#I didn't have the Wiki page open

[greypetrel]

Ok because I'm falling down the Aisling x Fenris hole with you - could I ask for affection meme #29 - Meeting eyes across a distance and knowing what the other is thinking?

You are all enabler!

(and I want to thank you. x°D Really I was so anxious at posting that fic, I’m so glad it got some appreciation)

(reminding you all that this is much an AU, don’t worry, we’re staying in Cullen territory in Canon. … She has a kink for Templars and bisexual disasters tho. You can mock her.)

Also it’s coming in more parts! Because why suffering twice when we can all suffer more.

Soundtrack!

And Part 1 if you missed it

If I Make it to the Morning

( Meeting eyes across a distance and knowing what the other is thinking )

*Between Hasmal and the Tevinter border, 9:41, Firstfall.*

At first, the voices and tales of the Herald of Andraste didn’t caught Fenris’ attention. He just shrugged them off, not paying attention to the latest imposed saint and saviour there to solve everyone’s problems. He had spent his time in Kirkwall with the Hawkes, not enough to have him stay, but enough to learn that one person was but one person, and couldn’t be held responsible to solve the World.

He learnt about the Conclave, learnt that the Herald was an elf, and a Dalish one. But after a fleeting thought, wondering if he crossed their eyes at the Arlathven, all that time ago, he took his sword and was on the road again, after the next slavers.

He had no interest in joining the Inquisition, and if Varric needed him, he knew how to find him and contact him. It was none of his business, after all, three years with a clan and two days at an Arlathven didn’t make him a Dalish.

There were weird groups of mages, lately, crossing the border in the middle of the night and with no cages. It was clear, tho, that they weren’t exactly up to much good. The first group that Fenris ambushed didn’t look that assuming. He admittedly just saw Tevinters acting suspicious, followed them and attacked when it was clear that they were up to no good, interrogating their chief.

Venatori, he called their group. At the service of the Ancient One to restore Tevinter’s glory. Add the usual slurs and empty threats, Fenris just ended him and got on with his work, gathering documents and the informations he could. He didn’t fully understand what was going on, there definitely were some pieces of the puzzle he missed -first and foremost who this Ancient One was-, but the mentions to Red Lyrium were enough for him to catch on that Venatori meant, too, kill on sight. He sent word to Varric as soon as he got back to Hasmal and his informators, attached the document he found, and got on with his life.

*Close to the Tevinter border, 9:42, Wintermarch.*

It passed a month before another attack to another group of Venatori almost ended in disaster. He thought he had counted them all, tracking them down as they crossed the border and made their way out of the beaten path, hiding the way hahren Oshyn taught him, minding his steps not to make noise, blend in the environment. It was useful for spying as well, observing the enemy without being seen, and he was grateful for the effort the Lavellans put up with him. Except, this time he miscalculated.

He didn’t see that there was a second group, bigger, further back on the path, that descended on him as he was almost finishing the first. He cursed, thought back on his strategy. They were too many, and he was getting tired: his chance was falling back -dodge a fireball, parry another, jump back when there’s the crack of lightning, plant your sword in the ground and your hands away, shut your eyes and close your ears, the way she told him to- and retreating back in the trees, hoping he still remembered Oshyn’s teaching enough to lose them in the woods.

And then, an arrow struck a soldier. Another felled the next. Barriers were casted as a contingent of soldiers and scouts came out all around him, telling him brashly to just move.

They sported Inquisition insignia, a flaming black eye in white field, cut in half by a sword. He stared, not understanding what they did so far north. Far beyond the reaching of the Chantry. If they crossed the border and entered in arms in the Imperium, it would have caused a diplomatic disaster, and for what he knew, the Inquisition wasn’t so politically sound to withstand offending Tevinter, Herald of Andraste or not.

When the battle was over, he approached what looked like the Officer in command, and asked. They were kind, and treated him as equal. Mistook him for a Dalish, but it wasn’t the first time it happened, and he often took it as covering, not bothering to correct the mistake of seeing a tattooed elf and going for Dalish.

“We’re here on the Inquisitor’s personal orders, hunting slavers and Venatori. You shouldn’t engage neither on your own, particularly the Venatori: they’re dangerous and the prisoners are taken for experiments.”

“So close to Tevinter?”

“Yes, it’s a conjunct operation. The Inquisitor’s Tevinter advisor has contact in Minrathous. Magister Tilani joined forces with us for this operation.”

He frowned. A Tevinter advisor in contact with a Magister? He heard of Tilani, she wasn’t high on his list of targets, but still… Maybe he should have paid more attention to the Inquisition, after all, if its hand reached so far north and its leader had… Such sympathies. Weird.

“Can you tell me more about the Inquisitor? With a Tevinter advisor?”

The scout laughed, shaking her head. He followed her around, helping how he could in searching bodies and retrieving documents, orders and everything useful.

“Forgive me the laughter… You’re not the first to have doubts. The Lady Inquisitor was the Herald of Andraste, and much like her patroness, she doesn’t look at provenience, if the intentions are good. Whoever wants to help defeating Corypheus has a place.”

A Dalish elf with sympathies for Tevinter. It could… No. No, it couldn’t be. She was one of many, and she wanted to stay in the clan. He shooed that thought from his head and made another question.

“Who’s this Corypheus?”

“The Ancient One, yes, the one that the Venatori follows.”

“So, a Magister.”

“So they say. Some rumours say he’s darkspawn too, tho… But he was the one who opened the Rifts and the sky, and destroyed Haven, Lady Lavellan tho closed the Breach and dueled him in Haven… She’s the best bet against him.”

“… Lavellan, you said?”

“Yes, didn’t you know her name? I thought the Dalish knew. Do you know her?”

“… she’s a mage.”

“Yes, but-”

He thanked the Scout, a little too brashly for politeness, and was out of the clearing before she could ask him who he was exactly. And thinking back, really, how many weird elves could he think of that would have welcomed a Tevinter noble as advisor? How many elves were so prone in getting caught always in the weirdest shit so gloriously?

He needed to get South.

*Exalted Plains, 9:42, Guardian.*

It took him way longer than he would have liked to reach her.

He had considered tracking the Lavellan, just to ask… Anything, really. Because the idea of facing the Keeper and the whole clan, after almost 8 years since he left without even a goodbye was still more appealing than facing her, after leaving with yes, a goodbye, and also a conversation that left her in pieces and took the light away from her eyes.

But he owed it to her, at least. He owed it to come personally, not go looking for voices and rumours from people who knew her, not write and ask Varric how she was faring and if he believed she needed help.

He hadn’t been thinking straight, but he felt his heart in his throat and a sense of dread. He had to go and check. Even if it meant having her tell him in his face that he went way past her stupidly wide boundaries and she hated him. Just a quick detour. Check if she was fine. Offer his sword if she needed it. He owed it to her. She has just saved his life. Yet again. He was free, now, and he was done running.

But, by the time he reached Skyhold, not difficult to find once he crossed to Ferelden and found forward camps and bases flying the flaming eye all around the Storm Coast and Crestwood, drinking anecdotes and informations he could find and hear, she wasn’t there.

It was, honestly, impressive to see what she had accomplished: the tall, imposing fortress bustling with life and activities, the camp in the valley. Oh, he knew she was highly intelligent, and would have been a good leader, once her time would have come… He never expected this. As he never expected to find back from Kirkwall Knight-Captain Rutherford – now Commander, and underlining heavily how he was no more Knight-Captain- to burst his cover of “Former Lavellan member”.

It took him too many explanations to let him, Sister Nightingale and Lady Montilyet to agree and tell him where the Inquisitor was. Varric barged in, fighting guards, to vouch for him, and yet fell surprised when Leliana asked him if it was true that he knew the Inquisitor. He couldn’t answer, because he never told him which clan he knew, never told them all more than “I hid three years among the Dalish”, when Merrill noticed some idiosyncrasies he picked up and she instantly recognised. Luckily, Cullen didn’t forget he was in the Gallows too, fighting against Meredith, and it was him, in the end, who convinced his colleagues. It calmed him to see she had people around that were protective of her. The actual her, not the Inquisitor mask.

He tagged along in the next supply caravan, headed to the Exalted Plains. It wasn’t a long trip, at least.

He was welcomed by destruction. Trenches in shambles, a countryside on fire, soldiers from both parties of the civil war gathering to burn corpses, Inquisition forces working hard to keep everyone supplied, the roads safe from bandits, clean up what they could.

They pointed him North, saying the Inquisitor hadn’t been back from a couple of days. That was busy, as the Inquisition’s forces repaired the bridge to Citadelle du Courbeau, helping a Dalish Clan that was camped in Halin’Sulahn. She was bound, tho, to be at Fort Revasan in three days time, to cross the river and go check the situation in the Citadelle. Voices ran of more zombies and demons.

He sighed, not surprised that they kept having such a bad timing amongst the civil war and her fulfilling her duties to the People. As the great First that she was. He headed north, leaving the beaten path, spotting traces he didn’t really like and felt familiar from the last three, aimless years.

He climbed to the top of a low hill, facing down to a flatter strip of land where a tall, dilapidated elven building still stood and he saw it: a small camp, lit by a couple of fires and tents with the Tevinter snakes painted on top. Very unwise, to make themselves so visible and recognisable. Particularly because they were so few, all but five people, two of whom lying asleep.

He unsheathed his greatsword and slowly walked down, laying low and hiding behind fallen rocks. The position wasn’t the best, just a turn of a head and he’d be spotted. Nonetheless, he trudged on hiding until he couldn’t anymore. He was spotted and then he ran. He faded through a tent, stabbing down to the sleeping mage there, right in the middle of his chest. One less.

He faded again through a fireball, charging one of the mages, the one that alarmed the others. It wasn’t difficult, he just had to pay attention and care for his surroundings, ducking and dodging and taking his time. He had energies to spare, the long journey left him eager of getting back to work. One Venatori less, throat sliced neatly.

The third had him retreat, casting a rain of icicles he had to jump back to dodge. Not a problem, he could circle him, maybe drag the assassin they had with them in the fire, or over one of the ice mines that were casted -as if he didn’t know what they were, the idiot didn’t even put some effort in making them inconspicuous to the warrior elf glowing blue with lyrium. Amateurs.

A snap of wood behind him signalled one of the rogues, he girated around, swinging his sword –

Swiiish.

The assassin screamed in pain, as an arrow struck him right in his eye. He heard a feminine laughter, very nasal, from behind him, but didn’t stop to look, slicing through the soft belly of the assassin and leaving her on the ground to die, turning again to parry another fireball thrown at him with the flat of his weapon.

“See? I got the bull’s eye, Bull! Got it? Ah ah!”

The same voice of the laughter cheered, followed by a booming one, a laughter hidden behind every syllable, from right on his left.

“Great job, Sera-baas! Move, broomstick!”

The ground trembled, as a Qunari run after him and sliced the mage he was aiming at as if it was butter. The mage jumped behind, wounded badly but apparently not down, more resistant than one would think, or with a better armour hidden in flowy robes. The Qunari yelled. “Crap!” as he jumped back, too close to fully avoid the fire that was thrown at him. He hissed, swinging his axe to get distance, ignoring the pain and the burn. Fenris didn’t lose time, jumping right at him, zig-zaging to avoid being targeted too easily. He killed that mage by stabbing him in his chest, deep, but it left him open to the last warrior, his sword stuck in the leather brigandine the mage was clad in.

“Boss!”

He heard the Qunari yell again, as he struggled -damn Tevinter clothes with their too many straps- to free his sword and himself.

He felt it, then.

The air crackling in static all around, buzzing with energy and the distinct smell of ozone. Noise of hoofs, a horse neighing. And then-

It thundered, loud and strong. It had been eight years, but Fenris’ body, apparently, remembered, closing his eyes and letting go of the hilt, staying impossibly still where he was as the air filled with light and thunder, the woosh of flames adding up and warming the air on his face was new, and then everything quieted again. He opened his eyes and the last Vint was lying on the ground, unconscious and burnt from the lightning that just hit him, twitching jerkily as the electricity ran through his nerves, his clothes on fire in more than one part, hair completely burnt down.

