#but you know what. this will serve as an archive for ME. who found it funny on august 21st 2023

[witchofsparkles]

Simon was having a fairly quiet evening. In a bar like theirs, it was mostly empty anyways. The place was hidden at the end of a dark alley, making it hard for people to find and the ones who found it would turn around and leave because of its place. Who would open a bar there? Probably people who are not up to no good.

And like that, in time, the place became somewhere really shady. They offered them a silent environment and a promise to be not listened and watched. For that, Price put Simon as the bartender. He wasn’t a talker and would wear a black balaclava all the time. The business people wouldn’t know him if they saw him outside and Simon didn’t care what the hell was going on between them. He eavesdropped once passing by a table and heard a rugged man asking for a hitman to hire.

Simon left the table almost running.

Price, the owner of the bar, Simon the Ghost and Gaz the upright man were all friends from military. They served together and they got expelled together when the big brother heard that they went against the orders trying to rescue a bunch of kids from the warzone. To Simon, it was an honor of badge, but military saw it as a dirt under their shoes and kicked them out. The whole thing was infuriating but they were also happy to be out. Simon got his share of horror for a life time.

Simon raised his head when he heard the door opening. It was only 8 pm and he knew they weren’t expecting anybody. No hitman bargain, to his knowledge. And the bar was completely empty other than himself. Then he saw the man coming in.

He was looking no more than a college student, really. He wasn't young, no. But there was an air of carelessness on him. His hair was wet from the rain, which Simon only noticed now, and he used to have a mohawk. Before it got glued into his head because of the wetness. Then he noticed the sea blue eyes looking around like he’s searching for something. Simon stared at them an ungodly amount of time and averted his gaze before the man could realize. Simon’s eyes moved down to his face, stubble around his cheeks and a pair of purple lips -which probably because of the freezing cold. Then he, with sort of amazement, saw that the man was give or take a head shorter than him but broader. In what universe? Simon thought cheekily.

“Hey, mate. Have something to warm me up a bit?” Simon narrowed his eyes with suspicion. He had a Scottish accent under that soothing voice. He didn’t answer. The man was in a bar, he should know that he could order every kind of warmer there.

Instead he just walked up to the counter while leaving wet footprints and scattering water droplets around. Simon felt his eyebrow twitching, he was the one who going to clean these.

“Not much of a talker, are ye? Well, it’s pishin it doon out ‘ere and I’m freezing. Scotch?” Simon hoped he didn’t show it on his face but the only bit he got from this man’s talking was his order. He turned to fill the glass and heard the man talking again.

“I mean it’s raining hard. I could see the gears turning through your eyes. Well, that’s about the only thing I can see. Is wearing a mask come with the bartender job or did I walk into a robbery?”

Simon rolled his eyes while his back was still turned to the man. He served the drink and turned to leave but the man stopped him again. “How much?”

Simon pointed to the board. The man clicked his tongue. “Even the money doesn’t get you talk. Are you mute? Am I being inconsiderate and rude?”

Simon thought about playing mute. He wasn’t planning on talking to customers soon. But he shook his head to indicate that he could talk but he chose not to. Not to him, anyways. And that found its way to the man too. He downed the Scotch and put the money under the glass. There was a crooked smile on his face. “Well, till the next rain then.”

[winstrates]

enjoy the parody pokefic i came up with and gave up on after 9 slides.

[ask-the-pioneer]

"I've always been captivated by them. Something about the shiny exterior, how they glimmer when you tumble them around in your hands. My younger self would obsess about them, a childlike fascination. Even back then I instinctively knew they had value. My mom would use pearls I found to pay for a safe passage at scavenger tolls. We tried to bypass those points as much as we could, but sometimes it was unavoidable."

"It's a looong story…. I was found roaming the wilderness by my mentor, who brought me to er, an entity, called an interator. Do you know of iterators? Apparently they are what was left of an ancient civilization that once inhabited these lands. I couldn't wrap my head around it at first. Iterators are massive, absolutely huge, like mountains. Do you see that big structure of a regular, smooth shape?"

[She points towards Five Pebble's can in the distance]

"That is an iterator's «superstrucute». A mountain, the entire thing… is a person. It still sounds crazy when I say it."

"Ah, right, my name… like I mentioned, I got lost and my mentor found me. He brought me to his iterator. If my memory serves me right, his name is «No Significant Harassment», or NSH for short. I recall thinking at that time, «Harassment? I hope he won't be cruel to me». I had no concept of iterator names, their meaning, why it's three or however many words long. It was incredibly confusing to my young mind, though looking back at it I consider myself very lucky. The iterator was, dare I say, «god-like» (his own words), but benevolent. I saw how well he treated Hunter – my mentor – and it made me trust him more, even though I was scared and wary in the beginning."

"Would you believe it if I told you… there are stories written inside the pearls? That those things I’ve been obsessing about all my life are used for storing information? I had many of them leftover from when I lived at a scavenger outpost. One cycle, NSH noticed my interest, and – I wish Hunter had told me about this sooner, but – the iterator shot at my head with something…? And suddenly I could understand everything he said. Not that he said much, because I started crying loudly and ran straight out of there, haha. But before I bolted, he gave me one of his pearls as consolation. I think he felt bad for the scared little me."

"After that, he would eagerly read all the pearls I brought to him. That is how I learned more about the culture of the peoples who were here before me: the Ancients, their customs, why the iterators were built, and much more. It was like the knowledge of the entire world was suddenly revealed to me – to a seemingly insignificant being, a tiny speck in an endless ocean of life. It both made me feel very important, and very small. And, yeah, it has intensified my obsession with pearls beyond mortal limits. What if I could write into a pearl? I could archive the history of my entire species! All the stories my mom told me when I was small? All the places I’ve been to? Or other scugs have been to…"

[Her eyes widen, sparkling with glee]

"Y-yeah… that would be nice… sadly I am what I am – a slugcat. I don’t know how to do this very advanced stuff at all. I have no means of doing this. I once asked NHS for help, but there’s only so much he could guess from my frantic signing. I don’t think he understood me, in the end. But he did appreciate my efforts, and I was given a title – the Pioneer, like a person who is the very first to explore something uncharted. Apparently no slugcat before me thought of reading from or writing into pearls? I find it a little hard to believe."

"This one! This is a very special kind of pearl – it contains an ancient poem from which my name originated. See, my name was a gift from NSH the iterator. It’s spelled: «Mirmyntasseth». The best way I would describe it, is… it’s a name for a feeling, or an experience. The way it was explained to me, is that the word «Mirmyntasseth» is an expression of seeing a marble roll on a flat surface, then hitting another marble. Ah, right, you may not know this – a marble is like, like a pearl, but translucent and even more ornate. I was told that marbles were used by the Ancients for entertainment. They had a game where you rolled one to hit another. I'll admit, I can see the appeal. Throwing rocks is fun, although I image this game was considered a more dignified pastime."

[She tumbles the dark pearl in her hands, admiring its luster]

"The poem inside this pearl, one of its verses spells: «Eight Marbles Cast in Stone». The poem itself is long… very long… I had the iterator read it to me once, and we had to stop in the middle because the rain was coming. Maybe I will ask NSH to read it again, when I’m back at his superstructure with Hunter."

[Her gaze trails off to somewhere far away for a moment, a subtle grimace on her face. She closes her eyes and shakes off the thoughts that cloud her mind]

"So, um… yes… that is why I am called Eight Marbles Cast in Stone, or Marbles for short. I like how it sounds, it has a nice ring to it. And it’s a gift from an iterator, a god-like being. I consider it a great honor."

"…that said, I wonder why he didn’t just name me «Pearl»? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Maybe it didn’t sound cool enough. They’ve used pearls just to store information. I guess it’d be silly to be named «Dirt» because you doodle in dirt, or «Batfly» because you love eating batflies? Hmm…"

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

700 Years

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.6K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: sexual servitude briefly described in regards to Y/N (concubus), soft Haarlep (he is baby i love him so much), Raphael (enough said), fluffffff

Part 2

-----------------

You heard the defenses of the door fade away. You laid unmoving, naked on the massive bed. The intruders gawked at you but you did not speak.

A tall tiefling made her way to you before gently shaking you a bit. Your eyes flit to hers, “Yes?” you asked.

“Who are you?” said the Selune follower.

“I am Y/N. One of Raphael’s concubus.” you said sitting up.

“But you’re a mortal?” questioned the vampire.

“Always read the fine print when you make a deal with the devil.” you mumbled. “Now, has the master sent you here for me to please you? All of you?” you said moving to sit on your knees.

“The devil imprisoned you as a concubus to serve him?” the vampire asked.

“No, he imprisoned me to serve his guests… Tell me fangs, how do you like it?” you said, leaning towards him with a seductive smile.

“That’s awful.” Karlach said not even realizing it slipped out.

“The devil isn’t a good guy? I’m shocked.” you said sarcastically. 

“If you can help us, we can save you.” said the githyanki in the back of the group. 

You quirked your eyebrow, wondering if this was a test from Raphael. Whatever the punishment would be for even saying you wanted to leave was enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I am not allowed to leave.” you said, pointing to the chain around your ankle that kept you bound to the bed. 

The adventurers eyed each other, unsure of what to do exactly. “The Orphic Hammer is in the archive, say “give me my heart's desire” and take it… quick before he comes back.”

Everyone nodded and started to run towards the archive, leaving you on the cold bed. Everyone except a certain vampire. He shook his head at the door, eyeing you before running back over to you. You watched him in stunned silence as he quickly made work of the complex lock chaining you to the bed. 

“What are you doing? You’re wasting your time.” you whispered to him.

