#Like you can't. You can't have a life anymore you just have to work for the most basic necessities and you're left with no time no money

[glypt0don]

So, this is quite a rant. You can skip to the bottom, if you want to know my opinion but don't want to read that much... But I worked hard on it and I think it's important, so it would make me very happy if you read through the whole text.

So this fits into something I wanted to post about anyway: a broader theme of why do we frame things as wars? Like, why is it culture war, specifically. First I liked the concept, I thought it described something quite complicated reasonably easily. But I pondered on it a bit more and I think there's more going on.

It's pretty trivial, that most societies went through a huge change over the last half century. It's not just feminism. I could make a whole list of things we as a people took on. Anti-racism and civil rights, religious acceptance, global trade, reinterpreting the meaning of peace, connecting the word through the world-wide web, etc. We ( or, as I am barely an adult and have no idea how to change things for the better, I should say you, or maybe chat) decided it was time for change, so change came. You brought it about.

And I agree. Change WAS and IS necessary. What that change should entail, well, we all have our ideas, right? And they have the ugly tendency to differ from each other. The question then is, how do we coincide our contradictory ideas on society? The answer is both worrying and very important.

To be fair, our race doesn't have a great track record on solving these kinds of issues. I dug into my historical knowledge, since, you know, those who don't learn from it, repeat it... The only thing I can compare to what's happening today would be the Reformation (which probably says a lot about my historical knowledge). That's the only time I know, where societal assumptions were altered so much in such a short time. That time it was specifically about the Catholic church (if you don't know, what I'm talking about, you really should, so Google it), and the result was a series of wars, that ultimately may have wiped out about a fifth of Europes population. The wars were of course led by powerful men, who capitalised on the divide to further their own goals.

As back then, now too, we can't rely on institutions to tame the public. Many media and political identities have a direct interest in polarising society. Because that's what happens. All these contentious issues about gender, class, or foreign policy become dividing lines between folks who are supposed to be parts of the same whole (call it community, state, nation or humanity, depending on how wide you can think). You know, how it works, probably saw it a few times, whatever your interests are. It's literally everywhere! We fight it out with the perceived enemy of the week sometimes, when there is an election, something notable happens, or it's simply Pride Month. Then everyone goes back to their respective corners, where they vehemently agree with themselves. We don't talk a lot, just throw words at each other, like Buggs Bunny, playing tennis with a dynamite.

I should say, this post is a notable and refreshing outlier. Thanks, @trans-androgyne , for starting a discussion for a change!

I know, it's a bit like nuclear armament. You can't just stop, because THEY won't, and then they win, and you can't allow that. It's life and death! And I don't have some magic pill to make it all go right, or believe me, I wouldn't sit here, typing this out at 3 in the morning Central European Time. But let me propose this: don't call it a war! Neither culture war, nor gender war, nor anything like that. Because this isn't a war. Just ask anyone in the middle east! They can tell you, what is war, and THIS IS NOT IT! And also, because it may not be guns and destruction yet, but nothing guarantees, that it stays that way. We already had multiple attempted takeovers of capital buildings since this cursed decade began, because our social reality became so fragmented, that you can't accept the results of a popular election anymore. That should raise alarm bells. I know it does, but it can be much worse! Learn from history, do not repeat it! Hit the Wiki page on the Huguenot war! On the siege of Magdeburg. Or, if that's not your cup of tea, watch Civil War! I genuinely think it's the best movie of the year.

Call it Social Discourse! That sounds much more manageable, doesn't it? Or you can come up with something else, as long as it isn't some warmongering bullshit. And maybe the next time you meet someone with sexist, homophobic, racist, or maybe radical left and anarchistic views (whatever you're opposing), don't attack them with your words! Those aren't weapons. Try to talk to them instead! Try talking about feelings! Listen to theirs, make them understand yours! I say feelings, because you both have those. Try finding a common ground, however small, and build up from there. Like Minecraft Skyblock. It can be hard in a challenging way, instead of making you want to shoot yourself in the head. Remember, you aren't fighting a war. You are having a discourse.

All of it is to say, the world and society are changing, wether you like it or not, and we have to change with it, to survive. That is the simple fact. If you call that change a war, that's just gonna make the whole thing unnecessarily painful for everyone involved.

This was sociopolitical advice from a giant armadillo.

Genuinely, what happened to “feminism is for everyone”?

That’s the feminism I grew up with: encouraging people to recognize that fighting sexism and restrictive gender roles helps folks of every gender. We’d push back on the idea that feminists hate men, pointing to inclusive feminist literature and how many men are feminists.

Now, there are so many people insisting that the solution to patriarchy is to openly hate and ostracize men no matter what. Why? What is the benefit? It’s certainly not effective in fighting oppressive structures to exclude half the population from your cause on the basis of immutable traits. It may feel cathartic to say horrible things about men and try to punish them for your frustrations with patriarchy. But the only actual effect I see is the increasing right-wing radicalization of young men, who are being told that the left hates them for the way they were born and presented with an abundance of proof that it’s true.

Why are we going back to treating men and women as different species? It doesn’t fix things to say “well women are the good gender and men are the bad one” this time. If you sincerely want to dismantle sexism, you’re going to have to unpack and let go of all sex and gender essentialism—even that which considers women inherently pure and men inherently immoral.

[soldearestsoulmate]

Inspired by the Bad End of the game.

Something small. Angst time. (and venting I guess. depression rocks lol)

The sound of the clock ticking that hung on the wall always sounded loudest in these moments.

He hated it, but Sol endured it. Since he had no choice after all.

He silently waited in his seat for the woman sitting across from him to finish looking through his book...His book full of drawings, sketches, of what he made this week.

She hummed lowly, closely looking at one of the drawings. "I see you drew them again...Quite the memory you have to have picked up all their details, Mr. Brugmansia."

Sol didn't respond to that...He was used to hearing this by now. How many times has these sessions happened? He lost count...

"The rest however...You still can't let that day go, I see...The more you cling to that day. The less likelihood we can make progress on your healing to be released, you know?"

Now Sol let out a low chuckle, it sounded forced, and exhausted.

"You know I'm never getting out of here, doctor..." He spoke with a look that said it all...He was tired, drained...but not because of these sessions, these repeated days.

No...He was tired of living these days without them...

Without you...

"...Then I guess there's no point in this session then. I can skip straight to filling out the paper work for your medica--"

"NO! Please...Just...Can you not do it...This once? Please? I...I rarely can feel not numb anymore since coming here. It's...You don't understand how horrible it feels...To feel like a zombie...A stranger in your own body...It's like..."

"I completely understand, Mr. Brugmansia. That only means the medication is working. It's for your own good. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, after all...Right?"

Sol looked down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists as he remembered. It wasn't his fault those bastards said that stuff about you. They deserved it...Deserved having their heads bashed in...and put into comas. It was all for you.