They were younger, in a carefree day, years ago. It was spring, the air was full of the smell of fresh grass and flowers. He was sitting against a tree with a book she had lent him to exercise, as she slowly padded her way in the underbush, staff held tight in her hand and steps overly measured, toes checking the ground for twigs before placing her weight on it. She wasn’t a hunter: she may be not so bad when she asked him to teach her to wield a sword, but… The tongue out of her lips, the overly concentrated expression betrayed her uneasiness, long hair splaying all around, leaves stuck in the locks. She launched a rock in the undergrowth, quickly falling into position and calling on her mana as three rabbits ran away, scared. He closed his eyes and averted his eyes, not moving one bit as she told him, as thunder fell from the sky, precise as an arrow, and shocked one of the running rodents dead. She turned with a big smile on her face, expression lit up by more than the speckles of the sun that filtered through the canopy, proud of herself and looking at him for recognition.

“What for?” He had asked, barely containing a smile. He was there from a couple of years, they were unlikely friends, and he found it was difficult to stay grumpy and angry when Aisling was looking at you with that level of enthusiasm.

“Dinner, silly!” She laughed.

She wasn’t catching dinner anymore, but the precision, dead-set and carefully gained through a lot of methodical exercise, was still unmistakably hers. And yet, she wasn’t laughing anymore. She wasn’t alight with enthusiasm, and her hair weren’t long and with leaves or flowers decorating them.

She sat on a pinto horse, staff in her hand, looking straight at him with a hard expression on her face he didn’t think she even had in her. Her hair was shorter, brushing her shoulders and left loose, parted on top of her head so some stray locks covered her brow and her Vallaslin. Which was weird per se. She was very proud of her tattoos, always had been, and most often she braided her hair back to show them. Her face had lost the last roundness of childhood, her mouth had a harsh turn to it. She still wore leg wraps even with clothes and a leather cloak that were unmistakably human in cuts and materials, toes free on the stirrups.

Their eyes met, they kept looking for a long time. He notice briefly the other elf on the saddle with her, an archer taller than her that was glaring suspiciously at him, the second Mage in flowy white robes and moustaches that Fenris remembered from another life, or the Qunari of before asking questions he didn’t hear.

There she was. Aisling Lavellan, looking at him in the eyes.

Eight years had passed, but it was just like it was yesterday that they spoke for the last time. There was something he couldn’t recognise, but he still believe he knew, roughly, how to read her. He had spent a lot of time learning it, after all, and put his effort into it. With suspect at first, because she was a mage and she was eager, striving to get better, curiosity later, because she was careful and loved what she was doing, and a youthly, foolish and thought unrequited first love, lastly. They were both older, now… But she was still her, and he was still him.

He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact, until the archer rose her bow, the Altus got his staff in position and he had the Qunari’s axe at his throat, forcing him to held his chin high.

“Bull.” She just said, assertive. Her Keeper’s tone.

“Are you sure, Boss? We don’t know-”

“I knew him.”

He didn’t lose how she clicked her tongue on her palate, making the horse move without any other movement, stopping him in front of the Tevinter. Protectively.

She didn’t have to ask him, he didn’t have to answer, they still communicated silently as well as the day he left, after all. There was old hurt, distrust, and incomprehension. And yet, something steely in her eyes, that was maybe not her, but the Lady Inquisitor. He contracted his eyebrows, knowing she was reading him as well.

She lowered her eyes, nodded.

And then he spoke, for the others more than for her.

“I came to offer my sword to the Inquisitor.”

And then, someone punched him, hard, right on his right cheekbone. He fell to the ground, hissing in pain and scrambling to the side, to face-

A very angry, seething with rage, Radha Lavellan. Sharper to the corners, hair considerably shorter, daggers sheathed and hands still clenched in punches. If looks could kill, he would be dead and buried right there and then.

“Radha.” Aisling called, a note of tiredness in her voice.

The Rogue stepped back, without saying a word, still casting angry glances at him. 

“Who is our new guest, darling?” A soft, low voice came, still from behind the horse.

“A person we once knew. He won’t hurt anyone, let him come.”

There was that, at least.

*Skyhold, 9:42, Spring and Summer.*

She wasn’t angry with him. She didn’t seem so. But, she wasn’t the bubbly, friendly person of before.

She accepted him in the Inquisition, leaving to Leliana and Cullen to decide how better to take advantage of his abilities after he explained that he had spent the last 4 years after Kirkwall to hunt slavers down, on his own.

He didn’t expect to find both Raina and Garrett Hawke there, greeting him with Varric as one would an old friend. Even if he was the one of their rag-tag group that fought alongside them for the shortest time. But, they at least were welcoming.

Aisling avoided him, polite when they needed to interact, with a coldness she never had, not getting closer. He tried to speak to her, but she wasn’t reachable anymore. She didn’t want his apologies, she told him that he could be free, she didn’t need his help and didn’t want for him to stay if he didn’t want to, or if he just felt like it was his duty. He professed his wish to… Make amend, somehow. She just refused him, saying there was no need, nothing to amend for. Things happened.

He disagreed, and he stayed. Not that she seemed to mind much in good or bad.

But, she assigned him to missions, never ordering but always asking, mindful even after all that time of not making him feel trapped or forced. Radha slowly stopped looking at him as she would have stabbed him in his back, if it wasn’t for Aisling. It was something.

They danced around the other, gravitating, as they had done when the Lavellan brought him in. He knew she was observing him, he could see her looking at him from time to time. He was doing the same, both looking and not approaching. Space was what they had, space was familiar and a good compromise, as Fenris did his best to show her he was there, and he was not running, not leaving her to face a weird darskpawn-Magister alone. He could do that for her, and it wasn’t all that unpleasant.

The company was good, he got along with the Chargers -he knew the Iron Bull was familiar, after he named Seheron he knew. They never spoke about it, but they both knew. Varric… Was Varric, a knack for making you feel welcomed everywhere. He called her Lucky. It was, indeed, still Aisling Lavellan, the weirdo who thought people were good. She collected quite the rag-tag group, still making friends first and foremost with the most unlikely people around. Magisters and Altus -those were hard to accept, he stuck around as she and Dorian experimented, as Alexius joined them sometimes. He stuck around, a dagger at the ready, refusing to leave when she asked him, once, and even after she told him that Dorian had her utmost trust. Little by little, at least, he saw she was right, that the Altus really seemed to care, and the old Magister had no more bite to him. The Spirit, Cole, was the second on his list of curiosities that unsettled him: because of course she would have made friend with a Spirit in human form that read minds. And then Sera, whomever she was -he quite liked her, tho-. A Ben-Hassrath agent, and a good one, that acted like a mother cat and corrected her form with her spirit-blade. The ex Knight-Captain of Kirkwall lent her books, and they laughed together -he didn’t know Cullen was able to laugh. Apostates and Templars and Orlesian nobles charmed by her. She made it work, and he was admired.

Admired, and sad, because he knew her when she was young, and she never was that demure, and calm. Maybe it was just him and Radha that could see it, but he saw it: she was keeping her distances, keeping always three steps away from all her inner circle, save from Dorian.

She smiled more with him, as they spoke Tevene between them and experimented on magic. On that, she was still brilliant, as much as he was, and he had to admit, as much as she didn’t trust the man, they worked well together, filling each other gaps and spurring each other on. She has always been talented and elegant, thinking outside the box and, at the same time, controlled. But with him?

They made rain on the Keep. A real, true rain that filled the reserves of drinking water and saved people a long and hard trip to fetch it. And, as they travelled across Thedas, helped people as well.

As the months passed, as they found a comfortable rhythm around each other, they crossed eyes again, from time to time. Aisling started speaking to him again, unsurely and tentatively. She never touched anything much personal, always kept her distance. But, she asked about how he was. Asked him for his opinion on matters that weren’t work. Suggested him a book she thought he may like. He made a detour from the kitchen, when he passed and saw they had just taken out of the oven a tray of lemon cookies, and brought them straight to her in the library as a thank you, because he remembered she liked lemon sweets best.

One day, she told him she read about Danarius in the Tale of the Champion. That she was happy for him. And for once, her smile was sincere. As many, many times before, she tugged back the small, shy smile she had just for him. He smiled back, for old time’s sake. He hoped she saw that, in spite of everything, he was proud of her. And he regretted every single day he didn’t get back after Danarius found him and he put an end on the story, winning his freedom.

There was distance, still, a huge, gaping hole of eight year of absence, with not a word. They could work around it, falling into the most innocent of their old habits -like, he would sit in the library, reading, as Dorian taught her maths and to put magic in theory and they bickered, ten miles per hours in a mix of Tevene and Common following some weird line of thought.

He wanted more, he regretted many things. But if that was all that there could be, all that she had left to give him, he would have taken it. Work. Fixing problems together, on different sides of the same room. Exchanging glances and knowing, still, what the other was thinking. Avoiding to speak about the regret, the longing, that at least he started to feel again, after some months. That was left for sideway glances. She could concentrate on finding another person. One that wouldn’t have left.

*Adamant Fortress, 9:42, Kingsway.*

She didn’t want him in his party. It was predictable. She invented an excuse, but he really didn’t need one. He followed Raina, as he had done in Kirkwall, up the battlements.

They fought, they crossed path with Aisling, in her Keeper armour, making thunder rain from above in that way she and Dorian had to weave spells together, drawing together from the Fade to enhance each other’s power. She had Dorian and Solas with her, with the addition of the Iron Bull. As the Battlements were freed, she stopped them to assess the situation and instruct them further.

“We need to get to the inner courtyard and stop Erimond. We’ll head there, Raina and Stroud with us.” She instructed them, turning to him, Radha, Sera, Garrett and Varric. “You stay here, keep the battlements free for our soldiers, cover them as they climb. Garrett, you know what to do to call me if another Rift opens up here. Ok?”

No, it wasn’t ok. He frowned at her, and for the first time since he arrived, he spoke up to her.

“Let me come with you.”

He told her, looking at her in the eyes. He didn’t need to say why or explain, he knew she knew. He had experience with Magisters. He had known Erimond. He was the best suited, had personal grudge against the man and the category. She knew. She steeled her gaze, tho, furrowing and not budging. A challenge.

“No.”

She stepped back: Fenris didn’t realise he had stepped so close to her.

He sighed, nodding, understanding it was not a matter of ability. It was clear as day on her face.

She didn’t trust him at his side, after all.

He let her go, did what she asked. He wondered if she knew his heart went with her nevertheless.

---

When the dragon came flying, tho, he said fuck it to the plan.

“Broody!”

He heard Varric shouting behind him, as he left his flank open – but he saw Radha running his way, and he trusted that the elf would have covered for the dwarf. She was good and protective, the person you’d want covering your back. And yet, she had no experience with Magisters either, and he did. And Aisling was against a crazy Magister -he saw him, buzzing with power- on his pet Archdemon, and his feet took flight. He ignored Radha yelling at him to stop.

He opened his way, one demon after the other, heart in his throat, as the dragon destroyed old walls with his tails, his roars almost covering the thunder that rained on the Keep.

He turned and ran, ignored his lungs begging for air, muscles twitching.

A flash of green, and the Archdemon in front of him retreated, hissing in pain. Whatever the Anchor was on her hand, it was, apparently useful. Except that it made the dragon even angrier. He jumped, stabbed the reptile’s hind leg deep in the muscle. The dragon kicked, and he was too tired to duck in time. He rolled, coming to a stop against a wall, cursing how the sword was tossed in another direction.

He was about to run after his weapon, when the dragon stomped, hard, making the bridge they were standing on tremble. A loud crack, and the stones began to fall.

As the dragon flew away, Fenris was left with a choice. His weapon, on the right. Aisling, on the left, running on falling debris. She was quick on her feet, but not enough. It wasn’t really a choice.

He didn’t think and jump after her, grabbing her tight and rolling them around, not caring for much else than giving her a chance more. He heard her cursing, arm circling his chest and holding tight, instinctively.

Another flash of green, brighter than any of her lightnings. Brighter than her smile right after he kissed her back. He didn’t think it was even possible.

---

She brought them in the Fade and she got them out.