“I was locked in sexual servitude for 200 years, call me soft for not wanting to leave you in the same state.” said the vampire as the final click of the lock snapped. 

“I haven’t been free of that chain in 100 years…” you whispered while silent tears fell from your eyes.

Astarion looked at you confused, “Human, but not mortal?”

You laughed out breathily. “Raphael keeps what’s his forever. He made me eternally youthful so his guests would be… eternally entertained.” 

“How long?” he asked, afraid to know the answer.

“What year is it?” you asked, trying to give an accurate calculation. 

“1490” he said quickly.

“Really?... I’ve been down here for 700 years… that is… um…” you felt your chest fill with dread. Everything and everyone you knew was gone. You were truly and completely alone.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive to what you’re going through right now but maybe we can sulk back at camp once we’ve escaped the hells?” he asked, standing you up and grabbing you random clothes he found strewn on the floor.

“Thank you…” you said. You felt detached from your body, your eyes had tunnel vision and you felt weak. 

“Astarion,” he said.

“Thank you Astarion.” you nodded gently.

“Astarion! We have company!” the tiefling yelled from the door, holding the hammer.

“Stay here, you can’t fight.” Astarion said, rushing the door. You followed him, grabbing his arm before he made the door. He could see it in your eyes. Fear. “I will come back for you as soon as Raphael is dead. I swear it.” he said.

Your grip on him loosened. All you could do was trust him. He left and you heard a never ending commotion from down the hall. You looked around the room searching for one specific thing, you knew Raphael wouldn’t throw away something so valuable, you just had to find it. You tried to open the opulent chest in the corner of the room, Raphael had chained you to the bed because you so much as touched the chest 100 years ago. 

“Looking for something little mouse?” said Haarlep from the doorway. He looked ravishing as always and a sinister smile graced his face. 

You rushed to him and hugged him immediately. Haarlep had been your one comfort in the House of Hope. When Raphael found that you and Haarlep were friends he moved Haarlep to a separate room just for them. That was 300 years ago, you hadn’t seen him since. 

He held you tightly. You two were bonded on a level not many could say they were. He understood your pain, and you understood his. He had been enduring it long before you had but you weren’t from the hells. You were some poor paladin who made a deal to save their lover… only for said lover to abandon you with Raphael. You were a beauty, that was undeniable. Raphael found a use for you in his demented little home. 

“It’s time for me to go.” you said, holding his face. 

He didn’t want you to leave, but he knew this place was not for you. He wanted you to be able to live life, you couldn’t do that here. “I suppose it is.” he smiled sadly at you. He enchanted the chest, unlocking it. There, in all its glory, was the armor you arrived in. Hell Dusk armor. With a snap of Haarlep’s fingers you adorned your armor. You felt powerful, your oath was long broken but you felt the power of the dark. It warmed you like an old friend. 

“Goodbye little mouse.” Haarlep said, caressing your cheek. You smiled up at him, both of you feeling the weight of this bittersweet moment. 

“Leave with me?” you begged him. 

Astarion rushed back into the room, “We have to leave now.” he said, barely acknowledging the devil. 

“Go little mouse. My place is here.” Haarlep adorned your neck with a necklace, the flick of his wrist poofing it into place. It was an infernal marble tied with a simple string. “Come tell me about your adventures in a few hundred years.” he said, smoothing his thumbs over your never ending tears. You nodded quickly, placing a quick kiss to his lips. Astarion grabbed your hand and started to lead you out. 

“Keep them safe.” was all Haarlep said to Astarion before disappearing into a cloud of black smoke. 

—————————

You escaped the hells and followed the adventurers to their camp. Everyone introduced themselves on the way. You noticed that Astarion hadn’t let your hand go yet, despite danger no longer being imminent. When you got to camp, you stayed with him. Feeling a sort of… comfort with him since he is the only one who stayed with you. 

Astarion was soft towards you, surprising even himself. All he could hear in his head was you saying 700. Living over twice as long as he had, he can’t imagine how Raphael had abused you. It broke his undead heart. He felt a sense of responsibility towards you. To protect you and care for you and show you the world might not be so bad. To guide you. Nobody had helped him and it was miserable. He was broken out of his trance by the sound of your armor being taken off. He looked at you, watching layer upon layer fade away. He saw the various scars that adorned your body. What in the hells had been done to you?

“Everyone had different pleasurable appetites in the hells… I had to indulge them.” you said running your fingers over some of your more lengthy and prominent scars. 

Astarion gently held his hand out to you, afraid that if he touched you first in this moment you might recoil. He was shocked when you took his hand and kissed his palm.

“Thank you…. for saving me. You didn’t have to. I’ll be useful to your team and fiercely loyal to you of course. Whatever you want of me, consider it yours.” Your eyes grew distant. He knew that look, he had worn it for 200 years. You were waiting for him to use you, your body specifically.

Astarion pulled his hand away from you and gave you some loose fitting clothes. “You belong to yourself. You’re free now, you decide what happens to you.” You held the clothes but didn’t move. 

“Strange to be free. The hells were home for 700 years. Everything I’ve ever known of this world has changed.” You spoke aloud, unsure if Astarion cared enough to listen. 

“You miss your lover?” Astarion said inquisitively. 

“Lover?” You asked confused.

Astarion pointed to your necklace, the infernal marble felt warm in your hand. “Haarlep wasn’t my lover, he was my friend. My only friend… Raphael… made us do things together for the entertainment of his guests… but we weren’t lovers. We were equals, stuck in the same awful predicament. He was always good to me.” You trailed off softly, missing Haarlep immensely. 

Astarion understood, he felt as if you and him were connected purely through the trauma others had inflicted upon you both. 

“I’m sorry… I know this must all be difficult but, you’re here now. Relatively safe, with somewhat normal companions. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.” He said, secretly hoping you’d stay. 

“If I stay, can I stay near you?” You asked uneasy. 

“I don’t see why not, you haven’t proven burdensome yet.” He said with his eternal smirk present. 

You smiled. Today was full of more smiles than the past 100 years. “Then I’ll stay.”

Hello lovelies! I hope you're all doing well :) here is another fic, I think I might try to put one more out before work on Monday. Maybe this one could become a series if y'all like it that much? Idk I'm just doing my own thing until I get requests.... Thanks you for the likes, comments, reblogs, and motivation! Stay safe out there ilysm <3

[autismprotocol]

TMAG Theory Board Update (EP 11-12)

Hi guys sorry about the late posting I've just started a new quarter of college and its been pretty hectic. also got into my school design BFA program so pretty stoked about that! Anyways lets get into the Episode Breakdowns because even though not a lot of lore related things happened I still have a lot to talk about

For the breakdown I'll separate each by episode in sequential order

What Happened in Episode 11: Marked

Celias Rude Awakening- we jump right into the weirdness straight away with Celia waking up on the side of the interstate. she indicates that this is not a weird occurrence and ends the scene by telling someone named Jack that she's "on her way." If you remember episode 8 after Celia and Sam talk to Gerry and Gertrude, she mentions stuff about wanting help with her own mystery. When Sam asks about it she says she's looking into Time travel, other dimentions and teleportation. Many people have theorized that maybe Celia is just a super heavy sleepwalker, but I think the she teleports random places out of nowhere. This could be a side effect of her reality hopping if this Celia is originally from The archives universe.

As for the identity of Jack I'm not quite sure about that yet. I cross referenced the name Jack with past episodes of TMA. The only thing that came up was Jack Barnabas from the statement about dating Agnes Montague (aka an avatar of the desolation and Jesus-like figure for the cult of the lightless flame) So Unless Celia is secretly Agnes of Agnes reincarnated , I can't find any way to link Barnabas to Celia. (if anyone has a theory feel free to send it my way.)

Sam Lore- this one is pretty minor story-wise but I thought it was interesting. Before the statement for the episode is presented we get some classic Sam and Alice Banter ™ most of it is pretty lighthearted but I noticed Sam mention something that could indicate he might be an amputee.

These could not mean anything and I find it weird that it hasn't been mentioned until now but thought it was kind of cool and I will probably be drawing sam with a prothetic leg in the future cause I really like this head-canon. It also begs to question if he is missing a leg. it might have anything to do with his past as a Magnus institute test subject but then again could just be a fun character detail added by Jonny and/or Alex .

The Statement- Getting into the statement we get another Ink5oul appearance. Also possible Ink5oul identifying as she/they. (and lets be honest being a fear avatar is pretty non binary core). I found this Episode gave me a feeling of a hybrid between the Vast, Buried and the Flesh some people are theorizing that is might be a new entity called the Deep but I think that the fear of the ocean could easily apply to the vast or buried. Not much to say about this story though pretty standard Magnus horror that also gave us a hint to what Ink5oul's goal could be/which entity they serve.

Post Bonzo- Gwen has a debrief with Lena after her first Externals Liason assignment and her meeting with Mr. Bonzo. Undoubtedly Gwen is still pretty shaken from her encounter, even arriving late to work due to sleeplessness. Gwen is able to ask Lena a few questions mainly she wanted to know who's name was written on the letter given to Bonzo

Lena is largely unhelpful but tells Gwen she should have worked it out by now and if not to pay close attention to the case load for the next couple of days. before the latest episode my guess was Klaus because that is the only person mentioned so far that the OIAR intends to kill. but more on that later

Marked- Now were getting to my favorite thing about this episode. This episode title can have two meanings. The first is the more literal interpretation. Tattoos are marking of the body and the case this episode was all about tattoos so easily a good name would be marked. But I believe this is a red herring meant to misguide listeners who have not consumed all 200 episodes of TMA because if you know the world of Magnus Archives the term Marked takes on a entirely different meaning.

