#havent written anything in YEARS

[rainydaysie]

Alistair pressed a kiss ever-so gently to her temple, and for a moment she felt his lip quivering as it departed. She turned and blinked up at him in a question, though he didn’t catch the look as he averted his gaze to the ground they both sat upon. A hand cupped against the boy’s right cheek and softly guided his gaze back towards his lover.

“What’s the matter? I don’t taste awful, do I?”

He grinned sheepishly and leaned forward, briefly connecting their lips in a peck. The firelight illuminated the tent flap, giving vague insight to the figures moving about the camp.

“Not at all, love, I’m afraid I’m just a bit… lost in thought, is all. Apologies.”

The elven mage quirked a brow in suspicion and patted the cheek she’d been cupping, moving her hands down to grasp his own instead.

“Thinking about something other than this steamy moment we’re sharing? I can’t believe you,” she teased him, but there was something so tender behind her voice. Alistair recognized that she was asking him what was wrong, and not poking fun at him for being emotional. It had taken some time to get used to the taste of his own medicine, but he’s practically an expert now.

“What happens after the fact, do you think?” He began, lightly squeezing the hands that securely held his own, “what happens after we save Ferelden, and everything’s calm again? What do we do with our lives, what with the little we’ll have left to spare? I-”

His head hung low and he once again lost the ability to meet Fox’s eyes.

“I can’t give you the long, comfortable life you deserve,” he continued, “I can’t give you many sunsets on the porch, I will never know what you look like grey and fragile. I want to be fragile with you.”

As Alistair’s shoulders shook as he choked on his own tears, he was surprised to hear a quiet chuckling noise coming from Fox. He looked up, startled, to be met with the smiling and yes, indeed laughing elf. “Al-,” they start, getting interrupted by a short burst of giggles. Alistair releases their hands and winces softly.

“Wha- I pour my heart out to you, and you just–” but he is cut off by a hand covering his mouth. He gives a muffled, exasperated noise just as Fox’s giggling faded. A smile lingered on their face, though, as they continued.

“Alistair Theirin. You are by far the goofiest, most chivalrous, bravest and stupidest man I know.”

What the hell?

He felt his hands grabbed once again, this time more tightly, matching the sudden firm look in Fox’s eyes.

“I do not give a Maker’s fart about living a comfortable life. I don’t care to see you grow old, and I don’t care to sit on a porch as we die slowly and peacefully. Look at me.”

He does.

“That’s all I need. For you to be looking at me right here, right now. I have never cared for the future, and I don’t intend on starting anytime soon. You’d feel guilty about my stew being cold even if I were the one to leave it out all night.”

Fox gave him a look as he opened his mouth, either to agree or argue, and he closed it just as quickly. So she continues.

“I want you to kiss me now, and enjoy it right now. Don’t worry if my lips will chap, or be sore, or if you’ll leave a mark on my neck. I don’t care.”

There was nothing left for either of them to say. At least, it didn’t seem Fox had anything to say as quickly as they kissed him. Hungrily, drinking in the feeling of it like he was water. Warm hands met her waist and pulled her into his lap as they kissed as though there was no tomorrow; and maybe there wouldn’t be.

[lazybookangels]

okay hear me out. what do our beloved pro players go on to do after retirement? Specifically Neil and Kevin, because I don't think these to could or want to do something that is entirely removed from exy. Sure Kevin has history but I really don't see this man ever making it his job.

So Kevin and Neil have a habit of watching exy games together and I like to think they still do it after graduation whenever they can. It's just their idea of hanging out. Over the years they start commenting on the game more and more and have silly little arguments and debates that get way too heated because it's them. Kevin needs to be right and Neil likes to start shit now and then. As a treat.

One day, at a meeting with the other foxes shortly before their retirement from exy (not out of free will) someone complains that sports commentators are way too formal, they should just let them call a player a moron if they wanted to. Let them be honest. Let them go apeshit. Someone else says Yeah I wish they were more like Neil and Kevin when theyre watching exy together it'd be way more entertaining that way. And well. It's both the worst and best idea they've ever had. Good thing wymack is already gray.

Podcast or radio or talkshow or live TV hell even twitch for all I care but they start doing live exy commentary. Neither of them can shut up about exy and the insane brainrot these two have bouncing off of eachother is unparalleled. It's perfect. Match made in hell. There's a lot of silly arguments, debates taken way too seriously and (mostly well meant) insults thrown around, which makes it VERY entertaining to watch.

They also invite other people onto their little show as guests and that just makes it even more chaotic.

Bonus points if it does well enough and finds its way on TV it would get Ichirou off their backs for another few years at least

[objectumnonsense]

robot oneshot, as requested VwV

The lab was dark, save for the dim neon light filtering in through the curtains and a singular work lamp in the corner of the room. Every few minutes, a train passed overhead, making the ceiling groan with the weight, but it was otherwise quiet. The lab's only two occupants sat without speaking, one in maintenance mode on a table and the other wearing thick, elbow-length rubber gloves and wielding a variety of delicate tools.

The Mechanic worked diligently and in near silence, save for softly humming a tune and occasionally blowing their hair out of their face while they worked on SN-0407-67. The only sounds coming from 67 were the hum of its fans and the occasional buzz of a wire being put in the wrong place, quickly corrected by the Mechanic.

After about half an hour, the Mechanic said, in a voice rough with disuse, "Exit maintenance mode," and a line of small lights blinked to life on the back of 67's neck. Its shutters flicked open and it turned its head right around to face the Mechanic.

"Is there a problem?" it buzzed.

"Well, I don't wanna catastrophize, but I'm lookin' through your lower back complex and I'm seein' some stuff that looks an awful lot like buzz bug eggs. Can you run a diagnostics check for me real quick?"

"Affirmative." In a blink of its shutters, it received data from all of its main systems and most of its secondary and tertiary programs and responded.

"Small loop errors in primary memory arrays. Minimal damage to recursive power wiring. Buzz bugs may be a possibility. Suggestion: analyze sample of offending material."

"Will do. Wanna go back to sleep?"

"Negative. We are almost done, correct?"

"If this don't turn out to be an infestation, yeah. What's got you so eager to leave?"

"Nothing. I simply do not enjoy being in maintenance mode for extended periods of time."

"Oh? Why's that?"

67 turned back around and allowed the Mechanic to pry open its back panel and delicately reach through its wiring with a pair of tweezers.

"I dislike being unaware of my surroundings for so long. It is against my purpose."

"It's necessary though, ain't it?"