She had to leave Stroud there. Fenris offered to stay, because that’s what he could do. It wasn’t enough, not after reading on her gravestone, in the realm of the demon, that her deepest fear was Abandonment. He knew he hurt her, deeply. He had hoped he hadn’t fully break her. And then, seeing it written, a full certainty…

She refused, her quiet, mistrusting distances instantly ablaze with anger. She yelled at him not to say anything of the sort to her ever, ever again. He never saw her angry before. Once, she would have cried. Now, she didn’t. She said to Stroud to get out, she would have stayed. She couldn’t ask him to do something she wasn’t ready to do.

In the end, the last one to get out from the Fade Rift was, indeed, Aisling, stumbling on her feet and almost losing balance. Fenris didn’t know if the Warden pushed her or managed to convince her. What he did know was that in her eyes, as she rose up and crossed his eyes, looked for him, and especially him, there was anger. Hate. The same hate he felt and told her about, that night at the Arlathven. Hate masking desperation.

It wasn’t him who did this to her. But he understood.

He nodded to her, gravely.

She turned against Erimond and extended her fingers, casting lightning without her staff. Hit the Magister right on the mouth of his stomach, snaking in the tightening nets of his barrier right before he closed it. The man fell on his back, three meters away, unconscious, body twitching.

The battle was over.

And yet, it was not.

---

He found her again early in the morning, as the battlefield was cleared and soldiers moved to the infirmary. Radha thanked him for helping her sister, which was as much as a peace offering he would have gotten from her.

He found Aisling outside the infirmary, bent on herself, hands stained green, trembling like a leaf even if the sun was quickly fending the chill of the night away.

His heart broke.

“You can go, if you need to. I’ll remember you, tho. I remember everyone that leaves.”

She told him, bent on her thighs, hugging her legs with her face hidden between both knees. She was trembling like a leaf, as the night slowly left place to the dawn, vulnerable as ever and still naked under what had been his sheets, the sinewy lines of her Vallaslin he had traced with kisses and caresses few hours prior in full view, hair still tousled from their activities spraying all around.

He had no words to give her, except that it was too much for him to bear. The memories, the intimacy… No. He had been stupid, he hadn’t been as scared in his own life as he was in that moment, terror crippling him. It was too much. He couldn’t stay. He told her all the wrong words, with anger she didn’t deserve and that wasn’t even directed at her. Not really.

She hadn’t cried, she hadn’t said a word more, or even looked at him.

He had been stupid, he had been a coward, and he had gone.

She wasn’t crying, she was still clothed and her hair still neatly plaited behind her head from the battle. And yet, as stoney and sure-footed she had proved to be as the Inquisitor in the last six months, she was crumbling on herself, façade cracking, closed in a protective bubble, hugging her thighs.

Fenris shouldn’t be the one to do that. He knew she didn’t trust him anymore and she had all the reasons. But, he had come full circle now, and as many flaws as he had… He liked to think he could learn.

He knew she hated to crumble before others. She knew she spoke her affection in touches. Or at least, with others. She never touched him without his consent ever since he told her he didn’t like it, and she hadn’t even asked him why. Just accepted the thing, acted accordingly.

This time, he wasn’t a coward, and he didn’t turn his back at her. Instead, he got closer, slipped his hands under her knees and held her back as he hauled her up, holding her close. She started to wiggle immediately, trying to push him away. Hissing and pushing and making the hair crackle with static. It was like holding a wild cat, but he didn’t let go, knowing perfectly she wouldn’t have hurt him. He brought her to a small passage between two buildings, narrow and hidden and left free of rubble, miraculously. They would have been alone there.

He let her go, letting her scrumble away on the ground, heaving and panting. She looked around her, eyes spirited, full of panic, ending up on his. He nodded, knowing what she was thinking, and turned his back, sitting close but not looking at her, shielding from the outside. After a minute, she started to cry, breath ragged, sobbing out like a wounded animal.

He knew her, tho, and knew that… Maybe…

He turned to look at her, legs crossed below her, arms hugging her and swinging back and forth as she cried, breathing heavily through her mouth, still trembling.

She hadn’t moved back, tho, hadn’t sought more distance. So, he tentatively turned back to her and moved closer. Closer. She let him approach. She let him circle her shoulder with both his arms and drag her on his lap, close to his chest, holding her as she cried. She smelled of ash, and of elfroot. She always smelled of elfroot.

“G-go now if you don’t mean to stay. Please, I- I could’t take it one more time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told her, squeezing her tighter. “I should have got back years ago. I’m here, now.”

He didn’t move, waiting for her to stop crying. She didn’t, slowly and tentatively shifting her head to slip in the crook of his neck. She didn’t seem to care much if he still had his armour on, and clutched to the border of his breastplate with a hand, holding close.

“Why did you get back?”

“What do you mean?”

“I… You were right. You were right all along.” She sobbed. “About magic. About… About me. I left a person in the- I- I wanted to make Erimond suffer. Slowly. I still do. I… I did blood magic.”

It made her cry more, and he didn’t lie. It was a stab.

“What happened?”

“Vyrina. Two months after you left. The baby… The baby was with his feet down. She would have died, they both would... I- I moved him. It was…”

He had found it weird that she didn’t heal with magic anymore in these months, and all that praising the 1000 qualities of Elfroot. She never did it before, she was learning Spirit Healing, and the Keeper said she was good at it. With those reasons, tho, he really couldn’t say much. It was her and she still didn’t have one bad bones in her body. She wasn’t possessed, that much was clear.

“I was wrong. About magic. It wasn’t about you, it never was… I was a fool, and I was scared. I thought it better if you hated me, I deserved no less. I projected things you didn’t deserve. I didn’t mean you. I never meant you. When you fell, this night, I…”

“I am a killer.”

“Aren’t we all.” He snorted, mirthlessly.

“Then, why…” She sobbed, folding again onto herself, voice pitching. “… Why did you leave, Fenris?”

He sighed, heavily. Six months it took her to ask. He owed her an answer. Particularly because she still, somehow, cared.

“… I thought about the answer a thousand times.”. He started, tentatively. He felt her moving, but it was his turn to just… hold her a little closer, placing a hand on her head. His gauntlet caught on her hair, he untangled it as delicately as he could. But she got the message that he didn’t want her to look, and stayed where she was. “The pain, the memories it brought up… It was too much. I was a coward. And I hurt you, more deeply than you would admit.”

She sniffed, shifted a little to get more comfortable against his armour. He settled them better as she took her time to reply. She had stopped trembling, at least, as well as sobbing. He turned his head to look at her, and what was left of the messy braid she tied her hair before the battle, locks spreading all over.

“Why returning now? After all these years?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I was hoping you could forgive me. And to tell you…” He swallowed. “… And to tell you that if you could, and you somehow felt as before, that if I have to be a future nothing could be worse than the thought of living it without you.”

It was as close as he could trudge. She stopped, perfectly still. It was out, he was on the clear.

“Why are you telling me this, now?”

“Because I thought you would have died, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing. You still have battles to fight. You need to know that it wasn’t your fault.”

“I understand.”

She was back to cold mode. He slumped, fear rising back again, as well as regret. Gone was the giggling, gone were the embarrassment. She didn’t move from where she was, tho, hot breath fanning over his neck. He didn’t want her to go, ever, but… He felt her move, and let her slip away. He knew better.

“Thank you. For coming back. And for jumping after me. But…”

“It is too late.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew her. He didn’t need to even look at her to guess. She closed her fingers, slowly, over his, squeezing.

“I am sorry, Fen. But…” She was, tone of voice sweet, under hurt, old pain resurfacing. “… I don’t know. I think… I think it is.”

She kept her hand on his, not letting go. He moved and held her hand back, not saying anything else. He understood. He had stayed away so long convincing himself that she hated him and didn’t want to see him. He didn’t expect her to swallow everything or forget. They stayed there, silently mourning what was lost to bad timing, and trauma clashing badly together.

“I’d… I’d be glad if you stayed. If you want to. I… I am glad to have you around, even if…”

“You don’t trust me.”

She sighed, deeply, shaking her head in denial.

“I trust you with my life, Fen. I wouldn’t want to have anyone beside me in battle but you, Radha and Dorian, Bull and Sera.”

That much was true, she didn’t hesitate.

“I can’t trust you with my heart, tho.”

She moved forward, tentatively as she already did, but less nervous. She asked him to look at her, when she was close enough.

“One for the road?” She asked, smiling. She was crying.

“One for the road.” He smiled back, nodding.

She pecked a last kiss on his lips, no teeth this time. It was bittersweet, and she tasted like salt and ashes, and some lingering elfroot from the last healing potion she dranked. She dragged it on, and then interrupted it, moving back and letting go of his hand.

“Thank you.”

She said. It encompassed everything. Fond memories they had, young people learning to find common ground, growing together, him learning about peace and quiet, she peeking her nose in a bigger, wider world. A bigger, wider world that suited her and she was shaping.

“No. Thank you, weirdo.”

It could have been.

But, the timing was wrong.

[sanji-outfit-tourney]

thank you for running this! it's a lot of fun already!

You're very welcome! I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this at first cuz I knew gathering all the required pics would be a pain in the ass (and it was lol), but I'm glad I did!

[coern]

top five PJSK character designs

hehe!!

under the cut because I added the images as well also not really in any order, I couldn't rank them if I tried (rip)

an's 3rdanni design!! I love the crop top so much, the palette is very pleasing as well

probably one of if not my favorite new world designs 2. kanade's 3rdanni design- maybe unpopular opinion but i like the zipper a lot its a nice callback to her original unit outfit

3. 3rdanni wxs miku

i kinda missed the puffball things she had on her old design, especially the hair ones, but I've warmed up to this one

4. may be a little biased just because I've drawn it more so its grown on me a little but tsukasas old casual..I love the fish (although below his waist the jacket sucks to draw)

5. minoris training outfit purely just because of the otter. I like its shell. also the one 4koma(?) about it is silly

[empty-movement]

GOGAI, GOGAI!!! COME GET UTENA KIBBLES

It's September 3rd. It's 1997. Princess Diana just died, and that's very important to lots of people. You, however, are chewing your nails to nubs waiting for the climax of Revolutionary Girl Utena's Black Rose Saga. It's going to air today.

But like any good fan, you're already one step ahead, because you've spent the last couple days thumbing through Animedia's September issue supplemental, the 100 page Duelist Bible. Strangely, it appears to be in English??? Wow! Thanks Nagumo for translating, Ayu Ohseki for Japanese editing, teasot for proofreading, and ME, FUCKIN' VANNA, for scanning and scanlating this massive booklet!

We've got duel summaries! We've got character design sheets! We've got a school directory! We've got THE DUEL RULES. We've got cast interviews! WE'VE GOT THAT CHU-CHU DOLL CRAFT GUIDE. Check it ALL out here, in the Something Eternal Bibliothèque! You can flip through it page by page here, or you'll also find on the page a link to a PDF version for your at home viewing/archiving needs!!

This gargantuan tome really gets it across that in 1997, you didn't have a fandom wiki or on demand viewing. If you didn't catch and record the episodes, a booklet like this becomes a critical tool for keeping track of everything that's happened up to now, and is also a way for the series creators to tap fans on the shoulder and draw attention to details they want seen but not explained in the show directly. For example, this drops at the close of the BRS, but points out Touga's sword isn't the same in Keiko's duel and in the opening sequence. A thing we don't see cashed in until MUCH later!

This has been a true and absurd labor of love on my part. I even rescanned the booklet from my originals because their quality (decades old lmao) was not worth scanlating. This took a ludicrous amount of time, and has been a main project of mine for over a year now!! I'm so happy to have gotten it done in time for the Something Eternal Watch-Along thread, and I really really hope everyone finds something cool and interesting about it! The really cool thing is this now completes the set of magazine supplementals by the big three magazines made for Utena during its run. We now have fully scanlated this, as well as Animage's June Utena Dossier, and Newtype's November Utena? (Oh My!) UTENA! Take a stroll through memory lane, be they yours or someone else's!

As always, if you like this kind of content, consider supporting us on Patreon! Especially right now, a holy grail acquisition is in the works that I will bleed to share with y'all. More on that later, lmao.

Revolutionize the World! Love, Vanna

[uraniumbones]

For those of you keeping up with the book of Bill and it's accompanying website and the bill cypher backstory. THE PARALLELS GOT ME FUCKED UP.