In TMA the term marked is used to indicate that somebody has been influenced by one or more or the fears and are one their way to becoming an Avatar. I think this could be a coded way to tell the audience someone in the OIAR has been marked. I have two potential candidates

Alice Dyer- Alice has been having dreams about the Institute after her and Sam's adventure into the ruins. also she mentions feeling like someone's watching her (common to people influenced or fed upon by the Ceaseless Watcher/The Eye) My guess if she is marked it would be by the Eye.

Gwendolyn Bouchard: Probably the most likely culprit. The main way an entitly tends to mark people is through encounters with other avatars. Gwen has just had an encounter with Mr Bonzo last episode who I strongly believe must be an avatar of some sort.

What Happened in Episode 12: Getting Off

Aww Sam!!- Sam asked Celia out and it was adorably awkward. not much to say I just loved this interaction and I'm longing for a new Magnus brand office romance hopefully is wont be an agonizing slowburn that ends tragically like a certain pair of morons from Archives (I love you Jon and Martin but Jesus christ)

It's Bonzo time bitches!!- Probably one of the most gruesome Magnus statement I've ever listened to (good work Alex) Mr Bonzo completely annihilated some poor dude at his bachelor party. Based on the date of the Incident the I can confidently say that whoever Baz (the groom) was he was our mystery person the OIAR sent Mr Bonzo to get rid of. Along with some of the bloodiest imagery we learned a few things about Bonzo. The most interesting detail is that Bonzo has to be summoned by playing his theme song I think the CD of his theme song acts somewhat like the tapes did in TMA by materialising out of nowhere. Also fun fact you know that torn seam that is right down Bonzo's middle? that is actually is his mouth lined with rows sharp teeth so I guess I know that now (so fun) Moral of the story dont f*ck with Mr. Bonzo

Alice knows something: Theres been this recurring audio glitch throughout TMAGP thatnks to a few extremly observent fans we have started to relize that these glitches are not at all random and are actually letting the audience know when a character is lying (i actually reposted somones deepdive into all the istances of this glitch so far if you guys are intrested in knowing more) why i bring this up now is becuase since we know when any charater is lying we also know when they are being truthful if there is no glitch when they say somthing and at the end of this episode this interaction occurs

Alice goes ahead and makes a joke about this to annoy Gwen but the fact theres no audio glitch when she says "I know" means she does actually know who is behind the OIAR and is activly refusing to share it with Gwen or the others. What do you know Alice!?

and that's about it im already loving these next batch of episodes and am so excited to learn more (ERROR has to show up somtime )

thanks to everyone who resonded the poll on the last update I will continue to include drawings into the breakdown even if it takes me a little bit of time to post. anyways I wrote this all in one sitting and I'm about ready to pass out so thanks again and the ask box and comments are always open for discussion and theory crafting.

-Echo

[opinated-user]

... LO, do you really need to be told why lying about having cancer is bad? do i really need to sit here and explain to you, with puppets, in explicit detail why people might have an issue with that? this is like asking why should anyone care that you killed someone in the street if you already served your time in prison. caring about if the person you're supporting killed someone or if they are the kind of people to lie about having cancer, especially right after their sibling comes out to accuse them of sexually assault them multiple times growing up, is the bare minimum you should ever expect from any average person. the fact that you pretend like "even if i lied, it's not a big deal" speaks volumes to me about how little do you care about the fact people have actually deal with cancer. people have died, survived and see their loved ones be consumed in front of their eyes because of that disease. those who have any close encounter with cancer would know instantly that once you have it, you're more likely to develop cancer cell later on than a person who never did. you just selfishly put the thought "sure, she's fine now, but what if...?" in the mind of every person who for some reason still cares about you, your own wife who you lied to too, and you still want to pretend like you did nothing wrong? oh, and if anyone feels the need to ask "how do we know she lied about having cancer", to summarize. 1. ask her right now what type of cancer it was. she'll either say that she never said. she did. it was skin cancer. skin cancer on the early stages will mean a minor surgery and check ups in the future, nothing else. LO explicitely and clearly said that her only treatment was chemotherapy. the only reason she's pretending like "i'll never say what cancer i had" is because we keep pointing this out and she wants her audience to just feel bad for her. same reason why she feels the need to exaggerate her back pain during streams now.

2. chemotherapy is an extremely aggressive treatment on the body that, in order to be fully effective, has to last at least half a year. this will mean that we're all meant to believe that LO has been streaming for hours upon hours, making videos, being perfectly normal for everyone around them, while completely hiding any and all symptoms of chemotherapy. not to mention lying to both her closest friends and her wife for half a year. the woman that right now is making a show about having back pain in almost every stream she does and screaming into the mic for it. that woman you're supposed to believe could tolerate chemotherapy as it was nothing at all. i'm sorry, but you can't both be such a badass that can do that and also pretend like you're a poor little soft patootie everyone should feel bad about. 3. she said that all of this, the cancer treatment, costed her barely anything and the expenses "were minimal". consider this is a woman who can't drive and doesn't have a car, so she'd have to pay public transportation every time she goes to the hospital. this one just pisses me off because i went out of my way to research that people in her exact same city go into debt paying for their own treatment. it's not just a cutesy lie to be more interesting, LO. people have lost the savings of their life trying to survive this disease, so you so flippantly making light of that is ammoral and disgusting. (all the archives, screenshots and links mentioned here can be found on the same tag i used for this.)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 7

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger and I headed to our mission destination by train.

(We’re runaway lovers that wound up at the village after having nowhere to go)

…That’s what Victor’s having us pretend to be to hide our identities.

--

Roger: Because everyone in this village welcomed us so warmly, I was able to save my beloved girlfriend from starvation.

(What’s with the sudden change in speech and refreshing smile? Who are you?)*

Though relieved that we safely made our way into the village, I was thrown off by Roger’s sudden transformation.

Roger: Kate, we will happily settle in this village.

Kate: Y-yes. Let’s be happy here, R-Roger.

Roger kissed my cheek, making my fake smile even more awkward.

However, Roger’s convincing performance was a success and the villagers welcomed us with open arms, serving us welcoming meals one after another.

Woman of the village: You must have been nervous. You’ll stay safe in this village because our Spirit God gives protection to everything.

Man of the village: Ah, indeed! Those who believe in the Spirit God will be saved as he is the one who can ward off any disease.

Spirit God: …

The villagers beamed at a man sitting in the middle of the room who hadn’t said a word since we arrived.

(...This is the Spirit God)

(He looks around 50 years old? And looks like your average human)

However, as Fairytale Keeper who’s witnessed evil up close, I now understood.

A human’s outward appearance belied evil that dwelled in their heart.

(Even so, it seemed like stories of “disease being warded off” in this village were widely accepted)

(A mere human couldn’t possibly ward off disease. There had to be some kind of trick—)

Kate: Hm?

I felt a tug on my skirt and turned to see a little girl that looked around five years old standing there with a smile.

Blonde child: Is id nummy?

(Huh…her speech…? Maybe it’s because she’s still young?)

Kate: Yeah, it’s really delicious. Thank you.

When I thanked her, the girl smiled back happily.

This village was very peaceful and full of smiles.

It felt like a utopia where all things scary were removed.

—Unfortunately, there was no such thing in this world.

(Something’s up with this village)

--

Sometime after being welcomed by everyone, Roger and I finally found ourselves alone.

Roger: This village’s so fishy it’s laughable.

Kate: Yeah, I thought so too. This village…there’s something going on.

The Spirit God’s existence, in addition to some other sense of discomfort that I couldn’t put a name to.

Roger: Let’s hear your point of view first, lil’ lady.

Kate: If what Victor said about an undercover police being killed was true, Then the villagers wouldn’t be as welcoming to newcomers. It wouldn’t have been strange for them to turn us away. But they were all so friendly. While I don’t want to question their generosity, I think…we should keep our guard up.

(Maybe there was something hiding behind all those smiles…)

Roger: Yeah, I was thinking the same. What about you, Liam?

Kate: Huh, Liam?

(That’s right, Liam went ahead of us to gather intelligence…)

I looked around but didn’t see him anywhere.

Kate: Liam, are you hurt or anything? Hungry?  

When I called out to the room, only my voice echoed.

Liam’s voice: Hehe, I’m not hungry or hurt. Also, I’m on the other side.

Kate: Ah, sorry. Huh, how did you know where he was, Roger?

Roger: My ears picked up his heartbeat and presence. So disappearing on me’s useless.

Liam: My power and Roger’s aren’t compatible at all. Let’s move somewhere else.

With Liam concealing the sound of his footsteps, I was completely at a loss.

I followed Roger out to a place a little ways away from the villager’s homes.

The moment we stopped, Liam appeared out of nowhere like magic.

(The power to disappear’s amazing)

Liam: I’ll tell you guys everything I’ve learned about the village in the past few days. In short, this village…or rather, the Spirit God, is bad.

Kate: I thought so. How is he warding off diseases?

The most important thing was the trick that got the villagers to believe in him.

Liam: The trick’s simple. He’s not warding them off, just giving them to non-believers.

(No way…)

Liam: The Spirit God poisons anyone that doesn’t worship him or doubts him. Unaware of this trick, the villagers are deluded into thinking they’re being protected from disease. Hey Roger, have you heard of Gracefield Royal Hospital? The man they call the Spirit God used to be a doctor there.

(Gracefield Royal Hospital…?)

Roger: The hospital’s been around for a while. There’s a lot of brilliant doctors, but a high turnover rate. Useless doctors were shunned and fired.

