blythe, “You’ve been through enough Blythe… You didn’t need to stay with us through this…”

Despite Blythe’s weakness, she looked back at Blitz. Her gaze was pained and apologetic.

Blitz moved closer to Blythe, taking her mask off her eyes, “You should have run when you had the chance…” Her pale white gaze full of sorrow and worry, “If you go down, I’m going with you.” She heard the crunch of dirt and sticks just outside the building. She quickly pulled her mask back down, knowing their enemies were getting close. She silently charged her splatling, speaking still quietly, but full of anger and resentment, “Not without taking them with us.”

“Forest! I restored contact with Blitz and Blythe. Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine. Our attackers are retreating as we speak. We’re in the clear.”

“Good, but bad news. Blythe is in really bad condition. According to Blitz, Blythe was hit by an inkstrike. She’s barely able to breathe and can’t move on her own. Blitz was able to get them to safety for now, but they can’t hold on for long.”

“Damn it! Where are they right now? Can you trace their signals?”

“They’re a bit farther than one klick to my east right now.”

“Your east… Wait…”

“What?”

“That’s the direction they’re retreating to!”

“You can’t be serious!”

“They aren’t retreating at all! They’re going for Hadal!”

“Fuck! We have less time than I thought! Everything is clear on my end, I’m moving now!”

“Same for us, let’s go!”

Blitz held her guard, hearing footsteps all around her and Blythe. She stayed low and out of sight, keeping Blythe within her view at all times. She could hear the soldiers talking in another room, carefully eavesdropping.

“Anyone got eyes?”

“No sir.”

“Did any of you see where they went?!”

“No sir. Last we saw of them was before the inkstrike on their position.”

“Did you check the strike point?”

“Yes sir. Only our ink was left behind, no trace of extra pools, nor any gear from possible splats.”

“They must be still here then, keep searching!”

“Yes sir!”

“It won’t be long now. How can I know how many of them there are?!” Blitz grit her teeth, keeping her splatling charged, “Let alone where they are!”

“Blitz…” Blythe hissed quietly through her teeth.

“Blythe!” Blitz turned around to face Blythe, kneeling on the ground next to her, “Hey, save your strength damn it!” She hissed quietly.

“Take my gear…”

“What..?” Blythe’s words were punctuated with small, weak gasps, “You’ll stand… a better chance… with my gear too. I’m out. I can’t… I can’t help you…”

“How… How would you even defend yourself then?!”

“Do I look like… I even can… already..?” Blythe managed to get her hand to her mouth to silence her coughing, taking her hand away to see her hand full of ink.

Blitz thought for a moment, before sighing quietly, “Fine, but no way in hell am I letting them get to you. I won’t leave without you.”

Blythe couldn't speak anymore, so she subtly nodded, closing her eyes again.

Blitz carefully took Blythe’s roller and tank, attaching them to her own equipment. She now had two ink tanks, her Nautilus splatling, Blythe’s Big Swig roller, access to both autobombs and suction bombs, and both the Triple Splashdown and the Zipcaster specials. She quickly picked Blythe up, hiding her towards the back of the room and out of the sight of the entrance to the room. She heard the soldiers once again in the other rooms, closer now, practically just outside, “I’ll keep you protected, just lay low.” She carefully placed a few pools of her ink around the room, hiding in one right by the door.

The door slammed open the instant she hid, three soldiers stepping inside, all armed with Aerosprays.

“There’s multiple pools of ink in here. They’re here sir.” One soldier said quietly.

“Cover the pools, reveal their positions.”

“Yes sir.” The two others said in unison, covering the pools with their own dark blue ink. They hadn’t noticed the small one by the door that Blitz was in.

“I can’t use a triple splashdown in this small space with Blythe here, she’ll die even with part of our ink. My only option is the Zipcaster here.” Blitz waited until the soldiers had gotten to about the center of the room. She silently stepped out of the ink, her tentacles glowing as she stepped forward. She quickly cast the Zipcaster, launching her hand out, grabbing one soldier by the back of his neck. Before any of the three could react, Blitz had already pulled the soldier back, slamming him into Blythe’s roller in her other hand, splatting him instantly.

In the splatter of Blitz’s ink, she dropped down back into her squid form and down into the puddle in an instant, disappearing.

The two others snapped around with a look of horror.

“Man down! Requesting backup-” 

Before the other soldier nor the captain could react, Blitz had her arm around the other soldier, cutting off his sentence. She slammed him into the ground with Blythe’s roller by the back of his head as she let go of his neck, splatting him also.

The commander lifted his aerospray, firing it, “We have an enemy Zipcaster! Two members are down–”

Blitz charged the captain after dodging his shots, swinging the roller down towards him.

The Captain barely caught Blitz’s roller with his aerospray, wincing as her ink hit part of his face, burning his skin. He pushed back, slowly losing strength from the strength of Blitz’s Zipcaster.

“You never should have messed with us.” Blitz stretched a leg out, sweeping the captain’s legs out from under him. He immediately collapsed, getting slammed into the ground under her roller. 

The captain was barely alive, struggling to speak under the roller on his chest, “You…” He wheezed, “That sanitized… creature you have… It wont get away!”

“Shut it.” Blitz pushed the roller down and over his face, splatting him. She lifted the roller again, resting it on her shoulder. She examined the rest of the room before carefully looking out into the hallway. Not a sound, no one in sight. She carefully backed into the room once again, quickly going over to the back of the room where Blythe was. She put the roller on her back over her Nautilus and her tanks, carefully picking Blythe up, “We’re in the clear, I’ll get us out of here.”

Blitz carefully left the room, looking around and down the halls. There was nothing but silence. She began moving down the hall towards the exit as fast as possible, keeping a gentle hold on Blythe. She stepped outside, complete silence on the battlefield. She carefully laid Blythe against the wall just outside the door. She was still in the Zipcaster special, kneeling down to Blythe calmly, “Thank you for helping us Blythe… Even though you’re the one they want. I’m so sorry.”

Blythe slightly opened her eyes, smiling softly. She didn’t say a word.

Blitz’s Zipcaster finally wore off, returning her to her normal look. It was then she heard it, a plunk of ink. She whipped around, taking the roller off her back and caught a Splatana blade with it. She held them back, but struggled a little because of the weakness after using the Zipcaster. The second she was about to buckle, she heard the sound of a charger firing. She flinched, but she felt the pressure disappear from her arms. Her opponent splatted, bursting into orange ink. She looked up at where the shot came from, up to another ruined building.

There sitting at the top of the building with a Z+F Charger in hand was Volt, a yellow and deep blue inkling with pale yellow and cyan eyes, two tentacles tied up, the other short four hanging down. He lifted the charger so the barrel was up, “You alright down there?” He asked Blitz through their communications, as he was too far away to risk yelling.

“Yeah I am; thanks to you.” Blitz replied, “I can’t say the same for Blythe however.” She said as she walked back over to Blythe, kneeling down and looking back up at Volt.

“I’ll come down there, just hold–“ Volt was cut off from a dark blue Zipcaster punching him square in the face. He gagged, falling off the building. He slammed down into the ground, coughing up a bit of orange ink as he hit the ground. He slid a small distance, wheezing with pain.

“Volt!” Blitz yelled. She stepped forward to run to help him, but multiple plunks of ink cut her off. She saw over a dozen soldiers appear from pools of ink on the ground, surrounding her and Blythe, cutting off her path to Volt,“Shit! I just used a special! I can’t use another one yet!” She quickly switched to her Nautilus, starting to charge it.

Behind the group of soldiers she heard a deafening slam, followed by a burst of orange ink. The group of soldiers all turned to it and stepped back, revealing the scene. 

Standing there wielding an ultra stamp was Forest, a light purple and dark green octoling with red and green eyes. His short tentacles were blazing and flared up, and without hesitation he began crushing soldiers one by one, most barely able to fight back.

“No one fucks with my friends!” Over another building, Akuji jumped in as well, a deep purple and mint green octoling with teal and red eyes, two tentacles in front, two tied up in the back. With her dualies in hand, she began gunning down soldiers as well, keeping light on her feet.

Blitz took the chance. She went into squid form and quickly super-jumped over the fight. She switched back to her inkling form mid jump, landing on her feet next to her brother Volt on the other side of the battle. She knelt down to him, “Hey! You alright? Can you stand?”

Volt sat up, shaking his head, “Yeah yeah, I’m good.” He carefully got to his feet, picking up his charger, “I’ll get back to high ground. Help the others fight!”

“Got it!” Blitz lifted her Nautilus, charging it up and firing into the fight.

As the fight continued on, more soldiers would keep appearing, but it began to slow down after nearly a dozen splats.

Blitz caught a small glimpse through the fight, realizing Blythe was still over there. 

Not just that, but much worse, the Zipcaster that had attacked Volt previously had Blythe restrained, carrying her up the building. She couldn’t fight back in her condition.

“Shit! Volt!” Blitz yelled, looking up at Volt as she tapped into their comms again, “Volt they’ve got Hadal! On your two o’ clock!”

Volt lowered his charger, seeing the Zipcaster on the building across from him where his charger couldn’t reach, “Damn it! I’ll handle it! Keep fighting!” His tentacles burst with power, and he activated his own Zipcaster. He stretched his arm across buildings, traveling over to the opposing Zipcaster.

Blitz watched him out of the corner of her eye before refocusing on the fight, “You got this Volt, kick their ass!”

Volt jumped in front of the opposing Zipcaster, cutting them off as he kept a tight hold on his charger with his finger down on the trigger, holding a charge, “And where do you think you’re going?!”

The Zipcaster stepped back, keeping hold of Blythe, “Well, it seems like someone could catch me.”

“Unhand her this instant. I will not ask again without force.” Volt held up his charger, keeping the charge stored.

“Really now..?” They took out their own weapon, a Splatana wiper, similar in model to the one that Forest uses. They still held Blythe tightly with one stretched arm, “How do you expect to fight a Splatana with a charger?”

Volt kept his hold on his charger, “Doubting me will be the death of you…”

The opposing Zipcaster tossed Blythe to the side, retracting their arm, “Your overconfidence will be the death of you.”

Blythe hit the stone of the roof, gasping in pain as she slid. She went completely limp and quietly groaned in pain, yet she was still very much alive.

Volt remained still, not moving an inch.

The other Zipcaster remained still just the same. A standoff.

After a brief moment of stillness, Volt fired his charger.

The opposing Zipcaster dodged it, stretching their arm towards Volt.

Volt dodged their arm, grabbing it with his right hand with his charger in his left hand. He allowed his opponent’s momentum to pull them towards him, jamming his foot into their stomach.

They gagged, keeping their arm stretched to keep themself unrestrained.

Volt quickly let go of their arm, holding the trigger on his charger to charge it.

The opposing Zipcaster quickly recovered and slashed upwards with their Splatana, sending a projectile of ink towards Volt. 

Volt dropped down into his squid form and down into the ink from his previous shot, dodging the attack. He quickly slipped behind them, jumping up and out of the ink back into his inkling form, firing the stored charge.

The Zipcaster was hit in the back and they stumbled forward, the power of the shot breaking their Zipcaster. They snapped around with their Splatana in hand.

The instant Volt’s opponent turned around, he shot their weapon out of their hands with a lesser charge, sending it barreling off the side of the roof, “You seem like you’ve never fought an experienced charger before.”

The soldier stood there in shock, before raising their fists in an offensive stance, “That was fast, but it can’t be helped.” They smirked, giving a small head tilt in Blythe’s direction.

Or at least where she was.

Volt glanced over, and Blythe was gone, no ink or anything left behind. A distraction.

Volt snapped his attention back to the soldier, his eyes full of anger, “You…” Without a moment to spare, he stretched his arm out, grabbing the soldier. 

The soldier simply let it happen, knowing Volt lost.

Volt used the momentum of pulling them to force his foot into their chest, slamming them down into the concrete in the same motion. He jammed the end of his charger to their head with a stored charge, “Where the hell did you fuckers take her?!”

The soldier barely even responded to the impact, lying there with nothing but cockiness and confidence, “You ask like I’ll tell you.”

Volt knew they wouldn’t talk no matter what, so he immediately lifted them and tossed them off the side of the building without hesitation. He sighed, standing up straight. His Zipcaster wore off as he held up his hand to his earpiece, “Blitz. I lost her.” 

“What do you mean you lost her?! What happened?!”

“I managed to stop the Zipcaster who had her originally, but it was only a distraction. Someone else grabbed her again while we were all distracted...”

“Shit! The hell do we do?!”

“I’ll patch into everyone’s comms.”

Volt switched over his communication to all five of them. His voice was dark and solemn.

“Clear the area the best you all can. We have no choice but to fall back. They took Blythe behind our backs. We lost Hadal.”

“The target is in our possession, sir. Orders?”

…

“Prepare it for examination. We used a lot of power on the respawn tech, and lost a lot of men to those… The hell did they call themselves?”

“The Depths. Sir.”

“Right. Those Depths. Bring that sanitized creature to HQ. I’ll decide what to do with it after the preparations have been made.”

“Yes sir.”

Akuji, Forest, Volt, and Blitz returned to Splatsville with minimal injuries of their own, only with the guilt of losing Blythe. Blitz was especially destroyed by losing her.

The four of them sat at a small table in the home where Akuji, Blitz, and Blythe lived, debating where to go from the current situation.

“I shouldn’t have left her for even a second!” Blitz slammed her arm on the table, looking down at her legs, “She’d still be here if I didn’t leave her…”

“They all outnumbered us by nearly a dozen every second… It’s not your fault Blitz, all of us are partially at fault here.” Volt set his hand on Blitz’s shoulder.

“We won’t get anywhere if we keep thinking about what went wrong here. We were caught off guard.” Akuji leaned back in her chair, her right leg crossed over the other, her right foot against the edge of the table, “We can’t call in the agents for help here, they’re all busy with their own issues. I already tried.”

“Well, what do we do then?” Forest asked calmly, “Blitz has Blythe’s gear, and Blythe has severe injuries. There’s no way she can fight back on her own in such a state.” 

Akuji sighed, “We’ll need to find as many clues as we can gather about the ‘Cleansers’ as we can. That way we can get to her as soon as possible.”

“Wait.“ Volt perked up a little, looking over at Blitz, “She had you take her gear right?”

“Hm..?” Blitz replied, confused.

“That’s why you could use the Zipcaster right?”

“Uh, yeah? Where are you going with this?”

“Okay okay, that was a bit off track. More importantly, you only took her weapons, right?”

“Yeah, her tank and roller. It gave me access to their setups, so I could use her autobombs and Zipcaster.”

“But you didn’t take her earpiece?”

“No– Oh!” Blitz perked up, “Can you track her earpiece like you did mine?!”

“I can. I just have to hope she isn’t out of range…” Volt sighed, “If she is, we might have to travel around a bit to see if we catch any signals.”

“We also have to hope they didn’t destroy that earpiece.” Akuji lowered her legs, sitting forward with her hands on her knees, “Or toss it somewhere. Any smart group would, unless they didn’t see it. I doubt that however.”

“You’re right. We’re definitely limited on time then.” Forest stood up, “We don’t have time to sit around here.”

“You’re right as well.” Akuji also stood up, “We don’t have time for this! We have no idea what the hell they’ll do to her!”

“From what I’ve heard about them…” Volt’s voice was quiet as it trailed off a moment. He was thinking of the right words.

“What have you heard..?” Forest asked, his voice was a worried whisper.

“She’s… They’ll make her practically relive the experiences in the metro. With her current state, they might even kill her.” Volt shuddered, “She’s bound to hit her limit...”