Spoilers incoming.

people love to talk about the dynamic between Stanford and Bill. Sure, interesting. But you know what people aren't talking about? Stanley and Bill. Specifically referencing the website (thisisnotawebsotedotcom.com)

If you input Stanley a bunch it will eventually open a new document instead of eBay pages. The page mocks Stanley and reveals his secrets or whatever. One of the clickable options on this page is "HOW HE BEAT ME". Each time you click into this is an increasingly deranged meltdown about how it shouldn't have been possible. Calling him a "cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness" among other things. And when further pressed accuses you of acting like "those PREACHY INFANTILIZING AUTOMOTONS AT THE THERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my "FEELINGS"." After that he spirals further eventually talking about "how much pain I'm in" and only in code admitting "I can still see through the eyes of everyone I've ever..." presumably killed.

If you don't know shit about Euclydia read the wiki page on it, it's not long. tldr Euclydia is bills home dimension, which he destroyed and killed every single inhabitant of in blood and fire. He did so (accidentally?) in an attempt to show them the third dimension which (because of a genetic mutation) only he had the ability to see (with his eye). Please also note when Stanford asks about his home dimension Bill says it was"destroyed by a monster".

In the website's many documents it repeatedly makes reference to Bill's parents and how much they loved him, his home, his childhood (he wore velcro sneakers it's actually incredibly cute), the ways in which he was different and not easily accepted.

Now knowing all these things. A pattern may emerge to you. Are you seeing it? Are you seeing the patterns yet?

Obviously Bill hates Stanley because he's stupid and still he somehow beat Bill. That's annoying, maddening even. But I believe it goes beyond that. He hates him all the more passionately because Stanley reminds him of himself. The poem at the end of the Stanley password on the website summarizes it best "always dragged his family down / One mistake, disowned, denied, / only thing to do was hide." Destruction of his own family, running and hiding from his own mistakes. "Reinvent, retry, reload" trying again in a new life. "When your actions make it worse, / When they see you as a curse," Making things worse where you have tried to make them better. "Give the wheel one last spin, / Take your chips and go all in" this is what weirdmagedon was for both of them. and this is where their lives differ "And lucky stan- the rolls on black, / he got his life and family back. / His big break it finally came, / Redemption from a life of shame." AND THERE IT IS. Stanley got his family back. Bill didn't. (Which is what it seems he was attempting). Stanley got his redemption. Bill didn't.

Stanley was a lonely kid fuck up just like Bill was. And he absolutely hates Stanley's guts for it because he hates his own guts for it. And all this time they're the same, just trying to fix those mistakes, to have their family back again, to be loved again. They both have this facade of untouchable aloof levity, the same insults Bill hurls at Stanley may as well be hurled at himself. "Protected from his failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness"? "Cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child"? You can see Bill goes from being outraged and insulting Stanley, to denying a deeper meaning to those feelings (and calling you a therapist), to talking about how much pain he is in (seemingly over all the people he killed in Euclydia), all without any specific prompting. Just pushing. Bill is the one that connected those things. Bill hates Stanley (at least partially) as an act of self hatred. Because he has made the same mistakes and can never forgive himself for them. AND (at least partially) because Stanley is not only just like him, but now just like him if he had succeeded. Stanley got his "Redemption from a life of shame". and in so doing actively prevented Bills.

Now do you see what I'm saying about THE PARALLELS?!

[directdogman]

OKAY so i randomly dug through the callum crown wiki page (which im guessing you dont moderate?) but SINCE WHEN???

Believe it or not, some DT fans have known about this for a while now! It should probably be phrased in the past tense since he obviously isn't exactly partying in his nursing home, but yeah, during his presidency/time at the UN, Crown regularly used cocaine.

Believe it or not, this was actually decided really early on, but there's only 2 actual references to it in DT media, a short mockup story I wrote years ago and obviously the newest story. It's never brought up in-game because Norm doesn't know about it + Mingus obviously wouldn't bring it up even IF she knew about it.

Crown was a workaholic with insatiable appetites who rarely slept and saw his life as something that was purely in the service of others and the betterment of humanity. He saw it as an ethical obligation to do as much as possible while president and never took time to himself. Crown's habits were an open secret at the time, but it wasn't obvious to most since Crown had a phone head (meaning key symptoms like his face appearing pale + his pupils dilating obviously didn't apply) and was already very energetic, erratic and kinda twitchy. He very much acted the part long before he picked up the habit.

If you asked Crown about it, he'd probably tell you that his addiction was a sacrifice, putting his body through extra strain so he could stay awake for longer, have more energy and shake more hands, complete more work and help more people. It's the same reason he frequently modified his phone head in different ways in order to increase the efficiency of different parts of his brain.

I don't think I need to tell you that this kind of decision-making came with very large drawbacks, a notable one being the strain it put on his relationship with both Marla + Milt, who were both immensely concerned for his well-being while he was solely preoccupied with his mission to create a better world for ALL of humanity.

I think this makes sense, when you consider where he came from. Crown was not treated with respect or approval until he proved his own usefulness to others (and thus wanted to maximize that quality) and of course, was singularly devoted to his goal of lifting all humans out of poverty. Most of all - creating a world where he would've had the same opportunities even IF he hadn't had the know-how/ability to find a way to leave his garage. Nobody left behind - at all costs.

[clownery-and-fuckery]

The fact that Harry is canonically FEARED by people in Jamrock really surprises me. Like, I know he's the "human can-opener" and that has boosted his reputation and name among the people, but learning what he was like pre-amnesia is a whirlwind of an experience. Why don't more people talk about it?

This is coming from the wiki page so some things might be a lil inaccurate (I honestly don't know how well I can trust that source just yet) but it says he was on drugs/drunk for the majority of his service (even pre Dora), I imagine this got worse especially during those six years after Dora left him. By that time, he had already partnered with Jean, and had probably rejected his promotion number one.

After Dora left, the substance abuse got worse, but his work got better. It was hard to discourage their best detective, I guess. Even though he was actively funding the thing he was trying to shut down. It's a conflict of interest, he shouldnt have kept his job.

Also, during "THE UNSOLVABLE CASE" its said he left a man unable to walk, held a woman hostage, and shot wildly at a man.

That's just one case. You don't get a reputation like Harry's from one case. You don't make someone run at the mention of your name in the area. Ruby didn't run because of that one case.

Harry was a scary man. An ex gym teacher, off his rocker on an amount of drugs he couldn't count on two hands. He was talking to the tie before he lost his memory. The skills probably weren't a new thing. I like Harry, too, but his routinely "the women are the bourgeoisie" bit isn't just a post-amnesia thing, that's a cemented belief that's hung around his head long enough to become a foundation of every belief, even if you're an ultra-liberal. I don't think he was that popular with anyone he met.

The public were honestly right to be afraid of him.

But the RCM promoted him again. Or they tried. Because, what, Jean somehow managed to cover up everything Harry had done? What else has he done? How bad did things get, if beating a man with a ledger isn't anything more than a footnote in a case file?

Speaking of Jean, he confuses me a little. I mean, he respects Harry enough to cover up everything he did/does, but when it comes to talking about/to him, he puts him down, chews him out, makes it sound like he thinks Harry's actions are unacceptable (which I'm inclined to agree, at least pre-amnesia) but he also actively tries to make this narrative of Harry being crazy and wild and dangerous a thing, to everyone. Even Kim. Especially Kim, at the end. Look at this dialogue:

Those are the words of someone hurt over and over, watching a cycle repeat in another. But Jean still, when he doesn't really need to, decides to cover up Harry's missing gun and badge, and hears him and Kim out at the end of the game. He tears Harry down out of habit, but he also helps him out of that same habit.

He uses the word bewitched. That interested me, because it's infinitely more affectionate than manipulated, or tricked or just lied to. Jean uses it in a sympathetic manner, because he, like the RCM, like Dora, had been drawn in by Harry, and forced to stay until they left, like Dora, or became too bitter to go, like Jean.

It set up an interesting narrative for an aftermath. Would Kim, too, be driven away? Or would he get so sucked into the endless torment of being Harry's favourite, that like Jean, even if he wanted to, Kim wouldn't know anything else? Or had Harry actually changed? Does he get better, or does he get worse?

I would love to see more exploration on Harry after the events of Disco Elysium. I want to know how his reputation shapes how he acts after, I want to know how people interact with him. Its so interesting to me. It's all a bit of a jumbled ramble but yeah!!! :D

[the-whispers-of-death]

can you do Keegan x male reader who is just a tad bit dumb. Like he is terrible at math, dense, silly, easily distracted. OH and gets lost a lot bcs he likes to wander?

I'll admit that I've never watched a play through of Call of Duty: Ghosts (I say watch because I'm not a gamer but have watched the reboot versions of Modern Warfare 1 & 2), but I have read through the Wiki pages of Keegan P. Russ, just for this. That being said, he's probably OOC (but I mean, I write all of them as softies so let's just chalk this up to that).

Another thing of note is that this civilian male reader. Also, I think I made him to be a little on the autism spectrum with the way he doesn't understand certain idioms and phrases.

I hope you enjoy!

**

Keegan loved you, in his own quiet way. He wasn't much of a talker, preferred to let you lead the conversation as you talked on and on about anything and everything. He mostly spoke to ask you something about what you were speaking on, a subtle indication that he was listening.

He loved you in the way he so patiently waited for you to solve a simple math problem, like how much difference a 10% off sale would make if the original price was fifteen dollars. He knew math wasn't your strong suit, but he didn't care. You'd arrive to the answer eventually, he knew that.

He loved you in the way he had to explain certain idioms and phrases to you, uncaring how you didn't even know that being offered to go to someone's place for a cup of coffee in the middle of night was an offer of sex. You didn't understand things sometimes and he understood that. They were intentionally vague, he'd tell you when you got flustered at being corrected about your misassumptions.

He loved you in the way you kept wandering off when walking around anywhere with him, whether it was you two walking in the park or out in a shopping center. Your attention was easily caught and it made you wander over to a plant or animal or piece of merchandise. He'd simply trail after you, smiling as you pointed out to him whatever you were looking at.

"Look, Keegan! A butterfly," you murmured, pointing at a nearby butterfly which was perched onto a flower. Its wings were so breathtaking, you just had to have stopped to look at the beautiful creature.

Keegan looked over your shoulder to the butterfly you were pointing at, chuckling in gentle amusement. "It's beautiful," he said before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind you. "But it's not as beautiful as my boyfriend."

Oh, how he relished the way you laughed and lit up in response. You loved when he called you his boyfriend, which you were. You had thought a military man—a Marine—like him would shy away from being out and proud about having a boyfriend, but he quickly proved you wrong.

His squad, the Ghosts, knew all about you. Keegan very happily told them about you, how your little quirks were so endearing. How you were the home he was fighting to go back to when he was on deployments. Oh they knew so well how much he loved you, how you were the sun and the moon and the stars of his universe.

You were everything to him and while he didn't say it often, he showed his love to you in so many ways.

How his hand reached for yours whenever you two were in a crowd so he didn't lose you if you wandered off. How he gave you the answers to a difficult math problem when you were clearly struggling to answer it. How he tried his best to word his sentences in a way that wasn't so vague so you didn't feel embarrassed about misinterpreting his words. How he drank in every word you said, relishing in the way your voice washed over him like a soothing balm to his soul.

Keegan loved you, though you were eccentric and loud where he was quiet and withdrawn. He never regretted being your boyfriend, not one single bit.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi! Maybe a Minho x reader where the reader is already in the safe haven, and is doing some gardening while singing or dancing and minding her business and Minho sees her and recognizes her from before the maze trials but not entirely, and he feels attracted to her and tries very hard to get her attention and it's all flirty but also funny and a little embarrassing. Like an aftermath and it's all fluffy and cute and maybe a little spicy in the end:D

Man, your ideas are always so good. I absolutely love writing your requests omg.

MIRAGE OF THE PAST

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Fem!Group B!Ex-Runner!Reader x Minho. Kinda movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some suggestive themes, spice at the end, reference to Newt's death (sorry), group B slang from the wiki page but they might be fanmade but I'm going with it.

"Come on, Minho," Frypan groans as the remaining Gladers sit around the burning bonfire, "there's gotta be at least one girl here that you want."