"As is sleeping. But you are avoiding that now."

"Fair 'nuff."

The silence returned for a few minutes. The Mechanic extricated some pieces of material from 67's wiring and the gaps in their chassis while it sat perfectly still and nearly silent.

Abruptly, a small yellow light on their shoulder lit up and they said, "Your heart rate and breathing have increased."

"Huh?"

"Are you in distress? Is the infestation worse than you expected?"

"Oh, no, nothin' like that. If this is buzz bugs, we caught 'em real early. I could probably get all of this outta you before dawn."

"That is good."

They continued without speaking for a few moments more, the yellow light still turning on and off rhythmically, before 67 spoke up again.

"Your heart rate has not decreased."

"And I suppose I can't ask you to ignore that?"

"Negative. It is against my purpose."

"Right. First aid robot."

The Mechanic pursed their lips and tried to continue their work, but 67 kept talking.

"You hands are shaking slightly. Allow me to check your blood sugar content."

Before the Mechanic could respond, 67 had already completed the check.

"Blood sugar content within healthy range. Brain scan indicates higher than normal levels of oxytocin. Heart rate and breathing rate are increased, but have plateaued."

"Can't keep anythin' secret from you, huh?"

"Negative. You have poor control over your responses to emotion."

"Well, can't say I didn't try."

"Correct. You are still avoiding telling me the reason for your heightened emotional state."

"Would it hurt so bad to let this one go unmentioned?"

"A key to maintaining healthy relationships is communication between constituents. I am curious why you are acting differently."

"It's... complicated. It's a human thing."

"Mechanic, "human things" are my area of expertise. I will understand whatever you tell me."

"I just..." They sighed, but set their tweezers aside and brushed their fingers along a piece of 67's circuitry. "Can you feel this? When I'm workin' on you?"

"To an extent, yes."

"And does it... hurt?"

"Not unless something is damaged. It feels almost the same as when my exterior is touched."

"Almost?"

"There is a level of... trust involved. I trust that you will not break me, you trust that I will not close myself or shock you to injure you."

"When I do this..." the Mechanic traced the column of 67's spine with their index finger, "what is that like?"

"I fail to see why you are asking me again. Did I not just explain it?"

"I know, I know, just.. tell me what you feel me doin'."

"Alright."

A moment's pause.

"I feel you touching the outer shell of my spine. It holds much of my central processing power, which is why it's covered by thick metal plating. But I know you will not try to damage it."

"And now?"

"Now you're moving towards my power cell. It's a very powerful battery, and very fragile. But you will not damage it."

"Now?"

"You're reaching up through my chest cavity towards my transform arrays. This is where most of my proprioceptive senses are processed. It's also highly sensitive to touch. But you will not damage it."

The Mechanic let out a shaky sigh. The blinking yellow light on 67's shoulder began flashing more quickly. They noticed it was in time with their heartbeat.

"Your breathing and heart rate have increased steadily. Is there something you aren't telling me?"

They abruptly pulled their hand out of 67's back and stammered an apology.

"Sorry, I'm - sorry, that - that was kinda weird. I shouldn'ta -"

"It was not unpleasant."

Their words ground to a halt and they stared at the back of 67's head.

"You... motherfucker, you knew this whole time, didn't you?"

67 made a beep that sounded like a laugh.

"Negative. I only realized when I scanned you."

The Mechanic leaned their head against 67's shoulder with a clunk.

"And I couldn't get you to delete this whole interaction from your memories?"

"Negative."

The Mechanic sighed again and leaned back, rubbing their temples.

"Well, that's about it for your checkup anyways. We should probably get goin'."

"Mechanic, I would not refuse if you wanted to take this further."

The Mechanic froze. "Whuh?"

"I do not have the capacity to feel it the same way you do. But I understand it would be enjoyable for you. My purpose, after all, is to ease suffering."

"Wh - but - I - I'm not sufferin' about it, I just -"

"Mechanic."

67 rose and walked around the table, standing very close to the Mechanic and resting a careful hand on their hip. They swallowed thickly.

"We are the only ones in here. We have time."

The Mechanic let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. They raised a hand to 67's face plate and brushed their thumb along it.

"You're amazin', you know that? Just... incredible."

"I know," 67 replied, a playful lilt in its voice. "Tell me if you want me to stop at any point."

"Alright."

67 stepped even closer so that one of its legs was between both of the Mechanic's and they had to lean back against the table. One of their hands rested on 67's shoulder and the other settled on its hip.

67 hooked a thumb over the Mechanic's waistband and tugged down. Its other hand worked its way up their shirt and cupped their chest. It leaned its head down and bonked it gently on the top of theirs.

"Was that supposed to be a kiss?"

"Affirmative."

"You're such a dork."

67 hummed. Its movements remained smooth and steady, but the Mechanic distinctly heard its cooling fans pick up when it tugged their underwear aside.

"Could it be you're enjoyin' this too, 67?" they purred, lifting the hand that was on its shoulder to the back of its head, where they brushed over some of the exposed wires there. Its lower shutter twitched upwards.

"You do look... very nice. Under me like this."

"Mmm. Kinky." They spread their legs further and gasped when 67's searching hands found their bare skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. It's just been a while. Go slow."

"Understood."

Gently, 67 started working its hand, and the Mechanic let out a quiet groan. They rolled their hips into 67's touch, grip tightening on its neck and making its shutter twitch again.

"Is - fuck - is that hurtin' you?" they asked.

"Negative."

"Want me to - to stop?"

"Nnegative."

At the stalling of 67's voice, the Mechanic raised an eyebrow. "Is it gettin' you off or s-something?

"N N N N - Unsure. My proproprocessor has encountered an error."

Experimentally, the Mechanic chose a wire and tugged on it - not enough to break it, but with enough force to pull it partially out of line. 67 jolted forward, making a buzzing sound the Mechanic had never heard before, and its hand dug harshly into their flesh, making them gasp.

"Arrre you alright?" it asked, stopping all motion. The Mechanic whined and pushed against its hand.

"Don't stop," they pleaded.

"One moment. I nnneed to check -"

The Mechanic tugged on the same wire again, creating the same reaction, and sighed with satisfaction.

"Memememechanic," 67 scolded, though the effect was somewhat lost due to the skipping in its voice.

"Keep goin'. I didn't tell you to stop."

"Make me."

The defiance caught the Mechanic off guard, but only for a moment. They glared up at 67.