Blitz immediately stood up with no hesitation, looking down at Volt, “Try and find her.” Her gaze was sharp and infuriated, “I will not let her suffer that again.”

Forest stepped a bit towards the door, “Let’s move. We have no idea how long we have.”

Blythe’s eyelids slowly lifted, her gaze was cloudy and her hearing was muffled. She felt her body lying on a cold hard floor, her arms and legs shaking. Barely able to move, she rolled onto her side, exhaling slowly as the pain kicked in. It was then she felt what seemed to be a small, thin collar around her neck. She didn’t bother trying to remove it, let alone touch it. Her body seemed to feel as though it was burning, but eventually her weakness faded a little, and she was able to get near a wall, leaning against it on one knee, her breathing still a little unstable.

Somewhere outside and a bit of a distance from her, she heard someone speaking.

“It’s awake sir. What are your orders?”

A short period of silence where Blythe couldn’t make out a response.

“Understood sir. Right away.”

As Blythe’s vision began to fully clear, she could see most of the area around her. She was in a cell of some kind, the walls and floor both feeling and appearing to be concrete. She looked at the floor, her body still weak, and she saw her legs as she looked at the floor, now well aware she now only had undergarments on. Her wounds were partially treated, but some of her ink still bled from a few of them. Her main color had reverted back to its darker orange from the lighter orange that she shared with the others in combat. She then heard the door to the cell she was in swing open, hearing footsteps accompany it. She didn’t see whoever it was approaching her, but she felt two people grab her by her bicep and wrist of each arm, lifting her up from her knee. She stumbled a little standing up completely, but the two aggressively ushered her out of the cell, the door closing behind them. Her vision was too blurry to see where she was going, so she just kept in line with the two holding her.

The two holding Blythe stopped, thus stopping Blythe as well. They flipped her around and threw her against a wall, still holding her arms. She felt restraints snap around her neck, biceps, wrists, waist, thighs, and ankles. Held to the wall, her head hung down weakly as her breathing became heavier from exhaustion.

“Send it up.”

Through Blythe’s distorted vision, she saw someone press a button on a console in front of her. She felt the wall slightly tilt backward and start to rise. She did nothing to respond, but a few moments it came to a stop. She heard footsteps approach her with a small clunk of metal each step.

“Be cautious Chief. They’re only partially sanitized. We don’t know what they’re capable of.” Someone spoke from a small distance away, “I’d advise not aggravating them.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Well… Seems like they all weren’t lying.” 

Blythe heard them speak, but she didn’t bother to look up.

“I’ll be damned, half sanitized… I didn’t even know that was possible.” Their voice had a hint of disbelief and disgust, “These freaks just keep getting weirder and weirder…”

Blythe still did not react.

“Hey.” They snapped their fingers in front of Blythe’s face.

Blythe did not flinch nor react.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Blythe felt a wave of piercing and shocking pain throughout her entire body. Despite her exhaustion, she screamed. Her back arched the little it could in the restraints as her eyes snapped open at the sudden shock. Her whole body eventually fell limp as the voltage left her body.

“Now will you have some manners?”

Blythe held her left eye closed to hide it despite it being behind her hair. Her breathing was slow, labored, and scratchy, a small drop of dark orange ink falling from the corner of her mouth, too weak to hold it in. Her head slowly raised ever so slightly, her gaze meeting theirs.

“Good.”

Blythe could now see them remotely clearly. A dark blue inkling in a black uniform, too dark to make out any decent details in her current state. Their tentacles were tied up tightly, shockingly longer than most inkling tentacles that she has seen, longer than Blitz’s. Their eyes were deep green and their pupils were more of a sharp thin shape like a cat’s eye, their color more of a dark navy blue like their hair. Their face and hands were as pale as snow, looking as if you’d freeze if they touched you. They had what appeared to be some kind of metal mask over their mouth and over their ears, but their voice was clearly masculine through the slight muffle from the mask.

“What’s a specimen like you doing with some lowlifes, eh?” He tilted his head, “No point to it, a waste of research.”

Blythe’s face didn’t change from its deadpan, exhausted expression. Her eyes were full of anger, but strongly diluted by pain.

“You know, you’ll be here a while… Why don’t we get acquainted, yeah?” He crossed his arms, “Chief Sylvan. You are..?”

“…You… have no right to know my name.” Blythe growled quietly through her teeth, breaking eye contact.

Chief Sylvan sighed, dropping his arms, “Being difficult, huh? Wrong choice.”

Blythe knew she was about to feel that same shock again, so she braced for it. Just as she expected, she felt the same shock throughout her whole body. This time she resisted it, clenching her teeth and her hands into fists, closing her eyes. She barely made as much as a hiss from breathing in between her teeth. The pain soon faded, and she exhaled sharply, her body slowly relaxing.

Sylvan eyed Blythe curiously, “Fascinating... You’re either so chock-full of adrenaline you didn’t feel any of that pain, or… you’ve been trained in combat to resist such voltage.” He chuckled darkly, shaking his head, “I’ll admit, I’m surprised.”

“Perceptive… I’ll give you that.” Blythe replied darkly, still holding her left eye shut.

Sylvan lifted the hair over Blythe’s left eye with his right forearm, only to be met with her eye being closed, “I don’t remember you having an eye injury coming in here.” He said snarkily, moving and angling his arm so his fingers were between each of the three tentacles on Blythe’s left side. He pushed upward and forward, jamming his palm into her forehead as he lifted her tentacles at the same time, smacking the back of her head against the panel she was strapped against.

Blythe growled a little in pain in response to her head hitting the metal surface behind her, the metal clang ringing out into the quiet space. She grit her teeth angrily, keeping her left eye closed in protest.

Sylvan pulled Blythe’s eyelids apart with his other hand, getting a good look at her sanitized eye before dropping his arms, brushing his hands off.

Blythe’s head dropped a little, but she retained her gaze, showing more anger than pain now. She didn’t bother keeping her left eye closed anymore.

“One eye perfectly sanitized, the other fully retained… Such a strange case you have. Your right half intact, your left half completely sanitized.” Sylvan shrugged subtly, “Nothing like what I normally see.”

Blythe kept her teeth together, holding her gaze, not saying a word.

Sylvan pressed his right palm against the left side of Blythe’s upper waist, brushing his thumb over her Sanitization scar, “Such sharp cut edges on these scars… Strangely not smooth either.” He dug one sharp end of his finger into her skin, looking up at her without moving his head.

Blythe shuddered, Sylvan’s hands were freezing cold. This felt worse than being straight up shocked, her gaze turning to a much more disgusted and appalled expression. She had felt being treated like just some specimen in an experiment before, but not like this. This was the second time, only it’s by someone who is living. Someone clearly aware of themself. It was worse than death.

“Not to mention the clearly defined and built muscle. Further confirms my prior suspicions about you after that—“ Sylvan made eye contact with Blythe as he slid his fingers down her stomach, “—second shock.”

Blythe grit her teeth and stared back at him with her eyes full of disgust and disdain.

Sylvan moved his hand as he stepped slightly to the right, pinching the end of one of Blythe’s fingers on her left hand between his thumb and his index finger, “Bright red… Unlike most that have a darker red color… Crimson compared to maroon…”

Blythe didn’t see this man the same as a normal inkling, less than such, scum. She stared daggers into Sylvan, even though he wasn’t looking.

Sylvan must have felt her blade filled gaze. He let go of Blythe’s finger, dropping his arm back to his side, looking back over to make eye contact once again, “Awh, don’t look at me like that.” He stepped back to being directly in front of her, “Not like you can do anything against me.”

“Not yet.” Blythe growled.

“Hm… That solidifies it for me. You were a soldier before being sanitized, weren’t you..?” Sylvan asked, almost mockingly.

“So what if I was? What does it change?” Blythe stared at Sylvan with a cold stare, “I’m nothing but an animal to you, what does it mean to you?”

“I’ll be the one asking the questions here.” Sylvan retorted.

Blythe scoffed, “Please.“ She rolled her eyes, “Enough of these games. Get to the point.” Her voice was raspy from her prior exhaustion, more snide in tone, “What is it you want from me? Or am I here for nothing..?”

“Impatient much?” Sylvan scoffed, moving his right hand to hover over the side of his coat.

Blythe could now see the trigger for the shocks, a small button clipped to the lower right side of Sylvan’s coat. She could properly brace each time if she watched carefully enough, but even then she’s bound to hit her limit eventually.

“Watch your tone. I’ll get to that.” Sylvan pressed the small button on his coat.

Blythe braced, just in time too. She managed to hold back yelling in pain, but her response was significantly more noticeable than the last time. She groaned in pain after the shock was over, taking in quicker deep breaths.

“Sylvan, your trigger happy tendencies are showing. Watch it.” Someone behind Sylvan at a small console snapped, “They’re already weak as is. Shock them too much and you’ll kill them.”

Dusan was a bright red and deep blue-ish purple octoling with short tentacles spiked up to their right. Their eyes were dark with heavy eye bags, their orange and red eyes dim with exhaustion.

“Yeah yeah, Dusan, I know.” Sylvan retorted, rolling his eyes.

“That’s Dr. Dusan to you, Chief Sylvan.” Dusan hissed.

“What?” Blythe though, her hearts skipping. Dusan is her last name.

The Depths walked along the outskirts of Splatsville, getting farther and farther from the city in search of Blythe’s signal.

“Volt, any signal?” Blitz asked quietly.

“I’m picking up signals, we have to be getting close to its full connection range.” Volt replied, “If it’s not damaged, I may be able to override the mute. If the Cleansers still have it, we might be able to hear what’s going on.”

“You know how to do that..?” Forest asked.

“Yeah, I can. I programmed these after all.” Volt zoomed in on the map a little on his small tablet, “The signal is steadily getting stronger, a good sign that it’s still functioning normally. However, we aren’t quite close enough for me to connect to it yet.”

“So that means we’re going in the right direction though, yeah?” Akuji asked, checking one of her dualies, “I’m more worried about Blythe than anything right now.”

“We’re going the right way, Akuji. I’m worried too.” Blitz replied.

“I got it. We’re in range, but let’s keep moving closer while I connect.” Volt looked up to check where he was walking, before looking back down, “The specific type of radio signals I programmed these to have are often hard to detect with standard equipment, if we’re lucky, they won’t know it’s still sending signals.”

“Good. How strong are the signals, Volt?” Forest asked.

“Moderate. Enough for me to get a solid connection.” Volt replied, “I’ll save the coordinates in case they destroy it, and keep it muted on our end once we can listen in.”

As Volt connected to Blythe’s earpiece, the four continued walking in the direction of the signals, the connection slowly strengthening…

“I just secured a connection, now I just have to unmute it…” Volt signaled for everyone to stop for a moment, pointing to an area of shade next to a building, “Let’s stop here for a moment. I’ll record what I can of this audio as we listen.”

The area was barren, ruined buildings surrounded the group, just like where they had fought prior, only the buildings were more dense.

Volt knelt down in the shade, and everyone gathered around him as he unmuted Blythe’s earpiece.

“Let’s hope we get some answers…” Blitz whispered.

Static…

“We found this earpiece nearby where we found the target. It has no active properties, no signals, nothing. What’s the plan for it?”

“Hold on to it. We’ll analyze it further later.”

“Good. They don’t know.” Volt mumbled.

There was a slam of metal in the background.

“Didn’t think they’d interrogate it so soon. Sylvan is an impatient one, isn’t he?”

“Always has been, always will be.”

There was a voice that sounded more like it was below the earpiece.

“Send it up.”

Mechanical clanks and whirring followed, there were footsteps leading away from the earpiece, out of the range of sound it could pick up.

“They have decent technology from what I can hear in their speech and in the background… No wonder they can keep a low profile.” Volt muttered.

“Do any of you know how long they’ve been operating..?” Blitz asked.

“From what I can remember, they’ve existed since the sanitized started appearing six years ago. The sanitized got more common as time went on, but now they’ve become pretty spread out and rare.” Forest explained.

“The Cleansers have probably been killing them all…” Akuji mumbled.

“Be cautious Chief. They’re only partially sanitized. We have no idea what They’re capable of. I’d advise not aggravating them”

“Yeah whatever. Well… Seems like they all weren’t lying.” 

…

“I’ll be damned, half sanitized… I didn’t even know that was possible. These freaks just keep getting weirder and weirder…”

…

“Hey. Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Sparks of electricity could be heard, and even worse, screams. Horrifyingly recognizable.

“Holy shit!” Forest snapped.

Blitz covered her mouth in shock, “They… They fucking electrocuted her!”

“Now will you have some manners?”

…

“Good. What’s a specimen like you doing with some lowlifes, eh? No point to it, a waste of research.”

No response from Blythe.

“You know, you’ll be here a while… Why don’t we get acquainted, yeah? Chief Sylvan. You are..?”

“…You… have no right to know my name.” 

Blythe’s dark and growling tone made Blitz shudder.

“Being difficult, huh? Wrong choice.”

The shock could be heard again. They all winced hearing it, yet, nothing could be heard from Blythe on the other end.

“Fascinating... You’re either so chock-full of adrenaline you didn’t feel any of that pain, or… you’ve been trained in combat to resist such voltage. I’ll admit, I’m surprised.”

“Perceptive… I’ll give you that.” 

The four sat there shocked.

“She… what?” Forest asked with disbelief.

“It’s common for members of the authorities or high powers, whether it’s military or police, to be tased as part of their training, both in inkling and octoling troops.” Volt explained, his voice trembling a little, “She… She screamed the first time, but… she completely tanked it the next.”

“I don’t remember you having an eye injury coming in here.” 

A smaller metallic slam could be heard, a faint growl from Blythe as well.

“One eye perfectly sanitized, the other completely retained… Such a strange case you have. Your right half intact, your left half completely sanitized. Nothing like what I normally see.”

…

“Such sharp cut edges on these scars… Strangely not smooth either. Not to mention the clearly defined and built muscle. Further confirms my prior suspicions about you after that second shock.”

“She once talked about her past to me a little bit.” Akuji said, “Before she was partially sanitized, she used to be part of a group of soldiers. That observation isn’t far off.”

“Bright red… Unlike most that have a darker red color… Crimson compared to maroon…”

… 

“Awh, don’t look at me like that. Not like you can do anything against me.”

“Not yet.” 

That tone from Blythe scared all four of them all the more.

“Hm… That solidifies it for me. You were a soldier before being sanitized, weren’t you..?” 

“So what if I was?”

They all heard the weakness in Blythe’s voice, the scratching in her throat.

“What does it change? I’m nothing but an animal to you, what does it mean to you?”

“I’ll be the one asking the questions here.” 

They heard Blythe scoff, “Please. Enough of these games. Get to the point. What is it you want from me? Or am I here for nothing..?”

“I’ve never heard her sound like this. This pissed…” Forest said, “It’s terrifying!”

“Impatient much?” They heard Sylvan scoff. “Watch your tone. I’ll get to that.” 

They heard the shock for a third time, then Blythe’s heavy breathing, full of pain.

“If that keeps up…” Volt’s voice trailed off as he stood up, “They’ll kill her!”

“Sylvan, your trigger happy tendencies are showing. Watch it. They’re already weak as is. Shock them too much and you’ll kill them.”

It was a different voice than Sylvan this time.

“Who the fuck is that..?” Blitz hissed.

“Yeah yeah, Dusan, I know.” 

“Wait… What?!” Volt said, shocked.

“Dusan?!” Akuji yelped, “That’s Blythe’s last name!”