This conversation had been going on for the past few weeks. Once the initial shock of surviving and escaping to the Safe Haven passed, the other boys (apart from Thomas) immediately started scoping out the women. Watching Gally and Frypan attempt to flirt with anything with tits is admittedly quite funny.

But Minho's not interested. Not only does he have to deal with the trauma of being tortured for half a year, but also the death of his best friend.

Romance had never been something he particularly took interest in, even if a girl would have come up in the Glade, or when girls started joining the group.

Sure, it's not like he doesn't have any frustrations or urges. He didn't really have much of an outlet for that kind of thing during his pubescent teenage years- and he figured years of pent-up sexual energy would've started to actually affect him by now. Especially with no Maze or WCKD to distract him.

But not really. Not at the moment.

"Dude," he grumbles, swirling the contents of his glass, "I'm telling you; I do not care."

"There's something shuckin' wrong with you, man," Gally scoffs, entertained more than anything as he drops his head. "There are girls eyeing you up left, right and centre- and you're telling me you don't care?"

Minho had obviously noticed the attention on him, but he'd always known he was good-looking. Even back in the Glade. The attention is, admittedly, an ego boost. And he enjoys watching his friends grumble and complain when some anxious girl approaches them, only for her to want Minho and leave with her tail between her legs.

"Nope- there's no one here I want, okay? Leave it."

Well, Minho was wrong.

The next day, he'd got roped into helping Thomas and Gally move bags of produce and seeds. Vince was too busy running the place, as per usual, so his normal daily tasks got thrown onto Thomas- something that he welcomed with open arms.

And that's when Minho saw you.

You spend a lot of time in the gardens- it's probably your favourite place in the Safe Haven. Similar to Minho, you ran the Maze in Group B, but you'd always had an affinity for plants and used to use the Gardens to calm down after a hard day. Now, it's more like using the plant life to relax after a hard life.

You prune away at the plants as you hum to yourself, dancing around and replaying the drums in your head from the previous night.

Thomas notices Minho's hesitation as he slows down, watching you from a distance. Gally is quick to also slow when he realises both of his colleagues have stopped moving.

Minho pays no mind to them. He's hit with a weird wave of nostalgia as he watches on, unconsciously admiring you. You're gorgeous; wearing the same casual clothes as everyone else, a jacket tied around your hips and your hair in a style he's already decided is his favourite.

What makes Minho's heart jump is when you flip the knife you're holding, tossing it into the air and catching the blade before throwing it. You're still dancing around and bobbing your head as the knife sinks into one of the wooden supports for a weak plant. It hits with a thud, easily holding in place and staying there as you crouch down to pick a tomato, mindlessly tossing it into a nearby basket.

Minho blinks. Processing what the hell just happened inside of him. The way you acted and how casually you just did that left some kind of impact on him.

Was that... hot?

Is that what the other boys call attractive?

Whatever. He can get over that. What he can't get over, however, is the strange feelings of familiarity he's experiencing. He knows you.

Somehow, he knows you.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You perk your head up, looking in the direction of Sonya's voice as you stand up. She struggles through the shrubbery as you chuckle, slipping your hands into your pockets.

"Hey, Sonya. You good?"

"Yeah, Harriet, Aris and I are gonna grab a drink later, if you wanna join?"

"Uh, I don't know, man- maybe another time."

She groans as you turn back to your plants, dramatically flopping over you and throwing her arms around your shoulders. "C'mon," she drags out the word, "we never see you, anymore."

"That's not true," you gently and playfully shrug her off. It's kind of true.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't become kind of elusive since you'd come here. You'd decided to enjoy your peace, and you were never a people person. But here, you don't have to protect everyone and stress about getting out of a deadly Maze. So, now you keep to yourself. You don't tend to join in on the late night drinking or partying. You've become a teenage Grandma.

"Dude," she crosses her arms, face suddenly serious, "one night. Hang out with us. Please."

"I'll think about it." You scratch the back of your neck, throwing your head back and stretching. You pull it back up, catching someone staring at you from across the sand.

Minho instantly tenses the second you make eye contact. Red starts to dust his cheeks as he pulls his gaze away.

Shit.

Gally barks a laugh. "Wow, Minho," he snorts, and even Thomas laughs along. "Thought you weren't interested in anyone?"

"Slim it, shuck-face," Minho grumbles as he walks past, his head dipped low as he tries to avoid your attention.

What is happening to him?

"Is it just me, or was Minho totally just staring at you?" Sonya asks, even though you shrug it off, returning to your work.

"Who?" You practically hear Sonya's neck snap with the speed she looks at you.

"Who? Did you seriously just ask me who? Uh, Minho? The hot Asian dude that was just completely gawking at you?"

"Never heard of him."

"Are you kidding me? He's the guy that everyone spent months tryna save from WCKD."

"We spent months tryna save all of you from WCKD."

"Yeah- but Thomas and Newt broke into WCKD Headquarters for him. He's kinda a big deal, dude- and half the girls here have a thing for him."

"Sounds like quite the catch," your tone is dull and results in Sonya rolling her eyes.

"Just... just come hang out with us later? We miss talking to you."

"Alright, finch-face," you huff, "I'll have a couple drinks later if it gets you off my dick."

Sonya seems satisfied with this, leaving you to it. To your own surprise, your mind wanders to the boy. You'd never been one for attention, and you'd not really had any advances here. So, why do you feel flustered at this random dude staring at you?

You, in fact, do not meet them later for drinks. But you do promise another time.

Minho, on the other hand, spends the next week watching you every chance he gets. Thomas and Gally silently agree to keep it between themselves, but it's kind of hard.

He feels creepy and stalkerish. But he can't help it- you're just so perfect and he's never been this anxious to talk to someone ever. He wants to talk to you, but he just can't bring himself to.

After much consideration, you decide to actually join your friends for one night.

The girls are very happy to see you and you offer a friendly hug to Aris, joining them and Brenda around the campfire.

Minho takes note of this, watching you laugh and chatter, the flames dancing off of your skin and the drink swirling around the glass in your hand.

Gally nudges his friend, caving in and having to gossip with someone else. "Fry, have you heard?"

"Hm?"

"Minho, here, is in love." Thomas snorts into his drink, having to put it down so he doesn't choke.

"Shut up, Gally- I am not." Minho kicks him.

"What? Have I missed something? With who?" Frypan, not very subtly, tries to get a glimpse of you.

"Shuck's sake," Minho grasps at his friend, forcing him to sit down, "Fry! Stop!"

"What? What? Is she hot?"

"Yeah, she's hot," Gally scoffs, earning a glare from Minho. "Think she's called (Y/N), or some klunk."

Frypan's face contorts into a grin. "Ha, (Y/N)? No way."

"What? You know her?" Minho blinks at his friend, shocked because no one else seems to know who you are.

"I mean, Brenda knows her-" he leans further forward in his seat "- she's from Group B, used to be a Runner for them. Don't really know much, but they all make her sound like the best of the best. Sonya and Harriet think the world of her."

"Wait," Thomas interjects, "if she's so close with them, how come we don't know who she is?"

"She's not much of a people person," Frypan shrugs, "prefers to be on her own- does her own thing kinda deal. That's what it sounds like at least."

"Great, that means you don't have any competition, Minho," Thomas grins at his friend. "Why don't you just go talk to her?"

"No."

"Why not?" Thomas' smile immediately vanishes. He knows Minho better than most people here. He thinks getting to know someone new could do him some real good.

Minho falls into silence. What reason does he have to not talk to you? Is he just scared? The man has risked his life literally every day for as long as he can remember but he's scared to talk to a girl?

Sounds about right.

"Well," Gally slaps his legs as he stands up, "if you won't talk to her, guess I will."

You could hear the cogs turning in Minho's head as Gally starts to walk towards you. There's no way he's about to watch Gally take the only girl he's literally ever taken any interest in.

The chair moves back as Minho stands up.

Gally gets to your group, opening his mouth but no words come out as Minho is quick to reach him.

"Hey," Minho has absolutely no idea where he's going with this, awkwardly standing with his hands in his pockets as he hovers over the group. Sonya looks at you, repressing a smirk at Minho's slightly shifty stance.

"Hey, Minho," Brenda smiles at her friend, oblivious to what's going on. "You okay?" Gally smirks, making eye contact with Sonya, raising his eyebrows slightly before walking away and returning to the other boys.

"Uh, yeah, just uh, thought I'd come say hi," Minho flinches at his own words, visibly cringing as his confidence dwindles.

"Well, uh, hi?" Brenda is visibly lost whilst Harriet is quick to catch on, also being told by Sonya what happened prior.

"Minho," Harriet, the boldest of the group, decides to move this forward, "have you met (Y/N)?"

Oh no.

"Uh, I don't- no, we haven't met." Minho is having some kind of internal panic attack. The poor boy is going to pass out any second.

"Well, (Y/N) here was our best- she basically ran the joint when I was busy."

"That's not true," you look at him, immediately shutting down Harriet's bragging. He feels very small under your gaze.

"Nah, it is- stop being so humble."

"So, you were a Runner?" You blink at this question.

"I... I never told you that?" Minho freezes. Ah, yes, me and my friends weren't just talking about you or anything. Totally.

"Uh, yeah, I'm just assuming, yanno?"

You shuffle forward, trying to hide the smirk threatening to cross your lips. "Yeah, I was a uh, what did you call it? Runner?"

"Yeah, were you a Keeper?" You blink at him, not understanding the slang that differentiates between the Glade and the Glen.

"What's a Keeper?"

"Oh, it's, like, the person that's incharge of the section."

"Oh, like a Jailer?"

"A Jailer?"

"Yeah- I guess what you called Keepers we called Jailers. But, no, I wasn't a... Keeper. Just did my job, stick."

"You shoulda been a Jailer, finch-face," Harriet complains, adding to an argument that you'd been having for a while.

"I didn't want to be a finching Jailer, Harriet."

"Yeah, but you woulda been so good at it."

"How are we still arguing about this?" Aris asks, earning a chuckle from you.

"Minho was a Keeper, though, weren't ya?" Brenda butts in.

"Oh, yeah?" Maybe Minho is hallucinating, but your tone sounds almost flirty, "What was that like? Can't have been easy tryna look after a bunch of boys."

"Eh, I didn't mind it. Kept me busy and I knew the Maze like the back of my hand- which made my job easier."

"Wow, that's quite the feat- I didn't even remember the Maze that well."

"Yes, you did," Harriet jumps in, and you send her a confused look.

"No, I didn't?"

"Yeah, ya did- I've been out there with you."

"No, I used pattern recognition to figure out what was coming next."

"Same thing."

"That is not the same thing," Minho defends you, almost naturally, which shocks himself.

"Exactly- you gonna argue with with two Runners?" Harriet puts her arms up in defence, accepting her defeat.

The conversation starts to flow more naturally, and Minho eases. You leave for a second, going to get another drink. This is going well. Minho has absolutely nothing to be worried about, and apparently, Gally is a decent wingman. Who would've thought?

Well, you approach again, not saying anything as someone shouts Minho, making him turn around without realising you're standing right behind him. He knocks into you, sending your drink into you chest, spilling it everywhere.

"Shuck," he hisses, watching you pull your lips into a fine line. The liquid drips down your chin and stains your favourite shirt, causing it to stick to your chest- something that Minho tries to not act weird about. "I'm- shit, I'm sorry."

You put the glass down on a nearby crate being used as a table. "It's fine," you say through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna call it a night, anyway."

You suck on your teeth. This is why you don't like people. You don't have problems like this without other people.

"Aw, what?" Sonya complains, but you're already walking away, wiping your face with your hand. "(Y/N)!"

Minho groans, rubbing his face before making eye contact with Brenda. "Smooth."

You resort to your typical demeanour, spending your time in the gardens and ignoring everyone.

"Have you tried actually flirting with her?" Brenda suggests, no fully in the loop even though it wasn't exactly hard to miss. Brenda, Minho, and Gally sit around a table, taking a break from the days workload.

"I spilt her drink down her- I don't think she'll appreciate me flirting with her." Minho huffs.

"She's pretty forgiving. You might as well try."

"I don't- I don't even know how to flirt with a girl- what do I even do?"

"Try and touch her as much as possible, tell her she's hot and that you wanna-" Gally's input is cut off by Brenda punching him in the arm.