The woman opened his sketchbook again, and flipped through a few pages until stopping on one.

"May I ask why you drew him in color this time?" She showed the page...Which had Crowe in it...Usually he'll be colored in black and white or in red...for blood.

"...I had my reasons..."

"Speak then."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." She leaned back in her seat, getting her pen and clipboard ready, prepared to write and take down notes.

Sol sighed and then spoke. "...The night the medication wore off earlier than usual...I had a dream again...A vivid one...I saw them again, but they were...They looked and felt so real. I didn't want to wake up...Not be away from them again..." He smiled at the memory, then paused, his smile fading. "Though they asked me of something. I hated it...I hated the request, but for them...I did it. It was for them..."

"Mhm...By "them", you mean Y/n correct?" Sol nodded lightly. Hearing their name spoken made his heart ache.

"...They said they love the way I bring color and life through my art...That's why I draw them a lot...To--"

"To bring them back to life." She felt pity for the man before him, but not enough. Especially after knowing what he done.

"They wanted to see...Ichabod...with life again...Even after I took it, they asked of me to bring it back, bring him back." He gave a smile, desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. "THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT?! THAT MEANS THEY STILL LOVE ME AND TRUST ME! THEY'RE WATCHING ME! WAITING FOR ME! MY PUMPKIN! MY SOULMATE LOVES ME! EVEN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, THEY UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW I DID IT FOR THEM! FOR US!! THEY LOVE ME!!"

It'll be a lie to say she wasn't startled by his outburst, especially with the crazed look in his eyes, but worked to remain calm in her seat. Until he looked to calm himself with a lovestruck smile over his own delusion of what he thought that dream meant. Over believing you actually spoke to him...and met him again.

"...Of course you did, Solivan...Of course." She wrote down a few more things, then clicked her pen shut. "Our session is over now. Please, do eat your food tonight, Mr. Brugmansia. As well, get plenty of rest."

After Sol left the room, with cuffed hands and escorted out by some men, like always. Luckily with no fight this time like the other times.

The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. "He's not showing signs of improvement...His delusions truly have a tight hold on him...A change of medication might be best...or a higher dosage..."

[certifiedsexed]

Hi! Is it true that your hymen will break/rip with like, the simpliest form of penetration? I know your can rip (i dont know if thats the right word sorry) it only by doing exercices and things like horse riding, and i know that i for some people their hymen doesn't change after penetration, but... im still curious, and don't know anyone besides you to answer that for me hahahha

Its because, like, i really want to buy a menstrual disc or a cup instead of having to buy pads every month. I'm a minor and unfurtunatelly kind of freak out my hymen will break and when i go see an ob-gyn that would be clear and my mom would somehow know? Omg now that im typing this thought its starting to sound so dumb lmao

And it isn't even like my mom would get mad at me? Is just that im ace and extremelly uncomfortable to have this tipe of talk with my parents. Having all of my sex ed being searched and studied by me and myself only. They don't talk about it :p

But yeaaah, how does it work? Please enlighten me qwq also if something i wrote sounded weird im sorry im not fluent hahah

Hi!

No. The hymen is literally just part of your vagina-It usually partially covers the opening of your vagina [though some people are born with it covering the entire opening of their vagina] and it can wear down with age but it does not "break" and it rarely tears at the simplest penetration.

It can tear, which usually causes no pain, and little blood. But it also stretches, like the rest of your vagina. There's a possibility it could tear but it's unlikely unless you're shoving something inside your vagina super hard.

Hymens can survive giving birth. As long as you're not violently inserting your menstrual cup/disk, you should be fine.

Let me be clear: if your hymen breaks enough to show and your OB/GYN sees it and tells your mom, your OB/GYN is a misogynist and a creep. It's their job to know that 1. hymen breakage can just happen sometimes and B. your hypothetical sex life is not your mother's business.

But this isn't me saying it can't happen. It's not a huge possibility but it's a possibility all the same. Hymens thin and can wear down over time, which can vary wildly from person to person. That can lead to tearing but you can hugely reduce that risk by being gentle and taking your time.

Having to tell your parents/your mom that you're using a menstrual cup/disc can definitely suck but you don't have to discuss anything sex related, Anon!

I'd say that trying out a menstrual disc/cup and seeing if it's more comfortable for you would probably be worth that.

This isn't stupid at all, btw. It's an understandable worry! And your english sounds fine! I hope this helps. Let me know if you have anymore questions. <3

[sibylsleaves]

im now just remembering all the speculating i did at the end of s7 how the only thing that could get Buck to realize his Big Big Feelings for Eddie would be if he had to contemplate what life looks like without him. and not a life without him because he died because obviously he'd be fucking torn up about that, he would feel that way if anyone he loved died. but a life without him because they've been Separated for some reason.

because in that case you can't really explain away the heartcrushing grief as just Regular Grief. it is something Else. it is realizing that the person who understands you more than anyone, YOUR person, can't be Your Person anymore. it is realizing you will miss them in ways you have never missed anyone before. and that them leaving might actually destroy you in a way you didn't know was possible.

and imo an NDE realization just doesn't work the same way!! because you can always be like. well. of course i was scared. of course i was catatonic with grief he almost DIED.

but when you feel those things when someone is alive and well and still your friend just not Your Person anymore...well.

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

It's not for everyone, but keeping a running wishlist throughout the year can help with stuff like this.

Find yourself repairing the same shitty flatpack bookcase you've been dragging around for a decade for the second time in a month? Put a replacement on your wishlist.

Winter boots gave up the ghost in March and you don't want to buy news one until next winter? Put it on your wishlist.

See something cool that would solve a problem but you can't quite justify the expense right now? Put it on your wishlist.

When you put something new on your wishlist, go through it real quick and see if you still want the things you put on it earlier. Take off anything you don't want or need anymore.

If someone asks what you want for a gift-giving occasion, you've got a list to just hand them. Bonus is that whatever they give you will probably be a surprise thanks to either the size of the list or the amount of time that's passed since you put stuff on it. If you wind up with a lump sum thanks to one thing or another--commission payout at work, tax refund, etc.--then you also have a list of pre-established quality of life purchases that you've already picked out.

"Hey, what do you want for Ch-"

I don't know, as soon as you started the question, I somehow momentarily was struck with such a lack of desire for any material goods that there's now a school of thought in Buddhism who reveres my ADHD riddled brain as a potential speedrun to enlightment.

[itzharplikealways]

Does anyone else wonder why exactly everyone in Pvp Civilization can't just break out?

Like, all we see are these giant boxes built to house fighters- from simple flats to literal mansions- and yet, nobody. Not even Evbo, who is somehow so naive and innocently stupid that he seems like the perfect person to do it, has tried to just... break the stone blocks?

I'm not sure if it was mentioned why in the series, but it got me thinking (and my insomnia sure isn't helping) why nobody would try to break out if they didn't enjoy killing and the whole prospect of fighting to save yourself (mostly to extend your life) in a giant box.