“That’s Dr. Dusan to you, Chief Sylvan.” 

Volt’s hands were shaking as he stood up in shock, holding his tablet tightly, “Dear cod… This is worse than we thought!” He kept his tablet recording the audio, but he muted the volume to prevent detection once they got close, “I’ll keep recording the audio, but I’m muting its volume so we have less risk of getting caught once we get close.”

“Right. Let’s move, now. Where do we go, Volt?” Akuji said.

Volt looked straight ahead, stepping forward, “This way. Let’s hurry, we have the Cleansers themselves on our hands.”

“His last name is… Dusan… His last name is Dusan!” Blythe’s thoughts and hearts were racing, her eyes appearing blank, “How?!”

Sylvan noticed her spaciness, waving his hand in front of her face, “Hey, don’t go spacing out now. Wastes my time.”

Blythe snapped back to reality, her eyes diverting to Dr. Dusan who was a good distance away.

“You…” Blythe growled.

“I’m in front of you, idiot.” Sylvan snapped.

“Shut it, Sylvan.” Dusan snapped at Sylvan, 

“Excuse me?” Sylvan hissed.

Dusan rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to Blythe, “What about me?”

“I recognize your name…” Blythe said darkly.

“What about my name?” Dusan retorted.

Blythe grumbled, going silent for a short moment. Her voice was still dark and raspy, “Do you have any children..?” She held eye contact with Dusan, her gaze was piercing.

“What kind of fucking question is that—“

“I said shut it, Sylvan!” Dusan yelled at him.

Sylvan backed down.

“Why is that important..?” Dusan asked Blythe curiously.

“I’ll be more… inclined to answer your questions if you answer mine.” Blythe hissed quietly, “Answer. The damn. Question.”

Dusan sighed, annoyed, “You have a special case… Fine. I’ll humor you.”

“Dusan—“

“I know what I’m doing, Sylvan.” Dusan hissed.

Sylvan went quiet once again.

Dusan straightened his white coat. It had small blue-ish green stains on it, most likely sanitized ink. He pushed up his glasses before crossing his arms, “I had two, a son and a daughter.” His voice had a hint of remorse, “My son was ripped apart by salmonids five years ago. My daughter was a soldier, still MIA to this day. It’s been nearly eight years.”

Blythe’s heart rate shot up as her breathing quickened. Dusan noticed it.

Blythe looked at the ground, “What are their names?” She mumbled the question.

“What?”

Blythe looked up, her eyes full of intensity and a craving for answers, “Your son, your daughter… What are their names?!”

Dusan noticed that Blythe’s behavior had become more erratic, her tone sharp. He knew he struck something here, so he answered, not without brief hesitation, “…Homura Dusan and Blythe Dusan. Those are their names.”

Blythe froze, her gaze locked on Dusan as she made the connection. Her lips cracked into a grin, “Did you ever try to find that daughter of yours? In the entire eight years?”

Sylvan squinted his eyes suspiciously at Blythe, holding his hand over the shock trigger, “Watch your words, pest.”

“Do not touch that button, Sylvan.” Dusan snapped, “There’s no need for it.”

Sylvan put his hand in his pocket, glaring sharply at Dusan before eyeing Blythe angrily.

“What makes you think I didn’t?” Dusan asked calmly.

Blythe closed her eyes, laughing quietly to herself, which quickly shifted to maniacal laughter. 

Sylvan took a step back, returning his hand to its hovering position over the shock trigger. He waited.

Dusan kept calm, keeping his gaze relaxed over his glasses, “Well?”

Blythe looked Dusan dead in the eyes once again, “Do you remember what your daughter looked like? Huh? I’m starting to think you don’t remember.”

“What are you talking about?” Dusan hissed, “Why the hell wouldn’t I remember..?”

“Look at me. Take a good long look.” Blythe smiled manically, “What do you see?! Just some specimen?! Or… perhaps something more familiar?”

Dusan stared at Blythe carefully, his eyes widening slowly with shock. He quickly turned around, one hand up to his ear. 

Blythe could only faintly hear him.

“Labs, this is Dusan. The ink sample from subject number ninety nine; put your focus on the genetic tests, nothing else. Now.” Dusan dropped his arm, snapping his attention back to Blythe, his expression was both slightly angry and shocked, “You know our names. Tell us yours.” He hissed.

Blythe grinned, “I think you know it, but I’ll say it. Who knows? This could be just one hell of a coincidence.” She let her head drop, glaring at Dusan with both pain and rage, a smile still plastered onto her face, “Blythe. Blythe Dusan.”

Dusan slammed his fist down onto a desk next to him, growling with his head hanging low. He stood up straight, glanced at Blythe, fixed his coat, fixed his glasses, turned around, and walked away.

“Dusan?! Hey! Where the hell are you going?!” Sylvan yelled, “You can’t just fucking leave!”

Dusan stopped, “Sylvan. If you kill ninety nine…” He turned his head to look back at Sylvan. His voice and eyes were dark and fierce, “You’ll be nothing but a pool of ink by tomorrow.”

Just like that, Dusan disappeared behind a metal door.

Sylvan stared at the door with disbelief, before glancing over at Blythe.

Blythe giggled to herself, slightly losing it, “Ah, for years I always wondered…” She looked up at Sylvan with a smile and gaze that would make anyone afraid, “What part of my memory was I missing?”

Sylvan looked away from Blythe, bringing his hand to his own earpiece, “Chief Sylvan speaking.”

Blythe stared at him with a hint of confusion.

Sylvan’s face contorted into an intensely angry expression, “The hell do you mean there are people outside?! You guys are useless standing around! Go deal with them!”

Blythe smiled once again, “So… They made it, huh?”

Sylvan snapped his attention back to Blythe as he lowered his hand, “We’re done here.” He stormed off into another room, leaving Blythe there alone.

The panel began to lower once again, and Blythe was still smiling, “After all this time… Oh after all this time… They finally know I’m alive.”

The platform reached the ground, and two guards pulled Blythe off the wall, directing her back to her cell. She didn’t fight it, no need. She didn’t care anymore.

The two guards tossed Blythe back into her cell upon reaching it, shutting the door.

Blythe slammed into the ground, streaks of orange ink following her injuries and where she slid. She slowly sat up, staring at the cell door as her voice cracked into psychotic laughter, “They finally know… He finally knows I’m still fucking alive!”

Sylvan slammed the door open to the labs, no one else was in the room except Dusan to his right. “Dusan! What the fuck was that?!”

Dusan calmly turned around to face Sylvan. His eyes had a hint of pain and minor panic, “You look troubled, Sylvan. What’s on your mind—“

“Enough of your bullshit!” Sylvan snapped, “You dared to silence me during an interrogation?!”

Leo remained calm, but his voice shook faintly, “You weren’t getting answers, yet I did. What’s the problem?”

Sylvan stepped towards Dusan, aggressively grabbing him by the collar of his shirt under his lab coat, “What the hell is going on with you?! What kind of shit have you been hiding from me?!”

Dusan sighed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“Oh you know what I’m talking about! Explain yourself!” Sylvan snapped.

Dusan stared at Sylvan with annoyance, “What? The fact I had children? Is that what you’re so concerned about?”

“It’s the fact that one of your children is that creature!” Sylvan hissed, pulling Dusan closer to his face as he squinted his eyes angrily, “You’ve disappointed us all!”

“Have I disappointed you all, or just you?” Dusan retorted.

Sylvan looked down and growled angrily. He forcefully threw Dusan to the floor, “You fucking disgrace!”

“Ugh!” Dusan caught himself on his elbows, looking up at Sylvan angrily.

Sylvan was standing over Dusan with a look of disdain and contempt, “I never thought I’d be working with someone as horrifically stupid as you, Leo!” He yelled.

Leo got to his feet, brushing himself off, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Damien?!”

Damien scoffed, “You prick. How fucking dare you?!”

“How dare I?! You just insulted my family!” Leo yelled, “Have you ever remembered it, thought about my real reason for joining this group?!”

Damien recoiled, raising his arm to his chest, “The fuck are you saying..?”

“I never joined this group to torture people! I joined this group with the hope of helping these people! The hope of possibly finding my daughter in this mess! Look what just happened!” Leo yelled, his face full of unfiltered rage, “You’ve done nothing but torture and kill these people! You’ve done nothing but torture me!” He spat, “Did you think I’d forget?!”

“You let me shock that bitch.” Damien sneered, “If you cared so much, why’d you let me?”

Leo clenched his fists, looking at the ground with disgust in himself, “Because I didn’t want to believe it was her…” He looked up, his eyes reflecting his pain filled rage. “It hurts to know such a thing happened to my own daughter! But of course an unlovable cunt like you wouldn’t understand, Damien!”

Damien slightly stepped back, appalled by what Leo just said, “You better watch your fucking mouth, Leo.” He growled, stepping towards Leo again, “You know how much power I have over you!”

“And you know how much power I have over all the research, something you know nothing about using.” Leo retorted, “I won’t let you cause more harm to these people! I won’t let you hurt my daughter anymore!”

Damien stared at Leo with hatred. “I’d like to see you try.” He immediately punched Leo directly in the face without hesitation.

Leo couldn’t react fast enough, taking the hit head on, “Augh! Fuck!” The force cracked one of his lenses, and he staggered back, shaking his head.

Damien quickly turned to the door.

Leo quickly recovered, snagging Damien by the back of his shirt, pulling him back as he wrapped his elbow around his neck, holding him in a chokehold.

Damien attempted to pull away, before bashing the back of his head into Leo’s face.

Leo lost his grip, stumbling back again. Bright crimson ink with deep blue accents began to bleed from his nose, his orange and red eyes full of burning rage.

Damien attempted moving to the door again.

Leo immediately caught Damien a second time, tackling him to the ground with his stomach down. He grabbed him by his tied up tentacles, slamming his face into the floor.

Damien’s nose also began to bleed, his deep blue ink splattering up near his eyes as his mask dented, forcing his ink upwards. He jammed his elbow back into Leo’s chest.

Leo gagged, his grip on Damien loosening.

Damien slipped out from under Leo, getting to one knee and kicking him back as he reached for his N-Zap on his hip.

Leo slid and quickly recovered, pushing forward with one foot, punching Damien across the face with the momentum before he could grab his N-Zap, “I will not let you walk away from this!”

Damien staggered and caught himself on his right elbow, sitting up as he also got up to one knee, “Watch me!” He pushed forward and tackled Leo to the floor by his shoulders in return.

Leo gagged as his back slammed into the floor. He quickly jammed his foot into Damien’s stomach, kicking him to the side and off of him, getting back to his feet.

Damien rolled once before stopping himself, getting back up to his feet himself.

The two stared daggers into each other, Leo’s ink dripping onto the floor, Damien’s pooling in his mask, slowly dripping from under his chin. Their hands and chests had small stains of each other’s and their own inks.

“I knew that this day would come.” Leo said, slightly slouched over, “I never trusted you. Not a single time since coming here. Especially after what you’ve done to me.”

“Yet I had trusted you.” Damien laughed, “How ironic…”

Leo eyed Damien with rage, “I won’t let this continue. I’ll stop you right here, right now!” He bolted forward with his fist raised.

Damien caught Leo’s fist, countering by jamming his knee into Leo’s stomach.

Leo gagged and recoiled, falling to one knee.

Damien kicked Leo in the jaw the instant he was on his knees.

The angle knocked Leo up and backwards into a desk. He gasped in pain as the wind was knocked out of him, managing to catch himself on the desk with his arms.

Damien ran for the door, getting his keycard out, opening the door.

Leo stumbled up and forward to follow Damien, quickly wiping his nose off on his hand as he ran, “You can’t get away!”

Damien got through the door and it closed behind him. He slammed his keycard against the door, overriding the room into a lockdown.

Leo slammed into the door as it shut, quickly grabbing his own keycard, holding it against the keypad.

“Lockdown override denied.”

Damien stood outside the door, panting, placing his keycard back into his pocket.

Leo slammed his forearm against the door, “Damien! You bastard! Don’t you dare fucking run from me!”

Damien stepped away from the door, turning around. He wiped his nose off on his forearm.

“Damien! You damn coward! I’ll kill you!” Leo screamed from the closed door, “Get your ass back here!”

Damien walked toward the cells as he heard Leo yelling after him, Leo’s voice slowly getting quieter. He directed a few guards to follow him, “I’ll show you what happens when you fuck with Sylvan, Leo.”

“DAMIEN!” Leo yelled.

Blythe sat in the corner of her cell, her arms around her lower legs with her head on her knees, “I’ll be fine… Everything is okay… Everything is totally going to be fine… After all this time I have something to hold on to…” She was shaking, her entire body aching with pain. Her mind was racing so fast that she couldn't even cry, stuck in a perpetual cycle of mental pain, “–I-I don’t remember him… Why don’t I remember him?! Why don’t I remember my family? Why those memories of everything?!”

The cell door opened.

Blythe jolted, quickly lifting her head to look up at the door as she sprawled out a bit in a panic, “Who—“

“Grab her.”

Before Blythe could react, she was dragged up to her feet and held by her arms. Unlike last time, she had the strength to resist, desperately trying to pull away, “The fuck?! Hey— AGH!” She was thrown back into the wall and shocked at the same time, her entire body recoiling in agony. She fell to the floor, writhing in pain, gasping.

Damien stood over her, his dark green eyes piercing her. His pupils were thin and small, “You absolutely disgusting freak. Who knew your appearance would make Leo turn on us.”

The shock eventually stopped, but Blythe remained on the ground, gasping for air from the pain, “You…” She wheezed, “Who are you talking about?!”

The two guards lifted Blythe once again, cuffing her hands behind her back. 

Blythe weakly tried to pull away, “Sylvan!” She hissed, “I thought you said you were done?!” She gasped for air, coughing.

“Things change.” Damien grabbed Blythe by her neck with his fingers around the collar and against her skin. 

The guards let go of Blythe and stepped back.

Damien slammed Blythe into the wall, “You’re such a disgusting pest.” He snapped.

Blythe gagged, trying to lean and push away from Damien, but she got weaker as his grip on her neck restricted her breathing, her legs too weak from the shock to attempt kicking him.

Damien took some glasses out from his back pocket, “How about you feel what it's like to truly lose your free will…”

Blythe squirmed, her breathing picking up despite Damien’s hand around her throat. Her eyes were full of fear, her voice shrill and panicked, choked out, “No, no! You can’t! Please!” She couldn’t hold back her fear, her memories of the Deep Sea Metro shocking her ability to think. She couldn’t go through that again, never, “I can’t..! I won’t go through that again!“

Damien laughed maniacally, “You have no choice!” He pushed the glasses against her face and over her eyes, pulling the strap around the back of her head. He held them against her face with her head against the wall.

Blythe slammed her eyes shut as she yelled in pain, the signals burning into her eyes and mind. She tried to turn away, but Damien’s grip on her prevented her from resisting. She kept trying, but her voice gave out as her legs buckled, falling weakly down to her knees.

Damien let go of her, stepping back. His expression was still bent into a maniacal pride.

Blythe’s head hung low, but she eventually raised it a few moments later, slowly getting to her feet. She looked directly at Damien, her voice dull and dark, “…Orders, sir?”

One of the two guards unlocked Blythe’s handcuffs, taking them off her wrists.

Damien’s gaze became sinister, “Your friends… Gear up, find them, and kill them.”

Blythe shook her hands out, walking towards the exit of her cell, “…Yes sir.”

The sky had darkened from just how long and far the group had traveled, stars beginning to twinkle in the sky. The moon peeked up over the horizon, ready to watch what unfolds.

