#i really just want to keep traveling and never go back but alas i really dont have much money

[icewindandboringhorror]

A very interesting cloud formation!

[imagineagreatadventure]

not being in america the last week and a half has been a great boon to my mental health

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part two} 5.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; hi, i am posting & feeling shy. please enjoy. <3 dusting off my fingers for this one, i am still not feeling 100%, thank you everyone for your kind words & messages. peese n lurv. <3

Weeks ago your brother decided this Mingyu thing was good, but only in theory. Parading around with him, hanging out with him, going to bars with him, hooking up with him… All of it actually happening, not good.

DK would prefer you to have these rendezvous with someone who didn’t try to drink his body weight in liquor each time the first can hit his hand, but alas, you were brought home safe every time, so who was he to complain or pick and choose who you can and can’t hang out with.

After their first few seasons together it was clear the two had different outlooks on life, neither of them really in the wrong with how they chose to go about their time, but they didn’t match. They clashed. Your brother, after spending time educating himself on his fathers history and evidently learning that baseball wasn’t the only thing he played, he took a different approach to dating, to women. He was a proper gentleman, DK was, never using his status to acquire a girlfriend with status or money or a title, he searched for love.

A star studded, best pitcher in baseball shouldn’t have had his heart broken as many times as his had been, he should’ve been the one breaking hearts. The girls wanted his money, and they only liked him because he played baseball. His status, his money, his title. All the things he didn’t necessarily want, but had been blessed with. 

He was a good man, and he was always right, but you’d never admit that to his face. Especially after that night, after a weekend of staying at Mingyu’s. DK had sat you down, he spoke for many minutes, many dragging minutes, a monologue full of ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else?’ and ‘Have your friends from Nasara come out to stay with us sometime, maybe you all can spend time in the city together.’ He never said the words, “Don’t date Mingyu,” but you know he despised the idea.

Deep down you despised it too. 

The hunk of golden muscle with a voice so pretty and persuading, he wanted to be your boyfriend. Mingyu’s asked a few times before, letting it become your decision, always telling you he’d wait for you, and that you were his no matter what, that he was here for you, he wanted to take care of you, he wanted to love you. He’d keep his word, you knew he would. It was Mingyu, he kept his promises, he spoke with utmost intent, he didn’t say shit just to say it, nor was he using it to coerce you into his sheets. That you did on your own.

His curly hair, his sappy brown eyes, you’d drown it in, in him, suffocate yourself with Mingyu, all of him until the guilt wallowing in your gut was gone. With each passing day it grew smaller. After each night with Mingyu it was easier to deal with. Like last night, like this entire trip would be.

Arriving in Haos, in the warm air that breezed over your skin like a dream when you stepped out of the airport hand in hand with Mingyu sending cameras flashing away, you finally felt like you could breathe. Away from Iloa, away from the restraints the city put on you, really your brother, this trip felt like freedom. Haos has always been a place you’ve thrived since you were a little girl, traveling back and forth on a jet with your parents and DK, vacationing for months throughout the summer, laying on these beaches until your skin couldn’t take it any longer. The air was different here, it excited you.

It invited you to dance in it, to get lost in it like you did Mingyu.

And that’s just what you did.

Waking up to sunshine peeking through the heavy grey curtains of the hotel room, washing over you where you laid in the king sized bed buried in white sheets and blankets, you didn’t even want to open your eyes. Pressing your hands to your forehead first, rolling onto your back, the ache squeezing your brain threatened your stomach, but you wouldn’t allow it to go any further. Taking a slow, calculated deep breath you lay your arms beside you and stretch, your limbs barely reaching the edges of the mattress. Muscles sore, body tired, you blinked open your eyes and scolded the light with a groan.

Moving beneath the covers, the soft sheets caressing your bare skin, you tugged them off and took your time sitting up. The weight in your head shifted, almost sending you forward. Clamping your hands to your knees, still blinking fervently in the bright sunshine, you find clothes scattered about the floor, your bell bottom jeans inside out and slung over a dresser across the room from you.

You weren’t sure whose room you were in, but the denim jacket, Nike luggage, and custom sneakers let you know where you were. Dragging a hand through your hair, the blow dry still bouncing even though your jaw ached, you took another breath and made your way out of his bed.

These headlines were gonna be good.

You scrolled, and scrolled. Instagram, Twitter, all the accounts that reported on you, that reported on Mingyu, you scrolled, and you read. Wandering out of bed, you scrolled, sitting on the toilet, you scrolled, brushing your teeth, you scrolled. The photos were cute, Mingyu’s arm either around your back or shoulders, unless his hand was wrapped around your neck or squeezing your ass. More often than not your lips were locked, the two of you ‘unable to get enough’ as one drama influencer said on her story.

You’ve been here one night and have already achieved what you came here to do.

There was a certain rush accompanied by seeing your name in posts, in headlines, coming out of peoples mouths. Everyone had their thing, everyone in your life, they had their thing. This was yours, and people were catching on. After each blow up of news, of rumors, of new photos, your follower count grew.

But where there were fun people talking about you, doing their makeup in their ‘Get Ready With Me and Chit Chat About Moon Isla…’ videos and TikToks, there were the assholes, mostly men, who spewed their worthless thoughts. That’s what DK would say. Mingyu had started saying it too, that those kinds of people had nothing better to do with their lives.

It didn’t mean their words didn’t hurt.

“I mean, she’s sloppy, she’s drinking all the time, and he’s there to carry her around,” a man with a microphone in his face and big headphones on around his head spoke from your phone. Dressed now, having read an article that informed you that you bought the entire bar shots of tequila, you attempted to liven up your face in the mirror that stretched across the bathroom wall. “His team is in Haos to train. To practice. To begin their season to take back their trophy, and this bitch is with them, dragging Kim all along Festa Street.” Slicking clear gloss over your lips, you narrowed your eyes and glared at the man on the screen.

Fair skinned, bald, with a bush on his face and all around his jaw. He had that nagging sort of voice, one that tugged on your eardrums and stabbed them thousands and thousands of times with tiny needles filling you with rage.

“Photos came out right away when the team got there, you know,” the man said, and his partner, another bald man with a Lions hat on, hummed in agreement. “Not a smile on his face. Sunglasses on, gear on his back, his hat tugged over his forehead. Now what do you think that means?”

“He’s hungover,” the partner said. The man threw his hands out to the side and cackled.

“Thank you, he’s hungover, and he has to play today.” You scoffed and snatched your phone off the counter. “They’re lucky the new first-”

“Shut up,” you groaned, swiping away to another video. A girl with long, waist length braids in her hair, each one entwined with a fun color was smiling to the camera.

“Guys,” she finally whispered after a second of staring. A giggle corrupted her, sending her face down into her pillows. The camera shook, then she picked her head back up and widened her eyes for a few seconds. “How do I become her?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled maniacally again. “How do I- Wait, hang on.” 

The camera cut and a picture showed up behind her. Your cheeks warmed. Mingyu had you pressed to a pillar in one of the bars you were in, the name unknown to you. His hands were in the back pockets of your jeans and his forehead was pressed to yours. The way he smiled down at you, god. The picture was a little blurry, a little grainy, but damn. He wasn’t looking at you like you were his dinner. Hearts engulfed his irises.

“Guys?!” The girl shrieked and you jumped, forgetting she was here. “Kim Mingyu, save me! Look at this, do you see this, are we all okay after this…” She rambled more nonsense, and you’re certain the thousands of comments were agreeing with her. On every video of girls like this the comments were full of more girls saying the same exact thing.

You dared, and you clicked.

‘how does she not die when he looks like that’

‘LORD WHEN IS IT MY TURRRRRRN’

‘Shes so lucky waht the actual fuck guys its not fair.’

‘how are they NOT DATING’

How are they not dating? How are you not dating Mingyu? How could you look at a photo like this one, all of it screaming that he loved you, how could you see this, witness this, live this, and not date him? Not want to date him?

Locking your phone, tossing it to the counter, you returned to your makeup and put on fresh mascara, not that anyone was going to see it.

Venturing out into the room, side stepping articles of clothing, you pulled on one of Mingyu's grey Lions tee’s and wiggled back into the jeans you wore last night. Your luggage was elsewhere. DK would tell you where it ended up, he’d tell you where you were staying. You haven’t seen him since you left the airport, you were not looking forward to the lecture you’d get when you met him at the field.

Sliding thick black sunglasses onto your nose, making sure your hair framed your face, you spritzed some of Mingyu’s cologne onto your neck, dropped your things into your little purse, slid into your shoes, and left his room behind.

The team was gone, they’d been out on the field for two hours already. Nearing eleven o’clock you weren’t sure who else would be left behind here at the hotel, hopefully someone you’d catch a ride with, but to your demise as you wandered the halls and rode the elevator down to the lobby, your least favorite people were here.

The WAGs.

A piercing cry echoed through the air and the glass ceiling of the lobby.

The WAGs and their children.

To the right of the main lobby, the carpeted area where large leather couches and a fireplace lived, fabulous heads of hair sat around or stood with their babies in their arms. Tight jeans, fun Lions themed jackets, the whole thing screamed WAGs and it made you want to gag. 

Then you remembered what shirt you put on and kept your thoughts to yourself.

Already regretting approaching them, you took yourself toward the couches and attempted to smile at them. In an instant their chatter quieted, their attention turned to you, and they broke out in cheesy greetings. There were only a few faces you recognized.

Seungcheols wife, Talia, who was very pregnant, had their son Tao on her hip where she stood in front of the couches. Luscious blonde hair flowing toward her waist, her full face of makeup smiled back at you. She was one of the few you actually trusted. Gesturing toward her knee high wedged boots, you shot her a thumbs up. From what you know she was weeks from popping out kid number two, so how she was walking around in those boots, props to her.

On the couch directly in front of you rocking her crying baby sat Daya, a brunette with macchiato colored skin married to the Lions second basemen, Soonyoung, or Hoshi, as the city of Iloa called him. They haven’t been married long, but their baby girl, Tora, was six months old. Hoshi was one of the reasons the team started to crumble last season. Between Daya and his new daughter, the family fought the narrative the entire off season. 

Daya sat beside Halle, a woman with curly black hair hanging at her shoulders and the smoothest dark chocolate complexion. She bounced a baby in her arms, her and her husband, Minghao, their eight month old, Sunday. Another daughter born into the Lions family, one toward the beginning of the season, the family just missing the reason for crumble rumors.

The two were best friends, Daya and Halle, just as were Hoshi and Minghao. With their chins turned up at you and their seemingly judging eyes studying what you wore and how you wore it, they smiled and shared a look.

“Isla you’re so fun,” Talia said with a shake of her head. 

Daya laughed under her breath. “She’ll be one of us soon,” she grumbled, and Halle laughed with her.

“Leave the girl be,” Jihyo spoke up as she passed by the couches, wandering behind her and Junhui’s four year old son, Jisoo. Jun belonged to the Lions long before DK had ever been traded, he was a veteran in Iloa. He and his wife, a couple of high school sweethearts, welcomed you back time and time again, treating you no differently, as if no time had ever passed. Just seeing her face was relief enough.

“Hey,” you half whispered, reaching out for her. She took your hand and squeezed it, the smile lines on her cheeks accenting her stunning smile. Talia watched your hands meet, then watched the interaction, adjusting her baby on her hip. “It’s so nice to see you.”

Jihyo tossed her dark brown hair over the shoulder of her leather jacket. “It’s so much nicer seeing you. Don’t let these girls be mean to you,” she shot Daye and Halle a glare and the two turned toward one another, “She’s a baby, she’s not having any anytime soon.” Smiling back at you, she squeezed your hand once more before returning to her motherly duties. “You came down just in time, they’re picking us up any minute now.”

“How are things with Mingyu?” Daya asked, giving you another once over. “You guys conjure quite the crowd.” You didn’t like the way her eyes felt.

Shrugging, you pursed your lips and said, “Things are great. Why?”

She and Halle spoke to one another again with their eyes, then Minghao’s wife looked up at you. “Why aren’t things official, Isla?” 

Because if things become official then you end up on the couch here with these women and their babies, maybe even with a few of your own. You become a WAG, your entire identity succumbed down into just being someone's wife, someone's mother. You’d be an extension of him, of Mingyu, it’s what he wanted you to be even if he’s never explicitly said it.

But, he has.

You’re his. You’re his whether the label is there or not.

The label.

More of their questions bounced back and forth between them. ‘Has he not asked?’ ‘You have to do something, Isla, you can’t just be his pet.’ ‘I mean, what does it look like, you traveling with him to do what, party and sleep together?’ ‘We’ve seen the photos, everyone has, you guys have something-’

“It is official,” you said with a sureness that shut them up.

The words were set in stone before you had a chance to take them back. The chatter of the wives and girlfriends in the lobby filled the air and did nothing to ease the anxiety around the next news story you just created for yourself. For Mingyu. For your brother.

Exactly what he didn’t want.