Is it because they're in peaceful mode? Is it because their swords can only swing in the air and not get any of the stones to even reveal some sort of crack? Is it because the world is just that- a big as hell box in the void?

Or did people simply stop caring about trying to solve such problems? You know, when people have heard so many tales of one fighter or the other, trying to break free from this ever-lasting system, and instanly getting caught by the guards and dragged away so players don't even try to escape anymore.

Perhaps they hear rumors, whispered in cold rooms behind shut doors, about fighters who have tried to dig, practically crawl out of Pvp Civilization and simply... vanished. Never to be seen again.

I might have to rewatch Pvp Civilization, but I don't think Evbo ever mentioned it. Like, at least in Parkour Civilization- we get some kind of border, a sky and blocks of grass. But Pvp Civilization takes place in a dark, mysterious and cold (freakishly big) geometric shape made of squares and boxes.

Idk, I like the idea. Might write a fic about it because Pvp Civilization seamlessly dragged itself straight to the front of my (mostly) working brain.

[derww]

DEVOTIONS WEEK DAY 2: POTIONS/DEATH

CW: Suicide attempt, suicidal ideations, mental breakdown, ableism, DDDNE

This is the first thing Zam does when he realizes that everything he has done this season has been absolutely useless: he kills himself.

Okay, he tries: he abruptly turns away, throws off all his armor, takes a few springy steps, and then jumps down. The height is small, but he has ridiculously few hearts, so it's enough...

A moment before landing something breaks on top of his head, and the fall does not cause any damage. The nasty swamp slime gets into his mouth, and he spits it out, at the same time shaking off the glass stuck in his hair.

– What do you think is the probability that he has milk? – Pyro asks Spoke, tossing another splash bottle in his hand. Zam stares at him. How the fuck did he even hit? He is disgusting and wet. He has milk, but only in the enderchest, and he is not stupid enough to believe that he will be given time to drink it. Or that it would make any difference.

– I don't know, man, – Spoke spreads his hands, – like, high? Doesn't matter. Let's continue my supervillain speech. Time is not infinite, you know.

He doesn't want to continue the conversation. He pukes on the spot. He reeks of corpse rot. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to be anywhere at all. Oh, God, can he just fucking die already?

Mapicc rolls his eyes. He looks annoyed, but not surprised. He and Spoke exchange understanding glances. Zam mechanically wipes his mouth from vomit, staring past them. There are too many things around. Everything is too bright and distinct. He wants to pierce through his belly with a sword, and he is horrified to realize that this will not help.

They- they don't even laugh at his insignificance and helplessness, they see it as an expected hindrance, as something that will happen when you tell the PrinceZam about the impending apocalypse. For some reason, it's so much worse. The vomit is creeping up in his throat again.

Step. Another. Third. This time he jumps into the void – because the Abyss kills anything, and even if not, suffocating in the infinity is still better than being next to them. That's the only thing he wants right now – to die.

He barely does not manage to reach y 0 when he is teleported back to their feet, and he falls to the knees. He violently coughs up bile. Deep disgust fills every cell of his body.

– Listen, – Mapicc says wearily, – let's skip this part. Yes, Spoke has backdoored the server, yes, he has an OP, and yes, no mundane plots have any meaning anymore. Wormhole will open in a week. Are you with us?

He lowers his head. His hands are shaking. He wants to wash himself. He wants to be anywhere else. He wants warm clothes and soft food. He wants to go home and bake a pumpkin pie. He wants to kill himself.

– Earth to the PrinceZam,– Spoke snaps fingers in front of his face, – bro, hang off. I need your answer. I'm only giving you a choice anyway because you're different. Be faster.

He opens his mouth and stutters and gasps. Nothing in his body works properly. For the first time in months, he can't say anything. Why-why at all. What's the difference. They can't make his life worse. They won't be able to mess up any more. They are not-

A blurry image with black and red appears in front of his face. Black hair. A pale face. A red hoodie. Bandana. Horns. Zam doesn't have to think about it to know that it's Mapicc.

– Listen, – Mapicc's voice comes to him as if from under water, - I know it's hard, – no, he has no idea, – and really, really sucks. but this is the situation we find ourselves in now. Right now, you don't have to do much, right now you just need to make one decision. Okay?

Something inhuman is bursting out of him. He's throwing up again. Mapicc sighs.

– Hey, – he says too calmly, – it's hard, I know. But not worse than the end of season two, right? – much, much worse, – just take a deep breath, exhale, give yourself time to think and make a decision, okay? And we'll leave you alone.

He can't. He can't. He is not-

– If I refuse, – he says, dead–straight, – will you let me die?

– No, of course not, – Spoke's voice comes from somewhere to the side, and he doesn't have enough strength to turn his head, – why did we try otherwise? Wait for the Wormhole, and I'll think about it. Maybe I'll give you endless effects, or maybe I'll let you die in peace. Who knows? I haven't decided yet.

– Don't listen to him, – Mapicc interrupts, irritated, – don't think about it. Just decide whether you want to destroy this world or fight for its preservation. If you want to keep it, the defenders will pick you up sooner or later. If you want to destroy it, you will become the third with me and Spoke. We will work together. Like before.

He's looking past them. His heart is beating too fast.

– if I join you, – he says dryly, – will you let me die?

– When you will finish your work? – Spoke giggles, – yeah, sure, why not. It wouldn't matter.

He swallows a lump. His throat hurts. Mapicc seems to be looking right at him. He's suffocating. He doesn't want any of this.

– Okay, – he says in the end, – I'll help you. And then you'll let me go.

Spoke grins.

– And that's the deal! Good job, PrinceZam. That's more like it.

At least Mapicc and I will be friends again, he thinks detachedly. At least there's anything good about it. Maybe I can get over it. Even if it's only to get the fuck out later.

[riversofmars]

A Habit They Can't Break

Clearly, I lied, yet again, when I said I'd only write one Caitvi oneshot to get it out of my system... Anyway pitfighter Vi era hook up with General Kiramman cause they deserve to have messy sex when they're at their worst.

Vi's life has gone to shit after she has lost everything and anyone she ever cared about. With nothing much to live for, she seeks solace in booze, pitfighting in the lowest reaches of Zaun - all to drown out her yearning for the woman who has broken her heart. Getting over Caitlyn would surely prove a lot easier if the newly appointed General of Piltover didn't keep seeking her out in the dead of night. (Rating: Explicit)

“This place gets filthier every time.” Caitlyn's observation was devoid of emotion. It was a simple statement of fact, easily supported just by counting the empty liquor bottles around, but all Vi returned was a scoff.