"Y'know, you're real disobedient for a robot," they growled, finding a different wire and wrapping it around their finger. 67's shutters closed completely this time, its entire body jerking randomly for a moment before the Mechanic let the wire go again. "I thought you were s'posed to follow directions?"

"Youyouyou haven't said the magic word yet," 67 replied, though their hand had begun to move again.

"Make me cum, 67. That's an order."

"Affirmativvve."

The Mechanic cried out at the dizzying pace 67 suddenly set, hips rocking helplessly into its touch. Its name flowed from their lips like a hymn. 67 bore down on them, chest pressed to theirs, free hand supporting their back so they didn't fall.

"Yesyesyesyes, just like that, yes -!"

With a drawn-out moan, the Mechanic came hard, slumping back so that 67 had to adjust its hold on them, completely at its mercy as it kept up the harsh pace of its hand. It slowed to a stop the moment the feeling became too much and their groans of pleasure turned into whimpers.

The pair stayed like that for a moment, the Mechanic struggling to catch their breath and clinging to 67, whose fans were still going at top speed. It stared adoringly down at them, privately recording a short clip to replay later.

"Holy shit," the Mechanic finally breathed, pushing themself upward off of 67's arm. "That was... wow."

"I trust you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yeah. Jesus Christ. Are you... can I - is there anythin' I can do for you?"

"Negative. No part of me can experience anything close to sexual arousal, but I appreciate the consideration."

"So, just outta curiosity, what were the wires doin' to ya?"

That gave 67 pause.

"I'm... unsure. It's not a sensation I've ever felt before."

"Was it bad?"

"Negative. It was... novel. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"So what... would it be okay if I did it again?"

Another pause.

"...Affirmative. Please be careful."

"You know careful's my middle name."

The Mechanic lifted both of their hands and rested them on 67's neck. One slid its fingers over the exposed wires, still slightly out of place, making 67 beep and twitch.

"Why don't you try tellin' me what you feel?" they purred, finding a wire and winding it around their finger. 67 took a moment to respond, its voicebox making nonsense sounds before it could gather it to something intelligible.

"I I I I feel... dizzzzy? I think that wiwiwire has a role in proprioceptive data transfer. It's hard to to to to rrrecall at the moment."

"Mmm. And what about now?" the Mechanic asked, parting the wires and reaching deeper into 67's neck. They felt their finger make contact with cool metal, and 67 made a long, low tone until they lifted it.

"My my my my my centrrrral spinal casinnnnng. It's very sensensensitive to touch, which is is is why it's underrrrneath everything ellllse."

"You're startin' to sound pretty rough, 67."

"Hard to to to prrrocess speech at the momoment. Unsure how to parrrrse sensory dadadadata."

"Still don't want me to stop?"

"Affirrrmative. Want you you you touch furrrrther in me."

"Fuck, that's hot."

The Mechanic moved upward this time, under the plating on the back of 67's head with a muttered "keep your head down." 67's head briefly dropped limply downward, chin hitting its chest with a dull thunk, before the Mechanic hastily removed their hand and it looked back up at them.

"Why did you you stop?"

"That wasn't bad?"

"Negative. Want morrre."

"Oh, I see how it is." They resumed their probing, 67's head falling again, its voice struggling to express exactly what it was feeling.

"Hannnds in my in me touch ch ch ch mind feel I feel your hands," it managed, and the Mechanic bit their lip, looking up at it with adoration in their eyes.

"God, you sound fuckin' wrecked. I wish I knew I could do this to you sooner," they confessed. 67's optic flickered.

"Want want hands want touch morrre so so so much so want want want wannnnnnt -"

Abruptly, its voice dropped so low it was almost a buzz, its optic blinking out, hands in a vise grip on the Mechanic's hips while the lights on its body turned off all at once. Its fans continued on high for a moment more before they lowered to a more normal level and a noise like a dial-up played.

"Shit."

The Mechanic waited nervously while 67 rebooted, slowly releasing their hips before its optic blinked back to life, immediately zeroing in on them.

"Are you okay? Did I touch something I shouldn't've?"

"Negative. I am still processing. Please give me a moment."

After a second or two, 67 spoke again.

"Last sensation recorded before shutdown: foreign object inside cranial casing. Pressure applied to central tactile nerve. Systems overwhelmed." It blinked. "No memory lost. I am in no pain."

"So that tactile nerve thing -"

"I felt... everything. It's hard to explain."

"I think I get it. Don't worry."

"It was... good. I felt good. I would like to do this again sometime."

"Is right now a good sometime? 'Cause that was fuckin' hot."

67's optic widened slightly, disbelief creeping into its voice.

"Causing a temporary shutdown... made you aroused again?"

"It was more like making you get there. But yeah."

"Interesting. In that case..."

67 opened the maintenance panel on its chest, exposing a crisscrossing maze of wires and circuits to the Mechanic, who practically drooled.

"Help yourself to me."

[abyssal808]

S1 Soulmate Au prompt inspired by @subbaculture 's prompt wherein "Eddie learns Tengwar just to be special and so Steve's been kicking around with "What's Kickin', Sexy?" on his body

What Tommy Hagan hadn’t been blessed with in terms of intelligence. God - in his allegedly infinite wisdom - had seen fit to redistribute into shoulder width.

Tommy, in turn, swanned around Hawkin’s High shoulder-checking every freak, geek and nerd into nearby lockers; with the kind of wingspan better suited to weirdly proportioned monkeys.

Hellfire members were no stranger to it. Two weeks ago Hagan had run into Gareth hard enough to leave a bruise. A “bump” with enough force behind it that he’d bounced off the lockers and landed on the floor.

Which, fine, two could play at that game. Even if Hagan could barely get his hand off Carol’s tits to realize there were counter-moves to be made at all.

A grade A dick move, even if it was also incredibly boring and pedestrian. The kind of thing jocks who barely had two braincells to rub together saw as peak comedy. Giggling like a cross between a group of cavemen and a flock of pre-school girls whenever their ring-leader du jour started herding freaks like a neurotic border collie.

“Watch it, freak.” Hagan hissed, skirting around Eddie without bothering to shove him at all. Giving a wide berth to whatever zone of contagious freak cooties being Eddie Munson brought to the table.

Behind him, Gareth - blocked from the rest of the hall by Eddie’s leather jacket, in a way only freshies were short enough to pull off - buried a laugh in a cough, muffled into the heel of his hand. Not missing the way that even Hagan - the most infamous asshole of them all - looked ready to bolt as soon as Eddie waved him off in a jaunty salute.