"Just talk to her, compliment her, let her know you're interested and then let her make the move- don't listen to Gally, that'll just make her uncomfortable."

"How do you know?"

"Hate to break it to you, Gally, but I happen to be a woman."

"Yeah, but, I mean.." Minho stands up, sick of his friends bickering and all the teasing. He'll just take Brenda's advice and talk to you. It was easy enough last night, for the most part.

"What do you want?" You say before he even opens his mouth. You're crouching down, planting even more seeds in your already overgrown garden.

Not a great start.

"I, uh, I just wanted to apologise for last night. I didn't realise you were stood there and-"

"I already told you; it's fine."

"Yeah, but still," he sighs, "I feel like kind of a slinthead."

"I don't know what that even means."

"Right," he pauses, Brenda's words circling his head. Maybe he should try a compliment. "You, uh, you look pretty." You pause, not really saying anything for a second.

"Do I?" You're covered in dirt and in your gardening garb.

"I mean, yeah. I mean I think you look pretty- I mean you do look pretty- you are pretty- you look good, even when you- you always look good."

You look at him, a lop-sided smirk appearing in your face. "You wanna try that again?"

Obviously, you've noticed Minho's attraction to you. Actually, you've been told it both from your friends and from Brenda. This morning she came over basically begging for you to give Minho a chance, only to be pulled away by Jorge.

It's actually kind of cute.

"Shuck, I'm bad at this," he mumbles, "Yeah. Could I?"

"Be my guest."

"I think you're beautiful, (Y/N)," he says after a second to gain his composure.

Something about this clicks in your head. Your heart rate picks up as you look at him. For a moment, you understand the hype around Minho. He's objectively attractive, and him being an anxious stuttering mess around you is somehow only making him more appearing.

You stand up, scoffing to yourself. "Thanks, Minho."

God, his name sounds so good on your lips. He could listen to you say it all the time. He wonders how else it would sound when-

He stops himself.

It took you saying his name for his mind to start going in that direction? Maybe he's more worked up than he thought.

"Hey?" You wave your hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance, "You good?"

He cleats his throat. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You just gonna stand there or gimme a hand?"

"Uh, sure- yeah." You throw a bag of seeds in his direction. He fumbles slightly, but he catches it, not coming across as smooth as he would want to be.

He spends the rest of his day poorly attempting to talk to you. He even does that almost cartoonist thing where he tried to lean on a beam and completely missed.

Another thing you notice is the sheer amount of girls now looking in your direction. They're gawking over a working and sweating Minho and glaring at you.

"You're quite the eye-candy," Minho's heart nearly jumps out of his chest as he picks up another bag of fertiliser.

"What?" You jolt your head towards the small group of girls gathering. "Oh, right."

"Seems like you get a lot of attention."

"I don't want their attention," his tone is blunt and sturdy for maybe the first time since you've spoken to him.

"Oh, yeah? 'Cause you want my attention instead, right?" Minho freezes as you look at him, hand casually on your hip.

"What if I do?" Confidence bubbles in his chest. His tone is flirtatious, and he's starting to actually understand that this is how you hit on someone.

"Maybe you could try talking to me like a person instead of stalking me from a distance," and with that, Minho's bubble of confidence bursts.

"I wasn't- I didn't mean-" he sighs, "I didn't mean to be creepy."

You laugh. You actually laugh. And it's like music to Minho's ears.

"I don't get it," you shake your head, continuing with your shovelling, "you could have anyone you want here."

"Yeah, well, I don't think you're right about that."

"Huh? You clearly can."

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because I want you."

Maybe that was too forward from Minho. That much is clear when your moments stop, but when the red starts to creep across your face, he realises that he's actually cracked you.

"I- I, come on, man," you force a laugh to try and play it off, "you can't be saying klank like that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Dude," you send him a warning look. "Why me? Hm? You don't even know me." He falls quiet. You furrow your brows, confusion setting in. "Minho?"

"I think I do," he mumbles.

"What?"

"I think I know you," he says, more confident, "I know it sounds insane- but we obviously had our memories wiped- I don't know. You feel familiar, like maybe I knew you before."

You stand, silently looking at him. You honestly don't know what to think of this. He knows you? It's clear your memory wipe is stronger than his, but it does feel like you've met him before.

"Sorry- that's weird, I just-"

"Minho!" Frypan yells him from a distance, "Gally needs help building this shack! Come on!"

He anxiously looks at you, vaguely pointing in the direction of his friend before walking away, leaving you to process everything that's happened.

You told Sonya, Harriet, and Aris everything that had happened. Aris was lost, Harriet intrigued, and Sonya was practically frothing at the mouth.

It then turned into them pressuring you to talk to Minho instead, but you decided to leave it until you saw him again naturally.

That doesn't exactly happen.

Waking up early one morning, you come out of your hut and notice Minho sitting on the sand, in front of the waves, basking in the rising son.

Sucking in a deep breath, you gain some confidence and walk over to him. "Hey," he looks up at you as you stand behind him. You're in your casual running pants and sports bra, which makes his brain do a backflip.

"Hey," he's kind of surprised that you've approached him first, but you've spent the days between your last conversations thinking of him.

"I was gonna go on a run, wanna race?" A grin starts to cross his face.

"You think you can beat me?"

"No," you smirk, "I know I can."

He stands up, dusting off some of the sand. "Alright, girly, where we racing to?"

"From here to the Creek?"

"The Creek?"

"You don't know about the Creek? Bro, you're missing out."

He agrees to these terms and you both get ready. Counting in, you both start, though Minho stumbles slightly- clearly not used to the sand.

Despite your head start, Minho easily catches up. You playfully push him out of the way, which he's fast to return.

To get to the Creek, you have to cut across some of the sand dunes, which means leaving the beach. You take a sharp right, causing Minho to stumble as you book it through the dunes.

Loud laughs escape you as you throw your arms up. You grind to a halt, stopping at a large circle of rocks with a pool in the middle, accompanied by a small waterfall.

"You shucking cheat!" He catches up to you, slowly to a jog before he doubles over.

"Told you I'd beat you," you grin at him.

"Yeah, only because you're a cheater."

"Wow," he stands up straight as you step closer to him, "shoulda guessed you'd be a sore loser."

He presses his tongue into his cheek, humming as he nods, bitterly. "That's how you wanna do this, huh?"

"Gotta play the game."

"Hm, well, if you insist." With now warning, Minho picks you up, making you shriek as he throws you over his shoulder.

"Minho!" You cry out, kicking your legs but it's too late.

The water is freezing as he drops you in. You're submerged by the crystal-clear serene water in seconds.

You rise again, gasping for air as Minho laughs at you. "You bitch!" This just makes his laugh even more.

"Gotta play the game, right?" You splash him, making him step back. "Alright, alright!" He shields his face, running his fingers through his hair before he looks at you, a mischievous smirk appearing.

"What?" You dare ask.

Minho pulls at the bottom of his shirt, yanking it over his head. You don't mean to stare, but you do. He chest and mid-drift are chiselled as dark hair dusts across his lower stomach, leading further into his pants. Your mind goes fuzzy for a second.

You don't have much time to ogle though as he runs forward, pulling his legs to his chest and cannonballing into the water. Water spashes everywhere, drowning you once again as you turn to face him.

He re-emerges, flicking his hair before pushing it back. "Shuck!" He exclaims. "It's shuckin' freezing!"

You laugh at him, wheezing as you try to cat g your breath, resulting in you being hit by another wave of water that Minho throws at you. You respond this time, which ends up turning into a splashing match.

And then into a shoving one.

The Creek is filled with laughter and the sounds of splashing water, and neither of you remember the last time you had this much fun.

You keep sending small, concise waves in Minho's direction. "Okay, okay- stop. Okay," he swims closer, grabbing you wrists and stopping the movements. "That's enough."

Your giggles slow as he holds your hands in place. "Enough." Both of your chests rise and fall as he stands in front of you.

Minho thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's even seen. Your hair sticks to your face, water running down your collarbone and cleavage.

And, honestly, the feeling is mutual. The chuckles quickly stop as you both stare at each other. You can't help yourself when your eyes land on his lips.

Oh God.

Almost unconsciously, you move closer to him, and he does the same, like two magnets pulling towards each other. Your faces are mere centimetres apart as he drops your wrists, hands coming to your hips under the water instead.

Minho is hypnotised. You're so close, and the feeling of your skin under his fingers is making him feel almost drunk. He didn't know it was possible for a person to make him feel this way.

Faint shouting from the distance snaps you both out of your trance. People at the Safe Haven are waking up and the day is about to begin- both of your absences isn't going to go unnoticed.

You pull away, clearly your throat, "We should go. They'll wonder where we are."

"Uh, yeah- you're right."

Minho doesn't bother to put his shirt back on for the walk, letting the air dry his skin. Which is completely distracting, and you swear he caught you looking more than once. But he doesn't say anything.

Once you're closer, he pulls his shirt back on and you split up, mumbling some very awkward goodbyes.

You slip back into your hut, unnoticed, drying yourself off and getting changed.

Unfortunately, damp Minho had an audience the second he returned. He doesn't think he's ever got this much attention.

You and Minho suddenly become as bad as each other. Your conversations are brief but full of tension, so much so that your friends can notice until it all comes ahead.

You've, once again, been peer-pressured into having some fun. Leaning on a beam at the side of the party, you watch from afar.

Some girl came up to Minho about fifteen minutes ago, and she's beeb hanging off of him ever since. You've failed to join in on your conversation with your friends, who are exchanging some knowing looks between one another.

"I don't get it," Sonya says after a while, "you know he likes you, and you're clearly at least starting to like him- so why not do something about it?"

"What?" You pull your death stare away, looking at your blond ally instead.

"You and Minho? Finch it, being in the same room as you guys is enough to turn anyone on- so I can't imagine how you guys feel."

"You're looking to much into it; everyone likes Minho. I'm not about to be another girl pining for his affection."

"Yeah, but he likes you." Harriet joins in. "There's no competition because he's already yours. Sonya's right; do something about it."

You look at them before returning your gaze to Minho and the girl. They're right.

And you've had enough of this.

"Fuck it," you down the rest of your drink in one mouthful, slamming it down and making your way over to him.

Wordlessly, he notices you approaching as he sits amongst his friends, practically ignoring the girl. You take his hand as he looks up at you like a lost puppy.

He makes no hesitation to push the girl off, standing up and letting you lead him to literally wherever you want. Whistles from Gally and Frypan fill the noise from behind you, but you don't care anymore.

You pull him into your hut, the light is dim as you shut the door behind the both of you.

"(Y/N)? What are you-?" You push him backwards, making him hit the wall as you stand in front of him. Once again, your faces are painfully close.

"You still want me?" You mumble, nearly into him as his body goes limp, eyes becoming hooded.

He nods. "More than anything."

"Do..." the questions makes you cringe, somehow becoming nervous despite knowing you're not about to get rejected, "do tou want to be my boyfriend?"

Your eyes flicker down, not able to meet his gaze, and you hear him scoff. "Of shuckin' course I do."

The scene you look up at him again, his lips are on yours. It's a deep kiss, but a safe one, and you pull away from each other for a second.

"Damn," he smirks, "if I knew you were the possessive type, I woulda made you jealous sooner."

"Shut up," you grumble, pressing your lips back to his. It's feverish this time, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer, whilst your hands come to his hair, tangling in his dark locks.

He hums into you as you pull on his bottom lip with your teeth, both of you move in sync as he leads you to the bed, falling on top of you.

His hands travel under your shirt, desperate to feel your skin against his once again as your bodies tangle together. You pull at his shirt, and he takes the hint, breaking the kiss to pull it off.

It gives you the chance to drink in his appearance. He's dishevelled and messy, panting with large pupils and parted lips. He's never felt this needy in his life, watching as you sit up, pulling your own shirt off.

You reconnect, Minho pushing himself between your legs, your nails digging into his back as he transfers his affection to your neck. You let out a shaky breath, which very nearly comes out as a moan.

It just pushes Minho further as he sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your neck. Your body twitches, and you gasp, clinging onto him further.

"Minho," your voice is whispy and full of an emotion Minho hasn't heard before. He thought he liked hearing you say his name before, but now he could literally get drunk off of the word. "Please."