Volt stared at the screen on his small tablet in his hands, “The signals are coming from a short distance in front of us, yet it’s nowhere to be seen… There has to be some way in.”

“This place is barren… how do we know where to get in?!” Akuji asked.

“You won’t.”

The group of them sharply turned around, and standing there was a good six guards, all wielding Aerosprays.

They all drew their weapons, and without hesitation Akuji bolted forwards, already having one opponent down within seconds before any of them could react. Each of them clashed with one soldier, matched up with similar weapons, holding their guard.

After a good few minutes of struggle and combat, nothing but orange ink was left behind.

“That… was shockingly fast…” Forest muttered.

“Don’t let your guard down.” Akuji said, raising her dualies, “There may be more of them.”

“Well, well, well… If it isn’t the Depths themselves…”

“Who the—“ Blitz turned around first, and her eyes widened with shock.

It was Chief Damien Sylvan himself, “I’ll admit, I’m impressed…” He sneered, “I knew they all would be useless against you, so I decided to come up here myself.”

Forest’s jaw fell open, “He’s the one we were hearing…”

“Ah… You were listening in?” Damien shrugged, rolling his eyes, “Such impressive technology the lot of you have. Low radar signals… Undetectable by standard equipment…”

Volt packed away his tablet, stepping to the front of the group, “Nice of you to acknowledge it, but don’t think that will stop us from kicking your ass.”

Damien chuckled darkly, “Oh, I won’t be fighting you…”

Blitz perked up from movement to their left, “Volt! Move!”

Volt turned around to face Blitz, glancing in the direction Blitz turned from. He wasn’t fast enough, and he was slammed in the face with a roller. He shot sideways, slamming into the ground, skidding across the dirt.

“Volt!” Forest yelled.

Someone stood between the group and Volt, a standard issue octoling roller in their hands.

“Who—“ Akuji stopped herself, “Wait… No! that’s—“

“Blythe.” Blitz finished Akuji’s sentence.

Their opponent turned around to the group. In fact standing before them was Blythe, bright red glasses over her eyes, her ink dark blue.

Volt, slowly got to one knee, “Fuck, that hurt.” He shook his head, “Who…” He trailed off, looking up at his aggressor, “Blythe?!”

“Volt! Get the hell out of there! Get some distance!” Forest yelled.

Volt scrambled to his feet, “What the hell is going on?! Why is she—“

“Those glasses! Mind control!” Akuji snapped, “We have to knock those off her face! Now!”

Blythe stepped towards the three of them, holding the roller at the ready.

“No, she’s…” Blitz stammered.

Forest stepped forward, “Melee on melee.” He drew his Splatana wiper, “There will be less of a risk. Let me handle this.” He took another step forward.

The instant Forest stepped forward, Blythe charged him head on, swinging her roller towards him on his left.

Forest caught Blythe’s roller with his Splatana, pushing the roller up as he snuck under it. He kicked Blythe in the stomach, pushing her back.

Blythe stumbled backwards, regaining her footing before immediately going on the attack again, only to be caught by Forest again.

“Blitz, go help Volt! I’ll keep Sylvan busy!” Akuji looked over at Sylvan, who held his smug expression.

“Dualies are such a pathetic choice.” Damien took out his own weapon, an ink brush.

Akuji charged Damien head on without hesitation.

Blitz bolted around to Volt, “Do you still know how to prepare low tide ink?!”

Volt nodded, “I do, but—“ He grabbed his charger, “It will take a while to charge it…”

“Forest is holding Blythe back. Akuji is keeping Sylvan busy.” Blitz charged her Nautilus, “I can keep you covered.

Volt knelt down, resting his charger on his leg. He opened up a small panel on its side and went through the menus, going through a few settings on it before closing the menus. He held the trigger on his charger, “It’s going to take a while to charge one shot, and we’ll most likely only have the one. We have to make this count.”

Leo had heard Blythe’s screams. He slid down the surface of the door with his arms still on it, gritting his teeth. His voice was full of anger and pain, “No… No! I can’t let Damien do this!” Tears welled in his eyes, “I can’t let Blythe suffer anymore! Not after all of this!” He stood up, walking back into the lab, glancing over at one of the computer screens. The screen displayed the vitals of all of the subjects currently imprisoned. All of them were in bad condition with the exception of Blythe and one other.

“Damn it! Damien already almost killed them all!” Leo looked back at the door, his heartbeats skyrocketing. He wiped his eyes off onto his sleeve, “At this rate, he’ll kill Blythe too…” His body began to rush with adrenaline. He clenched his fists as his tentacles spiked up, glowing, “I won’t let Damien kill her!”

Leo cast his special. A Zipcaster. He stood a distance away from the door, transferring the power of the Zipcaster to his feet and his right hand. He pressed his foot into the ground, holding his arm behind him with his hand in a fist. He yelled as she shot forward, the floor cracking under his feet. His fist slammed into the metal door, creating a shockwave as the metal bent and ripped open from the sheer power. Everything past the door was sent flying, and Leo’s Zipcaster immediately dissipated after the impact. He went flying through the door, slamming into the ground. He coughed, getting to his hands and knees, looking around.

Damien was already long gone.

Leo scrambled to his feet, bolting to the area of cells. The door to Blythe’s cell was wide open when he arrived. He frantically looked inside, but his hearts fell into his stomach.

Blythe was nowhere to be found.

“No… Damn it!” Leo snapped, “It was Damien who got to her already!”

[ippu81]

Snippet of my fanfic, rewriting.

Damon drove the car habitually, and we drove on the forest road for a while until we came to a house in the middle of the forest. I had no idea where we were going, and I could feel the need to heat treatment closer, but Damon was somehow cold and distant. I wondered if this was one of Damon's secret hideaways and why he brought me here.

As I gazed upon the quaint little cottage, nestled deep in the woods, I couldn't help but notice the simplicity of the yard that surrounded it. It was just a small gravel patch, but it seemed to be enough for this peaceful abode. The warm summer breeze played with my hair, and I could smell the sweet scents of the herb garden that lay just beyond the cottage. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the fragrances fill my senses.

As I opened my eyes again, I saw the birds chirping merrily in the trees. Their songs harmonized with the gentle rustling of the leaves, creating a beautiful symphony of nature. The sun was shining brightly, and I could feel its warmth on my skin. It was a perfect day, and the cottage seemed to fit right in with the tranquility of its surroundings.

I noticed that the windows of the cottage were adorned with curtains, and there were pots of flowers on the windowsill that added a touch of color to the place. The flowers looked like they were lovingly cared for, and their vibrant hues added life to the cottage's exterior. As I stood there, taking in the sights and sounds of the peaceful environment, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of serenity.

Damon got out of the car and waited for me. I got out of the car, enjoyed this beautiful summer day, and got a few ideas for heat treatment in the woods, too. Damon glanced at me coldly, and he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door. I followed behind him. We went inside.

The house was quite small. There was a kitchenette, a living room, and a couple of smaller bedrooms. In one room came a woman—almost a duplicate of Charlize Theron. She had a white flowy summer dress, but something in her made hairs on my neck stand up. She looked at me from head to toe. She did not tell me her name, nor did Damon introduce me. Then she came and wrapped herself around Damon and kissed him passionately. Damon kissed her passionately back, wrapping himself around her. 

I was shocked. First, Damon turned the heat on me and then took me to meet his mistress. My heat needed treatment, and I was wondering what the fuck was going on. Is this some sort of game or lesson, perhaps? Damon smelled still passionfruit, so I had no idea about anything. I stood there, flabbergasted. My mouth was literally hanging open. 

They kissed for a while. Damon murmured something in that woman's ear when they broke off the kiss. She smiled and touched damon tenderly. He moved away from her, came to me, took me by the hand, and took me into another small room. In this room, there was a normal bed, which was not very big, a table, and a worn-out old rug on the floor. There were brown curtains on the window.

He sat me down, and before I knew it, he had me chained to the bed. I could feel a spiked shackle squeezing around my left wrist, and he soon pushed me on my back and put a shackle on my right wrist, too. He pointed to the jelly tank on the other side of the room. His expression was angry like I was some kind of nuisance right now.

He said to me in a very cold voice. "Behave yourself or... try to get loose... "

I somehow gathered that this had been one of Damon's hideouts, but this woman had moved in here, put curtains up, and put flowers and herbs, too. This bolted-down cot, almost with these strong shackles, told me this too clearly.

I decided to be nice. The handcuffs had some sort of rage inhibitor or something, and I couldn't even find my rage. I just kept thinking to myself that I should have god damn kept my head and gone to freaking Australia. I lay on my back in that tiny bed. Feeling my heat getting rather painful. But something in Damon's expression had made me not say anything to him, not just yet.

[ezaccessory]

Black and Red Spike Lug Nuts: Adding Style and Attitude to Wheels

Looking to personalize your vehicle? There are countless options available. When it comes to upgrading your car's appearance, one often overlooked aspect is the lug nuts. However, these small components play an important role in holding your wheels securely in place and adding a touch of style to your vehicle as well as ensuring a safe and stable driving experience. Among the various options, black and Red Spike Lug Nuts have gained status as the ultimate upgrade for car enthusiasts.

Lug nuts are a crucial component of any vehicle's wheel assembly and now they come in bold and eye-catching designs to make a statement.

Let's explore the reasons why black and Red Spike Lug Nuts are an amazing choice to improve the look of your car-

Striking Appearance- Latest design of Black Spike Lug Nuts are specially intended to make a style statement. They are sleek and vibrant to make an eye-catching difference that immediately adds a touch of aggression and sportiness to your vehicle's wheels. They are perfect to invest in and make your vehicle stand out from the crowd.

Enhanced Style- Lug nuts improve your car's overall style. Black and red colors provide an exceptional aesthetic that can elevate the appearance of any vehicle. No matter if it is a sleek sports car, a rugged SUV or a modified tuner, lug nuts can meet your expectations and give your car a customized look

Durable and High-Quality- Spike lug nuts are typically made from high-quality materials thus ensuring durability and long-lasting performance. They are designed to withstand everyday rigors and maintain their striking appearance.

Easy Installation- Installing lug nuts is a hassle-free process. They can easily suit most standard wheel studs. Install these additions easily using common tools like a lug wrench or a socket set. It doesn’t need to involve professionals or expensive modifications to transform the look of your car.

Versatility- You will find these lug nuts in different thread sizes that make them compatible with a wide range of vehicles.

Customization Options- These lug nuts offer customization options to suit individual preferences (different spike designs, lengths, and configurations). You can find the right style to match your taste and make your car truly unique.

Looking for best quality Red Spike Lug Nuts? There are many automotive accessory stores and online retailers offer these items. You should read reviews and check customer feedback and make sure about the compatibility of the lug nuts with your specific model before purchasing lug nuts.

For the best black and Red Spike Lug Nuts, visit our website.

[ohgodsalazarwhy]

Spending my evening thinking about one of the worst cakes I’ve ever made in my life.  A birthday cake for my Mom.

Because I like to bake and I’ve made a lot of cakes over the years my family will sometimes conscript me to be In Charge of the birthday cakes (for some reason this stopped when I had to cut wheat out of my diet. Weird.).  Several years ago I got the idea of making my Mom something a little fancier than my usual (delicious, fluffy, perfect) white cake.  I’d make her a spice cake, and I’d do some fancy piping with the buttercream.

I pulled a spice cake recipe off the internet and followed it.  Something went wrong.  Horribly, terribly wrong.  The cake was dense.  I cannot adequately describe to you the sheer density of this cake.  This cake looked like bread without any yeast.  This cake weighed 30 lbs out of the oven.  This cake had so little air in it that it actively lowered the oxygen levels of the nearby atmosphere.

Lowered oxygen levels are about all I can use to explain what I did next, which was to cover the entire thing in piped spikes of buttercream.  The effect was less “fancy piping” and more “dense cluster of pimples”.  I didn’t color it either, so the end result was a cake that weighed a ton and was the color of a faded photograph of a white person’s home from the 70′s with the texture of a shag rug made stiff from years of orgies.

I knew.  I knew it was bad.  But I had no more ingredients or time to do another one, I was bringing the cake to my Mom’s birthday dinner in just a couple hours.  I was resigned to teasing from my family, and I knew my Mom would be nice because she loved me but we’d all laugh about it and whatever.

What I didn’t know was that Mom had invited many friends to her birthday dinner.  It wasn’t just family.  And I didn’t know until I was up the stairs and the entire table of middle aged women were looking at me. 

I apologized profusely for the cake.  It’s ugly, it’s dense, I’m so sorry.  Oh god no one has to eat it.  But I had to sit there, sweating pure humiliation as Mom and all her friends ate my terrible fucking cake and cooed and complimented it and said what a lovely cake, oh such a delicious cake and I just wanted to sink through the floor and cease existing because THEY knew it was terrible and I knew it was terrible but good manners prevented anyone from saying that.

And I think about it all the time.  This fucking cake haunts me.  It’s like a screensaver memory for some reason.  I’ll be minding my own business and my brain will be like “remember the time you made Mom and all her nice friends eat a brick?”

YES. I REMEMBER. THANKS.

[delilahbe]

Picking the Right Living Room Furniture for Family Conditions

Of all the designing you do in your home, your living room furniture decisions make the initial and most profound impression of your home. The living room is frequently where your family and you invest the majority of your energy. It's what guests see learn more most and first, and it's not unexpected the center point of family time. How you improve your living room frequently illustrates what your identity is, what you like and what calms you and your family.

Furniture Toughness

While space requirements can play ruin with brightening plans, having the right size of sofas, chairs and tables can offer sufficient seating and a cleaned up appearance. Remember your room measurements when you search for various living room furniture. Assuming you have pets and small kids, consider strong material that opposes stains and is exceptionally impervious to wear. All things considered, you believe that you furniture should look really great for quite a while. Leather seating might look and feel perfect, yet the material is effectively harmed and can be exorbitant to fix. Pick rather a solid however lovely fabric or woven material that is effortlessly cleaned.

Variety Decisions

Each house is unique. Each family is unique. Lighting, wall tone and deck type can all impact your selection of varieties or patterns in your furniture. For the most part, dull shaded furniture conceals soil and colors better, however the more obscure tint can overwhelm endeavors at a light and vaporous air. Obviously, your accents, lights and window dressings can counter that appearance, so assuming hazier tints appeal to you, shift focus over to the extras and accents-dolls, lights, wall craftsmanship and different designs to light up the room.

Flooring Security

Assuming your living room furniture rests on mats or rug, you should seriously think about utilizing floor covering assurance devices. The most popular are circles of hard plastic whose level side supports the furniture. The spiked side holds the furniture set up while forestalling the rug heaping from turning out to be totally leveled. Some floor covering monitors have wheels, and certain individuals in all actuality do prefer them for simple moving. In any case, the wheels dive into the rug similarly as the actual furniture would. Expect spaces from the wheels which can become extremely durable. Assuming you put furniture on exposed deck, you might consider setting some sort of solid, non-scratch cushioning between the furniture and the floor. Many people like a delicate, adaptable square or circle of elastic cross section that can mix with the variety conspire in the room.

[spike-and-faye]

Well ... Whatever happens, happens I guess

I’m sure you’ve all seen by now, but just in case you have not: we have got some stills of the cast from the live-action.

These are from Variety magazine

My thoughts?

It’s a no from me dawg. I’m going to keep an open mind about this, but at the moment I am fearing the worst.