Victory tasted sweet and electric. Fizzing under his skin the way Wayne’s Miller Lites would bubble in the back of his throat, whenever Eddie stole a sip from the half open cans in the back of their fridge. It made him stupid in a way those brief tastes of beer hadn’t managed to yet.

Being The Freak came with perks. An untouchable radius that left Eddie drunk with power. Riding the high of knowing that maybe Highschool didn’t have to suck all the time. That he could play at being a rabid guard dog for the lost little sheep of the world, rail against dickheads like Hagan and win.

Maybe he could use it to plead temporary insanity for what he did next. Riding the high into a really, spectacularly stupid idea.

Everyone had their words.

Eddie’s were tucked away, hidden along the curve of his rib. A curly chicken scratch that mixed print and cursive into a barely legible mess.

‘Is that like, yiddish?’

A weird-ass question, until Eddie had pulled an all nighter on a now infamous school night, falling in love with Middle earth. Head filled with nothing but the dark halls of Khazad-dûm, the sweeping boughs of Lothlórien.

Speak friend and enter.

Pedo mellon a minno.

He’d traced the words over and over. Thrilled by the lilt, the cadence, the beautiful rise and fall of consonants no one else would understand.

Setting his heart there and then on the dorkiest greeting anyone could have come up with. But hey, it was original, which was half the battle people went through when picking soulmate greetings.

He’d gone through several variations. Always in Sindarin, because why the hell not.

People usually saved them, tucked them far away from casual conversation. Bizarre phrases, always non-sequitour, brought out only for special occasions. That lightning strike of instant attraction. People you could see yourself connecting with. Hoping they would be a part of you as much as you were theirs.

He couldn’t see himself connecting with Tommy Hagan in a million years. Not even if they waited in that hallway until the heat death of the universe.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t terrorize him with the possibility.

“What’s Kickin’ Sexy?”

He yelled after Hagan’s retreating back, with its fuck-off wide shoulders; elvish mangled, but passable. Enjoying the rictus of horror on his face, going from anger to fear and back again.

He shifted on his heel, pushing Gareth further behind him in case things got ugly. Herding him back towards Jeff with little bumps, as both of them tried to muscle down their cackling. Nerdy enough to piece together the gist of what Eddie had been hollering about. Even if Jeff was better at Quenya, because he was a weirdo and a purist about that kind of shit.

All in all, a job well done, assuming Hagan didn’t flip his shit and start throwing punches to assert dominance.

Or at least, it felt like it, until Harrington - trailing behind Hagan - sucked all the air out of the room. Hands on his hips, a furrow on his brow, blurting it out without even thinking about it.

“Is that like, Yiddish?”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Panic clamped around Eddie’s throat like a vice. The same way Gareth’s hand, tiny and tense - he had yet to hit his growth spurt - wrapped around the edge of Eddie’s leather jacket. Pushing past the waistband of his jeans to claw at skin.

The side that mattered, one they both knew had those words that wrapped around Eddie’s chest. Curving towards the sternum.

Whatever face he was making gave it away instantly.

Harrington’s face shuttered and fell. A whole host of micro expressions that passed through in a second before he scrubbed them away. A pair of shaking hands that rubbed at his eyes and dragged down his face. Peeking at Eddie through a gap in his fingers.

“Jesus Christ it’s you; isn’t it?”

Behind Eddie, Gareth tugged him half a step back, nails digging into his hip. Little half-moon crescents he barely felt now, but would find later.

“Steve?” The waver in Hagan’s voice would have been funny if it wasn’t nauseating.

Terrifying, when Steve waved him off and stepped towards Eddie. Jerky and halting, like a puppet with half it’s strings cut.

“I can’t fucking believe this Munson. You gotta tell me if it is.” Steve bit out, with a wobble that sounded too trembling and confused to be anger. Even if it would come later.

It was probably coming later.

Anger always got there in the end, with boys like Harrington. Sharp comebacks and sharper right hook always winning out, spurred on by that bone-deep, animal fear of losing your place in the social food chain.

King Steve didn’t seem worried it yet though. Adding to the bizarre hilarity of the situation as he undid his belt and untucked his shirt to the concerned shouts of everyone left in the hall, witnesses to this trainwreck.

If Eddie hadn’t been convinced he’d died and gone to purgatory a minute earlier. He would have been convinced there and then.

As Steve Harrington turned around, bunched his striped polo up high and his khaki’s down low. Stripping down to show the athletic curve of a hip. The dip of a waist that looked small next to his swimmer’s shoulders - almost wide enough to rival Hagan’s - a scattering of moles that dusted across his lower back, framing his mark.

There, on King Steve’s back, bracketed by dimples, low enough to count as a truly slutty tramp stamp sat Eddie’s words. The swooping curves of Tengwar branded into his skin.

“What’s kickin’, Sexy?”

[itsnicsalad]

a little something for a fic ill probably never write lol

bonus :")

[artsyannierose]

Just You, That’s Enough - A Huskerdust Ficlet

Husk sat next to Angel on his bed slowly, golden eyes never leaving his face. Angel had merely only nodded slightly when Husk asked if he would like to talk about his feelings. They’d been “together” for a couple weeks now but Husk had noticed that Angel hadn’t been talking as much about his problems as he used to.

Which of course, was not necessarily a bad thing, but Husk sensed it wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk about it, but rather something else.

“Hey. You can talk when you’re ready. It don’t gotta be right now if you don’t want it to be,” Husk gently rested on hand on his shoulder as Angel took a deep breath. The spider all but flopped backward with a prolonged groan, all four limbs splaying every which way. He scrubbed his top two arms down his face and opened one eye to look at his boyfriend. Nothing but love and tenderness was present in his dilated pupils, and somehow that made Angel feel even more like trash. Though it didn’t stop his heart from betraying him with a flutter at those warm eyes.

“I just…Husk…ugh I ain’t no good with words,” Angel frowned, attempting to organize his thoughts into something coherent. “Just so we’re clear here, this ain’t nothing to do with you,” Angel quickly supplied. Husk was the furthest thing from the problem.

“So then…I haven’t done anythin’ to make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” exclaimed Angel hastily. “It’s all me Husk, I’m such a mess.”

“No baby, no…” Husk sat back against the headboard and motioned for Angel to join him. The exhausted spider easily obliged, curling up in his lap and smushing his face into Husk’s chest with a heavy inhale. Just relaxing in Husk’s arms and smelling the familiar scent of whiskey ever present around him. Husk began running his finger in Angel’s hair, a soft purr emanating from his chest, something that put a contented smile on Angel’s face. Angel cracked his eyes open and stared blankly at the wall for a good moment before speaking.