“Yet you keep coming back,” she muttered, pulling herself onto her side on the lumpy mattress she called her bed. It was a far cry from the comfort of Piltover that she had so briefly enjoyed - just a distant memory now. The buzz of alcohol was still in her system, intended to numb all manner of pain, and yet, her whole body ached. Between old injuries that weren't allowed time to heal, and new ones she sustained every night, she couldn't tell where the pain came from anymore, except for the most prominent one that related to the familiar shape that had pushed into the dirty flat Vi slept in. ‘Lived in’ would be saying too much.

Caitlyn - or rather General Kiramman as she preferred to be called - was an imposing presence. Tall, dark in the shadows of the room, her cloak engulfing her like a shield. She seemed untouchable; here at least. There was bound to be an enforcer detail waiting for her outside. With her face plastered all over Zaun on propaganda posters, she was far too recognisable and a tempting target for anyone looking for trouble - and yet she still came here.

Vi blinked her tired eyes that burned from the charcoal she’s smudged all around her face, and willed herself to focus on the general, undecided whether she ought to think her real or just another hallucination.

“We still haven’t found her,” Caitlyn announced, her sharp gaze taking in the pitiful state of things and she placed her rifle against the wall, seemingly seeing no need for it.

“Gutting,” Vi huffed, turning onto her back as she waited for a wave of dizziness to pass. “You know I want nothing to do with it.”

“You must have heard something by now.” The general turned to face the bed, and Vi allowed herself a tired chuckle. She was getting bored of this game, the pretense of it all.

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she muttered.

“Believe me, you would,” Caitlyn shot back, steel in her voice, and Vi had to work hard to suppress a groan and not let on that the thought of being interrogated by General Kiramman excited her more than it should. She blamed it on the alcohol.

“Save it for your detainees. I don't know anything. And you know that,” she countered and pushed herself upright to be able to meet the general's eyes. “Come on, we both know you’re not here for information.” A sly smirk came to her lips. She knew exactly what Caitlyn had come for and a familiar, thrilling sense of anticipation came over her. She loved and hated the nights when she sought her out. Rationally, she knew she was just using her, but perhaps it was mutual. Vi certainly got something out of it too. They seemed to be each other’s bad habit that they couldn’t shake.

The first time it had happened had been confusing. For a moment the pitfighter had genuinely thought Caitlyn had come to find her to apologise… but she couldn't have been more wrong. Everything after that had become a vicious circle of lust and regret.

Would tonight be any different?

Caitlyn didn't respond to her challenge, a picture of aloofness as she nudged over a couple of empty bottles, presumably just to annoy her.

“How's Maddie?” Vi asked, growing impatient. There was nothing she hated more than being ignored. “Does she not know how to get you off? Is that why you have to come here?” Her words seemed to have little - if any - effect on Caitlyn, but she looked back at her with those steely blues of hers that seemed to cut through the darkness, challenging her to say more. So the pitfighter did, getting up to approach her, even though she was far from steady on her feet. “Or do you not let her? Are you saving yourself for me?” She reached her personal space and deliberately ran her eyes up and down her body. How she longed to rip that bloody uniform off her.

It had hurt the first time Caitlyn had told her about Maddie, as she surely had intended for it to. But now, Vi just felt an odd sense of pity for the girl, since she clearly couldn't give the general what she wanted. Why else would she keep coming back here?

“Don't flatter yourself,” Caitlyn retorted indignantly, but Vi could tell, just from the way she narrowed her eyes at her that she had touched on something. She grinned, bold in her tipsy state.

“Or is that not fun for you? When they don't put up a fight?” she challenged, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face, but it didn’t last very long. Caitlyn remained unfazed, her response was simply a smirk of her own, the calculated, cold kind that Vi hated with a passion.

“You don't put up a fight either,” the general hummed, leaning down and dropping her voice. “All bark, no bite.”

“Is that right?” Anger flared in Vi's chest, and she had little in the way of inhibitions to control her impulses. If there was one thing she wouldn't have questioned, it was her strength. She launched herself forward to shove the other woman, but Caitlyn's reflexes were sharp.

It was over before it had truly begun. She ducked her attack and slammed her fist into her gut in return, immediately winding her opponent. It was a pitifully short altercation that left Vi crashing to the floor, catching herself on all fours and gasping for breath.

“You used to be better at that,” Caitlyn commented, standing over her. “Drinking is ruining your reflexes.”

“You've gotten stronger,” Vi winced in response, clutching her side.

“I've got a good teacher,” the general answered, and the pitfighter growled in dismay. Whatever Ambessa Medarda was teaching her, it was certainly to blame for the iron rule exerted over Zaun, the disassociation she saw in Caitlyn’s eyes, and the fact that Vi’s heart lay in pieces in the filth alongside her.

“Wonder what sort of training you're doing with her. Blowing off some steam, I bet,” Vi snarled, and a kick to her side threw her onto her back. “Fuck-” she winced, though not regretting her words in the slightest. Despite it all, she knew Caitlyn wasn’t out to genuinely hurt her, it was all just a power play, and she would be lying if she pretended she wasn’t a little into it too.

“Do you not get beaten up enough every night to satisfy your self-loathing?” Caitlyn challenged in a low voice. “Do you really need me to do it too?” Before Vi could even attempt to get up, she placed her heavy boot on her chest in a warning manner.

“Fuck you,” the Vi growled, and Caitlyn scoffed, nudging her chin with the tip of her boot.

“Quite right,” she hummed and reached to her belt, undoing it without much ceremony. The atmosphere shifted. “Let's get on.” She stepped off Vi's chest, but the pitfighter was in no rush to get up. Instead she bit her lip at the sight of the general undoing her trousers, forgetting to breathe. The air suddenly felt stiflingly hot and she could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears, picking up speed, as tense silence fell.

There was no discussion, no negotiation, no need for further words. The look in Caitlyn's eyes told Vi all she needed to know, and a surge of desire came over her, far more powerful and intoxicating than any kind of alcohol. She pulled herself up to her knees in a sharp, swift movement, her aches all but forgotten, and she ripped Caitlyn's trousers down the rest of the way. She didn’t wait for permission, clawing back some control for herself, and buried her face between her legs.

“Fuck-” Caitlyin groaned, fisting her hands in the pitfighter’s inky hair. “I've missed this.”

‘This’. Not ‘you’.

Vi moaned, dragging her tongue through her folds, thrilled to find her wet and wanting. At least she knew she wanted her too. She wrapped her arms around her thighs, pulling her closer, and dug her fingers into her flesh so hard she hoped she’d bruise.

“Wish all your fucking admirers could see you now,” she growled, lapping eagerly the length of her before seeking her clit. “The mighty General of Piltover getting eaten out by a Zaun low-life.”

“As if anyone would believe it,” Caitlyn moaned breathlessly, grinding against her mouth, and Vi made sure to nuzzle her face into her thighs, leaving smudges of her charcoal make-up in the hope that Caitlyn would feel as dirty when she cleaned herself up as the pitfighter did. “Focus,” the general demanded, yanking her hair. “I haven’t got all night.”