The casting is ... well it was certainly a choice. Jet actually seems like a great fit. There’s no images of Ed (!?) so I guess we don’t know about her yet.

John Cho as Spike is not ... great. For starters, Spike is 27 and Cho is 49, but to be fair he doesn’t look 49. I think the really thing he’s lacking in for me is the natural ‘coolness’ of Spike, for lack of a better term. Cho looks like he’s trying to act out coolness, at least so far in these photos, and it’s not super convincing to me. (That isn’t to say that I don’t ADORE John Cho. I genuinely love that man - I’m just not sure he is right for this role). Spike’s type of cool is more of a Han Solo than an MCU Avenger if that makes sense. John Cho looking fine as fuck in that shirtless pic though SWOOOOON

NOW while I think Daniella Pineda is one of the most gorgeous women alive (and THICC asf) - she is not Faye. I won’t get too much into it, but Faye *is* Singaporean. While I’m excited they’re not whitewashing the cast, I think they’re ignoring some already existing racial diversity here. Pineda also looks very cool, but I’m not seeing the obnoxious, efflorescent, flirtatious Faye Valentine here. I am seeing a generic ‘she’s a bad ass not like the other girls’ trope.

I think besides the casting, what’s getting me most right now is how organic some of the colors are, especially Faye’s outfit. Her outfit says a lot about her: it’s fake, flashy, and ostentatious. They REALLY muted her color scheme with this outfit. I don’t think natural leather tones and black pants/tights really do that trick. (WHERE’S THE SIGNATURE HEAD BAND??). That said Spike’s out fit is fine and Jet’s is actually great.

Same issue with warmer, organic tones goes for the set. It’s serving me 2013 Doctor Who TARDIS vibes. I feel like in the series there’s a strong contrast between the bare, metal ship and the vibrancy of the characters within. Also - let’s not forget they are DIRT POOR. They don’t have rugs and records and turn tables and speakers.[Ok maybe that sounds a little nit-picky, and surely a bare metal set wouldn’t be appealing to the viewer of a live-action series. regardless I doesn’t feel like the BeBop to me and it’s devastating].

Which leads me to my final point: WE DON’T NEED A LIVE ACTION FFS. The original is so perfect. I just don’t think any studio could reasonably make anything as cinematically sound and as gorgeously written as the original. Shinichiro Watanabe is listed as a CONSULTANT. That means virtually nothing to a studio unfortunately. He has no executive creative control. And there’s NO Keiko Nobumoto, who wrote the series and wove so much meaning and symbolism with such minimalist dialogue/exposition into this masterpiece. Without Nobumoto or Watanabe, to me this means it’s basically a fan-made cosplay project.

My take away from all this ... I’m pissed but at least we’re getting more Yoko Kanno music which is the opposite of a problem.

I really REALLY want to hear what you all think.

 I feel like I’m being super harsh and nit-picky but also ... has there ever been an anime series adaptation that wasn’t garbage?

[theethiopiangoddess]

Picking the Right Living Room Furniture for Family Environments

Of all the embellishing you do in your home, your living room furniture decisions make the initial and most profound impression of your home. The living room is frequently where your family and you invest the vast majority of your energy. It's what guests visit site here see most and first, and it's generally expected the center point of family time. How you brighten your living room frequently illustrates what your identity is, what you like and what calms you and your family.

Furniture Durability

While space imperatives can play ruin with embellishing plans, having the right size of sofas, chairs and tables can offer satisfactory seating and a cleaned up appearance. Remember your room measurements when you look for changed living room furniture. Assuming you have pets and small kids, consider solid material that opposes stains and is profoundly impervious to wear. All things considered, you believe you furniture should look really great for quite a while. Leather seating might look and feel perfect, yet the material is handily harmed and can be expensive to fix. Pick rather a solid however lovely fabric or woven material that is effortlessly cleaned.

Variety Choices

Each house is unique. Each family is unique. Lighting, wall tone and ground surface type can all impact your selection of varieties or patterns in your furniture. By and large, dull shaded furniture conceals soil and colors better, yet the hazier tone can overwhelm endeavors at a light and vaporous air. Obviously, your accents, lights and window dressings can counter that appearance, so assuming more obscure tints appeal to you, shift focus over to the embellishments and accents-dolls, lights, wall craftsmanship and different designs to light up the room.

Flooring Protection

On the off chance that your living room furniture rests on floor coverings or rug, you should seriously think about utilizing rug security devices. The most popular are plates of hard plastic whose level side supports the furniture. The spiked side holds the furniture set up while forestalling the floor covering heaping from turning out to be totally leveled. Some rug monitors have wheels, and certain individuals in all actuality do prefer them for simple moving. Nonetheless, the wheels dive into the floor covering similarly as the actual furniture would. Expect spaces from the wheels which can become super durable. Assuming that you put furniture on uncovered ground surface, you might consider setting some sort of sturdy, non-scratch cushioning between the furniture and the floor. Many people like a delicate, adaptable square or circle of elastic lattice that can mix with the variety conspire in the room.

[sunflowerspectre]

Strange Magic | Ballroom Blitz

This is a 5k commission for @krystalmoonfae

Title: Ballroom Blitz Summary: As a newfound couple, Marianne and Bog work on grasping their new normal while trying to merge both of their kingdoms and cultures. Seeing as both sides have a ball quickly approaching, they see it as a great chance to be able to teach the other about their cultures. Rating: T for mentions of drinking (and Griselda) Tags: fluff, ballroom dancing, cultural differences, minor politics, minor mentions of discrimination 

Read it on Archive of Our Own

Commission Me | Tip A Writer | Twitter

Ballroom Blitz

“Is all of this really necessary?”

Marianne looks over at Bog as he stands in an uncomfortable stance, looking himself over with bristling wings. She has to admit, it does not suit him (some part of her whispers how fairy clothes never will and she needs to stop expecting them to; that it is okay that it does not). She does not need to worry about fitting in anymore, she thought that she already accepted that.

Bog is not Roland, she reminds herself. He will not give her grief if she wears something out of season or if his outfit is not up to par and ‘perfect.’ Bog cherishes individuality, he does not squander it. Which is why, even if he will not outright admit it, he hates trying on these ridiculous clothes. But he will, at least, try .

Bog glances at her from the corner of his eyes as she takes off the vest given to him, fluttering around the room in disarray as if any of the other vests already tossed around will be any better. He can see the worry and frustration in her brow. He will try anything and everything for her.

“Calm down, tough girl,” Bog tries to ease the tension.

“I can’t calm down.” Marianne admits, “I just want this to go well.”

Marianne plops down on the flowery bed with a tired, frustrated groan, her wings spreading out behind her. While her father was not thrilled about the idea of Bog being in the castle, nevertheless actually being inside of her room, he can not exactly keep the other King out; his daughter, after all, is an adult. However, she knows that Bog’s visit is kept on a need-to-know basis, as is all of his visits.

Which is  exactly why this ball is so important. She is not ashamed to be with Bog, but she is ashamed that everyone is trying to get her to keep it a secret, like it’s a scandal. She is tired of people, especially her father, telling her what is and is not acceptable for her; the latter, she hears much more than the former. She can decide that for herself; and she has decided. She wants Bog and she wants everyone else to realize just how wrong they are about him.

“Do you know how much easier it will be if this goes well,” Marianne ventures carefully, her voice soft. Bog flitters above her, hand outreached to hold hers, his wings clicking to create an insect-like noise that she relishes in; something about it brings comfort to the silence that has befallen them. The spikes of his armor and skin would destroy the delicate bed (a mistake they will not be repeating since it was so hard to explain in order to get it replaced).

Marianne takes the outstretched hand, a soft smile on her face as she notices the nervousness in his expression. She continues softly, a soft blush brushing her cheeks. Her stomach flutters and she loves that he can get this reaction out of her just from being around her, that he brings this side out of her. She thought that after Roland, the butterflies that had once fluttered in her chest were dead, but Bog - he had brought them back to life without even trying.

“I just want everyone to see you the way I do.”

His forehead pressed against hers as their eyes close; he relishes in how warm her skin feels against his forehead. She can feel the comforting coolness of armor, pleated skin. His face is always the safest place for her to touch; the twigs are not as sharp, there’s less barbs for her skin to catch on.

“I know how everyone else sees me.”

Venom seeps into his voice, if a bit unintentionally, but Marianne can hear the hurt underlying in it. “And it’s - sweet - that you are trying, but I do not really think -”

The longer he talks, the more she wants to just scream how this is exactly why she wants everyone else to see him the way she does. Why she wants those stupid fairies to realize that Bog King is not as scary as they all make him out to be - well he can be, but that is far from the only thing that he is.

Marianne places a long finger to his lips, a soft smile on her face. He takes the hint and closes his mouth, stopping himself to let her speak.

“I’m tired of the court talking about you the way that they do.” Marianne softly admits.

She never elaborates on just what they say, but Bog imagines that it’s nothing he has not heard before. Her voice turns more bitter, almost venomous and frustrated.

“I’m tired of Dad acting like there are better suitors out there. I don’t just want everyone to see as equals, you deserve it. You deserve for them to see you as the Bog King. The king I know you are.”

She flushes when she realizes just how gushy she sounds. She never meant to go on a tangent, but when she starts, it is hard for her to get herself to stop talking. All of the things that she has been pent up come flowing out like a busted dam.

Bog sighs softly, his expression softening as he flutters down to her. The sharp edges of his armor and skin cut at the delicate flower petal, but he knows this is going to be much longer conversation than he imagined. He appreciates her enthusiasm, but he gave up on that dream before she even thought of it. He knows that the divide between their kingdoms is large; while it is making its progress, there are still many hurdles for them to fly over. Every step forward feels like it is followed by two steps back.

“They’ll never see me as equals to fairies,  tough girl.” Bog speaks up; his expression more somber, solemn as if he already accepted his fate. As if he knew that he would never be enough for her.

Marianne, however, just grins viciously, her teeth gleaming like the devil he knows that she can be. Each time, that grin always reminds him exactly what he loves most about her - her strength, her rebellious side, her sense of justice, her wickedness. Her refusal to abide by their rules of her and to stand by her choices - even when that choice is him.

“I guess we’ll just have to give them no choice.”

_________________________________________________

Fairy balls used to not be the dread of her existence. Marianne remembers a time when she used to look forward to it. She used to love to dress up and to dance, even if her voice carried a bit louder than quiet conversation would allow or she missed a few steps during the dance or she stepped on someone’s foot. The more she looks back on it, the more she realizes that she never quite fit in during the balls even if she did at one point enjoy it.

So if she never fit in anyway, what was the point of trying to fit in now? She may as well do what she wants, have fun, and most importantly, get her dance with Bog. Her original plan was to talk to them, get them to agree to not only Bog attending, but to have her dance with him as well. But she is a princess. Soon to be queen and she will dance with whomever she wants.

If the elders refuse to see him as her equal, at the very least this (very public) dance will help her subjects see him as such. It’s admittedly a bit backhanded. But she knows that someone such as Bog dancing with their crown princess will make their courtship hard to ignore. Harder to try to talk her out of. Harder to slip under the rug or excuse. The more public and more aggressive she is about the fact that Bog is her partner, the less of a choice they have about ignoring him.

They can not outright deny him entry if he has an invitation, she reminded herself; the courts may not like it, especially her father, but they are all too proud to deny their manners as a host. Otherwise, she imagines Sunny would have been kicked out long ago despite Dawn constantly vouching for him.

“Should we be worried about how long they’re taking,” Sunny speaks up, anxiously, from beside her; unlike most of them, Dawn did not have to choose his outfit with the elf already being one of the most fashionable among them. She almost thinks it is a shame that Dawn has not seen him yet.

Marianne glances toward him, but otherwise appears not nearly as concerned. She continues to absently sip at the grape-based wine served, almost lazily, with the peace of mind that if she spilled any than at the very least, it would not show up on the dress. While not caring much about what the others think of her outfit - considering that she has already gotten more than a few stink eyes - she is looking forward to showing herself off to Bog. Dawn had worked hard on this particular dress, with Marianne’s own input, for weeks in preparation for this. The dark purple silk was carefully dyed with wine, intricately sewn in with matching petals. She felt the color was a good way to assert herself as royalty and, admittedly, it is also just her new favorite color. The overall plan is that the neighboring political figures will not make any mistake on who the crown princess is, which will make her dance with Bog an even bigger event.

But now that the ball is in full swing, an appearance from either Dawn or Bog would make them fashionably late; something that is usually more her style than her sister’s. As crown princess, she actually took her duties in getting the ball ready more seriously, which made her almost dangerously early. Her father was thrilled that she was showing more of an interest and she did not want to ruin his good mood by telling him she was only making sure of things this time around since Bog would be joining them.

“Dawn always takes longer to get ready for these things,” Marianne reminds him, “And with a new person to dress up….”

She trails off with a bit of a shrug. It is nice for her sister (her loyal, always by her side sister) to offer to take over Bog’s clothes for the ball; Dawn all but gave her no choice when she found out. While she imagines that Bog is not having the best time, she can not help but be curious as to what Dawn put him in. Out of the two of them, her sister has always had the best taste in fashion and understood the dynamics of being a seamstress must better than herself.

Not too much later after her words, Princess Dawn’s appearance is announced by one of the guards. Considering this is one of the larger balls the kingdom throws, a majority being fairies and political figures from neighboring fairy kingdoms, their father had insisted on the more traditional approach of having each guest carefully announced. Not the worst idea until someone - or two someone - are late.

Considering that there are most everyone is there, and whomever is not by now is considered by most to not be coming, Dawn’s announcement draws a bit of attention. Most of the fairies of their own kingdom pay her no mind, used to at least one princess being late, while their other guests at the very least, turn their head to glance her way. Most just continue their slow dances and hushed whispers - whispers that, with her late attendance, seem to get a smidge louder than normal among their visitors.

To their father’s credit, he does try to greet her, but Dawn wastes no time in going in for Sunny, grabbing his wrist, then dragging him out to the dance floor. Dawn barely even greets her own sister, a smile stretched out on her face wildly, and Marianne just returns the smile as she sips at the glass. She can see her father’s disappointment from here as some of the dancers glance at Dawn and Sunny with uncertainty.

But if the attendees thought Dawn was scandalous, Marianne can not help but grin wickedly when she thinks about the stir her and Bog will cause. She knows she will get an earful later, but she also knows that a statement like this can not be dismissed.

When the guard announces Bog’s arrival, instead of the hushed whispers growing, all sound seems to stop. While the musicians eyed each other uneasily, their music coming to an abrupt stop as an uncertainty washes over them all, the sound of Marianne’s shoes against the solid floor are the only thing echoing across the ballroom.

Marianne grins viciously, her eyes lighting up as Bog enters the party. Her sister did a dastardly good job. Forgoing too much that would cover his armor and rip due to his thorns, Bog instead wears a deep purple toga, made of a thicker fabric with layers. The fabric wraps from just beside his neck across to his hip, giving him the illusion of being covered for the sake of the event, but is open enough to reveal the intricacies of his armor and give him room for his large shoulder plates. It does not go unnoticed by Marianne that they, likely intentionally if she knows her sister, match.

“Care for a dance, Bog King,” Marianne bows deeply, one foot behind the other while her hand stretches out to him in an offering. She winks at him as she meets his gaze, relishing in the way it almost makes him flustered.

Bog matches her grin, shamelessly looking her over as he appreciates her choice of dress. The silky fabric is as dangerously scandalous as he is.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They walk to the middle of the dance room, many of the guests parting to give them plenty of space, their heads are held high as Marianne evens her breathing. She does not even bother to glance at her father, instead only giving a small wave to Dawn as her younger sister openly encourages her.