Kate: You’re pretty knowledgable.

Roger: They left a long time ago and opened their own private practice, but my old man and his “cherished friend” used to be doctors there.

(A cherished friend…)

There was some warmth in Roger’s voice when he said that.

Roger: With this, all that’s left is getting physical evidence…

Liam: Ah, I also found a medicine cabinet. Roger can tell which one’s poison.

Roger: As expected from our cat. Nice job, Liam.

Liam: I’m glad everything went smoothly.

At that moment, Roger’s eyebrows shot up.

Liam: …Hm, what’s wrong Roger?

Roger: …

His eyes peered into the darkness.

Roger: …I can “hear” people coming from all sides.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: Yeah, there’s quite a few people. Is that how the villagers assemble?

Kate: Are we surrounded?!

Roger: Haha, looks like it. Well, we’ll just have to settle this fast.

Apparently Roger intended to take them head-on.

Liam: Yeah, it’ll be fine. Doesn’t matter how many come at us, we won’t lose.

(Liam too!)

Kate: The entire village has roughly 200 people.

Roger: We can take 100 each.

Kate: Are you insane?!

As we continued bickering, I heard footsteps approaching— 

A candle flames floated in the darkness.

Roger: Here they come.

Man of the village: …I knew you were a threat to our village.

Woman of the village: And they have a friend too. Disgusting, how did he even get in.

Liam: I’ve been here the whole time.

(It was as if the peaceful atmosphere they had greeted us with was all a lie)

The villagers’ eyes were cold and I sensed that they were willing to do anything to eliminate any foreign entities within their sandbox.

They were like mindless puppets controlled by the “Spirit God”.

Man of the village: Spirit God, what should we do with them?

Spirit God: Seize them. I will use my abilities to punish traitors.

Roger sneered at those words.

Roger: Ability, huh? If you were a Cursed One, I’d keep you alive as another on my list of precious test subjects… Too bad you’re not. Liam, go nuts. We’ll capture him.

Liam: …Roger that**

As Liam was about to pounce, daggers gleaming in hand—

A scream erupted in the crowd.

(What just happened?!)

When I realized that the girl lying beside the screaming woman was the little blonde girl who talked to me during dinner, I ran toward her.

Kate: Out of the way!

Woman of the village: What, don’t come any closer.

I was pushed back when I desperately tried to reach the girl lying in pain.

Kate: Now is not the time for this!

Woman of the village: If you hadn’t come here, none of this would’ve happened, you disease-carrying demons!

I saw her raise her hand and braced myself for a slap on the cheek.

(...)

Roger: Enough. We had nothing to do with the girl collapsing.

At the sound of his voice, I opened my eyes and saw Roger holding the woman’s wrist.

Thank you

Sorry for acting on impulse

Please help that girl +4 +4

Kate: Roger, please help that girl.

Roger: Yeah, leave her to me.

With Roger’s intimidating aura parted the crowd, allowing us to reach the girl.

Blonde child: …Ugh…

The girl’s body was stiff. Her eyes were wide open and her limbs were twitching. 

Kate: What do we do, Roger?

Roger: Based on her symptoms, it looks like tetanus. It’s a bacterial infection from a wound that affects the nerves. It makes it difficult to open your mouth, and eventually, it causes muscle spasms and paralysis.

Worst case, those infected will have a hard time breathing and die.

Kate: No way…

Roger: Anway, look for any wounds on the girl.

Roger and I examined the girl’s body and found a scratch on her calf.

Roger: …

Child’s mother: Spirit God! Please cure my child’s illness!

Spirit God: …

The man they called the Spirit God started backing away.

Child’s mother: …What’s wrong? Why aren’t you…

Roger: Relying on this guy’s not gonna do anything. He’s not some guy with special powers. He’s just a quack pretending to ward off disease by poisoning people.

Man of the village: That’s impossible! Our Spirit God’s a child of God granted with special powers!

Roger: Then why isn’t he saving this child in pain? Why didn’t you know she had tetanus until it got to this point? A false god can’t cure disease, but proper medicine can treat tetanus.

Spirit God: He’s lying! Tetanus cannot be treated!

At the Spirit God’s desperate cry, Roger looked at him with pity.

Roger: That’s ‘cause the medical knowledge in that brain of yours is outdated. There’s a treatment for tetanus. However, practical use is a miracle and there’s still some room for improvement.

(A treatment’s been discovered…)

Kate: Really, Roger?

Roger: Yeah. Though only the privileged class has access to it and it’s not available to the common citizen at all.

Spirit God: …Hahaha! If it’s not widely available, then it’s the same as saying she can’t be saved! Ah, that’s right. No one in this world can make diseases completely disappear. And yet, you all put your faith in me…It’s your fault for being foolish enough to put your trust in me.

Girl’s mother: …

With one hand, Roger grabbed the Spirit God by the neck.

Spirit God: Urk?!

As he tightened his grip, the Spirit God’s face began to turn red.

Roger: Did you never learn to let people finish talking while you were in your mama’s womb? Sure, treatment for tetanus isn’t widely available. But if you don’t have it, then you make it.

Spirit God: You can’t possibly…

Roger: As a former doctor, I can.

-

*Here, Roger is speaking more politely and softens himself by using boku as his personal pronoun instead of his usual ore. Originally, Kate goes (Boku? [...]) but changes in JP pronouns don’t translate well in English.

**Ok this time didn’t resist using “roger” for 了解.

[rayan12sworld]

💙🧡Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down

By:KizuKatana

Summary:

Wei Wuxian would like to think that - if he had known that Lan Wangji would walk out of his life immediately after they hooked up- he wouldn’t have given into his ridiculous attraction for the man. He wished he were better at lying to himself.

Guest-starring Lan Wangji’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters

Chapter:10/10

Words:63,215

Status:completed

“I don’t work with major sects. Especially not the Lan.”

~~

He had to see Wei Ying, to make sure he was okay. He hadn’t been allowed to see Wei Ying six years ago, and the man had nearly died. Would have died if Wen Qing hadn't randomly happened to be interviewing at Gusu hospital that same day. It was unacceptable that a sheer coincidence was the only reason Wei Ying was still alive. The company Lan Wangji’s family owned had put Wei Ying at risk, then abandoned him. Someone in his family’s company had made the decision to fire Wei Ying without notice, which violated company policy. Someone in his family’s company had further made the decision to pull medical support over a policy that was clearly not meant to be used in this way. Lan Wangji was going to find this ‘ someone .’ And when he did… Lan Wangji cut himself off at the shocking violent images that flickered through his normally peaceful mind. There was precedent for such punishments. Though much of his ancestor’s history had been burned, enough survived to make it clear that Lan discipline had always been harsh. In the modern context, he knew such measures would be viewed as archaic… even barbaric. But cultivators were given leeway by the authorities and society at large to handle their own business. Lan Wangji felt a primal sort of anger and thirst for vengeance that - for the first time in his life - made him fiercely glad that there would be no boundaries to stay his hand if he found the one responsible for Wei Ying’s treatment.

~~

“You never told me that you and Hanguang-Jun had been romantically involved.” Wei Wuxian choked on his in-drawn breath, which sent him into a coughing fit that lasted almost a minute. “What?!” He wheezed, when he could finally form words again. “Why would you think… it was only… we weren’t romantically involved. Fuck, who says shit like that?” Wen Qing eyed him skeptically. “If you’re trying to play this off cool, you are failing spectacularly. Though that’s nothing new.”

~~

Lan Xichen shot him a sideways glance, and continued to scroll. “Wangji…,” Lan Xichen said after several more pages of scrolling. “Did you have time to do anything other than follow Wei Wuxian around and document his actions?” Lan Wangji felt his ears heat as report after report with his signature flashed across the screen. He had, perhaps, not realized that there were so many reports he had written about Wei Ying. “I was the Compliance officer,” Lan Wangji replied tersely. “Mn,” Lan Xichen said, an unforgivable smirk appearing on his face. “You wrote him up for wearing too few layers on a night hunt after being covered in Yao viscera and changing into civilian attire?” Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. Wei Ying had been wearing only shorts and a tee-shirt. It had been a professional trip. It had been… distracting. “You know that most people don’t flirt by giving citations of minor rule violations to the person they are interested in, right?” Lan Xichen persisted, openly laughing at him, even if it was only with his eyes. “ Ge ,” Lan Wangji said repressively, which only served to amuse Lan Xichen more.

~~

He also really wanted to run his sword through Su She, metaphorically. And also literally. His hand flexed around the cool, smooth hilt of Bichen. He trusted his brother, but Lan Xichen was kind. Su She did not deserve kindness. “Please trust me, Wangji,” Lan Xichen pleaded, as if reading his brother’s thoughts. “Su She must face discipline. According to the sect rules, not civilian laws,” Lan Wangji stated. He would not bend on this.

[bomberqueen17]

letters

So in 1944 my grandpa got tuberculosis. It was bad enough that they sent him to a sanitarium up in the Adirondacks for a rest cure, which was what was recommended at the time. He'd been married to my grandmother for just a little while; they had a son, my uncle, and she was pregnant with my dad.

While he was there he wrote letters daily. He wrote a lot of letters, I think, to his parents and sister and friends. But the ones he sent to his wife, my grandma, she kept.

I don't know the chronology of it all, but after Grandma died, probably my dad found the packet of letters, as he was the one who went through her effects-- might have been his little sister, my aunt. Anyway the packet got circulated around, and then came back to my dad, who carefully organized all of the letters into a binder with individual plastic archival sleeves. Someone asked after them recently, and Mom found them and pulled them out. I was over there today, feeding her cat while she's on vacation, and so I leafed through them.