Vi redoubled her efforts, plunging her tongue into her with the same fervour as though she was devouring a juicy meal, her wetness covering her mouth and chin. Her taste, her scent, the thrilling feeling of nails scraping her scalp- they took her in and made her forget all about how shitty life was.

Quickly she found Caitlyn’s clit again, sucking it between her lips, and the general gasped.

“Yes, Vi- Keep going!”

Just hearing Caitlyn moan her name was satisfaction enough for an intense feeling of pride to swell in the pitfighter’s chest. She repeated her actions, faster, harder, working her tongue against her eagerly until the general’s legs began to shake.

“Fuck-” she groaned, seeking purchase on the nearby table to hold herself up, and Vi moved with her, helping her onto the edge, lifting her legs to clamp around her head. Empty bottles clattered to the floor, forgotten and inconsequential.

Vi moaned too, it was as though she was drowning in Caitlyn and never wanted to come up for air again. Now, that would be a way to go. Over the course of many such encounters, she had learned all there was to know about the general’s body and it wasn’t long before she had her trembling and on the edge.

For a moment, Vi contemplated stopping, leaving her high and dry to see how she liked that, but even now, after the betrayal and heartbreak, she still longed to please her.

“Vi-” All it took was another moan of her name, and the pitfighter was prepared to give her anything.

She pushed her over the edge and Caitlyn came, long and hard, keeping Vi between her legs as her body shook, and the pitfighter cleaned her up, savouring the moment that would pass all too soon.

It ended with Caitlyn sitting herself up on the edge of the table and she reached down, grasping Vi’s jaw. Slowly, she ran her thumb along her lips, with an odd sort of expression in her eyes that Vi couldn’t quite interpret. She had little time to try and do so, as the moment of unexpected tenderness ended as swiftly as it had begun.

The general released her, pushing off the table to get up, and Vi relieved herself of the strain on her knees, simply dropping back onto her arse. Being on the ground was a safer bet than trying to stand.

“I trust that was to your satisfaction, General,” she quipped, turning to watch her make her way towards the bed. Something seemed to have grabbed her attention. Realisation dawned on Vi quickly, but she couldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed, not after everything they had already done, not even when Caitlyn picked up the strap-on that lay by the bottom of the bed.

“Not exactly inconspicuous,” the general commented, sounding almost amused as she examined the toy of purple silicon and leather straps.

“Well, a girl has needs,” Vi hummed, leaning back leisurely in the hopes of masking how much her own body ached for release, particularly at the sight of the other woman running her fingers along the length of the toy.

“Don’t I know it,” Caitlyn huffed, turning to face the pitfighter fully. “How many girls have you fucked with this?” she challenged, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Jealous?” Vi couldn’t help a smirk, and the general tilted her head thoughtfully.

“No,” she decided after a moment’s contemplation. “Because I know they’re not the ones fucking you. Only I get to do that.”

Just like that, the temperature in the room appeared to jump once more. Vi swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for words at the sight of Caitlyn stepping into the leather straps and pulling them up to her hips. This was new. The general had always been partial to having her way with Vi in return, bending her over the table and the like, but that marked a change from her slender fingers.

Of course, she was right too. Every meaningless shag Vi had had since their falling out had been a one-sided affair. While she had tried repeatedly, she simply couldn’t go through with it. The sad truth was she didn’t want anyone else to touch her like that, and a small part of her took satisfaction from knowing that it seemed to be the same for Caitlyn. Perhaps they were doomed to remain in this vicious circle, more than just a habit, more like a drug they just couldn’t give up.

“F-fuck off,” the pitfighter huffed, trying to appear nonchalant, but the tremble in her voice easily betrayed the undeniable thrill she felt.

“What? Am I wrong?” Caitlyn raised her eyebrows expectantly as she tightened the straps. “You want this just as much as I do.”

And Vi did. Desire pooled in her gut, her clothes felt all too restrictive.

“Don’t suppose you have any lube lying around, do you?” Caitlyn hummed, once seemingly happy with the fit of the strap that looked positively sinful between her long legs. She rid herself off her cloak and dropped it to the floor, unimportant and forgotten, as she advanced on Vi who remained on the floor, stunned, but breathing hard in anticipation. “Guess you'll have to get it wet the old-fashioned way.”

“Cait-” Vi muttered dumbly, heat shooting to her head, but before she knew it, the general was on her yanking her forward by the scruff of her neck, back onto her knees. The pitfighter looked up to her, her throat feeling incredibly dry, and Caitlyn smirked.

“Come on, Vi. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls suck your cock, you know how this works,” she teased and grabbed her jaw, nudging the tip of the strap against her lips.

“I-” Vi wasn’t entirely sure what she meant to say, her mind swimming in arousal, but she didn’t get the chance to finish as the general took advantage of her lips parting, pushing the silicon shaft inside.

“You can stop talking now,” she hummed, grabbing hold of her head, and Vi gagged.

“Fuck-” she groaned around the toy, the sense of humiliation feeding into her desire. Was she really going to give in so easily? All bark, no bite? Caitlyn pulled her head forward, rolling her hips, giving her little choice in the matter. Vi choked, trying to hold herself upright, seeking purchase on the general’s legs. She wanted to pull away, but Caitlyn held her firm.

“Be good for me, Vi,” she demanded in a low growl, and the pitfighter knew that the only way she would find release was by giving in to her. She stopped resisting and relaxed her jaw, moving her tongue and lips along the shaft obediently, casting a glance up to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. Her pupils were blown, darkening her piercingly blue eyes, and breathlessly, she whispered: “That’s it… see, you can listen when you want to.” She thrust her hips, and Vi groaned, coating the fake cock with her saliva as best she could.

“Get on the bed, and strip,” Catilyn demanded roughly once she was satisfied, pulling away, and leaving the pitfighter gasping for breath. “Unless you want me to fuck you on this filthy floor.”

Vi obeyed, her mind in a lustful haze. She stumbled as she kicked her shoes off on the way, but Caitlyn was there to steady her, grabbing her hips, and yanking down her trousers. She was growing impatient, they both were, and soon enough, Caitlyn shoved Vi down on the bed face first, her fingers plunging into the wetness between her thighs.

“Please-” Vi gasped breathlessly, pushing back against her fingers that briefly swirled around her clit, then probed her entrance with practised ease.

“I like hearing you beg,” the general growled, pulling the pitfighter onto her hands and knees, and sunk her fingers inside her. Vi moaned, biting her lip to the intense sensation of her scissoring her fingers apart. It was but the precursor and already her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, making her feel alive in a way that allowed her to forget the world around her. It was only when she was with Caitlyn, like this, that life seemed bearable, and absently she wondered if the other woman felt the same way as she buried herself in her grief and hunger for revenge.