A small nod to the musicians is enough for them to start up the music again. It takes a moment for the music to build, with Bog and Marianne taking that time in getting in the proper position. They stand facing each other, one hand behind their back, the other outstretched to barely touch their palms together.

As the music begins to pick up, Bog brings her closer just as they practiced before they start to go into a full swing. With each flare of music, Marianne moves - a kick of her feet, a twirl. All while maintaining her hold on Bog’s arm.

The longer they dance, the more she realizes that - for the most part - everyone has parted away from the middle floor to leave them both the space that they need. Either they realized just how dangerous her kicks are or they do not want to get close to the Goblin King. Like a weight lifted, she realizes she does not care.

All that she can focus on, as the background blurs around them through spins, turns and careful steps, is the fact that Bog is not missing a beat. They move together like one through a series of classic, yet dramatic, dances. The music echoes in her chest as it pounds in her ear, she counts each beat as thinks about where she has to step next.

“Purple suits you,” Marianne comments softly when Bog brings her in close. Her hand moves from position to scrape her nail along the underside of his armor at his neck. He almost growls, but instead grins deviously.

“Your hand is not in the right place, princess.”  

Marianne does not move her hand. She just grins, her hand briefly going to his face.

“I beg to differ, Bog King.”

She is lightly pushed away as they part, her going into a twirl before coming back into his arms. As their dance closes, Bog makes a point to dip her a bit deeper than customary with his face too close to hers to be mistaken for casual. His hand is tight at her waist, with no sign of letting go. As much as she tries to hide it, with them so close, he gets a good glimpse at the flush dusting her cheeks.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Marianne compliments as they part, Bog maintaining his hand on her waist.

Marianne does not miss the way that the others return to the dance floor as her and Bog leave it. Granted, some go back to the wine bar as soon as her sister stumbles her way to the floor with Sunny back in tow. But at the very least, she knows that their message got across - especially as she looks at her father, who looks two glasses away from passing out. Despite knowing that, and knowing the lecture she has in her future, she can not help but feel elated at just how much fun it was. Her heart racing, cheeks flushed, she hopes that the ball in the dark forest - an event only a few nights away from this one - will be just as fun.

Bog draws her in close, his teeth bared in a predatory dangerous smile.

“You did pretty well yourself, tough girl. Now, it’s my turn.”

__________________________________________________

Marianne is a little more worried over Griselda being in charge of her dress, however at Bog’s reassurances, she takes a deep breath and lets go of the reins. After all, who would know what is more appropriate for a goblin ball more than the previous queen? If she can put her trust and faith into Dawn, she can do the same for Griselda, especially after all that his mother has done for them (if in a bit embarrassing manner).

But, almost embarrassingly so, Marianne is left in the dark as to what to expect for the ball in the Dark Forest.

Her father tried to instill fear and caution in her over attending an event by herself, at night, in the Dark Forest, surrounded by goblins. Dawn tried to imagine something hauntingly beautiful, and made a few passing comments about Griselda enlisting her help with the dress to make sure it balanced goblin fashion and fairy well; though she complained more often than thought that she is unable to attend as the goblin ball, as she would be too busy attending the elves’ own soiree with Sunny.

Bog, however, would just give her teasing comments here and there about preparing herself to see just how different a real party is compared to the one that the fairies had. While that idea is exciting - thrilling - she is a bit nervous. Especially since she knows that, just like the one in the Fairy Kingdom, this event would also have other representatives from different sections of the Dark Forest and who knew what else. She knew that she could protect herself and that Bog would stand up for her presence there, but she still remembers just how scary it was when she first accidentally stepped into the Dark Forest and feels that same fear bubbling under her skin at the idea of being introduced to so many unknowns. She is sure that Bog felt the same anxiety, however, about attending the fairy ball.

And she also has to remind herself that this is what she wants. She wants to be kept on her toes. She wants the challenge. She wants to learn more about Bog and his world, just as he did the same for her. More importantly, this is exactly what she always dreamed of (with a few minor things changed here and there such as actually dating the Bog King).

Griselda helps put the finishing touches up on the dress. With Dawn gone to the elven ball, Griselda puts her all into making sure each detail is perfect a mere hour away from the event. The previous queen is already dressed - with jewelry adorning her horns, but lacking shoes - and Marianne can not help but wonder if she should expect the other goblins to be dressed in something similar - and if going without shoes is the norm.

“You look - beautiful,” Griselda gushes, brushing a tear away from her eye with her pinky claw, “Boggy is just going to love you - well, he already loves you dear, you know that, but when he sees you in this dress - I better be getting grandchildren out of this.”

Marianne flushes deeply, eyes darting around as she can only laugh a bit nervously at the sentiment, especially knowing that Griselda says it so sincerely. Griselda immediately, lightly, scolds her for fidgeting as she finishes sewing up one last spot to make it the perfect fit. Marianne catches glimpses of herself in the mirror - and more she looks at it, the more she falls in love with what Griselda and her sister have created.

“-Is it normal not to wear shoes,” Marianne asks, hesitantly as she eyes Griselda’s toes balancing her as she stands up on them to reach a specific spot. Marianne glances down to her own feet, wiggling her toes, unsure about how she feels about the possibility of dancing barefoot  and the more fairy part of her is a little worried about just how dirty her feet would get. She also already knows how Bog’s thorns feel when they prick her finger, she can’t imagine what would happen if he stepped on her toes while barefoot.

“Goblins do not need shoes, honey,” Griselda explains gently, “Our skin is tough and we’re made for running through stones and bark and twigs, not soft dirt and flowers.”

She gently pinches at Marianne’s skin as if to emphasize her point, “But do not worry about it dearie, I made a pair of shoes - with your sister’s input mind you - that will work perfect for tonight.”

_____________________________________________

“Is she here yet,” Thang attempts to whisper, his voice harshly cutting out.

“No.” Stuff rolls her eyes, crossing her arms, “If Queen Marianne was here, we’d see her.”

“ Oh.”

Bog sighs deeply, trying to fight the incoming migraine as the two smaller goblins debate about whether or not Marianne is at the ball yet. He leans on his staff, tapping his foot impatiently as he debates about searching the castle himself for his mother and Marianne. He hopes, at the very least, his mother did not put something ridiculous on Marianne; she would look beautiful no matter what she wore, but his mother’s atrocious ideas of fashion are (at times) a bit much to swallow, especially at formal events. But even he is starting to get impatient over his mother taking too long.

He notices his mother arriving first; it is hard to not notice her. Unlike the fairy ball, with formalities and announcements, Griselda comes in loudly and proudly - immediately calling out to the old politicians that she recognizes, waving to them enthusiastically. Bog sighs at the way some of the others street clear of her as she plows her way through the dancing crowd just to say hi to any given person.

But then he turns to see Marianne. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful Marianne. Looking as if she belongs to be there as any of them do. The black dress she wears has thin, translucent sleeves that wrap around her arms, connected to the dark collar at her neck, her dark purple wings looking more like an elegant cape behind her as her sword glimmers at her hip. He glances down and is surprised to see that instead of her normal cloth and vines around her feet, she instead wears shoes that look suspiciously like his armor just dyed; they match the armored bracelets at her wrists.

She looks every bit like the future Queen of the Dark Forest should be.

Marianne’s eyes meet his - the dark shadow around her eyelids highlighting the gleam in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. She holds her head high as she walks to him, with most of the goblins parting out of her way while others linger to look at her in curiosity.

She tries her best to focus solely on Bog, remembering to keep her shoulders back and walk with the confidence that she needs right now. The dark, low lights of the cavern inside of the hollowed tree are unexpected - lit mostly by fireflies and moonlight that beams in through the skylight. She glimpses the various types of goblins around her - batlike ones whose arms reach to the ground to support their weight, ones with ears larger than their bodies or some larger than she thought goblins could even be. The diversity among them is so vastly different than that among the fairies, from their sizes to features, but she feels an odd sense of welcoming that all of them are Bog’s people.  

The music is deeper than she anticipated - tight strings with an ominous undertone. As if it is background noise to an anticipated fight. She supposes that that is not entirely wrong, given that she remembers just how Bog taught her how to dance.

“Wow,” Thang whistles, the sound sharp and crass against the rugged music playing, “She looks pretty evil.”

Marianne raises a brow, nose scrunched at the compliment, She is but bites her cheek for now. She is used to the ‘compliments’ people give her - pretty, quirky, awkward. She is used to what Roland used to pass as compliments, but (especially knowing Thang) this does not feel backhanded. It does not even feel like an insult either. But if it is a compliment, she is not sure what exactly it is supposed to mean.

Bog immediately bows to her, causing Stuff and Thang to stumble, squawking in surprise as they do the same. From the corner of her eye, she can see the other goblins do the same. She feels a sense of honor and pride, as well as absolute adoration from Bog being as bold to do something that clearly meant a lot to his people.

“I believe it’s time to dance, tough girl,” Bog takes her hand as he stands up straight, “Do you remember what we practiced?”

Marianne bares her teeth in a wild grin. She remembers exactly how to do this. For as often as she practiced dancing with him for the fairy ball, they practiced twice as much for this. She knows that if something goes wrong someone could get hurt - and she can not imagine what would happen if that person was accidentally Bog.

But she has faith in herself - and in him. She thinks that she has a good enough handle on this to do it well.

“How could I not?”

Bog guides her to the floor with an elegance. At his presence, the goblins make a very clear circle around them to give them plenty of space. She would be more worried about hurting someone if they did not.

Bog gives a nod as they part, gaining a few feet between them. Unlike the close, slower and more calculated movements of the dance they performed at the fairy event, this one starts at a distance as they draw their weapons. They close in with his staff against her sword, circling each other as they bring their weapons down against each other.

“By the way,” Marianne asks softly, eyes still on him- each movement she makes feels natural to her, with her sword acting more like a third limb than a weapon. “Was that earlier?”

“Which part,” Bog almost laughs, but his voice comes off hesitant, “What did my mother do?”

“No - your mother was fine,” Marianne assures him as their weapons hit each other once again, twirling around like this - she can not help feel the parallel to their first fight. “I meant Thang.”

“Thang?”

They stumble - for a brief moment, their dance stutters in an awkward pause as their weapons slip out of their hands and into the air. Their staff and sword glide pass each other in a fumble. They move fast, and as one, to cover the mistake - grabbing each other’s weapon in an elegant switch that causes the crowd to gasp, not noticing it as a mistake and instead as (what Dawn would call) a power move, as they continue on.

“He called me evil.” Marianne states carefully, unsure if it would come off insulting and this time, she is careful to hold onto Bog’s staff. The weight of it is unfamiliar, if oddly comforting, but considering she practiced with only her weapon, her words come out a bit slower as she concentrates more on her movements. “Is that - I mean, is that a good thing or -?”

This time Bog does laugh - bellowing and deep, it echoes through the room as he grins madly at her. Their dance picks up the pace as their conversation blurs among the clash of her sword against his staff.

“Evil is a compliment in these parts, tough girl,” Bog explains, a wicked grin on his face, “Evil is not malicious - but of strength, mischief - rebellion.”

Marianne lets out a quiet oh. She supposes that makes sense, if she squints. To fairies, evil means darkness, malicious intent. But hearing his version of it, she wonders just how much their version of ‘evil’ is just based in prejudice against the Dark Forest.

They come together closer as their dance starts to slow, neither out of breath as everyone watches them carefully. Marianne can hear Griselda already clapping, but for once, Bog does not pay much mind to his mother’s embarrassing attention.

“And there is nothing - ” Bog states, his voice low and soft. Their weapons are down, still against each other as Bog leans into her, close to almost whispering into her ear, “- nothing more rebellious than a fairy princess and a goblin king.”

[koutaroulogy]

the somnial effect . iwaizumi h.

genre: a mix of angst and fluff

warnings: paen <3 even more paen <3

details: post timeskip! a hint of mutual pining

note: part two coming soon ♡

word count: 400+ -i never keep track of my word count

(listen to ben&ben's 'lifetime' for better experience)

Iwaizumi Hajime had volleyball-player kind of hands- rugged, calloused from all the spiking he had to do as the ace of the team.

No one could imagine that the athletic trainer was actually a lucid dreamer immersed in paintings and museums, not even his annoyingly-loud best friend who was on the other side of the world.

He'd rather let it stay that way.

The brunette stared complacidly at the half-finished painting on the once pristine canvas.

It was a good dream, he pursed his lips, trying to imagine cupid-bow kissers on top of painted skin. Gripping the brush he had dipped into the porcelain cup of water, Hajime dabbed it onto the smooth canvas with bronze and peach colors for skin shading and pink blossoms resembling lips.

A lone paper plane watched him from its place on the balcony table- wondering what he could've been making that made his eyes flutter and his lips curl upwards.

When he was finished, Iwaizumi held the easel- with canvas and all- up to a blank space by an unoccupied wall.

Disregarding the mess of papers, tissues and scattered dietary plans, he sat on the floor despite the mess and looked straight at the picture he had painted.

The portrait stared back at him with spangled stars in her eyes, the shine in her hair and lips beckoning to him teasingly to come hither.

The expression on the woman however, was full of love- mirroring the expression of the artist who could only gaze.

Hajime smiled- masterpieces mean nothing without its meaning.

Droplets of rain tapped lightly against the window pane as Iwaizumi closed his eyes in an effort to remember- no, he couldn't remember a time when they- never mind.

Suddenly, he went back to the place where he met her.

Afternoon sunlight filtering through ivy and lush greens plastered to the walls like a gentle arm around a lover's shoulder. Canary yellow chairs in the abstract background. Wind blowing through in a sweetheart's whisper. Worn-out desks that have been used through the years and the blackboard saying and showing nothing but surfaces contaning knowledge they probably wouldn't need in the distant future.

It was a beautiful dreamscape, and despite his sentence sounding utterly shitty and sappy- he thought her prescence made it all the more beautiful.

S/C colored-palms reached out to him and he held on- wholely immersing in her features and imperfectly perfect smile.

Butter fingers, he realized as he held her hand.

Their hands were in contrast with each other; his rugged, calloused palms and her butter soft fingers.

She never spoke; merely smiled as the both of them slow-danced to a tune only they could hear, seemingly accompanied by the beating of the heart.

In that moment, Iwaizumi realized that he was overly and irrevocably screwed over. He had fallen in love with the girl of his dreams, literally.

Whatever, he internally shrugs, I can still come back. And she'll be here waiting.

He heard her laugh into the crane of his neck and he grinned, showcasing the canines of his teeth.

"What're you laughing about Y/N?"

She looks up in confusion- and this time he repeats his words slowly in English.

The H/Cette reciprocated his grin and replied with a drawl in her voice, an Italian accent prominent in her words.

"You just... daverro muscoloso," She points at his biceps. Hajime gave a baritone chuckle.

"I'm an athletic trainer, but I paint too."

She stares at him in surprise, "The trainer I expected, but the painting was not."

"Then what do you do Y/N?" He nitpicked, emphasizing the 'you'.

"I paint too. I paint and give them to museums or events who will sell them," the both of them went quiet for a moment before she spoke again,

"What is it like in Japan?"

Hajime loved this. This endless conversation. Warm hands. Moving feet. He loved holding her by the waist. He loved her slow-dancing. He loved her honest self. The shine in her eyes. The warmth of her smile. The accent that seemed to resound through his ears and into the arterial walls of his heart. He loved. He loved. He loved.