“It’s just, every guy who’s ever fucked me never wanted anything to do with me afterward, except Val I guess. Which I’m used to, that ain’t the issue. But then baby, you come along and literally drag my standards from rock bottom by being your perfect self and how am I supposed to even react to that?” A dry chuckle escaped Angel’s lips as he spoke. “I mean, you haven’t even tried ta touch me yet, and somehow that’s more romantic than any other dick I’ve ever slept with,” Angel lifted his gaze to meet Husk’s, who was looking at him softly, listening but not saying a word. One hand fisted the fur on Husk’s chest before Angel continued.

“And I wanna return the favor ya know? I wanna be a good boyfriend amore, I wanna be there for you, I wanna help you, I wanna make you feel good,” Angel snickered before adding, “Both in bed and not.”

Husk chuckled at the comment, ruffling the fluff on Angel’s head despite his weak protest. “Well I’m glad ya think I’m doing a good job Angel, you deser-“

“No, I really don’t,” Angel suddenly cut in, annoyance flashing over his features briefly.

The cat stared at him in bewilderment. “Baby, of course you do, don’t-“

“No, I don’t,” Angel repeated through clenched teeth, brows furrowed. Husk opened his mouth to protest but Angel held up a hand to stop him.

“Ya don’t get it Husk! Why should ya have to put up with my stupid bullshit when I can barely even uphold the role of a boyfriend? I come cryin’ ta ya every fuckin’ day and every fuckin’ time ya just fix me right up and pamper me like some fuckin’ princess,” Angel burst out, frustration written all over his face. He got to his knees in front of Husk and snatched his hands with all six of his. “I’m tryna hug ya and kiss ya and listen ta ya and just be a normal fuckin’ boyfriend but it ain’t enough! It ain’t neva’ gonna be enough to pay ya back for everythin’ ya deal with ‘cause of me. Not ta mention I’m used-up sloppy seconds, nothin’ much more than a good one night stand. The fuck do I know about bein’ a romantic partner? My whole gig is bein’ a toy for them fuckers to use ta jerk off or some shit. I fuck guys for a livin’ and then do it again fa’ a bit o’ cash just ta spend it on gettin’ myself high.” Tears began to leak out of Angel’s eyes as he tried to wipe them away, smudging his mascara across his face.

“I dunno how ta love you Husk okay? I-I-I can’t-“ a sob interrupted his rant, but he continued anyway. “I want ya to have someone who’s actually worth ya time, someone who ain’t a slut or a whore who’s always covered in other men’s jizz but there ain’t nothin’ I can do ‘bout it!”

Husk took a breath before trying to speak. “Angel you’re not-“

“And that’s anotha’ thing! You think so fuckin’ highly of me when I know that’s not true — I know it’s not! As long as I’m stuck under that bastard I can’t be anythin’ more than just Hell’s hottest dick-sucker.” And you deserve better Husk, but I’m also a selfish bitch you doesn’t want you ta leave me though you have every reason to…”

Husk closed his hand around two of Angel’s, willing him to meet his eyes. The eyes that met his were wet and red, slightly puffy, and had eight streaks down his pale-furred face. He lifted his other hand to Angel’s cheek, not missing how the spider leaned his face into his palm.

“Fuck, I didn’t want ya ta see me like this…” Angel mumbled, his face beginning to flush.

Husk’s thumbs wiped away the stains on his face as he caressed Angel’s cheek. “Do you have to be such a fuckin’ gorgeous crier? Geez Angel…” he muttered, so low Angel could barely hear. That’s all it took for Angel’s white face and chest to resemble a tomato as he shoved his face back into Husk’s chest and whined in embarrassment.

“This is exactly what I’m talkin’ about kitty…do you gotta be so damn sexy?” Angel grumbled, voice muffled by the fluff. The deep rumble of Husk’s laugh sent a shiver down his body from their point of contact.

Despite the light-hearted moment, Angel felt a tear involuntarily slide down his face, further wetting Husk’s fur. Husk delicately placed a finger underneath Angel’s chin and tilted his head up to him. Husk looked into his eyes, then leaned down and kissed Angel — right on the mouth — and let his lips linger atop the spider’s. He felt Angel sigh into his mouth and relax his lips on Husk’s. Husk barely pulled away, their mouths still touching before he all but whispered, a secret only intended for the two of them.

“What makes ya think I don’t love ya enough to love the ugly parts too?”

Angel only blinked in response, fuchsia eyes widening.

“Amore mio, you’re my everything, and I mean every part of you. You taught me what it’s like to love someone again even after I lost all hope of that. Ti amo Angel, sono innamorato di te, the good parts and the bad. I love you and how kind and loyal you really are, even after everything that’s happened. I love you and your habit of scrunching your eyebrows when you’re mad. I love you and your obsession with pigs. I love you when you are strong enough to endure the challenge thrown your way. I love the little heart patterns in your fur. I love your adorable smile. I love that you like to wear pink clothes. I love every part of you. We’re in this together.”

The tears only fell more from Angel’s face, but he wasn’t sobbing. Rather he looked utterly enamored and in love with the man cradling him at the moment. He laughed, and Husk wiped the streaming tears away but they only kept coming. Angel laughed harder and threw himself onto Husk, knocking the other demon backward and knocking the wind out of him too. Angel took the cat’s face in his hands and kissed him happily, smiling all the while. Husk melted into the kiss as Angel’s other arms wrapped around Husk, bringing them as close together as they could possibly be. Angel broke away, unable to stop laughing and his eyes absolutely twinkling with joy.

“Cos'ho fatto per essere così fortunato?” Angel smiled at his boyfriend, resting on top of him and tracing circles on his chest.

“Ti amo tanto,” Husk replied simply, wrapping his wings around Angel’s thin figure and squishing his cheeks. Angel collapsed on Husk’s chest and hugged him close.

“Anch’io,” was his muffled reply, as he snuggled further into Husk’s fur. Husk’s tail entwined itself in Angel’s long legs as the two held each other close, simply enjoying the feeling of each other.

And that’s all they really needed to be: Being together, that’s enough.

(Fic inspired by this ask!!)

[reveriesrequiem]

short writing practice one-shot, with rodydeku and erasercloud sprinkles. keep in mind this is only a hobby, and i am not an experienced writer.