Taking a deep breath, you thought to yourself, oh well.

You’d be a different type of WAG, you’d change what it meant. You would not end up here wedged between Daya and Halle, two women unable to calm their fussy babies.

Halle smirked, shaking her curls a bit. “What do you mean it is?”

Narrowing your eyes that she couldn’t see at her, you tilted your head. “He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. How much more official can it get? You want proof? Wanna see the pictures he took of us while he was in me last night?”

Daya threw her head backward with a holler of a laugh. Halle’s own jaw fell open, a scoff falling from it. Talia, eyes analyzing still, she started to smile. 

“No, you keep those to yourself,” Halle said.

Daya chimed in, “If you have any of just Mingyu let us know, though.”

Your heart would’ve shot out your chest if you weren’t so hungover. “I would,” you sighed, then started toward the doors of the hotel, “But, he’s mine!”

First one to get to the cars, recognizing your brother's driver, you beelined for the SUV and demanded he pull away and get you to the stadium before any other women could try to get into the car with you. Barely five minutes away from the hotel and twenty from the stadium, your phone buzzed from your purse, and then it buzzed again, and again. Pulling it out you sighed at the notifications polluting your screen, but weren’t surprised in the slightest.

Someone got their check.

‘BREAKING NEWS: The Lions Princess confirms her relationship with…’

It was too long to read across the screen.

‘Moon Isla and Kim Mingyu CONFIRMED!’

‘IT’S OFFICIAL!’

No matter who it was, no matter who sold the story or leaked it, you didn’t have time to feel bad for them, nor yourself. You were well off and doing better for yourself without the need to leak info to the press for a paycheck. You have a DK, and now you have a boyfriend, who doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend yet, but is about to find out he is your boyfriend and probably already did. 

Now you had to tell him in person.

And you had to swear to yourself that you were not going to become one of the WAGs.

As easy as it would be to just hand your whole life over to somebody, to follow them around, to have them take care of you for as long as they saw fit… It wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t going to be you.

The stadium in Haos couldn’t compare to the one in Iloa. Smaller, less sparkly and flashy, positioned directly in the sun, this stadium was lucky the Lions continued to come here to train for a month and a half. The tickets they sold within February and March were probably enough to fund the rest of the year for this company. 

To the Lions it was home away from home. A field to play on, a place to stay. Players like your brother saw it that way, he and a few others like Junhui, they had an appreciation for it. As long as they were throwing a baseball, running the bases, rolling in the grass, they were happy. You had few memories of this place, one of them being finally kissing Mingyu for the first time when you were eighteen and in Haos with your family for a weekend to watch the Lions play a series here. It was something short and sweet but all the more delicious. 

It was sneaky, in a hallway away from celebrations and cameras. The two of you had spent nearly the entire weekend together, talking, re-getting to know one another like most of the time like this was spent. He only kissed you after a dinner with the team, after a few drinks downed by the both of you, his liquid courage hands dancing along your neck gently before they took your cheeks and pulled you into him.

You started at Nasara that fall, though you longed to go back to that weekend every damn day of that grueling first semester. With little to no contact between you and Mingyu, it was easy to slip away from him, and you did so without even realizing it. There came a point in time where he wasn’t even a second thought, a side thought, a thought way in the back of your brain, he was just… gone.

Coming here, spending time at the stadium with the team you hoped that feeling would come back. That first feeling. The way nerves below your skin buzzed as he touched you, as he smiled at you and tipped his chin closer, whispering to you how he hopes no one turns the corner. His soft lips, his strong hands, his chiseled body you simply melted into… Everything about it screamed perfect.

Strutting over the concrete, a coffee acquired in your hand, sun blazing on your back, coaches, security, and other WAGs standing around eyeing you or trying to say hello, you ignored them and kept your head on straight, knowing he was at the end of this pathway. The stands of seats towered over your head, casting shadows onto the pavement, leading you toward the fence you so easily walked around with no one to stop you. Your feet quieted as the grass began, shade covering the green so lush you almost felt bad you were flattening it beneath your shoes.

The boys weren’t actively playing at the moment, the most activity happening that you could see was that of your brother and the Lions catcher Jihoon, or Woozi, stretching in the outfield together in their sponsored Under Armour get ups. Everyone else was wandering the dirt, chatting it up along the dugout, or checking out their gear. Few players stood in their positions from what you could see, everyone's backs to you as you approached the third base line.

“Isla!” His voice brought an instant smile to your face. He was heard before he was seen, scanning the different figures around you, you finally found him hurrying toward you, a big, goofy smile on his cheeks. Completely different than how those men on that podcast were describing him. 

A little bit sweaty, Mingyu wore a cut off Lions tank and matching black shorts, swapping his custom sneakers for a pair of old cleats that supposedly brought him luck while they trained. It wasn’t Spring Training if he didn’t have them on, no one would catch him jinxing the season before it even started. Some of his curls clung to his forehead, his skin aglow beneath the beating Haos sun.

“Change your mind, or something?” The way he scrunched his nose made you giggle. “Heard we’re dating now?” He made it in front of you finally, resting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

Pressing your lips together in a silly smile, you shrugged your shoulders and rocked on your feet. “Maybe we are.” He couldn’t tame his happiness, you were certain his cheeks would break. “Sucks I couldn’t have told you first, who’d you hear it from?”

“Hoshi.” He cocked his head backward toward the dugout. Peeking around his large frame you found the two best friends side by side leaning over the fence with their chins resting on their arms looking straight toward you and Mingyu. Hoshi, hair bleached into oblivion, and Minghao, shaggy black hair hanging down his neck. Both boys wore backwards baseball caps. “After he told me I checked to see if you said anything to me, but you didn’t.”

A pout graced your lips. “I wanted to come here and tell you, I’m sorry.”

He moved quickly, reaching out to take you by your shoulders. “No, please, don’t apologize, holy shit, Isla. If anything I’m sorry, it sucks that we can’t say anything without someone taking it and plastering it to the internet.” His thumbs drew circles over the fabric of his own t-shirt. “This mine?” He snickered.

“Yeah,” you sang, “I was in your room, Gyu. My suitcases are MIA.”

“They’re in your room,” he said as if he knew where it was.

You scoffed. “And you didn’t think to tell me where that was so I could-”

“On the other side of the hotel in one of the towers across the property by your brother.” It was all he had to say to have you both deadpanning in seconds. “Like, a mile apart.”

Laughing within a breath you leaned into him and slid an arm around his back. “Oh, agony,” you drug out, tipping your chin backward. “A mile, how ever are we going to do it?” It was too easy to make him laugh.

“DK did it on purpose,” he said quietly, bobbing his head, taking his arms around your back. “He thinks we don’t know what he does and why he does it but, it’s so obvious.” Sipping your coffee, you looked up at him and waited for more. “Does he know you were gonna do this? Today?”

Toying with the hem of his shirt you took a breath. “No, but I can tell you he definitely already knows, news travels fast around here.” The two of you spare your brother a glance, one he was returning. You’ve never seen DK mad, but you do know when his eyes have fallen upon something he doesn’t like.

“You’ll talk him down,” Mingyu nodded, gazing back down at you. “You always do, you have the magic.” 

Blinking, you turned your chin back up to him. “You could talk to him too, yanno.”

He made a face, baring his teeth, cringing. “Ah, you know how I feel about that.”

“It could potentially turn this whole thing around if you do, Gyu,” you muttered, defeat beginning to pool within you. “You want me, you gotta talk to him about it.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for your coffee cup. “I have you. Watcha got in here?” He took a swing before you could answer him, his reaction making you laugh amongst the karma.

“Black coffee,” you droned, taking the white cup back. “And sugar, because someone made me do tequila shots all night.”

Snickering, he dropped down to press a kiss to your lips, one long and slow, as if he was putting the period on the It’s Official statement. Pulling back just slightly, Mingyu mumbled, “Why don’t you substitute that sugar for vodka so we can keep going tonight?”

“Aye, Kim!” A coach called out for him, the team heading back out onto the field.

Whirling around, pulling you into his side, Mingyu waves off the batting coach and ushers you into the dugout making sure you were along the fence with a good spot to watch him hit. Along the way he whispered nonsense to you, telling you what bars you should explore tonight, where you needed to go, what food you should try, but more importantly what drinks you could get and where.

“You’re gonna kill me, Gyu,” you whispered to him after he kissed you one last time. Laughing aloud, head thrown back with vigor, he took to home plate and his persona shifted. Gone was Gyu, out came Kim Mingyu, the Lions right fielder.

Sipping from your coffee, allowing it to ease the ache in your forehead and the unease in your gut, you stood up and wandered the empty dugout. Names were written on everything, the shirts, the bats, the gloves, the mits, it was adorable, it felt like when you’d watch your brother in little league and your father etched his name into everything he owned. Dragging your feet along the ground, dirt and pebbles scraping against the concrete beneath your shoes, you took a deep breath in through your nose and let the fresh air relax you.

Maybe this was a good thing.

The familiar sound of a baseball smacking into the glove of the catcher brought you more comfort than you ever could’ve imagined. Your brother was on the mound, Woozi behind the plate, Mingyu in the batter's box. The whooshing of the bat through the air as your boyfriend acquired another strike had the batting coach calling out a few things to him. With a small smile on your lips you wandered toward the stairs to the dugout along the first base line, stepping up them to lean against the post giving you the clearest view of the field.

Hangover aside, the day was beautiful. The weather was perfect, the boys were talking and laughing with one another, there was the crack of the ball hitting the bat filling you with excitement as someone shouted in the outfield. The ball Mingyu hit was foul, traveling just over right field, but it wasn’t hit long enough for their bench player whose name you hadn’t learned yet to catch it in right field. Your neck stretched, everyones did. Mingyu ran to first base, but Seungcheol would catch it before he made it down the line.

Except Seungcheol was behind home plate with the batting coach, arms folded over his broad chest, his knee wrapped in a brace.

Whipping your head back and forth, from Seungcheol eyeing the ball, to the team, then you, he shouted a name that made your blood run cold.

“Hansol!”

Every bone in your body went stiff, every muscle froze. Neck nearly breaking, you plastered your eyes onto the boy standing behind first base and your coffee cup almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You could’ve been sick. You wanted to be sick.

Months. It’d been months.

Months of distraction, months of trying to make him go away, months of squeezing him and pushing him down into a feeling you’d only allow yourself to feel between the hours of one and three in the morning if you were any sort of sober. Even drunk, he was there, a ghost haunting your memory of what could’ve been, what you had and what you left behind. He stood here now, five foot ten, a little scrawny, a little pale. Those brown waves, they were just how you left them, fluffy, soft, inviting. His eyes, chocolate and sweet, were on you, he was looking at you, not through you, not around you, at you.

And it hurt.

Every feeling manifested into a stomach ache, a nausea so debilitating that only he would know what to do about it, like he’s done for you so many times before. The amount of times he’s held your hair, that he’s pulled it back for you. So many nights at Nasara, when he was allowed to, he would get you into your bed and make sure you’d fall asleep on your side, telling Ryujin that if either of you needed anything she could call him. He’d try to not let you drink too much, but when he couldn’t keep up with the way you’d bounce around the house he’d appear with a cup full of water and wouldn’t leave you alone until you finished it. 

He’d bring you to Blend, he’d buy you a coffee, he’d offer you breakfast, and if you refused he’d offer his shoulder and he’d let you talk. And not once would he interrupt, he’d only look away to sip his coffee, reminding you to drink some of yours between the stories you had to tell.

You’d follow him along to his practices, one of the only ones to sit in the stands, or behind home plate when he’d bat or train with his coaches gearing him up for this very moment.

When the hell did he get called up?

When the hell did the Lions get him?

Why the fuck is this the first you’re hearing of it, seeing it?

He missed the ball. It fell a few feet behind him. His teammates shouted for him, they tried to get his attention, so many shouts of a name so foreign to you only because you knew it wasn’t his favorite. He was stuck, much like you, with a thousand things to say splayed out between the two of you.

Vernon.

He was here, in Haos, playing on the same team as your brother. 

On the same team as your boyfriend. 

Holy shit, Mingyu was your boyfriend.

Mingyu was your boyfriend, words you chose to say on the same day the boy you had fallen in too far deep with appears on his baseball team.

“Hansol!”

Finally his gaze of disbelief was ripped from you, having you loose a breath you were holding. Murmurs of his voice, nothing more than a hum hit you where you were standing, a sound so incredibly comforting it had tears welling up in your eyes. You’re sure it was pleading, and apologies, and excuses for missing the easiest play for a first baseman.