Grandpa's handwriting is similar, a bit, to my late father's, so I was able to read it reasonably easily. He started strong, the first letter he recounts how he fared in the rainstorm he'd apparently left home in, and then asks how Grandma fared.

How are you, my Baby? Did your schooner of sleep bear you safely thru the storm? If it didn't then you won't be reading this sorry excuse for a letter.

In that same letter he goes on to say,

Zounds! How can I create in this infernal bedlam? All the patients are up (as far as possible) and braying, the phone is ringing, Ma is delivering the Gettysburg Address + Pa is making more noise with a piece of wrapping paper than I could make with a hammer and a piece of steele [sic].

It rapidly escalates from there, and in a later letter he explains that the rest cure was so boring he had literally nothing to do, nothing to write home about, and so in an effort to keep from dwelling on how much he hated it there, he would write these flowery, possibly-repetitive love letters, because he simply had nothing else to talk about.

Your accounts of the marital woes of the [illegible, probably neighbors] are really hair-raising, but I don't think that the happiness of our marriage is due entirely to good fortune. As I have always said, we were made for each other a long, long time ago and our hearts refused to love anyone until the right one came along.

Looking at the postmarks, I realized they dated from right around the time of my father's birth, so I found the one that was sent the day after Dad was born, and it did not disappoint.

My beloved Words cannot express just how I feel this morning; I am all mixed up. You are so wonderful that sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve you. You are the one who is increasing our fortunes, for truly our children are the treasures that make us rich. You are so brave, so cool that I hold you in undying amazement. I am sure of one thing, My Darling; I know your sons will love you, not just because you are their mother, but for your own precious self, for the truly great woman you are. For the ordeal you have gone thru to bring these precious lives into being, rest assured of the eternal devotion of your menfolk. Last night all I could think of was you. I heard the night train coming into the station and my heart said "Run, run and catch the train before it is too late. Run to your loved ones and to hell with the results. Run, let nothing keep you from their sides." But my head said, "No, don't undo all that has been done. They also serve who stand and wait. Wait, and by so doing, prove your love to be more than the reckless love of youth, prove it to be the wise, guiding love that lives on long after passion has spent itself and thus spent, dies." And so I waited and the train left without me + my heart hated me for it.

Oh boy I cried, I sure did. (I had to look it up; "They also serve who only stand and wait" is from John Milton's Sonnet XIX.)

He always uses beloved or darling or somesuch as the salutation, but he often refers to her as Red within the text of the letters, because she had red hair. He occasionally made saucy references to their sex life, elsewhere in the letters. But mostly it's absolutely banger shit like this:

My thoughts and deeds, my smiles and tears, my happiness, my loneliness, my joy, my sorrow, my every breath, yea, even the final beat of my loving heart are poor blossoms placed on my altar of adoration, raised in humble gratitude to you.

Her name was Margaret, and I never knew her to have any nicknames, she just went by her name. Except to him, apparently. But as for him-- his government name was John, as was my father's, but my father never had to have a nickname, because there was never a day in his life Grandpa went by John. His name was Buddy, everyone called him Buddy, and he signed his letters as Buddy.

He died in January of 1978 of complications related to the damage to his lungs from the tuberculosis (not directly, but it was related). Grandma was standing in the hallway of the hospital, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up so he could meet my older sister, his third grandchild. He never did meet her.

She died in 2002 of congestive heart failure; I'd spent much of the preceding week with her and she'd spoken mostly of him.

[thatonebirdwrites]

A story I've worked on for ages. It's finished, and I'll drop the chapters weekly. (I'm still working on my main fic too. But this one wouldn't let me rest until it was done.) It's pretty personal for me to be honest. EXCERPT:

Lena realizes something is very, very wrong when she feels the heft of a gun in her hand. The fog in her mind lifts slowly as she reclaims her consciousness. She blinks and realizes she’s in a concrete room with a desk to one side.

But far more disturbing is her brother, Lex, who has pushed himself half-up with one arm, the other hugging his abdomen. Her gun points at him. Blood dribbles from his mouth. He laughs, and his words swim through her mind's fog.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? The very people you fight to protect. Do you know their truth?” He reaches up to grab a remote and turns on the televisions that make up a wall of the bunker.

Lena breathes in sharply. Bunker?

No, no, she can’t be alone with Lex. Bad things always happen.

Fear rises like bile in her throat. Her brother is speaking again, but his words can’t penetrate the growing panic. She blinks at the televisions, but it blurs into a mosaic of color and faint soundscapes.

Her thoughts spark and sizzle like a broken circuit. She hyperventilates, lightheaded, as tears sting her eyes. The gun’s weight pulls her arms down.

He believes this is checkmate. It’s not. Please, let me handle this.

The confident thought lances through her alarm and dismantles her rising panic.

It's like in Kasnia during the self-destruct sequence, when she'd been stuck underground. Time had warped, and she woke in the cool air, the sky studded with stars. In her hands was an air duct grate. Her clothes were rumpled, one heel broken, and streaks of dirt on her legs and arms.

Oh.

Her other self must have fronted like in Kaznia. What are the last things she remembers? She briefly closes her eyes.

Armed guards escorted her to where her brother and Lillian waited in the Presidential room at the White House. Next came the irritating Luthor greetings that served more like threats than any well-wishes. After that, Lex did his usual grandiose show-off of his new toys.

"I found a way to use the alien scourge to give us near-limitless power," he explained with a grin. He turned on the television to show the power output of his plant and a live feed of aliens being led into it. His rant turned toward his goals to destroy all Superman loved with the newly launched satellite weapon — Claymore, powered by that plant. The horror grabbed her by the throat. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the Luthors, and now others were dead because of it.

Then nothing. Time evaporated until she wrestled her way out of the suffocating fog.

And here she wakes in a bunker, a gun in her hand, while her brother bleeds out in front of her.

“Do you see the lies they’ve woven? How they’ve abused your trusting nature? Your broken mind?” he continues with another irritating laugh.

He seeks to manipulate us again. Trust us. Lean into our anger.

Lena takes a steadying breath. That’s right. Her anger and horror at his brutal experiments and murder of aliens. The prison couldn’t hold him, cutting off his assets didn't stop him, escaping his hold on her life failed — all facts she factors into her calculations.

This exact scenario is supposed to be last resort. Her stomach curdles, bile on her tongue. Kieran, wait, what of the other plans?

He hurt us. Hurt Sam. Hurt your Kara. Killed thousands. We had to end the cycle, Lena. Otherwise, he’ll never stop coming.

Stop being cryptic. What the hell happened? She needs to reassess. Is death truly the only solution? She clenches her jaw.

Fine. I confronted him and injected the antidote to Harun-el as we agreed. He demanded we join his genocidal crusade. We will not be his tool anymore. The solidity of the decision warms her from head to toe, even as her heart shatters at the sight in front of her. All her trouble to cure his cancer, her stupid moment of weakness, and he repays it with betrayal and horror. Using her research to weaponize the Harun-el instead.

Lena clears her throat and summons what strength she has left. “You’ve abused me, Lex. You have no ground to stand on.” She tries to avoid looking at the wall of televisions, for what is surely a cleverly crafted way to destroy her yet again. Like he always does. Her lip quivers, and she blinks back the urge to cry.

“Me? Your trusting brother?” Lex laughs then coughs blood into his hand. “I’ve given you the world, Ace. Only ever been truthful. Honed your skills. Toughened you up. Do you still not see the truth? I’ve laid it out for you this time, you stubborn fool!”

Colors leech into gray in her periphery. Her limbs feel puppeted by her other self still. A rare moment of synergy but it leaves her nauseous and her head aching in a growing migraine.

“They’ve all been lying to you,” Lex continues as he laughs and spits up more blood. “Preying on your weaknesses.”

That’s you, Lena thinks. You’ve preyed on us.

But her curiosity overwhelms her, and she can’t ignore the televisions any longer. The scenes capture her gaze, and her ears roar with the orchestra Lex has woven into the security footage he’s stolen. Half the screens are footage from when Mercy attacked L-corp.

[merymoonbeam]

Pelias and Lightsingers

Me and @silverlinedeyes have theorized before that Pelias might have been a lightsinger in this post.

After hofas release I noticed something.

In hofas we learn that Fionn died like this:

The image shifted to some sort of marsh—a bog. Fionn rode a horse between the islands of grass, bow at the ready as he ducked beneath trees in bloom. My parents often went hunting in the vast slice of land the Daglan had kept for their private game park, where they had crafted terrible monsters to serve as worthy prey. It was there that he met his death. A dark-haired, pale creature that could have been the relative of the nøkk in Jesiba’s gallery dragged a bound and gagged Fionn into the inky depths of the bog, the once-proud king screaming as he went under. Horror rooted Bryce to the spot. Theia and Pelias stood at the water’s edge, faces impassive. Petals began falling from the trees. Leaves with them. Birds took flight. As if sudden winter gripped the bog. As if the land had died with its king

Lets break this down...

Fionn and his close people. One of them is his lover and the other is his general

In the bog

Asteri private game park

The last thing he sees is their faces after they betray him

Now how this ties to Pelias and Lightsingers...

This is how lightsingers are described in acosf:

“There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you’re in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren’t fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food.”

Now lets break this down...

Friendly faces

Bog

For sport...not food... private game park

The last thing you see is their faces

That's literally what happened to Fionn. He was killed in bog by his "friends" who probably lured him there to kill not for food but sport bc that was the asteri hunting ground they used for sport..............

That whole describtion is a tale explaining what happened to fionn.