The general retreated her fingers, and grabbed hold of Vi’s hips instead. The tip of the strap nudged against her and Vi took an unsteady breath.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” Caitlyn hummed, and the pitfighter sensed it would prove to be a lie, but all thoughts failed her, as she pushed into her, smooth, steady, but without relenting to the cry that tore itself from Vi’s throat.

“Shit-” she sobbed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she tensed against the unfamiliar, unyielding intrusion.

“Not used to this, are you?” Caitlyn hummed behind her, mercifully allowing her a moment to adjust to the fullness, a tantalising mix of pain and pleasure that took Vi’s capacity for thought. She looped one hand around her, sparking pleasure through her clit with encouraging circles. “Relax,” she breathed, leaning over her and flattened her other hand to her back, testing the rise and fall of her laboured breaths. “It’ll be worse for you if you keep tensing.” She rocked her hips, and Vi gasped, trying her best to follow her demands, even if she was hardly in control of her body anymore. Everything seemed to spin and all she could hear was Caitlyn’s voice, burying into her subconscious and making her yield to her every whim.

“Fuck, I hate you…” the pitfighter whimpered, trying to keep a hold of herself but failing. The intensity was overwhelming but felt so good, it was addictive, just like everything else about Caitlyn. She relaxed around the strap and the general took every inch she gave as she started thrusting in a steady, increasing rhythm.

“Don't worry, you'll learn to love it,” Caitlyn growled, digging her fingers into her hips as she thrust harder.

Vi cried out, clawing at the mattress as she sought for something to hold on to. Her body thumped, blood rushing in her ears, as she gasped and moaned with every deep thrust that felt as though it would split her open. And yet, she couldn’t help but push back against her. She wanted to ask for more, harder, faster, but Caitlyn obliged before she could even find her voice. It was reduced to a series of whimpers, gasps and moans, incoherent, but seemingly urging the general on.

“See, not so mouthy now, are you?” she grunted, her breathing heavy too. “All bark and yet you let me fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“Cait! Fuck!” Vi collapsed forward, she couldn’t hold herself up any longer, but Caitlyn didn’t let up, pounding her into the mattress.

“Come on, Vi,” she groaned, her voice raw and heavy. “I want to make you scream.”

And she did. She brought her hand around her front, rubbing against her clit, while burying the full length of the strap inside her again and again. Vi’s orgasm came over her like a flashflood, overwhelming her and swallowing her up. Heat burnt its way to every nerve ending and her body shook in waves of intense pleasure that left her spent and delirious once they had run their course.

She was barely aware of Caitlyn moving behind her at first, not until the disappointing feeling of emptiness as she pulled out of her. She couldn’t move, her limbs heavy and her thoughts a jumble, but she was vaguely aware of the rustling of clothes somewhere in the distance. Soon after, the strap-on landed on the mattress beside her with a thud.

“Feel better now?” Vi mumbled weakly, rolling onto her side for a less compromising position. Her vision was blurred, but she could just about make out Caitlyn pulling her ridiculous cape back on.

“No,” the general answered, sober and matter-of-fact, so much so that Vi could have laughed, had it not been so desperately sad. “Do you?”

“No,” the pitfighter answered, tears welling up in her eyes as her defenses cracked in her exhausted state. She extended a hand towards the blurry shape of the woman she still, despite everything, loved more than she could say. “Cait… please kiss me,” she begged, her voice rough and while she could hardly see her, there was a weight on the bed beside her.

A hand grasping for her cheek. Soft lips finding her own. A tender kiss. And then, the fire returned. The gesture turned passionate and raw; anger, hate, disappointment, hope, desire, love-

They didn’t break until they were both out of breath but eventually, Caitlyn pulled away. Carefully, she lay Vi’s head down on the bed and reached for her make-shift blanket - one of the flags that had been hung all over Zaun, bearing the Kiramman crest upon them.

Vi didn’t stop to think of all it represented when she draped it around her, she simply held on to the idea that she was looking after her.

“Will you come back?” she asked into the shadows, and Caitlyn’s voice seemed distant, drawing away.

“How can you even doubt that…”

Unable to fight her exhaustion any longer, Vi’s eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to her desire for rest. Slowly, her mind drifted out of consciousness, and she pretended she had Caitlyn's arms around her, not just the flag as a symbol of her power over her.

When she woke the next morning to a pounding headache, she'd hardly moved. The strap-on beside her was the only reminder of the previous night and yet, bitterly, Vi wondered if Caitlyn had really been there, or if she had simply fucked herself, trying to feel something in the numb nightmare that had become her existence.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Anyway, I'm just saying that Dabi, who survived his fight with Endeavor by the skin of his teeth, who Shigaraki had turned into a Nomu because he refused to lose anyone else after Magne, who has been taken out of his tank after all the hard work of rebuilding the government is done, would be an absolutely insufferable little shit. He is directionless, still angry, but now hopeless and without anything to do but heal or try to self-destruct with a nearly impervious body that he can't destroy anymore. He's going to be stuck like this forever and you know that bitch is not going to choose to heal and get on with his life.

So he goes to Shigaraki and tells him to kill him. He wants to die, Shig is the only one who can do it. And the goddamn bastard says no

Dabi is pretty pissed about that. He picks fights with him all the time, acts out, would probably have started a coup if he didn't want to avoid putting the others in danger as he courts his own end so ardently. And when he gets summoned to Shigaraki's throne room for a private audience, he thinks he's finally going to get what he wants. He is not expecting the other to have decided to put him in his place in another way as the king orders him to his knees, and when he hesitates, knocks his legs out from under him.

He really didn't expect to like getting 'punished' so much with Tomura's grip so tight in his hair, his throat fucked raw and lips smeared with cum, blood, and tears as he cries and moans as he's bent over the throne as his king fucks him so hard and rough that even his new 'perfect' body is hurting and raw in the aftermath.

He's also not expecting Shigaraki to put him on a leash and have him sit at his feet as he finishes his work for the rest of the day, only bothering to cover Dabi up with his coat so no one else can look at his soiled body. The punishment is over by the end of the night and Shigaraki sends him on his way.

But when Dabi comes back again, acting out because that was the most real anything has felt since he woke up in his new body, he's disappointed to learn that Shigaraki has gone right back to ignoring his outbursts. He has to behave now if he wants his king's attention again. And, well, Dabi has always been very dedicated about making himself perfect enough to get the attention of others on him.

[whump-imagines]

Stomach Flu

Buddie x reader

Wc: 1700 ish

You laid in bed trying desperately to fall asleep. Some kind of stomach flu had found you and was clearly trying to kill you. All night you’d been fighting blankets because you'd be hot and then freezing and then hot again. And when you'd thought maybe you'd gotten comfortable the nausea would hit.

The toilet was your new best friend. You’d spent a decent amount of time clinging to the bowl for dear life. It was worse than any bad night of drinking you had ever had.