He hurried toward Seungcheol and the coach, as did the team, and you hightailed it off the field while no one's eyes were on you, hurried for the closest bathroom and hid yourself in a stall, collapsing to the floor with rushed breaths, willing your heart to calm down.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

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[akisunlovesnalu]

Every Witch Way

A fic that I wrote inspired by this photo. Originally I wanted it to become a detective fic but my brain spiraled and I ended up with this. It became an adventure mystery story and of course, the government hates them :) I liked the idea of them traveling through the desert and I'm not too sure where the guild fit in this but just know that all Magicians (Witches) are in hiding because society believes they are evil. Most normal people do not have magic so someone spread a theory that the only reason witches have magic is because of human sacrifices etc. It's important to note that witches want to keep their powers under wraps or else they will get reported to the authorities and sent to the hier-ups in the capital. Nobody knows what happens to the witches who are caught but they don't want to find out.

That might be some unnecessary background information so skip over that if you wish and enjoy!

When Lucy finds herself kidnapped by a ruthless group of bandits, the last thing she expects is to be saved by a witch with Pink hair and his talking blue cat. And she most certainly didn't expect to become their good friend and travel companion. Who knew evil sorcerers and government conspiracies can lead to unexpected friendships.

As the blond girl dragged herself, hands tied together in front of her, and sand covered bare feet weakly trailing after her, she realized how fast camels might actually be. You see, in all of the stories she had read so far, none of them did the four legged beast's speed any justice. They never quite described how hard it was to keep up with them. It was always “The creature was big” or “The creature was furry” but never “When kidnapped by a group of bandits, tied to and forced to stumble behind a literal camel, it may be hard to keep up.”

See if any of the books had written that in, maybe Lucy Hearfillia might be faring better in her situation. But alas, she was not.

“Stop lagging behind, blondie!” One of the men snarled, pulling on the rope to further demonstrate his annoyance. Lucy stumbled forward, struggling to stay upright. She hung her head low, very aware of the menacingly bright sun and quietly sighed.

Oh what she would do to somehow get out of this unfortunate turn of events.

She has probably been traveling together with these no good thieves for about 3 hours. After being abducted from the only good town in this godforsaken desert, the men forced her to follow them, ignoring her cries of where she was and demands to let her go. She gave up eventually of course. Not even her vocal cords could handle the immense heat that came with the dry deserted area.

“Hey boss.” The big one said, glancing over at her with furrowed brows. He had been the one to capture her in the first place. Of course Lucy could have easily taken him on but… a moment's hesitation was all they needed to successfully tie her up and steal her ring of keys. Aquarius was going to kill her!

 “Not that I really want to, but... Should we give the chick some water?” 

The man in front of the big one grunted, his blueish hair blowing with the small breeze and clearly showing off his strange X-like tattoo. Lucy watched on with little interest as a bead of sweat traveled down his forehead.

“I wouldn’t bother.” He scoffed. “Every time we’ve tried, she just spits it back up. Plus, earlier she tried to bite off Javier’s finger, do you really want to risk it?” He raised an eyebrow.

The man in question made a whining noise, clutching his injured hand to his chest and glaring at their prisoner with watery eyes. He mockingly raised the water bottle to his mouth, chugging it in an attempt to get a rise out of her. Lucy rolled her eyes, instead looking back down at the smooth sand beneath her feet.

The big one made a noise of understanding. “Even after we lied about it not being drugged too-”

Javier spit up the water that he was previously chugging, shakily putting the top back on and storing it back inside of the camel's holding bag.

“You idiot!” ‘Boss’ hissed, turning a piercing glare unto the man beside him. “She still didn’t know-” He paused, glancing over at their very interested prisoner and forced himself to  take a deep breath. “You know what, it doesn't matter, she'll be fine.”

“But, Bora-”

“She’ll be fine!” The man who Lucy now knew as Bora raised a fist threateningly. He smirked in sick pleasure as his henchmen coward away. Before she even had time to pull a face of disgust, he turned to Lucy, eyeing her hungrily. “Now, let's get a move on. The employer is expecting us by sundown and I'd rather not have the sun beating down on me any longer than necessary.”

The rest of his men tiredly murmured in agreement, picking up the pace and forcing the blond girl to — once again —trudge through the slippery sand. She hissed as her feet pricked on some sort of stick-like plant. Oh Mavis if she could just reach into the pouch hanging off of Bora’s belt-

“I don’t see the issue, it’s not even that hot.” A new voice said, startling the crew of 14 bandits plus Lucy herself. Her head snapped up for the first time in a while. Ignoring the ache in her neck, the girl rapidly searched the area until settling upon a man with… pink hair. 

He didn’t look too shocked to see a kidnapped girl tied to a Camel. Nor did he bat an eye at the blue cat that sat on his head, lazily playing with the goggles that held his hair out of his face (Did she mention that it was pink!?). And his attire looked so incredibly… bold that Lucy was sure she would faint. Seriously, who was stupid enough to travel through the desert in a black long sleeve shirt, a tan vest and a literal scarf. It was like the guy was begging to get a heat stroke.

She had immediately decided that whoever this man was, he was insane.

“Now.” He grinned, getting into a fighting stance. “What was it you said about an employer?”

Oh look now he wanted to fight off an entire group of bandits. Lucy scoffed. Definitely insane.

Where did he even come from?

Bora snarled, holding up a hand and signaling his guys to pounce on the man wearing freaking cargo pants. Once again, the pink haired freak didn’t even flinch. He stayed rooted to his spot, grinning a wide smile and daring one of them to come at him.

They did, of course, and to Lucy’s surprise were blasted back by a large ring of— 

“Fire!”

Well that certainly explains a lot.

Even after that big scare, the men were back on “Mr. cargo pants” as soon as Bora sent each and every one of them a snarl. The blond snorted as soon enough, all 14 men were on the floor, some of them even halfway in the sand and halfway not.

Bora’s horrified face soon turned back into a scowl as he fully processed Lucy’s teasing. He jumped off of the Camel, ignoring a curious looking “Mr. cargo pants” and stomping over to her. 

“Something Funny?” He said.

“Yeah, actually.” She chuckled some more, tugging on the rope in silent frustration. “Looks like you're about to get your ass handed to you.”

Bora growled, raising his hand in an attempt to threaten her. Lucy eye’d it wearily, but made no attempt to move out of its path. To her pleasure that seemed to aggravate the man even more.

“I’ll show you!” He cried and Lucy's breath hitched as he brought his hand down to strike her across the face… 

The sound of skin hitting skin somehow echoed throughout the desert and Lucy was sure her face was stinging a bright red…

Except it wasn’t… to be honest she felt no pain. Almost as if she hadn’t been hit at all… Cracking her eyes open she realized that a figure stood in front of her, effectively blocking both the sun and her view of Bora. At this, the girl was finally able to piece together what happened.

Bora had aimed for her face, only for his wrist to be caught by “Mr. cargo pants” himself. 

What an interesting turn of events indeed. 

Lucy was quite surprised by how calm she was in this type of situation. No other girl would be able to keep a straight face as they were surrounded in an alleyway, tied up, and forced onto a camel, only to be saved by a strange man (who was definitely insane) that kicked ass and breathed fire. Though if anything she’d have to blame it on experience.

The silence was interrupted by a snarl, one almost inhuman. Bora shrieked, snatching his hand away and forcibly putting a distance between him and this insane man.

“H-how dare you!” Bora shrieked, reaching into his belt and pulling out a knife. Lucy’s eyes flashed onto the leather pouch before giving the man a hard glare.

“You’re one of those demons aren't you!” His voice shook but was filled with so much venom. “The horrible bastards that turn to rituals and blood sacrifices in favor of magical powers!?”

Mr. Cargo pants made no attempt to move, only stared Bora straight in the eyes with an unreadable expression. 

“So what if I am?” He answered.

Lucy felt her lips turn into a frown.

“Then you’re worse than me!” The man laughed maniacally, waving his knife around as he spoke. “Why bother saving this chick with magic earned by bloodlust? Wait…” He gasped dramatically looking at Lucy and then back at Mr. Cargo pants. 

“Oh…” he cackled this time, using a shaky hand to clutch his side. “You probably need her right? For another sacrifice?”

As he continued with his dumb speach Lucy felt her patience slipping. She bit her lip, tugging on the rope once again with no success. She growled, now desperate enough to be pulling against the weight of a freaking Camel.

“Let’s make a deal, hm?” Bora held the knife to his mouth in thought. “I’ll let you take her for just a bit of cash. I’m sure you and your demon friends would love such delicate, pure hearted prey right? Blah Blah Blah Blah-”

Lucy tuned him out and her pink-haired savior still made no move to attack, only balling his fists and taking deep breaths. She understood… the need to prove him wrong… to just shut him up! Which was what she was planning on doing! As soon as she got rid of this stupid rope-

Her savior lunged, slapping the knife out of the bandit's hand and catching him by the neck so quickly that Lucy had to blink, just to make sure she had actually witnessed that.

Bora struggled against his grip, clawing at his arm as he gasped for breath. “Y-you…” He coughed. “You monster!”

The pink haired boy dropped him, cracking his knuckles as Bora attempted to crawl away.

“Hit me with your best shot!” He screeched. “Monster!” 

And that’s when Lucy’s attention was directed towards a flying blue blob. It took her a minute to realize that the blue blob was the cat previously perched atop her savior's head. She couldn’t help the small shriek that erupted from her throat as the cat landed directly in front of her, a look of pride overtaking its face.

“Hold on!” It cried, using its claws to slowly cut away at the thick rope. Lucy stood stock still, mouth wide as she watched a cat! a talking cat, free her from her ‘Camel Prison’... 

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder. 

She felt the rope loosen up and took that moment to slip her hands free.

She rubbed her wrists, absentmindedly thanking the (blue, flying, taking-) cat and zoning back in on the fight. Well… what she thought would be a fight. Instead, Lucy saw Mr. Cargo Pants kneeling by a tied up and unconscious Bora, checking his pulse with a bored look in his eyes.

The girl wanted to laugh at how quickly that ‘battle’ had ended. In fact, she did laugh! How could she not? Here was Bora, big bandit leader with unquestionable power over his 14 lakey’s, beaten black and blue after a fight that had barely even lasted a minute.

Pathetic.

Lucy was almost ashamed to have put her morals over her own safety. Taking on this guy would have been a sinch, the rest would have probably run away with their tails between their legs. 

The girl released a breath, finally finished with her laughing fit. She wiped a tear from beneath her eye, grinning wide at her two saviors.

“You’ve got guts!” The cat… the blue, flying, talking cat.. Spoke. It spoke… Lucy felt her face twist in confusion.

“Thank you…?”

Mr. Cargo pants finished tying up the rest of the men and strode over to them, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave her a somewhat proud look. “Happy’s right y’know. I’ve never seen another girl in your situation stand up to their captor…” He paused before quietly adding. “Well maybe Erza but I doubt she’d get captured in the first place…”

“Happy’s?” Lucy questioned, raising her brow. “What do you mean?”

“That’s Happy.” He stated matter factly, pointing over to the flying cat- Holy Mavis, this would take some getting used to. It waved. Lucy numbly waved back.

Mr. Cargo Pants held out his hand in greeting. “And I’m Natsu!” Oh well that’s good, he’s got a name. Mr. Cargo Pants was starting to seem a bit bland based on his earlier performance. Maybe she’d just call him Fire Freak, pyromaniac for short?

“Hey Natsu.” The girl smiled kindly, getting over her initial shock and shaking his hand. He held onto her hand for longer than necessary, his grip strong. The pink-haired traveler held her gaze, dark onyx eyes practically burning into her soul. His calloused hand gave her own one last squeeze before he let go, looking around as if nothing just happened.

“What're you doing this far out in the desert anyways?”

Lucy blinked, her brain taking a minute to compute after his strange display of… comradery? “I was… Traveling.” She admitted.

“With them?” Natsu and Happy blinked, looking back at the pile of motionless body’s. Finally the boy turned back to her, shaking his head and clicking his teeth. “Man, you need to get yourself some better travel companions.”

“N-no!” She barked. “I was kidnapped while traveling! Are you an idiot!”

“Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Lucy ground her teeth in frustration. One more word out of this man’s mouth and she’d be wanted for murder. She rolled her eyes. What a scatter brain.

“Well, thank you for saving me.” She settled with, surveying the litter of body’s decorating the wide desert floor. “Can I ask you to direct me towards the closest town?”

Natsu nodded his head, pointing in a direction. “We’re actually headed to one right now. Care to join?”

“... Sure!” Lucy agreed after a bit of hesitation. She turned around and untied her very important pouch from her precious Camel Captor. 

“Thanks for keeping these safe, I guess.” She said to it. The camel snorted out a noise of disinterest as Lucy stroked it’s neck. 

Natsu let out a snort, turning away and whistling casually as Lucy sent him a hard glare. She may have been forcefully tied to and painfully dragged across the desert by this Camel, but still, she felt a sense of comradery between them. She was going to miss him…

As Lucy turned to leave, the camel let out a large glob of spit, barely missing her head. The girl shrieked and ran to catch up to a curious Natsu.

She takes it back. That damn animal won't be missed. Not one bit.

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

At Last

Wednesday x Kitsune!reader

"Ma, I'll be fine."

"You've never traveled this far with your flames before, my kit. I'm just worried."