~

wind rustled through izuku's hair as he sipped at his lychee-flavored boba. the sky was a a breathtaking orange-to-pink, and the clouds were in the cumulus formation.

izuku's always liked clouds. it was his little thing. like how denki acts like he hates it, but he actually like being compared to pikachu. yaomomo likes feeling useful. izuku likes clouds. hitoshi likes hugs-but only if its cold.

contrary to popular belief, izuku wasn't actually oblivious. he could see the way momo and kyoka looked at eachother. the way tenya looked to ochako for praise whenever he makes a joke or pop-culture reference.

the way denki always made to include hitoshi in whatever he did. the way aizawa-sensei had a picture on his desk of a blue-haired boy with a smile to rival even the brightest stars, and constantly held onto a necklace that held a ring identical to the one on his finger.

in short, he wasn't oblivious.

he was burst out of his thought process by a shuffling of footsteps behind him. a hand gently placed itself on his shoulder, warm and familiar.

"are you alright, midoriya?" aizawa-sensei's voice, gruff yet full of concern, rang out from behind him. he'd been, admittedly, softer, ever since the war. izuku thinks he, tenya and yaomomo make for great co-parents.

izuku blinked sleepily, "yes, aizawa-sensei. just..thinking about something."

"on the roof?" izuku nodded simply. his teacher huffed in fond irritation.

"..aizawa-sensei?" he started, quietly, a few minutes later. he picks at the label around his boba.

aizawa-sensei grunted.

"have you ever..loved someone that- that you can't have?" izuku's voice quivered, trailing off at the end, nervous.

"..i have."  izuku looked at his teacher, suprised.

"and how do you...deal with that?"

"other than drinking boba on roofs and staring at clouds?" he teased.

izuku tsked.

"this is about your othenan friend, isn't it?" aizawa-sensei deadpanned. izuku blushed and tilted his head in a shy 'yes'.

the black-haired man sighed and sat down next to him. the hand on izuku's shoulder moved to his head and ruffled his hair.

"..i had a friend. in my first year, when i moved to the hero course. i didn't want to be his friend, but i ended up hanging out with him and his group anyway." he could've sworn aizawa smiled. it was a wistful one, one that people would often have when reminiscing.

"he died in my second year."

"oh- i'm sorry – "

"don't apologise, kid. " he buried the lower half of his face in his capture scarf and continued, " i admit, i came to love him. romantically, i mean. but it was too late for it to go anywhere farther than it already was."

"w- what was his name?" izuku asked, gently.

aizawa-sensei hesitated before answering.

"...oboro. his name was oboro. "

izuku's smile was small, but kind, "thank you for sharing this with me, aizawa-sensei." he says, honestly. his teacher blinks, and bashfully pulls up his capture scarf to cover his mouth once more.

"c'mon, kid. let's get you back to the dorms." the gruff man offers his hand. the teen grasps it, laughing as he pulls himself up.

~

"..shota?" oboro had murmured, carding a hand through his boyfriend's hair as he dozed.

"mh?.. he hummed.

"do you think..we're together in every universe?" the blue-haired boy questioned softly. shota cracked an eye open to stare at him, confused.

"what brought this on?" he asks, voice hoarse from sleep. oboro blinks lazily, sky-blue eyelashes fluttering.

his face softened before he answered, "nothing, nothing! just..curious, i guess." he laughs quietly before pecking shota on the cheek.

the red-eyed boy gave a 'hmm' as he looked up at his partner. "i think, that any universe without you is a sad one." he muttered, sleepily. oboro smiled so wide his face must've hurt.

he rained kisses all over shota's face before tucking his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck, a smitten grin stretching his lips.

shota huffed contentedly and settled down to fall back asleep.

~

[undefeatablesin]

Watch out ya'll, Sin's sketching Bloodborne comics again! 💀

[jam-packed]

dog boy bez dog boy bez i think of you sweetly.

uh fic idea where bez seduces marc with his cringefail dogboy swag and then they have crazy gay sex. that's all i got

[aardvaark]

expanding on that post about sophie devereaux backstories, grift ones and real ones and the things in between:

a year or two after they meet, tara and sophie are somewhere near drunk in a hotel room after a con, high heels thrown against the wall, dresses unzipped and halfway off. tara asks for her Story. the Story. and maybe she wouldn’t have asked if she were sober or maybe tara is simply a little too bloody brave sometimes, a little too determined.

so sophie tells her about a father in the military, a mother who died young, a family that moved houses, towns, regions, countries, all the time growing up. about lying to impress kids at every new school. about desperately doing almost anything to fit in for the months or year she’d stay in that area. about sweet talking her way out of a few little crimes here and there, cash that she would certainly never steal from her rich friends’ parents’ wallets, some driving rules she broke when she was too young to even have a license, yet old enough for a cop to encourage her flirting. sophie tells tara that her father died when she was 19, and the grief had led to recklessness. she made a mistake on a too-ballsy grift. she would’ve gone to jail. instead, she faked her death (for the first of many times) and never looked back. it’s the only funeral of hers that she didn’t attend.

and then, tara told her an equally untrue Story in return.

when sophie is duchess charlotte prentiss, her husband william asks far too many questions about her past. of course, charlotte has a Story. all of her aliases have Stories, even the ones she only uses for a day - they all have birthdays, childhood pets, first kisses, people they love. so she tells him that her parents died in a car crash when she was 16 and instead of going into the foster system, the authorities figured she was old enough to become an emancipated minor. she tells him how it was difficult at times, incredible at others, and sad and exciting and embarrassing and bittersweet. she weaves a damn good tale about charlottes life, if she may say so herself - one that’s just painful enough for william to stop asking questions. it works perfectly. but when she tucks astrid into bed that night, and the little girl looks up at her with big round eyes and asks if ‘charlotte’ misses her mummy and daddy and says that she’s sad for ‘charlotte’ because she knows what it’s like to miss a mama… sophie freezes. there’s a lump in her throat and goosebumps on her skin. she blinks down the tears and recovers just enough to fake a smile and kiss astrid’s forehead as she leaves the room. lying has never hurt like this before. it takes all her strength to shut it down, shove the emotions in some tiny box in her head that she simply refuses to acknowledge. she decides, then, that she has to leave this house as soon as possible.