So now you were momentarily a comfortable temperature and not as nauseous so you didn't dare move as you begged for sleep to come.

Next thing you know the bed is jostled aggressively as Buck jumps onto the mattress and asks, “You're still in bed?”

The sudden movement sends a jolt of pain through your skull and nearly causes you to puke. You launch yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. Falling to your knees, you empty the non-existent contents of your stomach.

Eddie is knelt beside you a moment later. He takes your hair in one hand and rubs your back with the other.

“Ugh. My best friend, we meet again,” you mumble into the toilet bowl.

“Again?” Eddie asks. “What do you mean again?”

Rolling your forehead across the arm supporting your head, you glance at him and notice Buck in the doorway. “Well this is like the thousandth time I've been here since yesterday. I think I'm dying.”

Eddie runs his hand over your head then presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “Baby, why didn't you call us?”

“You were working. I didn't think I needed help puking my guts out.”

“One of us could have come home,” Buck says. “Or we could have brought supplies home.”

“Supplies?”

“Soup, Tylenol, tissues, maybe…” Buck listed.

“I'd just puke it back up. Everything in comes right back out.”

“Alright, are you done for now? Do you want head back to bed?” Eddie asks.

“Moving makes me more nauseous. And my head hurts.”

“Have you had any water?” Eddie asks.

“Tried. Failed.” You lean back and the world spins. “This sucks.”

Eddie shifts you so you can relax back into him. “I bet. We're going to get you back into bed and get a bucket so you don't have to come lay on the floor in here anymore. Okay?”

“‘Kay.” You snuggle into him, enjoying his warmth.

Eddie manages to get up and lift you without too much jostling. “Can you go lay on the bed and I'll give her to you?” He asks Buck.

“Okay.” You hear the jingle of Buck’s belt and then the clank of it hitting the floor. Next, your set gently on the bed cuddled close to Buck, his arm your pillow.

“You're warm,” you announce and you press yourself even closer and move your head into his chest.

“I'll be back soon,” Eddie says. “Try to get some sleep if you can.”

You whine, not wanting him to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the station. We need an IV kit, fluids, zofran, and probably Tylenol.”

“I don't want an IV.”

“Sweetheart, you're very dehydrated,” Eddie explains. “If you can't keep down water then you need the IV.”

You sigh. “Fine.”

Buck chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Eddie leans over and kisses your head then a quick parting kiss to Buck’s lips. “Love you guys. I'll be quick.”

“We love you, too.” Buck says.

A minute later you hear Eddie’s keys jingle and then the front door open and close.

“Sorry I woke you like that earlier.”

You snort a laugh. “Not your fault, you didn't know.”

He runs his fingers up and down your side and shoulder in random patterns. “Try to sleep,” he suggests.

“Can you tell me a story?” you ask.

“What kind of story?”

“I don't care. It's just soothing to hear you talk,” you tell him. “Might help me sleep.”

He starts to tell you all about flamingos because he knows how much you love them. He explains everything from how they get their color to their migration patterns and before long you feel yourself sinking into a peaceful sleep.

You wake to the sounds of Buck and Eddie laughing. You can tell they’re trying to be quiet but the giggles are shaking you and the whole bed. “What's so funny?”

“Crap. Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you,” Buck says.

“It's fine. I need to pee anyway.” You shift to roll onto your back but end up leaned against Eddie. “You didn't tell me what was funny.”

“Just a dumb video on TikTok,” Eddie explains. “How're you feeling?”

You take a moment to consider your answer. Your head still hurts but not as much. You still have nausea but it's much more bearable. “Shitty, but kind of better.”

Buck rolls and then stands before offering you a hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You reach over to take his hand, noticing the IV line for the first time. “I slept through that?”

“Bathroom,” Buck answers.

“Exhaustion will do that,” Eddie answers your second question.

Buck helps you up and your muscles protest the change in position. He wraps an arm around your waist as you sway slightly.

You take a deep breath and blow it out. “I'm good. Let's go.”

Eddie stands and grabs the bag of fluids you hadn't noticed hanging on a command hook on the wall.

All three of you head to the bathroom together and as you sit you look around. “I like this view of the bathroom much better than the other.”

“I prefer this, too,” Eddie says. “Especially the knowing you're not as dehydrated.”

“Yeah, you already look so much better than this morning,” Buck adds.

You slowly make your way back to the bed and as you're making yourself comfortable you catch a glimpse of the clock. “Holy crap! How is it almost 11?”

They both just chuckle. “That's what happens when you sleep for three hours,” Eddie explains.

“I think that's more sleep than I got total all night. Guess I needed a better pillow,” you laugh as you look at Buck.

“You could have had that all night if you'd called us. I'm going to go make you some soup,” Buck announces as he leaves the room.

“I'm not hungry.”

Eddie sits down beside you. “You have to try a few bites at least, okay?”

You pout at him. “I don't want to puke anymore.”

“You shouldn't. I gave you some zofran,” he tries to sooth you.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes “But you better have that bucket close by.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It's on the floor right here, but you're not going to need it.”

“You're awfully optimistic given that I'm still nauseous.”

“You said you felt better,” he chastises. “Is it still as bad?”

Leaning back into him, you explain, “I said I feel shitty. Shitty is better than feeling like death. I'm less nauseous, but still nauseous.”

“I'm sorry you feel shitty,” he intertwines his fingers with yours and lifts it to kiss your knuckles. “The soup should help you feel less shitty. Hopefully you're just nauseous because you have nothing in your system. So just try a few bites, okay?”

Buck returns with a tray in his hands. “I have soup, the old fashioned chicken noodle just like you like. I also have saltine crackers, oyster crackers, sprite, and water.” He sets the tray in front of you and then leans in to kiss you.

You pull away quickly. “Don't kiss me. You'll catch this plague.”

“I'll risk it.”

You lift the spoon and drink a spoonful of the broth and then you pause, waiting for the nausea to get worse. When it doesn't, you continue slowly with more broth and then eventually the noodles and a couple crackers.

Eventually you manage to eat almost half the soup and a few sips of water before you set the spoon down. “I'm done. I can't handle any more right now.”

“That's fine. You ate way more than I expected,” Eddie says.

Buck takes the water and sprite off the tray and sets them on the bedside table before taking the rest away.

“Can I have my hand back yet?” You lift the hand with the IV line and give him your best pouty face.

He shakes his head. “No. I will unhook the fluids when that bag is gone but I want to keep the IV lock for now until we're sure you're going to keep all that down.”

You roll your eyes. “Fiiiiine.”

He laughs. “Do you want me to have to poke you again if you do puke more?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No.”

“Thought so.” He boops your nose. “Glad to see you're feeling better.”

Buck returns and snuggles in beside you on the bed. “You want to pick a movie to nap through?”