The bag on your shoulder slipped as your mother fussed over you. Within the two months of your impromptu vacation from school, you already visited Enid and Yoko. Now that the new semester is nearing, it was decided that you would stay with Wednesday and the rest of the Addams brood before going back to Nevermore together.

Together. That word made your heart flutter like a leaf in the wind. But it made you anxious as well. While you both stayed in touch, there wasn't much of an indication of a forward path in your relationship. Sure, this was probably Wednesday's first real relationship so you tried to chalk it up to taking things slow but it still made you unsure. It was hard enough to convey emotion through text. To add in an emotionally stunted person made things near impossible. But you're trying. Maybe things will change once you're within the same space.

Your phone rings, finally making your mom stop her fussing. With a silent thanks, you answer, already knowing who it was.

"My dark spirit! I'm ready if you are." Silence greets you. Long enough that you're slightly concerned. "Wednesday?"

"Yes, we're ready for you, m-mia volpe." There's a sudden burst of muttering through the phone. The only thing you can really catch were Wednesday's threats of death to whoever it was. Eventually, her voice turns back towards you. "We are ready. My family insisted on greeting you as well, so be prepared."

"You got it. I'll see you in a bit."

With the call ended, you take a hold of your luggage and wait for the familiar pull. While you never traveled this far, you and Wednesday tested the spiritual attraction whenever you could. Even when you were in California with Enid, it seemed to work from across the country. Maybe you'll test a cross-country travel one day.

It doesn't take long before you feel the pull in your heart. You turn to look in the direction with a soft smile which draws the attention of your mother.

"You care for this one, don't you?" You respond with a nod.

"I do. I don't know where it'll go, but... I'll follow as far as I'm allowed."

You turn to face your mother and give her a hug. She pulls you close, petting your head gently.

"Take care, my kit. I love you."

"Love you too, Ma." With a smile, you back away to give your flames some space. "I'll talk to you later."

Your eyes close as your body turns to face your heart's direction. Making sure you have a tight hold on your suitcase, you leap into the air and surround yourself with your foxfire. In a whirl, you shoot forward towards your destination.

-----+++++-----

Wednesday keeps her eyes trained on the sky as she waits for any sign of your arrival. The both of you weren't sure how long it would take. She tried to tell that to the rest of her family, but alas they stood just behind her, watching as well.

The wait gave Wednesday some time to think. Time to think about you and your relationship. This was an entirely new concept for her. The physical aspect of the relationship was easy, even if it was a while since you've touched. That was just a response to stimuli. The emotional aspect was the troubling part. These new feelings made her nauseous and self conscious. Watching her parents made her think about you, even if it still grossed her out. She missed your presence and when she saw pictures of you, Enid and Yoko, she was jealous.

But she used this time away from you to filter through her feelings. She even talked to Thing about it when it bothered her to that extent. Her mother tried to pry, but Wednesday shot that down almost immediately. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about with someone whose opinions are skewed to those positive feelings. She needed to think about things logically.

Her traitorous heart, however, leaps when she sees the flicker of flames in the distance. Her feet move on their own as you soar closer. The eyes of her family burn at her back, but she doesn't seem to care. You were almost here.

The fireball lands and whirls for a moment before revealing your form, tails waving the flames away as it dissipates. After patting yourself and making sure there weren't anymore embers, you look up to see Wednesday.

It's quiet as you stare at each other. The Addams brood wait with bated breath as the two of you walk towards each other. When you are face to face, you just bask in each other's presence. Afraid to break whatever spell residing in the space, you can only whisper a soft, "Hi." Wednesday doesn't reply in kind. Her stare, as always, comforts you.

Eventually, the goth steps closer and just leans against you. Your hands move up to gently caress her arms. Not quite hugging, but close enough to satisfy that urge. You take a breath, letting Wednesday's scent fill your senses. You both didn't part until you let yourself gently nuzzle against Wednesday's cheek.

"Guess I should meet the family. Been letting them wait long enough." You look over at the rest of the Addams and see them near bursting with excitement. A stark contrast to Wednesday herself.

"I suppose," she responds. "The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get you alone."

A pleasant shiver runs up your spine as you follow the pigtailed goth. It seems you really didn't need to worry about your relationship. Wednesday seemed to miss you as much as you missed her.

As soon as you are in front of him, Wednesday's father, Gomez, grabs your hand in a brief shake before pulling you into a massive hug.

"It's so wonderful to meet you, Y/N! Welcome to our humble abode!" You just let your gaze travel to the massive manor over Gomez's shoulder. 'Humble, huh?'

When he releases you, you move towards the matriarch, Morticia. When she reaches her hand out, you take it and lay a soft kiss on it. She lets a soft smile grace her beautiful features, her eyes glancing at Wednesday knowingly.

"My, my. What manners." She takes your face in her hands and gives you a couple of air kisses.

Next is Pugsley, Wednesday's brother. When you shake his hand, he immediately asks whether you would help him with some experiments. Wednesday just gives a tiny shrug when you look at her for guidance.

"Uh, if I have the time, sure." The young Addams smiles wide in response, reminding you of Eugene.

The towering butler then walks up and grabs your belongings with a low groan.

"This is Lurch," Gomez says, introducing the large man. "He'll take your things while we give you a tour of the house." Wednesday steps in at those words.

"Father, the tour can wait. I'm sure Y/N is tired from their trip." She gives you a meaningful gaze. You nod in response and offer a regretful smile.

"It did take more outta me than I thought." You rub the back of her head, a little embarrassed at the attention. "I would like a moment to chill, if that's all right."

"Of course, my dear," Morticia responds. "We have plenty of time for you to see the house." She pats your head and gestures to Wednesday. "Now go. I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

You weren't sure if you saw a knowing glint in her eyes, but regardless, the implication makes you blush. To save you from further embarrassment, Wednesday takes your arm and leads you to her room.

As soon as the door to her room closes, Wednesday is on you. She pulls you close, hands finding their place on your cheeks. When your foreheads touch, you close your eyes, letting yourself feel Wednesday near you. Again, with a crooked smile, you let out a quiet "hi" before feeling her lips on yours.

Spirits, you missed this. The way Wednesday's body melts into yours. The way your hands found their home on her waist. The way you move in sync with each other despite this being only the second time you've done this.

+______________+Tag List+______________+

She's practically pinned you against the door and you've no intention of breaking free.

When air calls for you both, you part but still within the same breath. Your nose brushes against hers gently, your smile dopey and lopsided.

"This time without you had been torture," Wednesday whispers. "How you've come to claim my entire being has confounded me."

"Well," you begin. "It's not like you haven't affected me. You already have a hold on my heart and I didn't even realize until you were dying."

You two take another breath before Wednesday pushes away with a soft groan.

"We're beginning to sound like my parents. It's disgusting."

You let out a laugh before letting yourself take in Wednesday's room. Before you really could, something plops on your head and gives your hair a ruffle. Almost immediately, you know who it is.

"Thing! My main hand." You give him a fist bump before catching up. His excited signing recounting story after story. Wednesday looks on with fondness. You've already become a major part of her life and she looks forward to seeing what the future brings for you.

@screechcat @trishatheotaku @halleest @ashlynnmalfoy @a-trash-person @rainbow-love4ever @ognenniyvolk @spadesinfodump @maria-403 @simonsbluee @awolfcsworld @wizardofstories @alexandra-001 @leafanonsforest @daddy-jareau @anxietylemonice @tundra1029

[mixelation]

One of my favorite things about the Tori/Itachi fake->real relationship arc is the reactions you've mentioned for everyone else. Deidara particularly who is just constantly suffering from whatever random thing Itachi has done this week.

deidara would never have been able to predict this development, but now that it's happening it seems like he should have. he should have sat down and gone "what is the worst thing my teammates could do to me?" and then reverse engineer this. alas, he didn't, and somehow he got convinced to take their engagement photos?

anyway the rest of this post is about shisui. im haven't developed his relationship with tori uch so this is still rotating/could change

so in this au shisui loves itachi dearly and vice versa, but also shisui is acutely aware that itachi is a weird paranoid little freak. he does not know he's a time traveler. he does know itachi was very upset for years that danzo would Ruin Everything, especially sasuke somehow and also konoha, and then danzo suddenly died under mysterious circumstances. shisui has his suspicions about what happened but he is keeping his mouth SHUT

(shisui agreed danzo is Shady but minato has more of a leash on him than hiruzen, so shisui never felt the danger was like.... real?)

anyway tori and shisui just like... don't really get along. but by the time the whole danzo incident is resolved, tori is really firmly itachi's close friend. they can't avoid each other. awkward smiles all around.

so when itachi is like "i'm going to try and date tori," shisui isn't, like, surprised? but also his advice is "if you date her just to be dating someone, and not because you actually like her, you'll risk ruining your friendship and you only have like three friends." it doesn't occur to him that tori isn't in on the relationship

but then shisui goes to like their book club or something and sees them actually interacting, and he immediately realizes his mistake, which was assuming itachi isn't a catastrophic moron. so he's like "oh NO little cousin" and assumes that eventually tori will kill him. RIP, itachi, you did this to yourself

and then she doesn't kill him, and shisui feels an intense wave of fear wash over him. he's like 82% sure she helped/enabled him to kill Major Village Leader Danzo. tori doesn't even blink when itachi randomly genjust-brainwashes people. he has never once questioned the multitude of insane claims she makes. they can't go forward like this. people WILL suffer

at the same time mikoto comes to shisui like WHY HASN'T ONE OF THEM CALLED IT OFF YET?" because she KNOWS itachi is only dating her to make mikoto stop throwing girls at him, and she doesn't dislike tori but she doesn't really like her either, and also SHE wants to pick her daughter-in-law even though she promised itachi she'd back off if he found someone himself. help her.

and listen. shisui doesn't like tori, he doesn't think this weird relationship move is a good idea, he DEFINITELY doesn't think she'll ever agree to marry into the family, but also he is itachi's brother. his ride or die.

shisui is forced to look mikoto in the eyes and be like, "idk, auntie, i think they're really, truly in love"

then they ACTUALLY get engaged and shisui has another wave of intense fear like no other

shisui: okay, but you DO understand that she'd BE AN UCHIHA, right? and have actual power over the clan?

itachi: it's fine tori thrives in toxic environments

shisui: you are talking about our FAMILY

[morose-melodies]

Hi! I just wanted to share this idea I got recently about a yandere Aether and maybe a fatui reader. Basically, the reader sees how everyone keeps using Aether, sending him off for errands and decides to help him by making him grow a backbone, but it kind of backfires. Feel free to ignore this idea or alter it if it doesn't really work for you. I'm also sorry if that's not much to go off of. It's my first time requesting something. Thanks and have a nice day!

backbone | yandere! aether x reader

content warning: none

aether came to fontaine with one motive - to stop you.

but alas, there were people in need of assistance and help, so he helped, just as he always did, nearly forgetting his true motives.

he had seen you here and there but never got the chance to approach you, all he could do was watch as another chance to stop you faded away. it was tragic and almost laughable to you.

it almost felt as if he didn't want to stop you. you were almost disappointed - he would never catch you if this kept going on. perhaps you should make it a little easier for him.

or, you could straighten him out.

so you waited for him to catch you, as you were in no rush to get back to snezhnaya.

days had passed. you saw him every once and a while, but he never seemed to see you, which was disappointing as you waited you realized, he was too much of a pushover.

before he could even begin to look for you he had helped eight people, including one of the fatui soldiers you came with.

perhaps you should just approach him and tell him-

"look! it's (y/n), stop right there!" a high-pitched voice called out and you turned to the director of the voice to see aether and his floating companion blocking you from leaving the secluded ally you were standing in.

"it took you long enough...you're such a pushover. it's pathetic," you tut, watching as aether moved into a defensive position. "it's pathetic how you let people treat you, do you LIKE being bossed around and used?" you asked, watching as his brows slowly knitted together.

"I'm not being used, it's what I signed up for. to help-"

"no more of that helping, it's hindering you. ignore everyone and catch me - stop me from taking another gnosis," and with that, you left, too fast for him to react to but now the challenge was on.

...

"traveler, could you help me-"

"hey! could you help us out?"

"traveler, do you remember me? help me out!"

helping was his job and yet he was postponing it for your sake - a fatui harbinger. why should he listen to you anyway?

"no more of that helping, it's hindering you. ignore everyone and catch me - stop me from taking another gnosis."

... this must be a trick, right? why would you want him to catch you, to chase after you? it made no sense but he wanted to make sense of it.

so, he began to look for you, ignoring anyone who requested help from him. he needed to find you and STOP you.

he needed to stop you. he would stop you.

(y/n)... he would stop you.

he went around, asking about you, unknowingly catching glimpses of you only to realize after you were gone.

it was driving him mad.

were you doing this on purpose? were you trying to taunt him? trying to make him frustrated?

why ARE you doing this?