And on top of this we learn that asteri crafted creatures for their game park(the middle)

The image shifted to some sort of marsh—a bog. Fionn rode a horse between the islands of grass, bow at the ready as he ducked beneath trees in bloom. My parents often went hunting in the vast slice of land the Daglan had kept for their private game park, where they had crafted terrible monsters to serve as worthy prey. It was there that he met his death. A dark-haired, pale creature that could have been the relative of the nøkk in Jesiba’s gallery dragged a bound and gagged Fionn into the inky depths of the bog, the once-proud king screaming as he went under. Horror rooted Bryce to the spot. Theia and Pelias stood at the water’s edge, faces impassive. Petals began falling from the trees. Leaves with them. Birds took flight. As if sudden winter gripped the bog. As if the land had died with its king

So what if Lightsinger were crafted by asteri? What if Pelias was one of them? Because lightsinger come from the middle? What if pelias was one of them?

Maybe that's how he could connect them from acotar to cc after they were defeated in acotar bc he was crafted by them??

It was Pelias who told her where to cast her intention. Using old, notated star maps from their former masters, he’d selected a world for them. Bryce’s gut churned. The Asteri must have kept archives and records on this world, too. Exactly like the room Bryce had found in the palace, full of notes on conquered planets. Dusk, they’d labeled the room—as if out of all the worlds mentioned within, this world remained their focus. This place. Pelias told her it was a world the Daglan had long coveted but had not had the chance to conquer. An empty world, but one of plenty. She had no way of knowing that he had spent our era of peace learning ancient summoning magic and searching the cosmos for whatever remained of the Daglan on other worlds. What he wanted from them, I can only guess —perhaps he knew that to wrest the Trove from Theia and seize power for himself, he needed someone more powerful than he was.

And not just this...Theia does not even question Pelias...she just does whatever he tells her too...

My mother did not question Pelias, her conspirator and ally, when he told her to will the Horn and Harp to open a doorway to this world. She did not question how and why he knew that this island, our misty home, was the best place to do it. She simply gathered our people, all those willing to conquer and colonize—and opened the doorway.

and again they are lured to another friendly face—the asteri.

The teenage Fae boy, appearing no older than Helena and Silene, smiled at Theia. Raised a hand in greeting. My mother did not recognize the enemy when they wore a friendly face, beckoning her and the others through the portal. Had she any hesitations upon finding that the empty world she’d been promised was indeed populated, they were calmed when the strangers claimed to be Fae as well, long separated from our world by the Daglan, whom they too claimed to have overthrown. And they had waited all this time to reunite our people.

Friendly face...beckoning...

We have another beckoning in acosf

Gwyn’s hair seemed to glow brighter with her song, skin radiating a beckoning light. Drawing any listener in.

So what if...Pelias is a lightsinger...as gwyn is?

Also it would be so interesting that Fionn who probably has shadow powers(silene and helena both have shadow powers and theia has starborn so they probably got shadow from fionn)and Pelias who might be a lightsinger lightsinger and we have Azriel who has shadow powers and gwyn who very vell might be a lightsinger....

Very interesting if you ask me.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Getting more information on what the femmes do was very exciting (idk if that's the right word) but if it's not a spoiler I would love to hear more about the process when a femme finishes the preparations

(And it makes sense, find someone insignificant and reuse them to make someone new, someone potentially more useful)

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #007 Cold Forged

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on [Redacted: Sensitive data] regarding femmes and what they do to their chosen subjects. Concerns have been rising after [Redacted] made it clear that Arcee can latch onto humans just as easily as she can another Cybertronian. Personnel working at the Autobot base have begun attempting to go on strike in an effort to escape.

I can't say I blame them, but [Redacted] was called to explain the process that femmes put their targets through to hopefully give us some answers. I suspect the higher ups just want enough information to weave a half baked like for the staff, but the information is vital nonetheless. The more we know, the better a chance we have of fighting back if need be.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════

Femmes... yeah, I've known a few over the course of my life. Elita was one real piece of work. She wanted Orion when she was still Ariel, and she threw a fit when the Archives got him before she could. She wanted Optimus as well once she found out he had been Orion at some point. She nearly got him too. I think the only reason Optimus managed to get out of her clutches was because of his rather murderous tendencies. I don't know if he meant to or not, but he allowed Elita to try and claim him and then watched on as her abilities backfired.

There is a reason femmes only target the weak. If their will cannot overcome the will of the target, their abilities will kill them instead... and in a rather brutal fashion.

It was a shame. Elita, when she wasn't enthralled with her targets, was a good femme. She treated her cold forged well and was a brilliant tactician. She actually kept Optimus in line for a long time. She ensured he couldn't do anything nearly as extreme as what he does now. That's the good thing about femmes. They are good and kind to their targets. They fill the void in the bot's life that no other could have ever hoped to fill. It is a peaceful end for a mech that would otherwise be cast away by society. Elita was the companion Optimus needed, a level helmed and gentle being who served as his equalizer when his plans demanded more pain than required. I appreciated her for that, especially when I served as as a special agent-

Ignore that remark. No. Ignore it.

Do you understand me Witwicky? You will ignore that remark.

[Note: [Redacted] expressed a severe violent reaction the moment I made it clear that I had no intention of adhering to his wishes. He only calmed when he watched me scratch it from the records. Of course I added back the redacted information following the conversation, but [Redacted] has things he wants to hide it seems.]

Good.

As I was saying, Elita was a fantastic person. Femmes are more than capable of being normal members of society when they are tended to. In fact, they are even worshipped in some circles and given the lowly members of society so that they may be remade. But Elita aimed too high, she went beyond the bounds set by the rules of femmes. She tried to go after a mech who was too strong, and for that reason, she fell.

Femmes are of the line of Solus Prime, the first femme created by Primus. At least that's what the Primacy will tell you. I'm not all that sure on the theological stuff, but there are records pointing to the fact that Solus existed. Because of that, I am willing to pin the femmes existence back to her. I don't know all the details about the first femme. That's the kind of thing you'd need to ask Orion about. He always loved talking about the theological details of history. He always got so passionate about it...

Sometimes... I forget Orion isn't here to answer anymore. I mean, he is, but he also isn't. But that's beside the point. This isn't my forte. Sorry, its just seeing Optimus so often after so many millennia, it can bring back old memories yanno? I will get back on topic.

No one knows what makes a newspark become a femme. In fact, there are no signs at all until the newspark sheds their second armor set. They behave just like every other Cybertronian, and then sometime in their early adolescence, they start following a specific individual around. Usually their first target is someone very old or very young, the weak of society or those without enough knowledge to fight back. Once the femme has picked, that's when the Council steps in and slaps a sticker on them to denote what they are. The poor target is cut off from everyone and left to the femme. Why? Because the first target is always the one who suffers the most.

Femmes are highly territorial. They will never aid one another unless both their targets are in danger and cooperating is in their best interest. So every young femme is on her own, left to figure things out as she ages. For young femmes, they will pick their victims apart. There is no peace to be found as they sink their connectors into their target to try and tear apart their CNA and remake it. The process kills the target without fail. A more experienced femme knows that she must follow a ritual, a process of sorts. She must know her target, she must care for her target, and only once her target is open to her... only then can she dig her claws in and remake them.

Yes, yes I am getting to the actual process now. Calm down. I swear you fleshies are just as impatient as Cyberfelines sometimes.

First she will get to know her target and release a chemical, a pheromone as your kind call it. This chemical causes the target to become calm, more trusting, and it also weakens their immune system. It has some benefits, such as increased processor function and heightened senses, but all this comes at the cost of increasing weakness. Not to mention the increase in processor activity is largely so that the femme may attract her target's attention and push them into seeing her in a light that best fits what role she is aiming to fulfill until the time for harvest arrives.

Around a vorn into her work, the femme will start to introduce her coils, her touches if you will. She will start to touch her target as often as she can, and it is through this that small injectors in her digits will begin to input a specially made protomatter into her target. The target will feel no pain since the injections are so small. But over months, years, vorns... slowly her target will start to think less, feel less, until at last they start to collapse.

Femmes are not needlessly cruel in their efforts. She will be very gentle with her target in their dying cycles. When they begin to forget, she will remind them of the things they lost. She will help them fuel, she will take them places they enjoy, and she will allow them ample time to deal with their lingering affairs. Any living relatives will not be compensated, but that is because she sees her work as the greatest compensation any being could possibly receive. She is remolding the worthless into something greater, and for that reason she is both compelled to her work just as much as she heralds it as something sacred. It is her nature to be gentle in this stage, for by that point, her target will be carrying the beginnings of her cold forged, her perfect creation.

There is no set time for it, but at some point in this final stage, the femme will continue her injections of protomatter and her quiet indoctrination until finally, her target shatters. This can take various forms, usually some type of explosion or contortion of the frame, but the end result is always the same. The target dies, and from their corpse, a new being emerges. Much like a newspark, it emerges without armor, but unlike the newsparks from the Well, it will come forth with memory and a mission.

We call these things the Cold Forged. They are beings that completely lack emotion. Or perhaps the ability to empathize. It is hard to tell with them. They all seem to take sick glee in watching others squirm. But anyway, the Cold Forged have a purpose that their femme gave them, and most often, they do not care to reveal it. Those that have felt like giving up data have often been given a mission that amounts to a concept, a thought or ideal. The most common mission these beings receive is by far the most terrifying.

Perfection.

They are given one concept, and they live out their entire lives embodying and striving to reach it. The Cold Forged are Cybertronian by every single stretch of the word, but they are not... like us. Does that make sense? My kind do not really do the empathy thing. But they have SOMETHING. The Cold Forged don't even have that. They are true machines.