the charlotte Story is one of many that hardison finds. it’s inevitable, when he has to cover all their tracks so thoroughly, that hardison would stumble upon various old aliases. he only learns about the charlotte one from the job in england - there’s no links between her and sophie, but he destroys a decent amount of excess duchess charlotte prentiss information just in case, and then looks for any other mysterious women who happened to pop up or vanish around that time. he notices that there are some things that all of sophie’s aliases share: their parents are dead, they have no siblings, and their life changed dramatically somehow in their mid-to-late teens (usually with those parents’ deaths, or gaining an inheritance, or moving far away). he knows that these are all pretty standard, convenient details for a fake identity. but he wonders, sometimes. couldn’t she have made up dead siblings? estranged but alive parents? a dramatic event in her early childhood or in her twenties? he doesn’t know if the consistent parts mean anything. he doesn’t ask for her Story - not outright, at least. though for the first couple months of knowing her, he does sometimes enquire about little things here and there. did she grow up with sisters, what was her high school like - that sort of stuff. information is his thing, sue him! sometimes sophie just smiles. sometimes she answers, and he eventually learns that her truths, at least, are very much relative. when he decides that she is family - which is pretty early on, to be honest - he also decides not to ask anymore. he destroys old aliases when necessary, but he never reads more than he has to. he loves sophie and that is enough.

eliot never asks anything about her life. not even the innocent, casual, unthinking questions that sophie is used to from other people: where’d you grow up? did you ever have any pets? i always had to share a room with my sister, what about you? eliot clearly avoids asking her any of it. she’s somewhat surprised by that. sure, he’s polite, but he’s also suspicious both by nature and due to certain unfortunate experiences, so she sort of expected him to interrogate her when they first met.

one night, they’re the last two left at nate’s apartment. even nate had gone to bed and left them there, long given up on shooing his team out at appropriate times. sophie’s been drinking tea and flipping through a latvian phrase book to refresh her memory for tomorrow’s grift, and apparently that 90-minute-a-day sleep schedule allows for eliot to be doing one-handed push ups in the living room at this ungodly hour. too tired to retain any more information, sophie studies eliot instead. he’s a straightforward guy. she decides to be straightforward too. she breaks the silence of the apartment and simply asks - is he ever curious about her Story? eliot pauses a moment. looks her in the eye, quiet. doesn’t brush her off gruffly like she thought he might. instead, he asks if she’s ever curious about What He’s Done. that is answer enough for the both of them. they don’t talk for the rest of the night, each going back to their own activities, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. on the contrary - the mutual understanding ends up solidifying their relationship.

nate isn’t always so intensely careful about his questions like eliot. well, actually, there were many times back in his insurance days that he very much did ask her questions on purpose. and of course, for five years, he asks after her real name. sophie generally thinks of it as a fun game. she smiles at his useless determination and teases him when he comes back from jail. after a while, though, she realizes that the questions about her Story mostly stopped when leverage formed, and stop completely once he proposed. nate never hears any version of her Story. she’s here now, and that’s all he needs or wants to know - just like how sophie is her real name in any way that matters.

the moment that sophie realizes this is the moment she stops caring about the real Story, the burden of the secret and the guilt and shame of keeping it from her newfound family. in that moment, she understands that what happened back then is just a small drop in the ocean, irrelevant to the life she’s built and come to love. she never tells them the story, and she never needs to.

[mothercetrion]

AU where Kenshi is still a Yakuza member and he and Johnny have an affair :) multiple chapters planned

directly inspired by @tokillaking13 and their incredible Johnshi art (support it here and here!)

[menelaiad]

can I prompt you to talk about Menelaus sparing Helen I'm just like :chinhands: about everything u say about the house of atreus

hey, if you're willing to listen, i'm more than happy to talk - thank you!

so. again. we got Big Three versions.

menelaus says 'guys it's chill i'll kill her at home. let's all cool our jets' (this is the version in euripides)

menelaus goes to kill her himself. helen shows her boobs. menelaus suddenly very chill (this is also implied by euripides)

menelaus gets men to kill her. helen shows her boobs. men suddenly very chill (stesichorus)

CAN YOU GUESS WHICH TWO I DESPISE? no. fr. the last two (the boob two) are far too dependent on helen being vain. and helen .... almost not feeling any guilt or shame from what's happened. and we know that's not true from the iliad. these two, to me, are classic. THIS IS JUST HOW HOT HELEN WAS propaganda. cause yknow. ur a greek/roman/ancient dude and you hear that helen of sparta showed you her boobs like 'damn bro i wouldn't kill her either ahahahaha pass the wine, maximus'.

but helen was never vain. she was never arrogant. she was confident and self-assured. but it's pretty much everyone AROUND helen that comments on her beauty and stuff. she never really does herself? which is another fascinating element of her character tbh. so her doing THIS as a means to be spared? doesn't suit me. do i think helen wanted to die/was willing to die? no. but i think she would have gone about pleading for her life a different way, y'know? also i hate the whole 'her tits got her into this mess they'll get her out of it' like shut UP. menelaus is not 12. he's fucking 60 odd at this point. he is tired. he is wounded. he is so beyond mentally well. give him some respect. he wouldn't have been blind sided by this.

but i don't think menelaus EVER planned to kill her. i can accept euripudes' version cause i think there would have been a lot of greek men that would have wanted to see helen dead. it makes sense yknow? they dont see the full narrative. the big picture. as far as they're concerned helen ran away. loads of people died. and now she's gonna get away with it. they're not narrative aware enough to see all the cogs of fate and the gods and all this. so i can respect that some greeks would have wanted her to suffer and menelaus would have risked a fuckin riot if he outright said 'nah lads she's fine lets crack on' so the whole 'wait til we get home' narrative is a good way for him to save time. to buy him and helen some time to come up with a plan, a story. to hear each other out. to work through stuff. they don't get back to sparta for like. 10 more years. they can EASILY have come up with some reason why she's not been killed yet. or why he's not gonna go through with it/why it's all worked out.

in regards to menelaus never wanting to kill her, i believe that because of how menelaus behaves in the iliad. menelaus is constantly lamenting the deaths of the greeks. the needless death and suffering. how these men are working and sacrificing to get helen back. to bring her HOME. what would killing her do? another senseless death. all the sacrifice for naught because menelaus doesnt get his wife back. he goes back to sparta alone. as if he never even went to fucking troy and tried to get her back?????

and also because menelaus loves her. despite everything he loves her and he never stopped. it's why i really like his portrayal in IOA even if he is a giant ass clown. he's a man desperate to get his wife back. and he's under the impression they're just gonna go to troy and get her back. simple as. two months tops. he's frantic and desperate and willing to try anything to get her back (yo bro kill ur daughter for me kthx). and i don't think that desire to get her back changes. menelaus grows more subdued and quiet. and has less fire. but he's still trying. he goes toe to toe with paris, is willing to take on hektor. menelaus is very much: 'i am dying at troy or i am leaving with my wife' and how is that not love? it's literally. he is going to get her back or die trying.