"traveler, why are you ignoring all those people? shouldn't we help them?" his floating companion asked but aether shook his head, saying, "we have other places to be. I have no time to help others right now."

"huh? why-"

"hush," aether slowed his walk, his eyes watching as you walked into a café, alone, "it's (y/n)! st-"

"shh and stay right here," aether began to trail over to the café, tuning out piamon's voice as she questioned his motives.

he entered the café only to be met with the faces of many fatui soldiers, "aether, I'm so glad you could make it," aether could hear you but couldn't see you.

his hand twitched... so you WERE taunting him.

he felt... offended.

"you were too late, though. I've already got the gnosis and I'll be leaving today."

was this a game to you? was he a game to you?

is this fun for you?

so this is it? you're going to leave him with these soldiers and he won't get to see you again? all of this build-up for this? "no," aether took a shaky step forward, "I'm going to stop you, (y/n) "

...

what a shame, you thought aether would catch you but he was just too slow. "hah, maybe next time." maybe next time he'll catch you, and maybe next time he won't be such a pushover.

"there's no need for a next time."

the voice came from behind, breathless and shaky. you made a move to turn around but before you could, a hand grabbed onto your shirt and turned you around, holding onto you firmly.

"hm? how'd you get out so soon."

"did you have fun?"

"pfft, no, i just thought you needed a bit of hel-"

"do you find this funny?"

"no. this is good for you, now that you can say no, you can get things done fas-"

"okay..." He released a shaky breath, momentarily closing his eyes before opening them once again, "give me the gnosis."

"no way. i need to get it back to snezhn-"

"(y/n), i caught you, give me the gnosis."

"i told you to catch me AND stop me from taking the gnosis, i already took the gnosis so the deals off-"

"no. i need to stop you," aether tightened his hold on you, forcing you to look directly at him. the look in his eyes told you he was hesitating.

"I have to stop you, (y/n)."

[givemea-dam-break]

hi my love, can you do anthony lockwood x reader

possibly with prompt 17 or 24 from the angst list?!? ive been craving some lockwood angst recently and i love your fics so who else could i ask to fulfill my needs

a/n: yes yes yes i have been dying for angst it’s my favourite thing to write. i'm so glad you like my fics! feeling honoured rn. this is shorter than some of my other fics, but i hope you like it!

warnings: angst, language prompts: "You're not my friend anymore, remember?" and "You left, you left, and now you have the gall to come back like nothing happened." gn reader

Your day couldn't have gone worse.

Originally, your plans for your first day off in weeks had been to spend your time in the library nearby, listening to the rain on the tall windows as you read in your favourite seat before stopping off to grab a takeaway on your way home.

Of course, things can never go to plan in a world haunted by ghosts.

To preface, the Visitors aren't the problem, not today at least.

You've reached a particularly good chapter of your book when things start to go wrong. You're completely content just reading away, sipping on some tea in your travel mug, when a shadow looms over the pages, making it hard to read.

Looking up, slightly irritated, you say, "Hey, do you mind moving, please?"

Then you see the face, and the irritation melts into something more: fury.

Anthony Lockwood stands before you, soaked with rain and dripping all over the floor. His hair, usually neatly brushed, looks like a wet rat, and his cheeks are flushed from the November chill. From the way he smiles, they remind you a little bit of apples. You like apples considerably more than you like him.

"What do you want?" you ask.

Lockwood points at the free chair next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat. "Can we talk?"

"Also, no," you say, returning your attention to the book. "Goodbye."

A sigh. "(name), please, it's important."

"Important enough to bug me on my only day off? No, I don't think so."

You hope for a moment that he'll turn and walk away, but this is Anthony bloody Lockwood, and when does he ever listen to you? He moves, sinking into the seat beside you, and crossing his legs. You make a point of ignoring him, continuing to read the last paragraph you were on.

"We need your help."

No response. You keep on reading.

"(name), please. It's a big case, and we could really use your Talent."

Again, you ignore him, silently mouthing the words as you read them. Your focus on him strays, and for a minute it's as if he's no longer there, but the scent of bitter tea and citrusy shampoo lingers, taunting you.

Swiftly, you shut your book and stand, grabbing your bag. The action seems to shock Lockwood, and his daze gives you enough time to slip the book back into its slot on the shelves and storm out of the library.

Alas, Lockwood has long legs and catches up momentarily.

"I don't want to talk to you," you grumble, pulling your hood over your hair as you step out into the rain.

"I know, and that's my fault, but, please, listen this once. We -"

"Need my help. Yeah, I got that." Squeezing through a crowd of kids heading into the library, you continue, "But, thing is, I'm not an agent anymore. And, even if I was, you're not my friend anymore, remember? You gave up that right months ago. I wouldn't help you even if my life depended on it."

That stops him short. You keep on walking, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

"You're not an agent anymore?" he asks, catching up once more.

You scoff. "Haven't been since that last case we went on, and I don't plan on becoming one again."

Judging from his expression, he hasn't taken the news lightly. He almost looks betrayed, and that makes you want to strangle him. He's got no right.

"Why not?"

"Because," you say, stopping at the side of the pavement, out of the way of other people, "you left. You left me there, Lockwood. And now you have the gall to come back like nothing happened! You don't just do that."

His frowns. "I didn't leave you."

You want to scream at him, to pull your hair out. It feels like you're about to explode from the rage you're feeling.

"Yes, you left. I was left in that goddamn maze of a mansion by myself while you and George, what? Went to go have some celebratory doughnuts? Not all of the sources were secured, Lockwood. I almost died trying to get out of there."

"I didn't -" His face blanches, and he looks like he's going to be sick. "We thought we'd secured them all."

"Well, you didn't. Want to know why I didn't go back to Portland Row for a week before getting my stuff? I was in the hospital recovering from ghost touch. Took my a month to regain full use of my right arm, you know. I almost lost my arm, in fact. But you didn't ask, you just stood and watched as I packed my stuff."

That makes him angry. "What was I meant to do? There was no stopping you."

"I wanted you to try," you say, and your voice wavers. His expression softens. "If you'd tried, I might've stayed. I might've forgiven you. But you just watched. You never asked me where I was for that week. No, you were busy revelling in your success and hiring other agents."

"We needed another agent, anyways."

"You should've checked on the one you had!" Your breathing is heavy, and your head hurts from the myriad of emotions swirling around. "I'm not - I'm not doing this right now. Today was meant to be a good day. Goodbye, Lockwood. Don't come see me again."

You start to walk away, but his hand clasps around your wrist. Scowling, you tug it from his grip, looking at him incredulously.

"I'm sorry, (name)," he says. In his defence, he's being genuine, but that doesn't mean that you're having any of it. "I am. About all of it. Please, can we talk it out?"

Thank god for the rain, because it hides the tears in your eyes. "No. I - I'm going home, and you're going to leave me alone. I don't want to see you again."

Lockwood's jaw goes slack. "Please, I'm sorry. I can't lose you."

"The minute you left me alone on that case, you lost me," you say. "I don't care how sorry you are. It does nothing. It doesn't stop me from seeing the moment I almost died every night when I sleep. It doesn't change the fact that I don't trust you anymore."

"(name) -"

"I pray that your new agent, Lucy, 'the Superstar' - that's what you called her on live TV, right? - I pray she doesn't have the same fate. I hope things work out well for you, Lockwood, truly, but that doesn't mean we'll ever be friends again. Now, I'm going home."

"Please don't go." His voice is a little shaky. It's the most emotion you've seen from him other than that fake smile he gives to the press. "Please, I'll do better."

You shake your head. Then, wordlessly, you turn and make your silent, miserable trek home.

[luminyxoxo]

Atsumu should’ve known betting with Osamu meant big, BIG trouble. Throughout 20 years of his life, why hadn’t he learned his lesson?

And now he has to reap the consequences.

Losing a bet with his brother meant dying his hair back to their natural color.

Losing a bet with his brother meant traveling to another university in the same city his brother’s is in.

Losing a bet with his brother meant going to a blind date set up by said brother’s friends in his place.

Which is embarrassing, to say the least.

Miya Atsumu is the starting setter for a professional volleyball team, the reserved player for the JNT. If he wanted to date, he would’ve never stoop low to be set up by his friends all because they think he’s too lonely.

But alas, he finds himself in that situation anyway.

Albeit, it isn’t supposed to be /his/ date.

So, on a random Saturday, he finds himself in a cafe across the gates of the university that isn’t Osamu’s, sitting across the cute girl his brother was set up with.

It has been ten minutes of agonizing, awkward silence between them.

Atsumu has lived twenty years with a twin brother stuck to his side, and in theory, he should be the perfect (if only) imitation of Osamu.

But Atsumu had also grown up with a piss-poor social life, always teetering of getting ostracized, unlike Osamu, who was more well-liked.

That meant that he finds himself in a situation where he has to act like his brother, who is as shitty as him, but is just better at appearing normal.

The girl— Haru, his mind corrects, brushes hair behind her ear for the tenth time. (Yes, he was keeping track.)

“Miya-san, you seemed quite familiar.” Haru says, almost bashfully. Atsumu can see her appeal. She appears very shy, and therefore cute, which could invoke a sense of protectiveness in anyone she’s come across.

Unfortunately, Atsumu only feels dread.

He coughs, “Yes.”

Awkward silence. God. He can feel his face burning. What would Osamu do in this situation?

He could point out that he has a brother, who plays volleyball on television, which could be the reason behind the familiarity, but what if that only sparked interest further?

Atsumu has been explicitly told to make her lose interest. If he wasn’t a man of “honor”, he would’ve long done the opposite out of spite. Unfortunately, Osamu knows how to play his cards well.

Also unfortunately, Haru is clearly interested.

“So, what do you like? In general?”

Atsumu’s mind blanks.

“Uhm. Food.” What does Osamu like? Wait. Why is he taking the question seriously? “Bugs. Os— I really, really like bugs. Have ya tried keeping them as pets? Especially cockroaches!”

Haru does look a little queasy.

“I see. What’s your favorite color?”

Atsumu leans back and waves his hand smugly. “Easy. Neon yellow. I think it brings out my eyes.”

It’s only a second later that Atsumu remembers Osamu’s eyes are gray, unlike his brown. His face burns again. He probably looks like an idiot.

“Neon yellow is under appreciated.” Haru agrees, almost in approval. Clearly, she’s overlooking the fact that he keeps cockroaches in his home.

“Actually—“ Atsumu intercepts. “My favourite color is brown. Y’know, like shit.”

Haru’s face falls, and she almost looks hurt now.

“Is there something wrong with me that you’re trying to chase me off, Miya-san?”

“Yes.” Atsumu deadpans. Then, remembers he’s supposed to be Osamu. He instantly backtracks. “I mean no. I have a significant other, actually.”

Haru looks angry now. Atsumu panics.

“Wait! I only went because my friends think my significant other is bad for me, and my partner knows I’m here. I’m just supposed to, uh, let ya down!”

Haru blinks, tears beginning to gather in his eyes. Fuck. Atsumu is really the worse. He needs an out.

The door to the cafe opens. Atsumu looks up and sees a familiar man walking in. He gawk before a brilliant idea forms inside his head, and a smile breaks out on his lips.

“Omi-kun!” He yells, earning looks from everyone, including Sakusa Kiyoomi, the mvp of the collegiate volleyball league, who goes to the same university Haru does.

He turns to his date. “Ah, speak of my significant other and he shall arrive!”

Atsumu waves Sakusa over, and when the masked man hesitates, his wave turns more aggressive.

Because he looks like Osamu, Sakusa comes with a squint of the eye. He hovers until he’s within reach and Atsumu wraps his fingers over his sleeved wrist to pull him closer.

Atsumu catches the fleeting reaction in the form of eyes widening across Sakusa’s face before it’s gone.

“This is the significant other I was talking about. Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Atsumu abruptly stands and bows. “i apologize for leading ya on. Goodbye.”

Then, he tugs Sakusa away without waiting for Haru’s response, too cowardly to face the consequences of his action.

Once they’re outside, Sakusa abruptly stops and turns him around with a glare.

“What was that, Miya-san?” Sakusa asks.

Because he looks like Osamu, Sakusa hasn’t started cursing him out and tried to expose him. Unlike Atsumu, his brother had earned his respect.

“Omi-kun.” Atsumu pauses, then winces. Right. Osamu doesn’t call him that. He tries again. “Sakusa-kun, I apologize for that situation. Let’s forget this ever happened, yeah?”

Then, like the coward he is, Atsumu bows and books out of there.

Atsumu shoots Osamu a text in the train, on the way back to Osaka where he belongs.

‘She lost interest. Now get off my back’

He tucks away his phone and ignores his brother’s messages for the rest of the ride.

Come Monday, he opens his phone and regrets it instantly.

Osamu: Dude

Osamu: why the fuck does everyone think I’m dating Sakusa Kiyoomi?

Atsumu turns off his phone.

[improvised-finish]

Is your character particularly philosophical? Have they ever pondered the way of the world and their place in it, for better or worse? Are they happy with where they're at or do they aspire to change things? What thoughts keep them awake at night when they're trying to sleep?