You know what's so funny about this whole thing?

The femmes don't even care about their Cold Forged. They make them, and then they move along to the next target. The Cold Forged are the closest any Cybertronian has to actually having a biological creation, and the femmes don't care!

[Note: [Redacted] laughed for a rather long time following this statement. He seemed to be... unstable while speaking on this matter.]

Sorry about that.

It's just, it feels so clinical to me even millennia after learning about the process. These femmes go through so much effort just to make a creature that they then throw away. Elita was a rare exception in this regard. She liked to keep tabs on her Cold Forged, and I think one of hers even ended up with the Elite Guard. Her missions to her Cold Forged were always super specialized too.

Yeah. Femmes. Cold Forged. It's a hot mess I tell you.

Jack will be fine. Arcee will care for him as best she knows how until his dying day. That much you can be sure of.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

I am unsure how to feel about all this. Every detail I gather about these aliens tells me that there is something deeply wrong with them. I have my theories, but considering [Redacted]'s disposition and what info we have on everyone else, I think I can say that this race has been altered somehow. If [Redacted] is able to comprehend empathy, there must be others.

They are capable of feeling and being reasonable, but there is some factor that changes things for them. I shouldn't get involved...

But I want to know. I want to figure this mess out. I am just one man, but if I can put some pieces together, then perhaps there is something we can do to fix this. If nothing else, I want to understand these aliens. I want to know why.

Why start a war? Why do all this? And why in God's name would they shatter in such a way culturally? There must be an answer, and I have a sinking feeling that the only ones who can give me answers are going to be very dangerous.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

[coreene]

It's the 1 year anniversary of Lorelei's Journal! I can't believe it's been a year since I've started sharing this thing. When I started I had no idea it was going to take me this long to write it, nor have I thought how long it was going to be.

It currently has 194k words and 45 chapters! I have made it to act 3 but act 3, as we all know it, is an overwhelming chaotic mess but, I am determined to write it in a way that it can make some sort of sense.

I do plan to end it at 60 chapters which coincides to 60 in-game days, as each chapter is a day. Depending on the things™, it might get a little bit longer - we're gonna see what happens!

For those that do not know Lorelei's Journal is a rewrite of the game in journaling format and uses 1st Person POV. The main romantic pairing is Astarion x Fem!Tav and Lorelei is a half-elf rogue.

Act 1&2 are written from her POV, Astarion starts writing in act 3 alongside her. But I also have a series with one-shots, written from Astarion's POV (mostly 1st person).

And a post-game (non-canon) fluff series written for the Winter Fluffle of 2023.

This is not all I've done for this series however. I've also made a calendar and marked the events that has happened in the fic (and by extension the game) so far!

The Calendar of Harptos is the calendar used in the game and more info can be found in this post.

Now, if I move onto the OCs:

This is Lorelei (Tav)

Her name comes from the song Lorelei by Theatre of Tragedy. I haven't checked it very recently but if my memory serves me correctly, it is also the name of sirens in germanic mythology. (I also like the song Lorelei from Scorpions)

Her guardian (and also her old flame) Athedrin

I've created his name using the information I've linked in this post. It comes from mixing "tath" and "drin" which mean "blue, midnight, night" and "rogue, stealer" respectively. I like to think his name would mean "Midnight rogue"

And lastly, Lorelei's unfinished family tree (slight spoilers):

This one has a few spoilers but I doubt many people who decides to read this will make it this far on the post (or will actually read the fic). And it is also still a wip so the names and descriptions I haven't used in the fic might change.

My plan for its second year is finish up and hopefully start on the following stories I have been turning in my head for the past year.

Thank you everyone for reading this far, thank you everyone who liked, reblogged, kudoed, left a comment and was with me on this journey one-way or the other!

[emkayewrites]

These two pictures inspired one of the chapters of my Lukola fanfiction called 'Curtain Fall'...

Here's a sneak preview:

17th June 2022 – Brockenhurst (UK)

Everything about The Pig exuded charming British elegance. Nestled in the heart of the historic New Forest National Park, the homely country manor served as a five-star hotel with an acclaimed restaurant. It was a favourite weekend escape for city dwellers who were attracted to it for its natural beauty; from free-roaming local horses to ancient woodlands that were perfect for long walks.

It was a place particularly revered for offering the finest of traditional English dining without excessive pretension. The dining rooms had a rustic, cosy charm, featuring open fires and mismatched antique furniture.

Nicola and Luke sat opposite each other at a farmhouse-style table in a private dining room called the Green Room that was reserved for special guests. A Victorian-style fireplace and floor-to-ceiling conservatory doors opened onto a private garden terrace. Before them lay a half-eaten feast: salads with organic vegetables from the estate's garden, freshly baked bread with warm butter, a plate of oyster mushroom pappardelle for her, and a sourdough pizza for him.

They had been invited to this countryside retreat for the weekend courtesy of the production team. This was their first day and they had been greeted with a prepared lunch. He sat there in a slightly over-sized salmon button-down shirt and jeans. In contrast, she was dressed in a little more sophistication. She wore a dark tapestry mini dress with tie shoulders that cinched in her waist in a way she hoped would be flattering.

"You know, when Jess told me we should get bonding, she mentioned doing it over a coffee. This is a little more than a coffee." Nicola laughed, trying to shake the awkwardness off herself. She was used to spending time with Luke but this setting felt different. It felt intimate.

"It's on brand though." Luke replied, nodding at their surroundings. He was not wrong. This could be a room straight from Bridgerton.

She reached out and touched the green wall panels.

"What do you reckon this is – Farrow and Ball?" She quizzed.

"What's that?"

"You haven't heard of Farrow and Ball?"

He shrugged in an I don't know what to tell you sort of way.

"Well, that surprises me. Maybe you're not as posh as I think you are." She teased. "It's very posh paint, with pretentious names like Elephant's Fanny and Leopard's Arse."

He laughed. "OK, that's quite enough. You need to stop calling me posh. People might start believing you and expecting things from me."

"Anything east of Dublin is posh," she retorted, making him laugh again.

This is what she thrived on: banter. Their friendship was based on her dry wit and sarcasm. Making him or anyone else on set laugh was a small victory for her.  She was trying hard not to think about having to switch gears and drop the humour she wore as armour.

She had not wanted to admit it, but sitting across from him now, it was harder to deny: he was absolutely beautiful. To make matters worse, he was kind too.

Why couldn't the love interest be someone with a hideous personality in real life? She found herself wandering.

She was barely out of her reverie when he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, guiding it gently away from the wall and in front of his face, inches from his lips. He took a deep breath, and his blue eyes bore into her own.

Oh God, that was his Colin face.

You can read more here:

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Whump

Words: 986

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Remus shut his eyes and tried to temper his breathing in the darkness. He could hear the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and flinched as the door swung open. There was no mistaking the silhouette in the door frame. Greyback.

Remus had been spending the full moon with Greyback’s pack for months, trying to convince them to turn against Voldemort, with varying, but generally little success. He hated Dumbledore for making him do this. It was something he could never understand, of course, being forced to spend time with the one who ruined your life and forced to make small talk with the repugnant man who looked at Remus like he was a piece of meat and he wanted to take a(nother) bite. Remus wasn’t stupid. He knew he was the only one who could take on this mission, but he was resentful nonetheless.

He suspected Greyback had officially allied with Voldemort at the last full moon and was wary about attending this month, but Dumbledore had been adamant that there was still a chance to convert them.

When Remus awoke after the sunrise, he found himself tied to a chair in a strange room. He could smell blood and dirt, but blackout curtains and a deep aching in his head made it hard to make out anything. He cursed himself for listening to Dumbledore and not telling anyone where he was going.

Greyback stood before him, running a finger down the side of Remus’ face, “Well, this is nice, isn’t it? Almost like old times.”

Remus said nothing, he set his jaw and focused on a water stain on the wall. He inhaled sharply when the back of Greyback’s hand struck his cheek.

“You’re not like them, Remus. They don’t trust you, because of what you are.” He grabbed Remus’ hair, yanking it up so Remus would look at him. “You’re one of us, and we serve the Dark Lord. Tell me what Dumbledore is planning.”

“No,” Remus said hoarsely. “I’d rather die.”

Greyback seemed to consider that for a moment, “That’s the easy way out. There are things much worse than death, as you well know. Crucio!”

Everything went white, Remus couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t contain the feral scream that was ripped from his throat. Curses (and spells) affected werewolves differently. It was something he desperately wanted to study, but not like this. He felt burning pain swirling under his skin as if trying to break through the surface.

Then it stopped, suddenly. Remus slumped forward, panting, tears falling from his eyes as soon as he opened them. He wondered why Greyback had stopped. Then he heard it, someone else was in the house.

Greyback studied him, “It seems the Dark Lord is here earlier than I anticipated.” He said with a sinister smile. “Stay.”

Remus bristled as Greyback left the room, locking it behind him. As if he had a choice. A loud crash startled him, then footsteps racing up the stairs. The door shook and he thought he heard someone swear softly. Then the door crashed open, almost flying off its hinges and when his eyes readjusted to the bright light from the hallway, he let out a sob as his heart soared and his empty stomach lurched.

“Pads?” It was barely a whisper.

Sirius charged into the room and was on his knees in front of Remus immediately. He vanished the ropes holding Remus without a sound and as Remus’ body plummeted, his arms were ready and waiting.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Remus woke with a start. The sun was streaming through a gap in his curtains. Wait, his curtains? He tried to look down but winced as pain shot through him and he swore under his breath.