He grabs you thigh, hiking your leg up further as he grinds against you. Let's be honest, the boy has been rock solid since the first kiss.

"I've never..." He mutters against you skin, "I've never done this before. I don't really... know what I'm doing."

"You think I do?" You chuckle. "Do you want to do this, or should we wait?"

He pauses, looking at you. "I want you so fuckin' bad- I've never felt like this before. But if you want to wait, then I'll wait for as long as you need. Do you want to wait?"

Hearing Minho actually swear instead of the Glader slang is rare, and sends even more heat through you as Harriet's words ring through your head.

He's already yours.

He hovers on top of you as he waits for your answer, and you shake your head.

"No," you mumble, bucking up your hips against his, making him hiss and his breath hitches before you kiss him once again.

Another Minho piece woooo. I've got a couple of requests to get through now to keep me busy, so there should be some steady content coming out, but requests are still open. Also sorry if it takes me a bit to get to your requests, I promise I will get to them.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[mint-yooxgi]

I just finished reading the first part of Hotel California and I need to say it: you are just calling it "yandere" for clickbait.

The only chapter that really feels like a yandere story is the first one, maybe the second one a bit.

Tf is all this narrative of "we are equals" and "you don't own me"? You know you have a BAD yandere when it don't terrify the reader and the characters. If I'm reading yandere shit I want to scared, I want to see the characters be scared and disgusted. The whole yandere thing is a horror trope and in my opinion it should stay that way.

A yandere isn’t just a love interest who’s a bit possessive or overprotective, it’s a HORROR TROPE of a violently jealous character.

Oh sweetie, don't come into MY ask box, on ANON, and tell ME about what is or isn't acceptable as to how to write a yandere. I can clearly tell you have a very shallow understanding of what yandere actually entails, and I actually feel sorry for you that you believe the only way a yandere can be written is if they're abusive assholes towards their love interest.

Here's a helpful link on all the different characterizations of yanderes to help you out, since you seem quite lost. And aggressive at that.

Please focus on the subheading of "Types of Yanderes", I think that will greatly help. Specifically the subcategory on obsession. I think that'll be very eye opening for you.

Not all yanderes are going to be violent towards their love interests. That doesn't make them a 'good' or 'poorly written' character. It all depends on what the writer wants, and what fits the story. You don't have to like the character, but you shouldn't shit on an author because it's not a character you wanted to see, or they're not written how YOU wanted. Close the book/tab/page, or whatever you're reading on, and move along.

Don't you fucking DARE come onto MY blog and tell me how I SHOULD or SHOULDN'T be writing MY OWN FUCKING CHARACTERS.

If you didn't like it, click away. It's not that hard. You don't need to send such aggressive and downright RUDE messages on ANON. Tumblr is free. My writing is free. You know what I didn't ask for, though? Your shitty opinion.

Maybe educate yourself on the different types of yanderes before you come into MY ask box, on MY blog, of which I've been writing and researching this trope for almost TEN FUCKING YEARS NOW, before you spew some dumb shit.

Also, you know horror isn't all just slasher violence and abuse, right? You know what else falls under the horror category?

PSYCHOLOGICAL! WOO!

Here's another wiki page on just how many horror genres there are. Thought this might be helpful to you as well!

And that's not even to mention yandere is technically part of the ROMANCE trope.

Can't wait until you find out Misa Amane from Death Note is a yandere. You might faint!

There are plenty of fics where the love interest gets abused and torn apart by the yandere in question. This is not one of them. Go get off somewhere else, your high horse isn't that high.

[otakween]

Digital Monster X-evolution

If those janky Digimon World cutscenes were a whole movie, it'd be this. To be fair, I think outdated CGI has a lot more charm than a lot of the higher quality but soulless stuff they put out nowadays. Plot-wise it was nothing special, we've seen this plot a zillion times by now. They just injected it with some new gimmicks. I did find the main character charming enough. I honestly wouldn't mind seeing another attempt at an all-CGI movie as long as that didn't become the new default (slippery slope lol).

Notes:

Although the plot of this film was really simple they managed to add some convoluted lore anyways...because Digimon. Just when I was thinking "that was confusing" I saw that this wiki has a 900 page long (not really lol) explanation/play-by-play. Maybe I'll read it when it's not my bed time: https://wikimon.net/Digital_Monster_X-evolution

Of course they had to open the movie with Leomon dying (really?) Why is that a thing? I've never felt emotional seeing any Leomon die tbh lol

I think Dorumon and his digivolutions have really strong designs. His rookie form kinda looks like a furry version of Monodramon. I've been playing Digimon RPG (the MMO) and just by chance ended up with him as my partner (I actually thought I was getting Impmon lol). Fate!

Not a lot of levity here, the script took itself very seriously and the characters spent most of the film just being existential and talking about the meaning of life. Kinda heavy for a silly little monster battle film.

Legit got a little emotional when Dorumon was being bullied, but it's really easy to feel sad for a furry little creature

The CGI actually held up better than I thought it would for the most part, the mecha digimon especially looked awesome. The only "AH! KILL IT WITH FIRE!" moment was Andromon -shudder-

(Of course, Andromon is ugly in any form, but this is definitely his worst).

Weird seeing Omegamon vs. WarGreymon. I was also surprised to see Magnamon in the Royal Knights. He just seems more beast-like to me than the other knights.

Tokomon was one of those "is it cute or is it annoying?" baby characters. I'm leaning more towards cute, but there were moments where I was like "alright, that's enough of him" loi

Dorugamon kinda reminded me of Toothless. I wanna pet his big nose :3c

They just couldn't resist, they had to call something in this franchise "Yggradsil" didn't they

(They also used other Norse names, the same ones used in Ah! My Goddess).

The funky X-forms of digimon were fun, very angular. It reminds me of the newer Pokemon games how they keep adding new gimmicky forms. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of these. I guess in a way, this is a more realistic "evolution" since it has to do with the digimon reacting to their environment by developing antibodies.

I saw people complaining that Frontier only had two Royal Knights, well I guess they made up for it a bit here. Are they always gonna be working for the villain side? I wanna see a series where they're the heroes!

It was neat seeing Silphymon again. I get excited when 02 characters show up cuz it's kind of the underdog season in my mind.

The villain digimon (aside from the royal knights) weren't very well explained they just kinda showed up, caused havoc, then went away. The only reason why I have a name for any of them is cuz I read the wiki. I guess it would be hard to naturally fit in all the names...

The name "Alphamon" was kind of an eyeroll. They're running out of epic names lol. (Also, it just makes me think of alpha bros nowadays). The design is nice tho, it's got the black w/ gold highlights thing that I liked in Frontier.

Lots of badass cape shots in this (see my final screenshot above)

At the end of the movie the digital world was destroyed and then restored (Frontier much?) It wasn't really clear what that meant for the digimon. Did they all just resurrect via digiegg? Were they recreated exactly as they were before the world's destruction? -shrug-

Pretty sad that this movie never got any love in the states. I wonder if there's a fandub out there somewhere.

Apparently Digimon World 4 is related to this movie so I'll be playing that next!

[kreideroses]

albedo hcs

i don't normally post on tumblr but it's his birthday and i love him sm 😭 this is just how i perceive him and maybe i'm biased because i'm a simp LOL

🕯️tags: gn!reader, established relationship (reader and albedo are dating), implied thoughts of parenthood on albedo's part, this is really self indulgent, a fuck ton of fluff LOL

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

- albedo is a busy man, so it's a real privelege whenever he makes time in his hectic schedule for the both of you.

- albedo likes listening to your heartbeat when cuddling. he's not human so things like being able to hear your heartbeats, feeling the rising of your chest as you breathe fascinates him

- speaking of cuddling, he gets clingy and very touchy but only to people he trusts.

- albedo loves to hold your hand when he's writing paperwork. he links his arm with yours when you guys walk around mondstadt. very clingy especially around you

- draws you A LOT. this is a common trope in fics of him but i love it okay. he loves studying every detail about you. he works hard to make sure that his depictions of you capture your likeness.

- he's also very open about the drawing thing. like, you saw him sketching you out in his sketchbook one time and when he saw you were flattered he just went "i have entire sketchbooks filled with drawings of you, you know?" and didn't elaborate further until you pressed him on about it. absolutely shameless smh

- he's not really a petnames guy, his reasoning being he loves saying your name, it just rolls of the tongue perfectly for him, he doesn't really see a need for petnames. he does however make an exception for the petname "dear"

- when he holds your hand, sometimes he squeezes it three times out of nowhere. it's his way of saying "i love you" quietly. ever since you learned of this habit from him, he always waits expectantly for you to return those three hand squeezes

- he's the embodiment of "actions speak louder than words". he's still quite shy with saying he loves you, so he tries to make up for it by doing small things such as remembering something you like and getting you something related to your interest, clearing his schedule to spend time with you, or constantly holding or touching you.

- you, albedo, and klee have occassional "playdates" (which is mostly just you two trying to make sure klee doesnt blow up the knights' headquarters)

- during one of your "playdates" with klee, she asked to play house with the both of you and assigned you two to be her parents. albedo could Not meet your eyes for the rest of the day after your roles had been given

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sorry if this is messy i never post T-T

if this is ooc i apologize to my king albedo it's been a while since i've done my daily albedo wiki page reading :(

[discord-lurking]

Dungeons and Daddies Wiki Drama: A Greek Tragedy Told through the Medium of Forum Posts (Part 2)

Act 2: The Wax Melts, The Sea Beckons

In which the wings begin to fall apart.

Despite the drama unfolding over the November admin discussion post, wiki life continued. User posts showed cracks in the foundation. Something was rotten in the state of Wikia.

November 6th, 2023:

November 9th, 2023:

It seems that the administrators were deleting pages, instituting rigid new rules about how long a post could stay unfinished (and, apparently, what qualified as unfinished).

Enter anonymous wiki user Chekovsnakess.

November 23rd, 2023:

Chekovsnakess pointed out the issue inherent in the deletions- moderators wanted more people to engage with the wiki, but what's the point, when the page will get nuked?

Chekovsnakess: "The wiki feels more of the admins' wiki rather than a community wiki."

The admins didn't take well to this critique.

TwoRatner: "In no way have we, the admins, been hostile."

TheOneTrueGod41: "It can't be unprofessional if we absolutely mean it."

PawnSum: "Uh, you can't type fast or something? I can, so that shouldn't be a problem."

Also, iconic quote from PawnSum: "I literally broke my ankle and couldn't get home, so I understand what pain is."

PawnSum makes a good point- only they, a wiki editor experiencing mild criticism and a broken ankle, could ever understand true pain.

Opening a paragraph with "you also don't seem to understand that your opinions aren't facts" and closing it with "Please stop leaving and just stay!"

A masterpiece of salesmanship. Glenn and his high Persuasion rolls could only hope to reach the levels of charisma displayed by wiki administrator TwoRatner.

Other iconic TwoRatner quotes:

"Admins are like princiPALS after all, or a nice janitor."

"You want me to quick my job? I can't! I already paid for the funeral and now I need more money to feed my family."

After this, Chekovsnakess remained silent, perhaps choosing to disengage from fandom wiki drama and move on with their life. An unthinkable choice, to be sure.

More users turned to the forums to express frustrations with the wiki, falling on the administrator's deaf ears.

November 29th, 2023:

December 3rd, 2023:

With this, we segue to the moderator response to wiki user critiques: splitting the wiki into two websites with separate mod teams, one for season 1 of the podcast and one for season 2.

In haunting Anakin-like fashion, TwoRatner says "I promise to bring about a satisfying future to this wiki." A promise they would be unable to live up to.

December 2nd, 2023:

TwoRatner's attempt to bring peace to their new empire wiki would first involve mysterious user Largeo and a separation on par with the Great Church Schism of 1054. Equally important decisions with equally worldwide consequences.

TwoRatner made the generous decision to put this up for a community vote, with only one dissenter: Zilstreet.

Zilstreet pointed out the obvious criticism: wouldn't splitting a wiki for a single show between two different places make it confusing for casual browsers? What about characters that appear in both seasons? Was there a specific game plan?

This was met with a measured, thoughtful response from the administrators.