"Philosophical? Don't know if I'd go that far, but sure, I've thought about the way things are in general and the way my life has gone. When your partners are both esteemed scholars it's kinda hard not to get around to talking about that kind of stuff eventually." She laughs, her pride in her partners showing through.

"Even before I was in a relationship, though, I'd spent time thinking about how I should use the overwhelmingly large amount of power that had been placed on my shoulders. I think I was such an ardent pacifist early in my journey almost as a reaction to it. It was a small way to resist that fate, I guess. A way to say that even if I was forced to become a weapon, I would not take lives indiscriminately." She looks down and to the side, trying to figure out how exactly to continue. "Unfortunately, I pretty quickly had to learn that pacifism can only go so far. I still believe in it, in the broad strokes. I aim to incapacitate if it can be helped, but being on the front lines against a foe who will not hesitate to take your life in the blink of an eye... hardens you, if that makes sense."

"But back to the question: my place in the world. It's never really the same for too long, I've found. I've been a weapon to be wielded, then a symbol for liberation, then a beacon of salvation, and now just a citizen of Eorzea. I think I'm happy with where I am now, but there were many points along the way where I had to figure out how to change, how to become myself. Fortunately I'm surrounded by partners and friends who've been there to help and support me as I do, and now I think I've found a 'me' that's comfortable, so to speak. Beyond the titles and all that, I just want to be known as someone who wants to help, and I think I've managed that."

"As for what keeps me up at night... Mostly irrational fears. Losing the people who mean so much to me. Not being able to be there to help when it's needed. Being too late to save anyone. Some of these were things that we confronted when we battled against Meteion's song of oblivion, but... I think there's still some small shred of worry inside me somewhere, even though we overcame it in the end. I don't know. I guess I fear being alone most of all. That isolation kept me from becoming who I truly wanted to be for so long, even though it was somewhat self-imposed, and now that the day has been won and we can simply enjoy each other's company, it hurts to know that someday will be the very last day I'll spend with my partners, with my mother, with Beau and the rest of the Scions." She pauses, tearing up a bit at the memories of those she was unable to save. "I'm sorry, I just... Loss has never been a stranger in my life for too long, and I... well I wonder what it would be like if those people had survived. If Ysayle and Haurchefant had lived to see what became of Ishgard, to see humans and dragons joined to save the star. If Moenbryda and Papalymo had lived to learn all of Etheirys' many secrets. If Conrad had lived to breathe the air of a free Ala Mhigo. If Tesleen had lived to gaze upon on the beauty of the night sky, stars twinkling overhead. I try to carry their memories with me as I travel, to give them bits of the world they might've liked to see themselves, but it does get to me sometimes. That the good fortune to survive through all hardship can be a sword that cuts both ways."

"That reminds me of a moment that I'm not exactly proud of, but... it's better if I talk about it, I think. As kind of an example. When I'd first gone to Garlemald proper with the relief effort, we'd gone to offer aid to the survivors in one of the train stations, and been taken hostage for our troubles. Jullus, the young man who'd been given the responsibility of making us useful, eventually opened up to me about how he'd come home from his military duties to find his entire family tempered, and how he'd been forced to take their lives to ensure his own survival. It was a chilling story, and the prospect of something like that happening while I was gone haunted me. The first moment after we were no longer held captive, I fled. I couldn't handle the idea of coming home to my mother and finding her under the thrall of the towers. I ran back to camp, grabbed as many warding scales as I could carry, and teleported all the way to Gridania. I didn't stop running until I was on my mother's doorstep. I was a proper mess; to say my emotions got the better of me was an understatement. After she'd managed to get me to let go of her and take some deep breaths, I implored her to take the scales and give them to everyone she knew. To always carry them. She agreed to do it, thank the Twelve, and explaining what had happened when I got back to Camp Broken Glass was... uncomfortable, to say the least, but I just... couldn't let it happen to her too. Maybe that's selfish, that I stole some away for my own ends, but I couldn't bear the thought of having to turn on my own kin like that. I'd endure a thousand more awkward lectures from Lucia if it meant I never had to worry again." She takes a heavy breath, as if she had just run a malm. "It's why I try not to stray too far from those I care about, if I can help it. Leaving home has always felt difficult, and I imagine that fear is probably part of why. And that's also probably why getting to return home to share gifts and stories is my favorite part of my travels. It feels like closing the circle, completing the loop. It feels like a chord finally resolving in a piece of music. It feels like... well, home."

[mumms-the-word]

how's the dissertation going??? how the heck do you write so much for fun and also for grad school??? gl with both; love ur work xx.

Hey anon!!

The short answer to “how do you write so much for fun and also for grad school” is I am insane and if I’m not writing I feel like I’ve wasted a day of creativity or productivity

As for how the diss is going…

Me at my desk on the regular

Nah this is a very sweet ask and a good check-in moment. Dissertations are marathons, but I treat mine like a sprint, and I often shouldn’t! Because that’s a sure fire way to get stressed!! But it’s getting done slowly but surely

The longer answer to how I write both is that I don’t generally write them at the same time. Often I just want to write fic so I’ll stop writing my dissertation to write that instead (causing me to procrastinate and then stress as deadlines approach). When I’m working on the diss, it’s hard to switch back into creative mode—my writing feels like a lecture instead of a story, at least to me. So I juggle both in waves, rather than trying to write both simultaneously

But I write every day regardless. Even if it’s little scraps in my phone, or rereading old work and editing a few lines, not a day goes by that I haven’t written something down or engaged in the act of being a writer. I never thought I’d be a “write every day” kind of person but something about the BG3 fic community opened that wellspring of creativity in me and it’s been amazing

I’ve spent the last few days not really writing because of life, travel, and because I was watching a show that was wildly different than my current fandom interests, but now that I’ve finished the show I’ve emerged from that world to be like “omg now I that I’ve been away so long I HAVE to write!! I want to write I miss it!!”

But alas…the dissertation is more important and this is a critical week to get a lot of academic work done (two articles need polishing and sending off, plus work on the diss). But I’m hoping to keep that creative flame kindled so that the moment I’m free I’ll be off like a rocket, writing a bunch of fic for you guys 🥰

Thank you for the good luck wishes!! I’ll be back posting new fic updates and such soon! 💛

[connor6sex]

Roses and Smoke week Ficlet 4

The world is over, Ash is used to being alone. He enjoys his companion, but he knows that all people are temporary. He fails to not get attached. (leads directly into #5) ao3

”Redd.“ Ash calls him to stop, not that it’s a wise choice with the hoard roaming behind them. But he can’t stand not having this conversation.

”Yeah, what’s up?“ Redd replies, trusting in Ash to stop moving. To turn his back to the monsters behind them to look him in the eyes.

”Um.“ Fuck. The only thing worse than not telling him is telling him. Ash likes what he has with Redd. And he doesn’t want to be alone in this wasteland again.

”Never mind, let’s keep moving.“ Shit. That’s not what he wanted to say, but it’s not safe out here, to tell him, to stay.

”Right. Uh, I think that hill over there could be a decent place to go.“ Redd tries, wanting some value from this interruption in running for their lives. Ash liked his life, and Redd’s life too.

Ash nods and keeps moving, listening to the repetitive clank of all the guns he’s found a way to carry. It’s a few hours with the desolate sun bearing down on them till they reach the top of the hill. The sun’s going down, they don’t have much time to build tonight’s shelter.

They do it wordlessly, they both know what to do. Ash and Redd have built this shelter a dozen times before, it will keep them mostly safe for the majority of the night. They don’t have supplies for anything safer.

Redd breaks their silence first. Ash still hasn’t found the courage to speak first, not after his failure earlier, he just lays in slight shame. ”Ash. I know that we’re really busy fighting for our lives, but can we talk?“

There’s a foreign softness to Redd’s expression. A frown on his lips and tears threatening his eyes; but that might be from the dust that swirled through the valleys today.

Ash doesn’t really want to talk. He needs to, sure, but that doesn’t mean he wants to do it. He pushes himself more upright to meet Redd’s slouched height. If this was going to happen, Ash can’t be physically lower than him. He’s already a worse person, he can’t take any more things over him.

”Yeah, Redd. What-“ he’s cut off.

”What are we?“ Redd asks. It’s not something that Ash could have anticipated.

”We, are. Survivors? Travellers in a vast and barren land?“

”Not like that. Not ”what are we“ but what are ”we“?“ Redd stresses the syllables but it does nothing to clarify the question.

”I still don’t know what you mean.“

”Really?“ he sounds legitimately surprised by that. Ash has no clue what is happening. ”Like, uh. You haven’t been feeling the sparks?“

”The only sparks I’ve seen are the flashes of my gun.“

”Oh. Okay then.“ Redd shifts his legs closer into himself, withdrawing as much as he can in a cramped shelter. ”Can we pretend that this didn’t happen?“

”Uh. Sure. Weirdo.“

”Goodnight?“ Redd offers, he’s done talking but Ash still has things to say.

”Redd.“ Ash stops him from settling down for the night.

”Yeah?“ A faint hope was on Redd’s flushed cheeks. It wasn’t that cold up here, does Ash need to worry about him getting sick?

”I’m sorry.“ Ash tells him, then lets out a big breath. The one that had been weighing him down for days now.

”Sorry for what?“ he asks him. Ash had foolishly hoped he wouldn’t have to elaborate. Alas, this world holds nothing but misfortune.

”Uh. Letting your friends die?“

”We weren’t close.“ Redd quickly refutes. It’s a callousness that Ash hasn’t seen from him yet. Is the apocalypse finally cracking him?

”I’m sorry for not caring about you.“ Ash elaborates. The words taste like sawdust in his throat. Suffocating and dry.

”What?“ It’s Redd’s turn to be confused, his face falls. ”Ash, what?“ Redd looks stunned at this. ”You don’t care about me?“

”I’m sorry, Redd. I didn’t mean it like that.“

”How could you have possibly meant it?“

”I didn’t care about you. I,“ Oh god here was the hard part. ”I do now.“

”What?“ Redd tries to understand the heart wrenching contradictions Ash gave him.

”When we first met, I only brought you with me so the zombies could eat you first. You were expendable.“

”Yeah?“ Redd’s sorrow has whipped back around to a smile. Ash feels his heart race.

”You’re not disposable anymore Redd, I want you here.“ Ash confesses, and this is where it all goes wrong. Ash has always been a loner, he’s always been alone. It was nice hanging with Redd for a while.

Now it’s over because Ashswag can’t have nice things. This wasteland was meant as a punishment for him alone. This world does revolve around him, and it wants to do him harm.

”Oh. Ash, I like you too.“

”You do?“ he’s stunned. This isn’t how things work for him. Only tragedy follows him. Sorrow, heartbreak and now Reddoons.

”Of course, that was what I was trying to say.“

”You were? Why’d you have to phrase it so weird?“

”Sparks fly is a normal euphemism for romance, why are you so weird?“

”I’m not weird, you’re the freak here, Redd.“

”Sure, sure.“ he’s amused and unconvinced. Normally Ash is very concerned with correcting people, but he enjoys the gentle rumble of Redd’s laugh enough that he’ll let this falsehood fly. For now.

”Can you do something for me?“ A light flush covers his face shortly before his hands do to hide it.

”Oh Ash, I’d do so many things for you...

[areeis]

Carry [Spoilers]

Some notes below [DD1/DA/DD2 spoilers]

Encumbrance/carry weight limit seems to be disliked a lot when it comes to DD, especially since gear counts towards it. I actually really like it as a limitation, especially on lower levels. It forces you to do more inventory management, to plan ahead, to decide whether to go for better protection over better agility or vice versa. I therefore also really like it for Ryoken as an archer. It makes DD2 more challenging in the beginning, too, until you eat enough trove beetles, get gear to help you out, or just don't start as archer, I guess. Of course while playing DD2 I would usually pick up more stuff randomly, so Spectre and suppawns would keep reminding me like Spectre does here. In DD1/DA there were several areas where I decided to return before pressing on, because the whole party just crossed into 'Heavy' and weight really factors in more. Even later in the game it sometimes annoys me that you can't check if suppawns got that one augment to help them carry more in the same weight category, just because it is that important. I also wish notice board reward weapons went straight into your storage instead. All that said this comic is mainly just a funny thing. I'd never let Ryoken carry this much while still expecting fights. Archers don't get the benefit of other vocations like shields or camouflage and while they still got daggers to switch to in DD1/DA their kicks do nothing in DD2 lol so he's got to be able to put in the steps. Spectre would also not go straight to Overencumbered, especially since he'd be able to carry more than Ryoken due to being slightly taller and heavier and his mage gear never being as heavy as Ryoken's. Still, a lot of mages I keep encountering seem to not have the necessary augments or gear to make up for their lack of strength, so Spectre is playing their part here (also because it's funny). I do understand that some players would like their pawn to only have one vocation from start to finish and if it wasn't for the augments I'd have done the same. In the end, as long as Ryoken and Spectre can switch back to their 'own' vocation it's fine with me. Of course this comic is also an opportunity to develop their characters. Pawns are always willing to help, but they aren't always good at it. The sheer number of times Spectre offered to use his levitation to get to a chest and then just came back without even opening it… He's trying very hard lol Here he is as well, but they'll end up splitting the weight after all (as they should be). Later I'm sure they'll find more areas where they can take over tasks for the other, where it doesn't have to be as trial and error as here. Another random thing I like is some items dropping as themselves and others dropping wrapped up in nice satchels. Made it easy to draw the monster drops here~ The dialogue is mostly straight from DD2, but modified since they're mainly travelling as a pair. I wish DD2 accounted for you only playing with Arisen and main pawn but alas… Gear is once again modified stuff from DD1/DA, from what I've drawn them wearing before, but I keep changing that around a bit here and there. This would be from a time when they just started out, Ryoken's therefore much keener on getting better gear for the both of them. Spectre also isn't wearing any headgear yet, either, but that's also because I wanted to draw his hair again..