Sirius was by his side in an instant. “Good morning, moonshine.” He looked tired like he hadn’t slept in days. Remus supposed he probably looked worse but tried to smile up at him. “I have a pain potion here, one sec.” He uncorked the potions and hesitated for a moment before slipping his hand around the back of Remus’ head so he could tilt it slightly to pour the potion into his mouth. The effect was almost instant and Sirius nodded as he saw Remus’ features soften. “Better?”

Remus nodded with a slight grimace, “What happened?”

“A lot,” Sirius said quietly. “Pete has been working for Voldemort. He let slip that you were with Greyback for the moon and tried to convince us that you told him. There was no scenario where you’d tell him and not us. We caught him in a lie, and last I heard he was on his way to Azkaban.” He hummed in thought, “What else? Prongs, Lily, and Harry are fine. I knocked Greyback the fuck out and the Aurors got him, finally. I’ll tell you more when you’re feeling better, but it’s all going to be fine.” He paused again, “I was so scared when you didn’t come home, Moons.”

“I’m sorry.” He croaked.

“It’s hardly your fault.” Sirius said, moving his thumb slowly to stroke the side of Remus’ neck, “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

Remus huffed out a hollow laugh, “Barely.” He knew he had to ask, “How did you find me?”

“Dumbledore gave Pete veritaserum,” Sirius frowned, “Fucking rat. He knew a lot more than we thought. If they can find Voldemort…” He looked down at Remus, “How are you feeling?”

Remus considered for a few seconds, not able to look Sirius in the eye, “Exhausted. What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday. You slept for about sixteen hours once I got you back home last night.” Sirius’ hand stilled and Remus missed the sensation instantly, turning his head slightly to press his cheek into Sirius’ palm. Sirius’ thumb traced his cheekbone, “Hey, no more full moons without me, please.”

Remus nodded, the beginnings of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth, “Of course.”

[lifeafterartsch00l]

✨ Sns rec’s ✨

I read a fabulous post from @longlivefeedback about supporting authors so I thought I’d try and give it a go since I’m constantly looking through the Naruto/Sasuke tag 🙊 I’m going to try and make a new habit and post once a week with my sasunaru/narusasu/sns (and maybe other pairings/fandoms) recs!

Some awesome fics I’ve been enjoying on a03 lately include:

Finger on the detonator by foreverbaby

Twelve Steps by foreverbaby

An anchor in the storm by cecific

don’t act like it’s a bad thing (to fall in love with me) by heartsugu

What counts for anything by kayeeyooblue

Solis occasum by wouldyoukiindly

Konohamaru wanted to rest by anaria_k

Thank you talented authors 😊 I don’t think I’m following any of these authors on tumblr 🤔 but I’ll look for them! 🤗 please tag them in the comments if you know who they are!

Read below for details on fic recommendations ⬇️

Finger on the detonator by foreverbaby

Im so happy i finally found this author! I started with Finger on the detonator but Twelve Steps really spoke to me and my own feelings/experiences with a difficult childhood. And making art! I love how sexy and meta and healing and radical they are. I’m excited to read more from this author ❤️ Multiple chapters.

“Chapters: 2/?

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Shimura Danzou, Hyuuga Neji, Sai (Naruto), Juugo (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Activism, High School, Military Backstory, Politics, Teenage Rebellion, Partners in Crime, Gay Uchiha Sasuke, Crack Treated Seriously, Anarchy, Making Out, lazy US-specific setting...sorry, Wet Dream, Breaking and Entering, Minor Injuries, Closet Sex, Frottage

Summary:

uzumakiswag: this might b kinda weird but like i just got back from my deployment and stuff and i saw u on the kwp direct action discord when i joined that? and i was gonna go to a meetup but idk anybody else there yet sooo do u go to those? wld u want to go together next week? hahaha

taka99: That's a joke right

uzumakiswag: no y is that funnyp

taka99: You’re literally in the US military

It's totally normal to engage in a little gay domestic terrorism just to impress your crush...right?”

Twelve Steps by foreverbaby

“Chapters: 3/3

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, minor past naruto/sakura and sasuke/suigetsu

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Hoozuki Suigetsu, Haruno Sakura

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, POV Alternating, Alcoholics Anonymous, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Addiction, Homophobia, Light Angst, sasuke vapes, criterion channel and chill, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Friends to Lovers, naruto's bi awakening, sasuke's issues

Summary: One day at a time, they always said. But for Sasuke every single day was exactly the same: serving the same gruff truckers the same greasy pancakes and eggs, heading to the same gym to do the same workout, going home to stare at the same half-formed Final Draft document, then waking up the next morning to do the same thing all over again. Was that really one day at a time, or was it more like one single hellish stretched-out day that dragged on endlessly and forever? And what exactly was the point of staying clean when that was your reward?

Everybody told Naruto after Sakura called off their engagement that what he needed was a “fresh start.” Naruto’s fresh start had so far consisted of a new city where he knew nobody, a park ranger job that paid him sub-minimum-wage, an empty studio apartment in a part of town not yet gentrified enough to be out of that price range, a lot of lonely Skyping with his friends, and, now, apparently, an A.A. meeting at a Quality Inn.

When Naruto moves away from his hometown after a breakup, he's surprised to see someone he recognizes at his first A.A. meeting in a new city: his childhood best friend, Sasuke Uchiha”

An anchor in the storm by cecific

One shot, contemporary au, poem. POV from Sasuke. I haven’t read any poems before for sns! Lovely, great ending 🥹💗 the author says their English is bad but I truly think no apology is needed because i think their English is great and hell I only speak English and can’t write poetry!

“Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Idiots in Love, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Falling In Love, slow burn but it never actually lights on fire, Sasuke's mother is dead, Sick Character, Soulmates

Summary: Sasuke's on a blind date set up by his father, his date is late so a young bright man keeps him company.. It feels like a fated encounter between the two.

Essentially a poem that tells a story. Also sorry, English is my first language and yet I'm horrid!”

don’t act like it’s a bad thing (to fall in love with me) by heartsugu

One shot. Sweet n spicy, my fave combination! 🍭🔥 I really loved how Naruto was written here & that it’s Sakura positive 😊 I really hope this author writes more sns 🤞😍🤞

“Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Ensemble (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino, Hatake Kakashi

Additional Tags: POV Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke Returns to Konoha, Blank Period (Naruto), Haruno Sakura is So Done, Background Relationships, Mild Hurt/Comfort, mostly fluff tbh, Bad Humor, Emotional Constipation, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Shenanigans (Naruto), Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke are Best Friends, Domestic, Making Out, Love Bites, Resolved Sexual Tension, No beta we die like Neji, Everyone Is Gay, Self-Indulgent, Minor Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino

Summary: He hadn’t meant for it to get this bad, but being back in Konoha had shown him how dull his world was without Naruto.

Being dragged around on dumb errands, or training together, or even just sitting around and watching the sunset had given Sasuke peace of mind he hadn’t ever known. He felt like himself again, and Naruto was the cause.

Naruto was his home.

5,000 words of sns word vomit because this is what makes me happy these days idk”

What counts for anything by kayeeyooblue

I love how in this fic Sasuke gets to try normalcy and be an awkward teen! 😭 ❤️ great dynamic between Sasuke & Naruto (I really enjoyed reading about their developing relationship) & also spicy 🔥

“Chapters: 12/?

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi, Tsunade (Naruto), Haruno Sakura, Nara Shikamaru, Uchiha Itachi

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Coming of Age, Soft Uchiha Sasuke, Sexual exploration, First Kiss, First Time

Summary: months after the 4th war, sasuke and naruto meet again. except now they have time”

Solis occasum by wouldyoukiindly

Reading this was like a fresh breath of air! I loved how the characterisation felt very true. I hope they do more chapters! 💗🙏🏽Canon divergent Boruto-era.

“Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura/Hyuuga Hinata

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Hinata

Additional Tags: Old men naruto and sasuke find out they're gay in their 30s, Hokage Uzumaki Naruto, Co-Parenting, Divorce, more tags when i write more!, Hinata is Naruto's best friend, Sakura is Sasuke's best friend, Domestic Fluff, Naruto has ADHD, sasuke has autism

Summary: After becoming Hokage, Naruto notices that despite it all, he's had no time to hang out with his best friend. He never realized how much he missed Sasuke's attitude, demeanour, and all around being; he hasn't felt this way about anyone before.

It's always been Sasuke, hasn't it?

And maybe that realization will be the very end of him.

(Naruto and sasuke realize they're gay in their 30s and divorce their wives, who in turn, realize they are also gay and everyone is friends and co-parents. yessir.)”

Konohamaru wanted to rest by anaria_k

Cheeky, sexy, & Konohamaru POV! One shot. I love looking at sasunaru fanart and I love it when clever authors make fanfic inspired by it (author links the art which helped inspire the fic). 😋🫶🏽 one shot

“Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Sarutobi Konohamaru, Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke

Additional Tags: Comedy, Post-Canon, Post-War, Blank Period (Naruto), Post-Fourth Shinobi War (Naruto), Drabble, Pre-Slash, Semi-Public Sex, Third Wheels, Konohamaru sees something he wasn't intending to see, Hot, Dirty Thoughts, Pre-Relationship, Canon Compliant, Not a Date, Idiots in Love, Boys In Love, everyone can see it, Konohamaru does for sure, Sexual Tension, also Konohamaru might be accidentaly bi

Summary: Konohamaru returns from a mission to the village and, finding himself in a bar, accidentally witnesses a very non-accidental scene. He doesn't like it. Although?…”

🍥+🍅=❤️