His love was infinite. He was irrevocably in love and plummeted into it at 316 miles per hour. And this feeling was true. So, so true.

They ended their talking and sat on the yellow chairs by the ivy that almost covered the sunset view from the windows. He told her she was pretty- and with an honest tone she denied it. Iwaizumi thought otherwise.

The spiky-haired brunette closed his eyes as he relished in her breaths and soft whispers so much until he opened his eyelids and saw nothing but blank walls, scattered papers and portrait still staring at him with that come-hither smile.

That was a good dream, Hajime thought. He stood up and his back gave a satisfying crack.

Walking towards the painting with brisque steps, he pressed his forehead lightly to the painted woman's own head and imagined as if she was pressing hers to his too.

He can almost hear her heartbeat.

'You were a good dream.'

Iwaizumi Hajime had volleyball-player kind of hands- rugged, calloused from all the spiking he had to do as the ace of the team.

No one could imagine he'd hold quite the unrequited love for a girl with butter fingers- yet existed in a whole other world than him.

And despite wishing they would happen, he'd rather let it stay that way.

But he wondered,

'Would he have a lifetime in a world where you were his and he was yours?'

Nevermind. You were never his if you weren't this real.

For now you were in his dreams, at least.

━━━━━━━━ ꧁ ♡ ꧂ ━━━━━━━━

A lucid dream is a type of dream where the dreamer becomes aware that they are dreaming. During a lucid dream, the dreamer may gain some amount of control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment. Lucid dreamers can rarely travel between dreams as most are stuck in their own dreamscape, but in the rare case of lucid dreamer Y/N L/N, it is quite uncertain if she was travelling between dreams or creating a dreamscape where she could travel between dreams. In the latest report, she says she's been a little late in waking up- as she said she had been meeting up with a lovely painter. Who knows- it just might be another dream character of hers.

[abortionado]

Can you please write moreid #3 from the fluff or 12 from misc?

Sorry this took me so long! This sort of prompt (not depressing or horny) is not what I’m used to writing, so it was kind of a challenge. I hope you like it! (Set during S1. Long as hell for absolutely no reason. Not NSFW, but warning for adult themes.)

Spencer wakes up as soon as the sun’s flush has spread to the center of the sky.

For a fraction of a second, before he’s opened his eyes, he’s certain he’s at home. Then, for an even smaller increment, he’s half-awake and confused at the unfamiliar angles at which the light fills his peripherals. 

Then, then, once his brain has fully rejoined him on planet Earth, then he remembers. 

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid, Spencer. 

Sleeping with your coworker?

Stupid.

Think. 

He’s still asleep. 

Carefully, as if he’s diffusing a bomb, Spencer removes Morgan’s (heavy, good Lord, what does this guy lift?) arm from where it’s draped across his chest and sits upright. He keeps every muscle in his body tense in an effort to keep as still as possible. 

Twelve and a half feet from here to the door, clothes five feet three inches left of the door.

Will take me two minutes to dress. My legs are three feet and four inches long. My strides are four feet and five inches on average.

Sixteen stairs. 

Six and a half inches each.

It should take him, he reasons, about four minutes and some change to dress himself and get out the front door, as long as he makes exceptionally good time and manages to dodge distractions. (He doesn’t want to seem too eager, after all, hanging around the house the morning after--he doesn’t want Morgan to know just how much this matters to him.)

As soon as Spencer shifts his weight, though, he realizes how sore the previous night had rendered him, and he tries to adjust his calculations for limping.

Six minutes? Eight?

He’s not sure. 

He’s not sure of anything right now.

God, he hates being unsure. 

Painstakingly slowly, Spencer climbs out of bed and tiptoes over to the corner of the room where his clothes had been carelessly discarded the night before. 

(He finds that he almost doesn’t want to put them back on. He feels as though he’s somehow a changed person.)

For just a moment, as he’s wrestling his jeans on, Spencer pauses to drink in the domestic tranquility laid out before him. The sun has risen in full, and its gentle morning rays are slipping in defined slates through the blinds covering the window above the bed. Derek Morgan is passed out with his back to the corner of the room where Spencer is standing. Even from behind, everything about the older man seems regal, somehow; unnaturally beautiful, like he was created by something far more powerful than a man and a woman. His shoulder blades, the curvature of his spine, his medium-dark complexion that almost seems to glow in the sunlight--it’s all perfect. His back is scratched up, and it’s with genuine surprise that Spencer realizes he must’ve done that. 

Reluctantly, he tears his eyes away and turns to face the wall as he gets dressed.

Four and a half minutes with NO DISTRACTIONS.

No distractions.

Don’t get distracted.

Don’t get--

“What’re you doing?” Morgan calls from behind him, voice thick with sleep.

Shit. 

Spencer pivots quickly around, heart hammering, still holding his shirt in his left hand. “I was j—uh—I was just…leaving…?” 

Morgan frowns. “I drove you here.”

“I was…gonna take the metro.” 

“Uh-uh.” He yawns and sits up. “What kinda douchebag do you think I am? I’m not gonna fuck you and let you take the train home.” 

“Morgan, I can—”

“Hey. Call me Derek, okay?” 

“Derek, I can get myself home. It’s really not a problem.”

“It is a problem. I’ll make you breakfast. C’mon.” His face softens a bit. “Please?”

It occurs to Spencer, then, that he might actually be wanted here. He entertains the thought (doesn’t cling to it, but allows it to pass by without shooting it down) that Morgan - Derek, whatever - actually wants to make him breakfast, and isn’t just doing it out of obligation or because he feels bad for him. It’s an unfamiliar (though certainly not unwelcome) feeling-- being truly wanted is a dopamine rush he hasn’t felt in years.

Spencer nods, trying his best not to grin like a lovesick teenage girl. “Okay. Sure, I can stay for breakfast.” 

… 

Spencer’s never been good at sitting still, and it’s ten times worse when he’s nervous. 

The atmosphere of the kitchen is not tense--that’s not the right way to describe it, because Derek certainly doesn’t seem tense, humming to himself as he flips pancakes and the dusty, familiar smell of the heat turning on fills the room--but Spencer is certainly tense. He hadn’t grabbed his shirt when he’d come downstairs, having been thrown off of his groove by Derek asking him to stay for breakfast, and he’s self-conscious and cold. He bounces his leg up and down idly and wrings his hands in his lap.

Sleeping with your coworker, he thinks, over and over and over. Stupid.

“Do you mind if I go look at your pictures?” He eventually asks, gesturing towards the framed photos on the wall in the living room. 

“Not at all. These’ll be done in--actually, I’ll come in there.” 

As Spencer stands up, he absentmindedly grabs a gray hoodie draped across the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tugs it over his head. It’s warm, soft, and smells like Derek. 

He never wants to take it off.

Morgan’s living room is painted a pale blue color. The couch and coffee table sit a foot and a half apart. There’s a brown, circular rug (almost exactly six feet in diameter, Spencer notes) in the center of the floor. The walls are lined with photographs; side-by-side portraits of two pretty young women who Spencer recognizes as Derek’s sisters, a photo of Derek in front of some sort of waterfall with his arm around a slim, pretty brunette woman (which sparks an irrational jealousy that Spencer swallows as best he can), and a small framed photo of a group of people which looks to have been taken with a disposable camera. 

Spencer moves in to get a closer look.

“Is this JJ on your wall here?”

“In the group picture with the unit?” Morgan calls. “Yeah. We look a lot younger there, huh?”

Spencer smiles. “You do. I didn’t even recognize Gideon. What year was this?”  

“That was...‘98? ‘99? JJ’s first year. Probably my favorite year with the BAU yet.” 

His favorite year ever was before I was there, Spencer realizes with a twinge of sadness.

“That was before we got the jet,” Derek continues. “Man, you don’t know the struggle. We used to fly commercial. Get split up and sat next to randos. But that was before 9/11, so...hey, did you see my hoodie anywhere? I swear I set down in here somewhere.” 

Spencer’s smile fades. He balls his fists within the too-long sleeves of Derek’s missing hoodie. Fuck. 

God, he’s so bad at these things. 

He’s almost never sure in advance exactly where other people draw the lines of their comfort zones, but he can always tell once he’s overstepped them, and standing here at eight o’clock in the morning in his coworker’s living room, bare-chested beneath his hoodie, sore between the legs and staring at his family photos, he knows for sure that he’s overstepped. He’s gotten too comfortable.

Spencer reaches to pull the garment off. “Uh, I…”

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

“I’m not, I--”

Derek chuckles. “You’re super cute. I’ll be out there in one sec.” 

..

Honestly, the fact that Derek regularly has two kinds of syrup (maple and blueberry) in his house is extremely intimidating. 

Spencer’s spent most of his life around older people, and, though he certainly never feels left behind intellectually, there are occasional jarring moments when he realizes just how immature he is in comparison to his peers. This is one of these times; he feels adolescent and ridiculous looking around Morgan’s fully-furnished, Real Adult living room, thinking about how he probably has a mortgage and a spice cabinet and a swiffer mop. 

(Two kinds of syrup--really? Spencer doesn’t even have ice cubes. Maybe it’s time for him to grow up and get an ice tray.)

“Did you know that the profitable blueberry season in South America directly follows the profitable blueberry season in North America, almost to the day?” Spencer asks, nervously dragging his forkful of pancake through his puddle of blueberry syrup. He’s hardly eaten. He’s too uneasy. “On the day that the average North American blueberry farmer’s profits decline to zero, the average South American blueberry farmer’s spike. Now, this is partly just because of demand, of course, but the fact that it’s so exact--”

“Spence?” Morgan interrupts.

He mentally kicks himself. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. Listen, uh...do you think I could maybe...take you out...sometime?”

Spencer frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Snipe you. No. What do you think? To dinner or something.”

(If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d almost think Derek looked nervous. He’s biting his lower lip--it’s a classic anxiety tell. Sometimes, Spencer really wishes he wasn’t a profiler.)

“...Why?”

“Why?” Morgan repeats. “Because I like you.”

Spencer’s stomach turns over. “You do?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“...Do you really mean that?” (His heart hammers. He wonders, for a moment, if this is some kind of cruel joke, like the ones kids used to play on him in high school.)

“What? Of course I mean it.”

“Do you do this with everyone? I mean, everyone who…?”

“No.” 

It’s difficult for Spencer to comprehend; he almost can’t wrap his head around the idea that someone so gorgeous and widely beloved and well-put-together would want anything at all to do with him, let alone this. “Then why is this time different?”

“Because you’re different. I’ve never met anyone like you in my life. Look, can I take you out, or not?”

Spencer locks eyes with Derek and raises his forkful of pancake (now completely saturated with blueberry syrup) to his lips. He’s not quite sure if the overwhelming, comfortable warmth he feels is from the heat, Derek’s hoodie, or the affection he feels bubbling up inside him at the prospect of a date, but he finds that he doesn’t really care. 

“I’d like that.”

[bubmyg]

headshots - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: vampire!yoongi, fluff, blood mention, act of feeding but it’s not. in any way at all violent lmao, non-chronological with my other vampire!yoongi drabbles

word count: 1,920

summary: you need to update your headshots or yoongi volunteers because he doesn’t show up in photographs so his fingers getting in the way of the lens shouldn’t be an issue. also based from this request (sorry it took me literally forever happy spooky month afjslkfd):

Yoongi murmured your name quietly, out of focus from where two delicate hands were stuttered in fiddling with various settings on the camera in his grasp. Your rambles faltered but didn’t stop, forcing him to glance up at you now, smile quirking when you tried to look away from him to the camera, hands cupping around his to correct whatever he’d changed before.

He didn’t budge, caramel grinning at you under long eyelashes and shower waved fringe until you finally silenced with your tongue between your teeth. 

“My love, I don’t mean to interrupt you…” Yoongi rocked closer, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before nosing his way to your ear, “...but I know how to use a camera.”

You nodded, teeth catching the inside of your cheek now and you relaxed when he touched your hip, palm rubbing gentle circles into the place where your silk top quietly began to pull outward from where it was sanctioned by a belt. 

“Sorry…”

He hummed in acknowledgement, thumbing at your hip in one final, tender movement, before reaching for your hand, threading your fingers together. Lowly he spoke with a soft tug on your arm, “Come.”

“That’s the school’s camera, by the way,” You ranted after a handful of silent breaths in following him down the hall, “We have to be careful with it.”

You stumbled when he led you two doorways off from the bedroom, an elegant wooden arch without an actual door that opened into what modernly would be a living room. Instead, Yoongi had filled it with some of his most prized possessions, collectors items ranging from centuries old oil paintings to the tiny porcelain pig hidden underneath a rickety end table. The largest and perhaps most cherished was the piano, an antique version of the one he kept in his basement study, one that could be played but could not be as easily replaced. It sat cornered by two paisley print couches tucked on top of maroon rugs, cherry wood floors slipping underneath your socks as you anchored down on Yoongi’s hand.

Upon closer inspection, you found that he’d rearranged, angling the couches at a further distance from each other, adding a display of plastic fall flowers to the top of the piano, drawing back the two layers of grey blackout curtains to reveal the soft beige that rested on the outside, ones that still worked to absorb the last of the sun’s rays as they disappeared in pastels on the canvas of the horizon. The dimmers had been carefully adjusted, a few lamps drawn closer to the central part of the room by the means of scuffed extension cords. 

Balanced between the artificial leaves of the piano arrangement was another camera, barely peeking out from the top of an unzipped bag, one tagged with your university’s credentials. 

“No, that’s the school’s camera,” Yoongi said finally, gesturing for the object in question. He wiggled the one in his grasp, distorted imagery of the room around you melding on the display screen, as he clarified, “This is my camera.”

You frowned at him, connected by your intertwined hands that he bounced gently against his thigh. “I checked that one out from the school for a reason. We don’t have to use yours…”

He delved into a detailed explanation of lens’, color balance settings, and essentially all the things his camera had the one provided for you did not. Yoongi punctuated his rambles with a pointed, “Aren’t I the photographer here? This is an artistic decision made on behalf of your brilliant photographer in the interest of the most exquisite subject,” One dark eyebrow curled upward into his fringe as he lifted your knuckles to press a gentle kiss to, “That’s you, angel.”

The excess heat from the lights surrounding you began to prick into your hairline and your voice borderlined on a whine, “Can we just take these headshots, please? I’m hungry…”

“Of course,” Yoongi dropped your hand, moving fluidly toward the piano to draw back the bench. Hip against the closed lid of the instrument, he jostled the camera to shove up the sleeves of the hoodie dangling off his stature, revealing glittering silver bands on gaunt knuckles and the delicate birthstone bracelet that dipped into the rivet of his wrist bone. One side of his lips quirked knowingly at your mouth dry stare, catching your attention with a simple command. 

“Sit.”

Rigid, you complied, perched on the edge of the black upholstery. A second of fiddling with various parts of your person, hair, top, smudging a thumb down the side of your mouth and you squinted up at Yoongi still stationed above you with the camera in wait. He offered a gentle smile, one that caused you to reciprocate the same gesture but it wasn’t nearly as relaxed. More heat crept up the back of your neck and you dropped your gaze once more, mumbling an apology alone with—

“—could we move some of the lights? It’s a little hard to keep my eyes open and—”

You didn’t recognize the soft squeal that left Yoongi’s lips as he dropped to a crouch in front of you, elbows digging into the tops of your thighs as he pulled a ridiculous facial expression behind the retracting lens. Your giggle came from disbelief but slowly turned into pure amusement, one he documented with a quick succession of shutter captures before he pulled the camera away to beam at you. 