[walkman-cat]

hands up tell me abt Your star trek au right now!! on the double bro. what are the tensions it all looks too kind & magical i don’t trust it yet

(if it is literally kind & wonderful i am grateful i am thankful i am honored i’d just like to hear more)

-@jack-kellys

i'm ngl my star trek au au is mostly running on vibes wbwbwb so it is pretty kind and happy and warm (i just really like how much everyone in the enterprise's crew has such a respect and care for each other yknow. found family and all that innit).

that being said, here are some funky things about the characters ive been thinking about lately (under a cut because i'm incapable of being concise):

the stars were essentially jack's santa fe. he grew up surrounded by stories of starship captains and space and it became his lifelong dream and ambition to captain a starship, something which he dropped everything to attain. now he is captain of a starship– one of the youngest in starfleet's history– and it's wonderful and fantastic and he's never felt more alive! but there's always something gnawing at the back of his mind (he's based his entire life up until this point around this moment, it was a driving force and a beacon to look up to when times were tough. what if the experience is nothing like his dreams and he ends up disappointed? what happens when the mission's over? what'll become of him?).

also starfleet's assigned him a galaxy-class starship with families onboard and he's having a Time because of it (what if they get hurt under his watch. what if he gives the wrong order and a child dies. starfleet officers know the risks of space travel and are aware of this but the families. the children). other than that he's having a great time !!

kath's half-betazoid on her mother's side, but she never knew her mother nor has she ever been to betazoid (i really went woe! being mixed and only connected to one of your cultures but still being unable to fit in even there because of the fact that you're mixed be upon ye!). she's trying real hard to learn more about betazoid and who her mother is even though she knows she won't really feel like she "belongs" in betazoid either. she's working on understanding and using her empathic/telepathic powers more.

oh also!! pulitzer is a notorious and not-well liked admiral, when kath joined the acedmy she officially had her name changed to plumber and has since told no-one that they're related (this surely won't backfire terribly on her in the future)

also because this is the spot (cat) show, kath loves spot (cat) and wants to babysit her and play with her but alas. she is allergic to cats

race cannot catch a break– he's got a massive losing streak at senior officer poker night, spot (cat) hates him, he can't grow a beard but every time theres an impostor/clone/mirror universe situation the other version of him always has a beard (this is half in jest but also it amuses me wbwb)

jokes aside, i've been having a whole bunch of race as first officer thoughts (and a lot of riker and race parallel thoughts but. that's another story). i don’t really know how to explain it other than the way riker acts in the last episode of tng season two (yes, the riker montage episode) when facing death (joking around and keeping up the appearance of flippancy and courage in the face of agonising death because he’s first officer and there are people who look up to him and he has to set an example) seemed very race and very kony to me, in a way. (youve got this to blame for riker beard race. im not sorry)

race is also one of the first people to advocate for les becoming acting ensign. he makes it very clear that he's in les' corner and makes himself responsible for his studies and sometimes his training (and he teaches him poker).

OH ALSO! sarah and davey didnt know les ws going to be onboard and only found out about his presence after they'd set off. did he sneak onboard?? mayyyybeee (he just really wants to be a starfleet officer). after the initial shock (and notifying their parents) sarah and davey start the Let Les on the Bridge campaign (letting him watch the bridge from the turbolift, helping out in sciences and engineering, etc etc) the that eventually leads to les becoming acting ensign. it reaches a point where most of jack's senior officers would probably mutiny all for this kid.

there's more stuff but i'll stop rambling now because, again, i have a problem with being concise wbwbw. thankyou soso much for the ask rizz once again i love your star trek au so much and am always eager to hear more wbwbw!!! :D

[freedvmrouge]

SPOILERS | guardians of the galaxy vol. 3 

i just watched it yesterday and finally have my laptop open to talk about it!

first and foremost, WHY CAN’T SOMEONE JUST FUCKING KILL THE RED SKULL THIS MF IS A GODDAMN PARASITE ACROSS THE FUCKING UNIVERSE WTF

it wasn’t even surprising, man. this is fucking par for the goddamn course for that nazi asshole. of fucking course he’d find a way to travel the universe and continue his horrendous experiments and crimes against every being in existence. absolutely no one aligned with batman’s no-kill rule can ever convince me that this monster is deserving of a second chance. steve fucking rogers—the guy who said with his whole chest that he didn’t want to kill anyone, he just didn’t like bullies no matter where they come from—was fully prepared to murder johann ‘red skull’ shmidt but the tesseract transported him across the universe instead. this asshole already had a second chance. so please. please tell me the red skull finally fucking died in that explosion. i need it for closure and peace of mind.

if someone tells me the high evolutionary ain’t actually the red skull, imma look hella stupid, but alas, that is the hand i’ve been dealt.

that being said, i think this ‘plot twist’ was actually super well-done. i read somewhere years ago that good plot twists are where the information is already given to the viewer and the end result actually makes sense. it didn’t just come out of absolutely nowhere. it’s smart and clever and fun. it rewards the viewer rather than insult them coughloveandthundercough

right, so. i will admit that with the mcu’s most recent films, i was not coming into this film with high expectations. when my brother asked me to go, i really hesitated. i’m not so completely wow-ed by this film, but i am appreciative of what it is. i am also very appreciative of the fact that this stands on its own and isn’t a trailer for the next thing coughquantumaniacough and sure, you need to remember that this gamora is not the old gamora bc that one’s dead and gone, but the film addresses that really well, i think.

peter was the most outwardly grieving character in this film. gamora isn’t dead, per se, but their relationship and memories of the last few years are dead. now peter has to accept and live with and move on with the fact that there’s going to be a gamora still out there who has nothing to do with him. this was wonderfully done. and i was so happy when they parted the way they did and gamora returned to her home. the home she made for herself and the home that welcomed her back with open arms. 

addition to the above about this alt-gamora— just loving how nebula’s still in contact gamora. i think in a different, very roundabout way, nebula finally got the sister she wanted. plus she has her own family with the guardians and now all the kids/society with drax. plus her extremely abusive father is dead and gone. sounds like wins to me. okitsmorecomplicatedthanthatiknowbutlisten the important part is that nebula has moved on. she’s happy with how her life is going. she’s got things to look forward to. she’s doing great.

i think they did a great job with rocket. the story revolved around him and his history, so you might say he was the main main character and sure. he wasn’t a dynamic character bc there wasn’t exactly much of his present tense time being part of the journey of the film to grow as a character. but he did get closure for himself. he wasn’t able to save his friends, lylla, floor, and teeths, but he managed to save a whole bunch of others like him. he even confronted his abuser (which, you are never obligated to do so, just fyi) and lived. and he will keep on living to his fullest with his new and old friends/family. i’m so happy for rocket.

last notes: i’m really happy with how everyone parted. i was fully expecting core members to die off and that’s it for their actors’ tenures in the mcu, at least with this character. it seems like marvel writers finally listened lol even if we never see drax/nebula again, we know they’re off helping build a society. or peter decided to stay with his grandfather and just live on earth. or gamora’s off with the ravagers. it makes sense for their characters and their individual journies. it’s great. it’s fantastic. (though i actually wish peter died bc wtf he was without oxygen and was ready to fucking explode or smth but suddenly adam bringing him back to knowwhere is enough to revive him. ok.)

[sharpen-your-hatchet]

What I Feel; What I Do; What I want || Wenclair fic - Chapter 2

Description: "Frankly, all her life, she has felt separation between what she feels, what she does, and what she actually wants. Being royalty means there's often little room for opinion and desire [...]; Enid wonders how it'll feel to have her ingrained sense of duty be pitted against her unshackled curiosity. "

Six months past her 19th birthday - Enid, princess of The Kingdom of Nevermore, is allowed the chance to travel and explore the world as she sees fit. Unfortunately, it comes with a little caveat... in the form of some unwelcome company for protection. Cue Wednesday Addams, the only knight deemed worthy, and who is now Enid's personal thorn in her side.

Can they work together despite their differences? Or maybe fate has an entirely different plan for them altogether...

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair Rating: Teens & Up Word Count: 6,686

Click Here To Read On AO3 or read below!

x-x-x-x-x-x

Annoyance. Exasperation. Detestation.

Three words that can entirely summarise Wednesday’s feelings concerning her latest assignment. It is the second day of travelling, and she already finds herself growing weary of the ‘beloved’ princess. They have not travelled far yet – the royal castle still visible on the horizon, which is frankly pitiful considering they are on horses – and as such, Wednesday is half tempted to turn around. They should have moved along faster, but the princess… well, she is clearly not trained in the art of making progress. Alas, returning to the castle isn’t really an option.

If the princess is not idly talking, she’s uncontrollably laughing and joking; if she’s not laughing, she’s freaking out over an insect or some wild boar that got slightly too close – if neither of these apply, she’s paused their travelling for yet another sketching/writing session. Frankly, it is all exhaustingly slow.

Wednesday has never cared much for the royal family aside from the fact they pay her – and now, having to work regrettably up close, she is even less inclined to find them palatable. Admittedly, she is dutiful to her work, and she is not going to least Enid to fend for herself but if they keep moving at this pace, then Wednesday thinks she may potentially die of old age before they reach all four corners of the kingdom.

This is perhaps the worst assignment ever.

A knight of her calibre is trained and prepared for the most dangerous of missions. She is a Nightshade – a member of an elite, secretive force of knights and spies, who work for the royal family on a need-to-know basis…

She should be back in the castle town: investigating, deal-making; doing the occasional bit of torture when required. She should be assigned to making people disappear in the middle of the night and ensuring no one questions why… and yet, here she is, quietly following the epitome of human sunshine as she stops to smell yet another bush of wildflowers.

This is beneath her. It is embarrassing.

Wednesday tugs on the reigns of her horse Nero, pulling him to a stop. She looks towards the princess who has ventured into a small patch of woodland, and she sighs, clambering off and jogging after her. Despite – once again – it only being the second day, this is not the first time Enid has decided to abandon her to go look at something without so much as a warning. It is incredibly irritating. Though, maybe that’s the point… after all, it did seem as though Enid was not too happy with being accompanied in the first place. Not that Wednesday cares. It’s her job and she’s being paid, so Enid has to deal with her regardless. The feeling of not wanting the other’s company is entirely mutual.

Standing a short distance from Enid, Wednesday watches with a dutiful glare. The small woodland is a nice escape from the midday sun, but it doesn’t little to cool-off Wednesday’s mood. She feels impatient, desperately so… all this time wasting, it’s just ridiculous, and for what? So the princess can write a silly little book? As far as she’s aware, this isn’t even the point of their journey anyway. Not that the prince consort told her the exact reason… No, that was very much left to interpretation.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” The princess asks, suddenly. She stands up from where she is crouching, and turns to show off a flower that glows faintly blue. “The least you could do is pretend to be interested.”

Wednesday looks at the flower, then back to Enid. She says nothing, feeling neither the need nor want.

My job is to follow you, not to be interested she thinks to herself, as Enid approaches with the flower in hand.

“Moon Glow. Quite a rare find in the woods around here.” Enid announces. She smiles, gently pressing the flower between two pages of her notebook. “Lucky I spotted it.”

Wednesday recognises an expectant look in her eye – one that begs a response. Again, she feels little desire to say anything at all, instead preferring this little detour is ended as soon as possible. Besides, Moon Glow is much more common in other parts of the land, and it was certainly not worth stopping for. Mentioning either of these things will likely go down poorly. Not that she would particularly care, but she turns away and walks back to the horses without responding regardless. The day presses on and they need to be nearing a stables and trading post by nightfall. That is all she cares about.

Enid rejoins Wednesday moments later and hops back onto her horse. They continue travelling in silence… but it doesn’t last long.

It never does.