(also idk how much people value to fall of troy texts that are around but like. menelaus kills deiphobus in those. when dei is with helen. the man is insane in those moments he could easily have took helen out too in his madness. but he doesn't. also also. when he's in the horse and he hears helen, he's said to 'groan' when he remembers her and given the context of the other men weeping and stuff. this is like. a groan of pain. hearing helen's voice after so long and remembering her. HURTS him. he's missed her so much.)

menelaus and helen loved each other. you see it in odyssey 4. the healing they must have gone through in those 10 years. is so admirable and powerful. and they did it because they wanted to. because they were gonna see this out. they were gonna make this work. and even zeus acknowledges it. because he lets menelaus into elysium just to be with helen (his own DAUGHTER) for eternity. even though menelaus has LITERALLY no elysium qualities. not even zeus cant bear to separate these two.

they're just so fucking powerful.

[twslug]

love is a gentle thing

charles leclerc/max verstappen, 2k words, general

my personal love letter to maxplaining feat. sleepy drunk charlie and professional yapper max

[happistar]

what's ur favorite bmc fanfic ever

OOOH okay this is a good question.

Ngl I don't think I could give you a solid "here is the one (1) best fic ever" so here's a whole bunch that I've rated 5 stars in my fic document!

Stammer - Excellent 100k fic, if you're looking for something long. Basically it explores Jeremy and Michael's relationship from when they were kids til a bit after the events of the musical. Really good character piece <3

Jeremy drops out of college during December of his freshman year - REALLY REALLY GOOD fic-- one of my favorites from Beth Harker. Basically Jeremy undergoes a lot of panic attacks and self hatred (some brought on by what remains of the Squip) as he and Michael go to college together. About 10k words.

in the back of my brain, the voices all sound the same - Pretty short ~1k fic that explores the idea of the Squip changing shape into things like Jeremy himself. Forever thinking about the implications.

Play it in Reverse - Really cool podfic that brings in the musical aspect of bmc and acknowledges it! With the Squip's help, Jeremy tries to fix the events of the musical by changing the lyrics. About an hour to fully listen to.

flesh & bone - AU where Jeremy is an android and the Squip Squad find him and repair him. LOVE the dynamic of everyone in this fic, but it's unfortunately unfinished. About 40k words and still worth a read despite this.

Loaded, Recoded, Unsorted - Ngl I think this was the first ever bmc fic I read?? Anyways, it still lasts in my brain despite being unfinished with about 15k words in total. Basically, Michael slowly becomes a squip with all the fun psychological horror that comes with that. Honestly if you like this I'd recommend checking out more of Nez's work. Excellent squip horror writer.

The Mechanics of Compromise - Ngl pretty much everyone I've come across has read this fic and it shouldn't be a surprise that its on this list. Absolutely adore how they handle everyone's dynamics and manage to create a really fun plot as everyone recovers from the events of the musical. Another really good 100k+ fic.

Only One Is Mine - Holy shit this fic is almost coming up on 100k words. Anyways this fic is so so so good. Basically it deals with the rising squipocalypse after the musical as Jeremy accidentally fuses with his squip and has to learn what it means to be half human, half supercomputer. LOVE this concept so much and love how its handled. Honestly one of my all time favorite fics in general-- really cool stuff!! Shoutout to Jordan fr <3

Honorable mentions:

Ophiocordyceps nippon - TRAGICALLY short fic that meant i actually rated it only 4 stars but I thought I'd share because I am still thinking about it. Basically what if the Squip was a fungus.

Same As It's Always Been - I've only read 2 chapters, since it was coming out at the time I was reading it, but its finished now!! I really enjoyed what it was when it was coming out, so I'm sure it's still a good read. Basically Rich is forced to repeat Halloween Night-- time loop style.

[femaleboysblog]

had a brain fart and ended up writing a draft for an oneshot? about catwoman!reader x adrian chase

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 18 - Hackneyed

With a curious expression A’viloh looked up to the giant statue of some saint in the middle of the plaza. It was beautifully crafted from a block of white stone and depitected a knight wearing cloak and armour. His face was hidden by a helmet.

“Don’t you think they all look the same somehow?”

“A bit. I assume this whole heroically fighting against the dragons story can get a little overused and repetitive in 1000 years…”, Rael offered and turned their attention to the statue in front of them too.

The Miqo’te furrowed his brows.

“But don’t you think each of them must have been a lot more individual than that with their own dreams and hopes? It doesn’t seem fair that they all look the same, their faces hidden by a mask…”

Somehow the idea of having all their stories reduced to almost identical, grey, expressionless faces of stone was a sad one. But Rael assumed that this was what time did to memories sometimes, once no one was left to remember their faces or how things had actuall happened.

“Maybe if our plan works, they one day built one of these for you or me too. The ears should be recognisable at least…”, Rael joked in an attempt to brighten the mood. “Saint A’viloh - he bravely fought against the dragon brood on the Steps of Faith and brought peace to Ishgard…”

But imagining that seemed to make A’viloh even more thoughtful. “I’m not sure I want to fight against the dragons. Vishap was already terrifying, can you imagine how horrible the great wyrms must be? Besides, don’t all saints die some horrible and painful death?”

“True…”, Rael mused. “But even though Iceheart may have a point, I don’t think this conflict can just be ended as easily as everybody seems to hope right now…”

“But aren’t they all tired of fighting by now? Isn’t all this talk of holy wars and heresy getting old?”, A’viloh asked and looked distressed, like he himself was already tired of it.

The Viera sighed and remembered their kins hatred for the Garleans. The conflict for Golmore was by far not that old yet as this war but had already produced so much bloodshed too.

“It’s not that easy, A’vi. A thousand years are a long time. One cruelty avenged by another and another and another. The Ishgardians? They were born and raised in this war, it’s everything they know. And the dragons? You heard Midgardsormr. They live long enough to remember all of this bloody war… It doesn’t matter anymore who was right in the first place. Neither of them are just going to give up and admit they were wrong. Both sides feel justified in their hate and this will make it difficult to find a peaceful solution…”

For a moment A’viloh was quiet, silently contemplating what Rael had said.

“But what can we do about this at all?”

“I don’t know. But you heard what Thordan said. And if the Ascians are involved behind the scenes, we can’t just ignore this. I have no perfect answer for solving this conflict but neither does Iceheart or Aymeric or anybody else… But we have to try anyway. Maybe together we can find a solution…”