Ring clad fingers danced to your thigh, gentle in gliding up, back down, a handful of heartbeats before he conceded, “Relax.” 

“Sorry,” You uncrossed your legs, a movement Yoongi wasn’t unaware of, and you began to ramble when his hand drifted higher, “Did you know the current headshot on all my profiles is from high school? I’m just...not a good picture subject. I don’t photographer well.”

Yoongi hummed, following the movement of his hand with blackening eyes, “I don’t photograph at all.”

You were gentle in pressing your palm into his shoulder, his mischievous irises flicking to you as the touch and your scolding noise, he cocked his chin. 

“What?” Crooked fingers trailed down your thigh, catching the underside of your knee to drag you closer to the edge of the bench. His teeth broke through into his smile when you gasped then glared at him, digging your nails into his shoulder now as he shrugged, “Vampire stuff. We don’t show up in pictures.”

“Maybe not in cameras made fifty years ago,” You grumbled, well aware of his scrunched nose taking up the majority of your phone wallpaper. 

He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled in your ear as he fit himself closer to you, dropping the camera to the floor next to him in the process. Two hands curled up your thighs this time, parting them enough to fit himself between. Expansive palms gripped your waist, lips brushing over yours to say, “You’re still not very relaxed.”

“I wonder why,” You grit your teeth, nails on his shoulder trading to card into the soft black tendrils at his nape. 

Yoongi’s lips trailed down your jaw, not lingering in one press for too long before they parted, brushing down the column of your throat to rest on your pulse. It spiked considerably and he pressed his nose against your skin, gripping your waist a fraction tighter. 

“Artistic decision by the photographer?” You squeaked. 

“On behalf of the best interest of the subject, yes,” He muffled. You felt his lips spread against your skin, fangs brushing over the tender skin a few times without making a move forward. “It’s not nice of you to lie, by the way.”

“—about?”

“You do photograph well. You’re beautiful.”

The slightest bit of tension curled out of your stature, melting against him as your heart fluttered in your chest for a different reason than the pointed pearls daring the break your skin. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“May I show you how beautiful you are?” Yoongi’s canines applied a bit more pressure this time before disappearing altogether, nosing back up the path his lips had made to meet your gaze. His eyes shifted somewhere between an entrancing maroon and overly rich auburn, “I’ll only take a little. Nothing compared to other times.”

Your voice was small but you meant your words, hand sliding from silk tresses to cup his cheek, “Of course.”

Yoongi turned, kissing your palm before grasping your wrist, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Show me, angel,” He encouraged without explanation. You squeezed his shoulder three times, a nonverbal this doesn’t feel right, please stop. His soft smile disappeared as he ducked to peck your cheek again, praising at a whisper good, that’s perfect. 

White noise became more apparent in the build up, the soft buzz of the audience of lamps, Yoongi’s denim clad knees as they shuffled around on the rug for a more comfortable position, the rapid thrum of your heart in your ears. Unadulterated trust had you presenting your neck, head tilted to give him better access as he sprinkled kisses in a similar path as before, taking extra time to pepper the spot in soft ministrations. 

“I won’t hurt you,” He reminded, fumbling around to find your free hand, reminiscent of every time he’d fed from you. A nonverbal safe word, a gentle hand hold, a promise that reinforced why you trusted him so much (sometimes spoken more for the benefit of the dormant creature that resided somewhere deep within him). 

“I know,” You answered like clockwork, squeezing his hand. A shuddering laugh, one that stuttered on your tease, “Now get on with it, we have to get these headshots done tonight.”

Yoongi laughed, “Ready?”

When you nodded, his kissed affections became a countdown, one, two, three pecks and the tiniest of hesitations before his fangs pierced your skin. 

He was there long enough to coat his tongue in the sweet taste of what your heart propelled toward him, quick in healing the miniscule wounds before drawing back. He brought you with him in an embrace that ended on the floor, praises punctuated with chaste kisses to every place Yoongi could reach. Those very affections tangled in your eyelids when you lifted your head to squint at him, a misjudge that had him apologizing and you giggling as you cupped his jaw to stop him. 

“Was that enough? If you need more, I’m okay…” You spoke to the gentle glow that followed the act, filling your veins in the same adoring sun that emitted out of your features pointed at him. 

“I told you I was only going to take a little and that’s what I did. I’m okay, too,” Yoongi’s lips pulled into a toothless smile, one that pressed into his cheeks on either side of his mouth, “Are you more relaxed now?”

You swayed in his arms, enough to press your cheek into his shoulder, fatigue entirely more prominent on your eyelids now, “Mhm...maybe more so after a nice nap—”

“No napping yet,” Yoongi jostled you in his embrace, prodding at your cheek with the straight of his index finger, “I need to get some food in you. And, we need to take a few more potential shots.”

You cracked one eye open to his protests, “Hey, photographer?”

He immediately slumped at the way you addressed him, sighing, “Yes, gracious model?”

You closed your eye again, snuggling into Yoongi’s chest.

“It’d be in the best interest of the subject to let them nap.” 

[mamaluigi2018-commsopen]

Do you remenber your characters from the anti-hero thing? I really like them! And i wanted to know, if it isn't too much to ask of course, what each of them can do with their powers? Some are pretty obvious but others are kind of hard to imagine what would they do.

OOooooh Boy! You’re going to be hearing me yammer about this! Alright, first I’ll just give the basic run down of the abilities they can all do similar.

Enhanced speed, strength, agility. At most, able to lift the size of an SUV with ease. Climbing and wall kicking, running at most 22 MPH before tiring out.

Not exactly a healing factor, but they’re bodies are more durable, able to withstand what would normally be fatal to someone. and can produce blood faster. However, they are not immortal and can still feel every damage they take. The only sure fire way to kill them is through blood loss, after about 3-4 hours of non stop damage and given no time to heal.

Absorb and create the element they have been assigned to. I.E Sparky can absorb electricity around him but also generate his own. They can absorb their elements to make their attacks stronger for a limited time.

When their power is active, their eyes glow to their assigned color and the element symbol glows on their chest.

Alright that’s the base of what they can all do. Now to go into more detail! For those interested, it will be under the cut. Let’s begin!

Sparky (Electricity + Virus)

Can charge up his body to move at incredible speeds. Leaves a trail of electricity after him.

Charges up electricity is his hands, able to shoot a large blast at close range. Also able to shoot a smaller but more precise bolt of lighting.

Convert his body into electricity to travel through tv’s, electrical wires, computers, etc.

Shoot a stream of electricity through his mouth.

Create a surge of electricity and burst it out.

Can manipulate how high his voltage can be.

As you can see, he also has Virus. But this is because he is actually infected with The Creature Virus. He was able to get his elemental powers before he mutated, but has become much more aggressive and violent.

His main weapon is claws he can make from the virus or through his own electricity.

Incredible sharp teeth that can tear through monsters and people with ease.

Can grab hold of someone and just release a stream of electricity to fry them.

Pyro (Fire)

Manipulate fire at his will at controlling how hot it can be. Can even go up to creating lava.

Convert body into fire, using to get through tight spaces and evading attacks.

Shoot fire out his feet to use as a speed enhancer and trying to fly with them.

Greatly enhanced strength, able to life at most a 2 story building currently.

Shoots a flamethrower out of his mouth.

Shoots fire out his hands, either as a continuous flame or as small bursts out of his finger tips.

Names his “moves” - Pyro Kick!, Pyro Punch!, Pyro Chop!

Turn into a giant burst of fire.

Chowder (Light)

Turn body and any part into a source of light.

Manipulate light rays and how intense the brightness is.

Can remove light in an area around him. Like imagine just a dome of darkness in the middle of nowhere where there is no light at all.

Creates light energy. It feels like intense heat.

Can become pure light energy.

Hydro (Water)

Manipulate water and how it moves. Can change if it can be scalding water or ice cold.

Shoots a bursting stream of water or a highly pressured thin stream. Similar to water cutting.

Able to breathe underwater

Uses water streams to easily move underwater.

Create water bubbles that can trap enemies and explode with great force or drown them.

Extremely dangerous, but can manipulate the water inside a human body. Refuses to use this.

Shoot water out of mouth. 

Walk on water.

Turn body into water and flow with current.

Aero (Wind)

Create strong winds from hands. 

Controls the flow of the wind and how intense. 

Can blow an intense gust of wind from mouth.

Spins at intense speed to create tornados as projectiles.

Can turn himself into a tornado.

Uses wind to fly.

Use pressurized wind to crush enemy

Create a high pressured strong current of wind, called a “Wind Slice”

Geo (Plant)

Manipulates the growth of plant. 

Creates leaves from hands. Incredibly razor sharp.

Grows vines from arms and uses as weapons or to travel.

Can detach limbs from body and use as weapon attached to vines. Can re-attach them through use of plant cells. 

Can grow grass on body and use as disguise. Can also make grass grow on objects through physical contact.

Command plants to do work. Make venus fly traps act ferocious. Make trees act as walls. Make roses to use thorns as weapons.

Summon vines, roots, and trees from ground.

Static (Nuclear)

Manipulates nuclear energy and radiation

Able to intensify or decrease intensity of radioactive areas and objects

Creates a burst of nuclear energy to shoot out of hands.

Controls the flow of radiation.

Uses nuclear energy to use shoot out of eyes.

Turns body into pure nuclear energy.

Through physical contact, give a large dose of radiation sickness to a single opponent at a time.

Can use atomic breath.

Shadow (Ghoul)

Necromancy. Raise the dead to act as minions, but can’t bring the dead back to life.

Turn into a ghost.

Go through walls.

Turn Invisible.

Possession of anyone.

Enter dreams and create nightmares.

Manipulate dark energy and curses.

Controls shadows. Can enter your shadow and manipulate it to act on it’s own.

Turn body into darkness. Any dark patches, he can enter and sink into it.

Subject people to seeing hallucinations.

Use a skeletal army.

Through physical contact, infuses death on person, slowly decaying the body. Refuses to do this.

Grace (Glass)

Creates mirrors and glass shards from hands

Enter mirrors and glasses and appear out of another one in close vicinity.

Uses glass to appear in another location as a fake copy.

When attacked. shatters body into glass to escape. Very similar to Neo’s semblance from RWBY, minus changing appearance.

Uses mirror as shield to bounce back attacks.

Turn hands and feet into sharp blades of glass. Fragile but perfect for quick fatal attacks.

In case herself in glass cocoon, later explode sending multiple glass shards all around.

Create shards of glass from ground as a wave attack.

Melody (Sound)

Manipulate sound waves

Controls how loud or intensity of sound.

Can absorb sound waves, removing any sound from an area. A dome of complete silence, not even the sound of your own heartbeat.

Creates a loud screech from mouth. Powerful to shatter glass up to 20 yards. 

Shoot sound bursts from hands.

Uses sound bursts to rebound off walls and ground.

Uses sound waves to create intense vibrations

Mimic any sound or voice.

Muscle (Metal)

Hardens body to become solid metal

Creates chain whips from arms.

Create chunks of metal to fire as projectiles.

Control and shape metal at will.

Create a large sheet of metal as a defensive wall.

Use metal to collapse on top of enemy and crush them.

Can morph into liquid metal.

Metal arms greatly influences strength

Rex (Arcane)

Create and manipulate arcane energy.

Create energy balls that can explode on command.

Large bursts of explosion from hand, mouth and feet.

Cause series of explosions.

Blasts arcane energy from the ground.

Through physical contact, makes objects and people explode.

Charges up body to create a large explosion.

Dia (Quartz)

Manipulates and controls the growth of quartz, gems, and crystals.

Create quartz and shards of gems to grow on arm.

Turn body into quartz with rugged and sharp edges.

Shoot quartz projectiles.

Turn arms to quartz blades.

Grow quartz on her back to shoot backwards.

Create quartz out of the ground.

Turn arm into a quartz drill to pierce foes.

Shape quartz and crystals at will.

Use colors of quartz to trick enemies into what their seeing.

Hall of quartz towers.

Creates a shield of gems.

Create a variety of different quartz or gems of different size, density, color, or how fragile their are.

Create clawed hands and feet as hard as diamond.

Belle (Stone)

Wraps stone around arm to create bulking gauntlets.

Wraps stone around feet for stronger kicks

Wraps stone around head for an extreme headbutt.

Summon stone blockades from the ground for offense or to create walls.

Use stones as steps to reach higher areas.

Manipulate stone to any shape.

Create giant stone blocks to crush enemies.

Propel stones as projectiles.

Turn into a giant boulder to roll over and crush. Can also be used to propel herself as a giant pinball.

Shake the ground at intense magnitude.

Able to manipulate sand as well, manipulating in the same way as stones.

Turn into stone and sand.

Uses stone arms to enhance strength

Lee (Plasma)

Summon plasma energy and fire in large concentrated streams.

Shoots streams of lasers from hands, mouth, and eyes.

Absorbs neon and any source of plasma.

Uses plasma to charge up body and move at lighting speed.

Can turn into pure plasma to disappear into thin air and relocate in a different location.

Create plasma waves.

Generates plasma in hands for greater combat.

Gathers up plasma energy into one giant beam of laser. Basically a Kamehameha.

Abbey (Bone)

Controls the shape and growth of his bones.

Creates spikes all round his body.

Shoots spiked projectiles.

Force skeletons to move as he wish. He regulates to only using bones of already deceased creatures.

Hardens bones for greater combat.

Creates a giant bone mallet or baton out of body. Regulates using as it causes great pain.

Can regrow any lost bones.

Creates large spires of bone either from the ground or his own body.

Chill (Ice) 

Manipulates snowflakes and ice shards.

Able to create snow.

Create an ice barrier.

Summon an avalanche.

Freeze opponents at a moments time.

Sharp ice shards grow on arms. 

Ice claws and feet

Ice slides for flight mobility.

Turn body into snow and ice and travel along it.

Ice breath.

Stella (Esper)

Create magical spells of varied results.

Confuse, induce sleep, hallucinations.

Create duplicates that can all feel the same pain.

Control magic mana in hands.

Shoots large bursts of mana.

Charge up playing cards with mana to use as projectiles.

Read minds.

Telekinesis.

enhancements to boosts her own and friends abilities.

ATOM (Cyber)

Controlling radio waves and digital data

Able to recreate objects they see in a 3D-Digital display.

Shoots hard-light projectiles.

Convert body into a digital source to transfer and gather information from electronics

Able to enter digital media and enviroments.

Turn into multiply nanomachines.

Uses Cyber to amplify robotic body to change appearance and gain weapons.

Creating electrical appliances that is needed.

Recreate holograms of enviroments.

Posses appliances

Charges up digital data as energy for laser cannons.

Slobber and Creature (Virus)

Secretes toxins and viral fluids through mouth.

Able to turn body into goo-like substance.

Slobber: When he bites into objects, they decompose due to the lethal virus.

Creature, When she bites into objects, they can turn into creatures as well.

Able to absorb diseases and other harmful cells.

Creature: Able to contort body into various shapes and sizes. Able to twist head 180 degrees, grow large legs from back. Turn arms into whips.

Slobber: Spew acid from his mouth.

Able to manipulate and shape poison to their will.

Licks anyone to slather in acidic poison.

Slobber: produces a nerve-paralyzer and poison clouds. Also makes poison bubbles.

WOOF! There we go! Hope that information was entertaining enough for you! I tried my best to go into to detail with how their powers works. Which powers do y’all find to be the most interesting? I’m still going with electricity. My main source of information for this was the website powerlisting.fandom.com. It’s really useful for looking up info about different powers! Alright, take care, y’all!