The princess has already exhausted all manner of conversational topics… or tried to, at least. Wednesday is not one for talking, conversing, chatting, nor gossiping – she much prefers silence, with only short sentences when necessary. It’s easier that way. This hasn’t stopped Enid however, who enquiries for both information and opinion frequently. Wednesday has gotten away with giving little, but she has a feeling eventually the princess will grow tired of her quiet nature. It won’t change anything, but she awaits the princess’ annoyance, in any case.

At least if they both hate each other, the princess will stop being so expecting. Wednesday can only hope.

Enid muses away for a while, talking of her hopes and dreams for this expedition. She mentions something about discovering her true self and the truth of the land – a whole speech of whimsical bullshit that has Wednesday rolling her eyes and silently despairing as she realises just how long this journey is actually going to be. Wednesday regrets very few of her life choices – she prides herself on being steadfast and knowing exactly what she wants… and she did want this job. It sounded interesting. A chance to travel and get paid for it? Very few knights get such a chance unless they’re on a literal battlefield. Yet, the more she hears the princess’ idealistic take on how this adventure of theirs will go, the more Wednesday regrets her decision. She’d actually rather be on a battlefield right now, in fact. At least she’d be forgiven for murdering someone.

Not that she would murder the princess, that is.

Probably.

(She won’t, she wants to get paid)

After some time, Enid’s speech trails off and she turns her head back. She frowns slightly. Concern is not an expression that sits on her face naturally… “You don’t talk much,” She comments.

I don’t need to talk.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow. What does the princess care? They’re barely even acquaintances. She should probably verbalise that. Ugh. “Don’t need to,” Wednesday grunts.

“But-”

“I’m not your friend,” She adds. This is already far too many words. She hates it, but the point needs to be made.

Enid’s frown drops into a slight pout. She glances down, pursing her lips and silently turning her head back towards the trail they’re following. She stops speaking. The silence is much welcomed.

They continue onwards, and for an hour or so, there is nothing but the sound of nature and their horses’ hooves against the path they’re following. It’s peaceful, and much preferable from the sound of incessant chatter. Wednesday would nearly enjoy it, if it were not for the sun beating down on them. No, this kind of empty scenery can only be enjoyed with an overcast sky – perhaps a little drizzle of rain… Alas, some rain would probably mean the princess would want to take shelter under some trees and then they’d be progressing even slower than they already are. Which - to be frank – is the exact opposite of Wednesday’s wants right now. She ultimately decides the sun is fine.

Time moves forward.They pass a few fellow travellers. Mostly traders and farmers, who offer a polite smile and nod. Strangely, none seem to recognise Enid as the princess, though there is certainly a glint of recognition in their eyes and a stiffening in their posture as they pass and meet Wednesday’s own. It’s delightful, the sudden drop of their features as they recognise her knights garb, and the sword attached to her. Admittedly, Wednesday has not done much in terms of being public facing – so it’s quite amusing in its own way to see how regular folk react.

Still, it is perplexing that they do not recognise their own royal family. Of course, Enid’s appearance is largely different from usual, and this journey of hers has commenced unannounced to prevent anyone taking advantage of the princess being away from home… but surely one of these people should have noticed? Perhaps they are simply too cowardly to speak to her. Or too idiotic to realise who it is. Wednesday would guess the latter.

Though it would seem Wednesday spoke – or well, thought – too soon.

Not much time later, another traveller comes rambling along, meeting Wednesday and Enid at a fork in their path. To the left leads to the trading post (their intended destination), and to the right leads into a darker forested path that’s dingy and eerie, with the sun unable to penetrate the thick vegetation. There’s a bad vibe to it – the complete opposite to the croft of trees Enid has ventured into earlier. It’s the kind of place Wednesday would find most intriguing to explore and get lost in, but certainly not when lumped with the princess…

The traveller they meet pauses and gestures for them to stop. The princess – annoyingly amicable as always – does instantly, leaving Wednesday no choice but to stop also lest their horses bump into one another. Wednesday sighs quietly and watches Enid chat to the man, feeling an impatient grumble bubbling in her chest. Why can’t they just keep moving? If they stop for every person who wants their action they won’t make it anywhere.

“I really am surprised to see part of the royal family out here. Quite amazing, actually!” The man says after some boring introduction. He smiles. It’s ugly and off-putting.

Ugh. Bootlicker.

He continues, peering at Wednesday,“Is...is that a knight following you?”

Don’t you dare-

“I could actually use some help…”

The audacity.

The traveller continues again despite the glare Wednesday offers him. Something about a monster in the woods scaring folks on their way to the trading post. Seeing as they must be heading to the trading post, it only makes sense for someone ‘brave and strong’ to head into the trees and clear out any trouble, so the route is safe. The man points out it would be the perfect job for a knight. After all, it’s their job to make sure people are safe. Except, Wednesday doesn’t care if the route is safe for everyone. She’s not a regular knight, and her only concern is the princess – which, frankly she doesn’t even care that greatly about anyway, it’s simply her duty she must stick to.

She glances to Enid, then to the man again. “No.” She says plainly. She tugs on Nero’s reins and directs him around Enid, towards the trading post path. She isn’t a hero for hire, or a selfless adventurer looking for glory. The monster in the woods is not her problem. Some other knight will come along soon; it’s time to go.

“Wednesday,” Enid calls.

Wednesday pulls Nero to a stop again, turning around and scowling upon realising Enid has not moved at all. She quirks an eyebrow, feeling irritation sapping away the last of her patience. They need to keep moving. This is ridiculous, and she will not be made to-

“I’m not moving until you help this man.”

Wednesday feels her jaw tighten, a million sharp tongued remarks alighting and dying in the back of her throat. She won’t say them; she hates speaking as it is… but Gods, the simmering flame of distaste for the princess has quickly grown into a burning dislike. Who does she think she is?!

Wednesday glares at Enid.

Enid stares right back. “You are my knight, aren’t you?”

Yes but I am not your servant, Wednesday thinks. She remains silent though, and sees the man glance between them nervously.

Enid continues, “Then, as my knight, your job is to protect me. Stopping the monster in the woods is protecting me, is it not?”

Wednesday’s face twitches, flickering with palpable frustration. The audacity. The boldness- Nay, the outright disrespect. Yet incredibly and undeniably smart. Enid has poised Wednesday’s sense of duty against her… and, as is often the case, she feels a conflict between what she feels, what she will do, and what she actually wants. It is often the case with her assignments – Life isn’t fair, and she accepts it for what it is. But never has it been this blasé; this despicable… because, unfortunately, she is now forced to do the ‘right’ thing. It will protect the princess, and protecting the princess is her job. How undermining. Despite her feelings towards it; despite how much she does not want to help anyone (she barely wants to help Enid) – it is her duty. What she is assigned to do. She must listen, lest she wish to end up with her head on the chopping block.

It’s almost tempting at this point…

Wednesday glares down Enid for another moment, before clambering off her horse. “Fine.”

Enid smiles, seeming smug in her victory. The traveller watches as Wednesday climbs down from Nero, gawking slightly as she brushes herself down. A half laugh catches in his throat. “You’re uh- … A little short to be a knight, aren’t you?”

Wednesday hits him with a scowl. She reaches for her blade and he recoils slightly, looking sheepish and scared.

Pathetic.

Better get this over with, then. Wednesday takes one last look at Enid and the man before actually drawing her weapon and – with a sigh – finally stalking carefully towards the thick woodland. She cannot believe she is doing this. At the command of the princess no less. She understands the agreement she made; the contract and pact she must stick to… but honestly. How can it only be their second day of travelling and she has been reduced to doing side quests for strangers they come across on the side of the road. It does not bode well for the rest of the journey. She refuses to be at Enid’s beck and call… or well, she does in theory. In practice, it seems the call of duty may trump her wants and desires. It feels inconvenient but inevitable.

Wednesday squints, staring as far as she can into the shaded trees. There’s no sign of movement; even less sound, except for a rustle of wind and the gentle buzz of insects. She tapes another step. Then another. Despite the eerie appearance, there is nothing that suggests anything dangerous lurks within the trees. There’s no strange noises, nor smells; not even tracks in the mud path. Wednesday presses on regardless. It wouldn’t be surprising if this ‘monster’ was lurking deeper into the woods, where it can hide away from sight. Granted, she would expect something to indicate it was here… yet the further she goes, the more peaceful this dark patch of trees seems to become. It’s almost disappointing.

Wednesday pauses in an area where the tree density is lower and looks around herself. There’s nothing here. No monster, and no danger. What a waste of her time.

But then-

A scream.

The princess.

Without a thought, Wednesday’s feet find flight. They retrace her steps out of the trees, pounding against the dry mud. Her feelings are cast aside – a single mantra repeating with every single step. Protect the princess. Protect the princess. Protect the princess. Protect- She comes skidding out of the tree line; her sword is drawn and poised ready to strike at the monster that somehow evaded her. She doesn’t understand how this could be - how the monster could’ve crept around her without a sound. But that doesn’t matter. Now it dies.

Except. There is no monster.

Just Enid, and the “traveller”. With a knife in hand and held to Enid’s neck.

Wednesday’s legs grind to a halt, paused only a few metres from them both. She glares at the man, the anger rising like bile in her throat… It was all a ruse. But an idiotic one at that: He is much too confident in his ability to harm someone under her protection. Wednesday does feel a pang of something – irritation, perhaps. She had missed any signs of the man having ill intention. She knows why. She was too busy being defiant and stand-offish against the princess – Too distracted feeling slighted by the ridiculous situation she has been unwittingly thrown into. Though, arguably, the princess was also distracted trying to be difficult in her own way. The man would not have had chance to attack had she just followed Wednesday in the first place… So it’s not even really her fault.

Not that there’s time to think about it, anyway.

Enid squirms in the man’s arms. He grunts and holds the knife tighter. “Be quiet, princess.” He whispers, his voice slimy and obnoxious. “Looks like your little knight couldn’t find the monster.” He lets out a mocking laugh then cocks his head to the side. “You best be dropping any coin pouches you’re holding onto.”

Wednesday’s brows twitch. Frankly, she couldn’t care less about her feelings for the princess, nor this poor excuse for an adventure. She doesn’t plan developing any sentiment for either – but she cares about her reputation as a knight who doesn’t take shit, and always finishes a job… and right now, this bottom-feeder is preventing her from doing that (and it’s barely even started to begin with). So naturally, it’s time he pays. She poises her hand over her sword, covertly unsheathing a throwing knife that lays hidden in the gauntlet of her free hand. Even with her agility, there isn’t time to rush over and cut him down. It’s unfortunate, since she finds fighting up-close so much more rewarding. It’s nice to see the fear in an enemy’s eyes before they fall…

Focus. She chides herself. She angles her hand to aim.

The man begins to grow irate, “Well? Get moving. I’m not fooling around!”

Wednesday’s eyes pierce into his own. The slightest of smirks grows onto her lips. “As you wish.” She replies simply. She flicks her wrist. The knife flies through the air; hits him squarely in the wrist of the hand that holds the knife. It’s but a second of time but Wednesday enjoys every moment as he realises, releases Enid; recoils, then writhes with a dramatic screech that pulls from his throat.

With Enid free, Wednesday sees little point in hanging around. She approaches the princess, who stares at her wide eyed and speechless, wordlessly directing her towards her horse. Wednesday then approaches the man who weeps and clutches his arm. He looks up, grumbling curses and attempts a pathetic last-stand – A headbutt. How ridiculous. Wednesday steps aside, grabbing the knife impaled in his wrist as he passes and kicks him down as she yanks it. The thief stumbles onto the ground with a cry and lays in a heap. Wednesday sighs at how unnecessary it all is, but says nothing – there’s nothing to be said about such a pathetic creature.

With the man incapacitated, Wednesday climbs upon her own horse and silently begins leading the way on their intended path. Enid follows without question. It’s quiet for a while. A long while, in fact. Wednesday welcomes the silence, but finds it perturbing that the princess is so lost for words. If anything, she would expect a tirade of words and excited rambles and yet...nothing.

That is until perhaps an hour or so later, when the trading post is nearing and society no longer feels a million miles away.

Enid clears her throat. “You stopped that man even though you don’t even like me...”

They travel in silence for a moment longer. Wednesday lets the statement sit, letting it pass through her. She cannot claim any fondness for the princess. They don’t know each other, and Wednesday does not want to get familiar. Especially if more trouble is what awaits them. It does not bode well, not one bit… but it is undeniable that her duty (and the aforementioned money) keeps her protective regardless. She imagines such a concept must be foreign to Enid – to dislike something and yet preserve it anyway.

Wednesday shrugs very slightly. “It is my job.”

She hears Enid mumble from behind her. She does not hear exactly and cares not to ask, but Wednesday feels assured that their ambivalent – but leaning antagonistic – relationship remains steadfast. Good. That is what she requires.

And so as the day draws on, and turns into night, they don’t talk. Or eat together. Enid simply writes in her book, and Wednesday silently nurses a drink as she listens in on the daily gossip from other patrons of the trading post. And they are not friends.

And that is exactly what Wednesday wants.