"When life gives you grapefruit, you make grapefruit pellets to shoot at your friends, because plastic pellets hurt." -HungerBunger, December 5th 2023

How dare Zilstreet not take into account HungerBunger's trauma and exercises in extending trust???

"It's very obvious. We clearly thought about this."

Indeed.

More users with suspiciously similar speech patterns chime in to support TwoRatner's proposal.

Interestingly, MotPot brings up jazz unprompted. Where have we seen that before? Honic Washington and The One True God 41, in Part 1.

Clearly, there must be a lot of overlap between jazz fans and D&D podcast wiki editors.

Marth8204 came out swinging, telling Zilstreet that they should be ashamed for having the audacity to ask questions about a drastic site change, but seemed pacified by TwoRatner's warning to "tone it down a bit."

TwoRatner imposed a deadline for users to vote on the change.

FunderStun also came out swinging- this time, against Gaycowboyrats (featured in Part 1) and... Amber Heard? Then they delivered this line: "There is no savior, so we have to be."

Again, poetry.

And again, I'd like to put a pin in the Gaycowboyrats reference.

Thus ended the split discussion thread, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Nicoh Watonshing seems to be referring to wiki security breaches. Was this an ongoing issue? Were admins getting hacked? If so, by whom? What could hackers possibly want from the wiki?

What happened between Brazil86 and TwoMarshall? What did Brazil86 do wrong? Are there any words in the English language that can strike as much fear in one's heart as "abnormally long Discord call"?

Note the TwoMarshall brother reference: this is very similar to references made by TwoRatner to a brother that died. How coincidental.

This period of forum volatility closely follows the themes established in Act 1: a strict, opaque sense of wiki justice, wiki moderator power as a status more important than wiki functionality, calling for more community engagement while largely ignoring community engagement when it happened, and making drastic changes in response to real or perceived wiki problems.

Here, we see more new administrator names pop up in the forums with similar styles of speech and occasional non-sequiturs, even after Honic Washington's (apparent) departure.

Here, we see new discontent in the moderator ranks- some apparent failure by Brazil86, and its severe consequences with TwoMarshall.

Here, we see two moderators (TwoRatner and TwoMarshall) with similar brother-related situations. Did TwoRatner switch accounts? Was this related to the alleged security breaches in the wiki?

Despite being active in the forums and wiki at large before this, Gaycowboyrats is now conspicuously absent except for the reference by FunderStun, who wants to remove Gaycowboyrats from his position of influence and "free" the fandom.

Has the Dungeons and Daddies wiki been subject to some kind of administrator security breach and subsequent overthrow, resulting in a schism?

Life seems to be giving this wiki a lot of grapefruit.

And when life gives you grapefuit, you make grapefruit pellets to shoot your friends.

Chorus:

A statement from Zil Street.

Interim attempts at community engagement by the administrators.

Stay tuned for part 3 tomorrow with the thrilling conclusion of the wiki split saga!

[cleolinda]

Creepypasta: Ted the Caver (2001)

There was a season of Are You Scared? that presented some actual famous creepypasta (pasta? pastas?), and I was so giddy about it. I love creepypasta and Weird Internet Fiction, and I recognized all the famous ones right off the bat; the moment there was a season preview and a cave was mentioned, I KNEW. So the episode with "Ted the Caver" instantly became one of my favorites ("GET IN THE FUCKING CAVE, TEDDY!!"). But it also kills me that the show presents the final installment as if it's the whole story: just one spooked, caveless guy wandering around meebling about his spelunking obsession. Buddy, there is SO MUCH caving in the full version, you don't even know. There is NONE MORE CAVING:

[Note: The original Angelfire site still works, but while I was researching this, I started running into malware. As such, I'm going to also link you to an unofficial mirror of the site at a creepypasta wiki.]

But I get it: there's no way to read the entire story aloud for a half-hour show. It was originally published as an unassuming hobbyist blog in 2001, and "Ted the Caver" is partly so effective because it is genuinely just an amateur caving blog for about 10,000 words. My understanding is that the author really is a caving enthusiast—I mean, he'd have to be, because the story is filled with actual photos of him and a friend chipping their way through a hole the size of a baseball into a cave they dub "Floyd's Tomb." So this was a real expedition... that the author wrote a delightful little spoop around.

Honestly, the real horror for me isn't even the Descent-style Something that seems to be living down there; it's the genuine terror of these fools squeezing themselves through eight-inch openings into the bowels of the earth, God bless. You can tell the mundane aspects are absolutely true to life, because the squeezing and the scraping and the panic—I'll just stop there, in case anyone has any phobias, claustro or otherwise. If I didn't before, I do now.

But it also has to be noted, "real horror" is what "Ted the Caver" is all about: the horror of a story backed up by reams of accurate detail and told through a really, really basic-ass Angelfire website. (I say this lovingly, as someone who had a shitty Geocities site herself.) It truly looks like it's just someone's blog—because that's mostly what it really is. Who wrote it? Well, an actual guy named Ted:

Well, I guess it’s time I add my two cents to the topic. My name is Ted and I am the author of the story you have been discussing. I am the original author. I created the story on my own and copied no one

...he wrote, in response to a plagiarism accusation (turns out the other guy copied him, and closely at that).

Between December 30, 1999 and February 24, 2000 Brad and I worked on a passage in Freeway cave. We made numerous trips, and spent many hours of hard work, before we were finally able to get through the opening and into the new section of cave. During the course of our adventure I kept a caving journal and documented our activities surrounding our attempts to be the first people to enter the new passage. Since we were giving friends and family members updates as we worked, I thought it would be a good idea to put my entire journal on a web page, along with our pictures, then we could simply refer people to the site. The thought then occurred to me: It sure would be fun to embellish the story a little!

Ted hasn't given his full name, but he is an actual Ted, it seems. And honestly, as much as I would like him to be credited as openly as Eric Heisserer is for "The Dionaea House," it really works in the story's favor that it's so difficult to figure out who wrote it. Not to spoil you, but the story told by the blog, much to Shane and Ryan's frustration in the video above, ends in a single puff of irony:

See all of you soon, with a lot of answers! Love, Ted

Magnificent. Because, let's face it: if a cave monster really did eat trap and eat your friend, isn't this what it would look like? No silly explanation for how a video camera somehow made it back to his friends and family from, like, the center of the fucking earth through a hole the size of a cantaloupe. No, your man there is just gone. And he's given enough detail in previous entries for you to imagine that what he finally came face to face with down there is Not Good. That's enough.

[vespaer77]

You just did the impossible. You changed someone’s opinion online. I can see Gale now. Thank you!

Listen, I'd be the first to forgive anyone if they didn't share my feelings. Gale is the worst about filling in the gaps in his story, and I filled a lot of them by suddenly taking an interest... and then going out to the Forbidden Realms wiki pages and doing supplementary reading on Mystra and Blackstaff Academy which made me first go, "Oh." And then, "OH." And then finally, "Oh my god."

It's like the same criticism I have about Star Wars, haha =) In order to know the whole story, one has to have seen x and y shows and read z comic book. Otherwise you wouldn't know that Kylo Ren wasn't actually responsible for the destruction of Luke's temple, which is somewhat critical yet relatively hidden information.

I *hated* Gale in early access. He was my dead last least favorite character. They changed him somewhat in full release (not to mention he was infinitely hotter, lol), but it wasn't until damned near the end of the game when I was like, "Wait... wait a minute." I think that's also why they did to Rolan what they did - in the same place, even. While we were completing Gale's companion quest. Rolan was the clue, the tip off. Another insufferably egotistical wizard. Suffering abuse. They laid the parallel out so plainly and I still walked right past it until Gale read the book and suddenly took a very surprisingly dark turn. And I felt so silly that it surprised me so.

And I was so disinterested in Gale at the time that I saved his companion quest for basically the last. Sort of. I think I did Gortash after him. But I got to watch all the other companions face their abuser and win. I got to help Wyll break his contract AND free his father. I got to help Shadowheart free herself from Shar and return to the open arms of Selune. I got to help Halsin fix his past mistakes and return Moonrise to its former self. I got to help Astarion face his abuser at long, long last and free himself for the first time in his own memory, along with thousands of others. And Sebastian <3 And then I even helped Karlach face her abuser and bring him to justice.

But what did Gale get to do? Where was his freedom? His catharsis? When he faced his abuser, the only thing that happened was her expressing her disappointment that he was still alive, that he didn't choose her above his own self-inflicted demise. And then she subjected him to yet another new pact that still indebted him to her. Because he's a wizard. No matter what he does, as long as he draws breath and casts spells, he'll always be indebted to her. And it just felt so... hollow. Unfair.

it made me FEEEEEEELLLLLLugh things haha! And then I was like, fuck. No, I do. I like this character.

OKAY I LOVE HIM, ALRIGHT? THERE. I SAID IT.

So I unbelievably and totally and with full chest and face understand and respect it. Not every character is going to be to everyone's tastes. If anything? It just proves how well these characters are written. That this team of writers were capable of such subtlety and depth. I'm not sure I could do the same justice to a fictional creation of my own. I'm just in awe of Larian Studios =)

[zukadiary]

Hi!💓 I have a few questions, apologies if they are a lil vague, it's just something that has been on my mind lately as a fairly new fan:

1. Was it ever clear that Chinatsu is the next top? Was it the reason for Ari's transfer, or was it a need for ninbante in star and that's why Chinatsu became the next in moon?

2. Also, how did you predict back then that Coto will have a long run as top star? Based on what in particular?

3. Why did Tamaki became top star comparably so early?

4. And I know that lgbt+ culture is practically nonexistent in Japan, but i still wonder if any of the actress ever talked abt it or addressed it in any way? Has anything regarding lgbt happened around taka that you know of?

Thanks a lot for your blog!! I am writing a wiki page in my mother tongue for taka rn, since it doesn't exist yet, and ur explanations clarified a few things for me, so thanks a ton again! 💕

Hello! Not vague at all :)

It was NOT personally clear to me that Chinatsu was going to be top (usually these things are obvious, occasionally we get a surprise). I don't think it was the reason for Ari's transfer though; it's impossible to know for sure, but my guess is more because of Oda (they don't want her to wait for Ari to finish) and some need to balance Hoshi. With Chinatsu as an older top, she can stay for a shorter time (similar examples would be Sou Kazuho and Hokusho Kairi, also older tops who stayed for three Grand Theater shows) and Oda can become top sooner.

I had a feeling Coto would be a long top for a number of reasons... 1) she's extremely popular and puts a lot of butts in seats, 2) she has a reputation for being a "mini Yuzuki Reon," who also stayed for a really long time, 3) the Hoshigumi producer has a bit of a reputation for putting a lot of stock in high-powered top stars and somewhat neglecting the nurturing of his track, and 4) until Ari came over there was no clear successor, which made me think they were going to ride Coto until they figured it out.

I've only heard rumors about this... one that Miya Rurika didn't want to be top star, one that Manaki Reika was so popular they designed the troupe around her and the producers didn't like her and Miya/Kacha together as much as they liked her and Tamaki together... but again, there is no way to know for sure.

Firstly, LGBT+ culture is NOT practically nonexistent in Japan—not saying this to correct you, but it's an impression a lot of people get and it makes them sad! So I want to share the reality of it! LGBT+ activism is way less prevalent than in other cultures (and as a result, legal protections are definitely behind), but this is true of pretty much all types of activism (I had an interesting conversation about this with a group of Japanese climate activists). There is a rich LGBT+ nightlife scene, and over the years Japan has been fairly ahead of the curve when it comes to queerness in media and fan culture. There is, however, a very "we pretend we do not see it" energy despite the prevalence. That said, Takarazuka actresses are almost definitely forbidden from talking about this while active, and discouraged while retired (especially if they stay in entertainment). Even if they are not actively discouraged, because there is no culture around being open about it on a real and personal level, they certainly wouldn't out other people and likely wouldn't out themselves. There are OGs both in and out of entertainment who are not shy about living as their honest selves and you can pretty much tell, but it still doesn't tend to be something they openly talk about (Nanami Hiroki and Miya Rurika have discussed breaking gender norms in interviews, but have skirted around saying anything definitive about themselves). The one exception I can immediately think of is Misuzu Aki retired and blogged about moving to Europe with her female partner.