You smiled and they both groaned. “Sleeping Beauty! Oh, wait, Enchanted… no, I actually want to be awake for that. Sleeping Beauty for sure.”

“Why do you make us watch princess movies when you know you're only going to watch ten minutes?” Buck complained.

“Because it's fun.” You shrugged. “Plus, then I get to dream I'm a princess.”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying that if we switch to football as soon as you're asleep you're going to dream about that?”

“Probably.”

“Sleeping Beauty on one condition…” Eddie started.

“What?” you asked.

“Next time you get sick while we're at work, you call us immediately.”

“No,” you argued. “Because there won't be a next time. This is awful. I don't want a repeat.”

“Fine. If! If by some small chance it happens or if you just get the sniffles… you call.”

“Deal.”

Eddie gets the movie set up and you make yourself comfortable. This time you use Eddie as a body pillow and Buck drapes his arm over your waist.

The movie starts and you almost instantly feel yourself drifting. “Love you guys.” You mumble as you close your eyes.

They chorus an “I love you too,” as you fall into a dreamless slumber.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Guarded Desires: Part 9

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Padawan!Qimir x Princess!Reader

Summary: After an assassination attempt on your mother, she’s asked a favor from the Jedi Council to watch over you and your family until the assailant has been caught. As a result, your mother’s old friend, Master Vernestra, has her padawan, Qimir, be your bodyguard. Based off my imagine here.

Series Masterlist

You and Qimir are training again. You grab his wrist and pull him in. Your eyes meet his and then glance at his lips. You lean in, lips hovering over his. When he moves a sliver of an inch forward, you suddenly wrap your leg behind his and push him to the ground. A cloud of dust surrounds you in his fall. You giggle, waving the dust away from you. When it clears, you look down at Qimir. He stares up at you with a smirk “You cheated.”

You shrug, “You said that my enemy will use anything to take me down. So I did it to you before you could do it to me.” You help him up and you stand there face to face. You kiss him on the cheek and procced to walk away.

You hear the call of your name and you turn. Only now it's not Qimir standing there, but Orin. He's standing in his King's Guard amor, his hand outstretched to you, "Ready?"

"For?"

"Our wedding, of course," he says with a chuckle.

You look down and see you're suddenly in a wedding dress. When you look back up, Qimir is in Orin's place again.

He's older now. His hair grown out, he no longer has that long braided strand. He has facial hair and his features are more defined, mature. But his aura is cold, hardened. His face is stern as he says, "You can't marry him."

You narrow your eyes at Qimir, "You left me, Qimir. It's been years. I-I have to do this. It's what I'm meant to do. I'm not some naive princess anymore."

He clenches his jaw and takes two steps towards you, "I'm coming back to you, Y/N," he says with certainty before disappearing and, ultimately, waking you from your dream.

Your eyes shoot open and you slowly sit up. Sunlight shines through your room and you look at the corner where your wedding dress is displayed.

The dress is floor length with a train falling behind it. Woven into it are white flowers. The sleeves are made of lace, made to weave down your arms like branches. It's a beautiful dress that the modiste worked on.

Tomorrow you're getting married to Orin, just like your father wanted. Your planet is no longer what it used to be. Your people used to look up to your family, but now they fear you. After your father sided with the hostiles, your home isn't filled with love, light, and hope as before. Your mother is now reserved, tired of fighting with your father. Your sisters have lost their youthful vibrance.

Your father now ruled Nerathos Prime with an iron fist and with the combatants at his side, no one has the power to oppose.

Not even you. For the fire that once burned bright inside you has dimmed over the years. Your marriage to Orin will be the day it's finally snuffed out.

________________

You're going over the last bit of wedding details you have left. Your mother has spent the last month working on this event since this is all she's been resorted to now. You have your father to thank for that.

When you eat breakfast, the meal is silent. You, your mother, and your sisters don't say a word unless spoken to.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, starlight?" Starlight. Your father hadn't called you that in years.

You nod, "Yes, father. Mother and I have worked hard to ensure that this wedding will be successful."

"Good. I'm sure you're excited to finally be wed, hm? Especially to such a fine man like Orin."

You nod again, "Yes, Orin will make a great husband."

"And an even greater king. His father and I have been talking about this for years, you know?" he continues his meal with a grin.

It's true. Throughout your life, you and Orin have been told that you and he are meant to be together. Never once had you seen Orin as something more than a friend. Yes, he is handsome and kind. He's the only support you've had throughout these past years of your father's change and turn of reign. Quite frankly, he is the best man you could marry. You had only hoped that you would marry for love.

Stupid, young, naive little you.

Your father finishes his meal and dismisses you all. Ada and Aspen go to the library for their studies. You and your mother head to the ballroom to go over any last minute arrangements.

Your mother loops her arm through yours and pats your hand, "I know you wish for things to go different, my sweet, but at least you are marrying a man you know and care for."

"I know, mama. I am grateful for that, it's just, you know..."

"I know," she responds and there's a silence between you two. Before you step into the ballroom, she pauses, "Have you thought about him since the engagement?"

"Who?"

"Vernestra's former padawan."

"A little," you mumble out in slight embarrassment, "Just...I've just thought about how nice it was to have affections for someone and have them returned. Even if it was short lived. But he's gone. I'm sure he's much different now. I am too."

"That you are, but, you'll always be my little starlight," she presses a kiss to your head and you relish in her warmth and motherly love.

"Alright. Finishing touches," she says before guiding you into the ballroom that's dressed in your family's royal colors.

__________________________

It had been years since Qimir has seen you, but you were always on his mind. You were the catalyst that set everything into motion and you didn't even know it.

After he met you, he started to re-think the teachings of the Jedi. He started to think that maybe the Jedi teachings weren't the way of life anymore.

The more he thought about it, thought about how it felt being with you, the more he started pulling further and further away from the Jedi life.

Master Vernestra felt it. She sensed the change and tried her best to pull her padawan back. But she was too late. She had lost her padawan, a darkness overcoming him and leading to his ultimate demise.

Or she had thought.

Qimir, now older and more skilled, has the strength and power to do what he had wanted all those years ago...

[saturdaylemon]

Take all the time you need! And please ping me when you expand on those thoughts - if you don't mind.

Okay, back to designing.

I'm moderately opposed to making the Shades talk for previously mentioned reasons, but I could see giving "X speaks of Y" style summaries in the action popup. They're not really the people who died (or almost died), more like impression fossils. The lights are on, but nobody's home. We think.

The Ku Flame

Your idea for Hikari are a worthy inclusion, the only question is how. And the answer to that depends on how the fight works. If I were programming a game I'd be more inclined to do a mostly-standard boss fight with some extra narrative. If I were writing a fic, however, the 2v2 with Path Actions, Talents, and Latents all getting involved would be easier to pull off in that format. The quote would be something like "Ageha, you are relieved of duty!" In a more standard boss fight it fits better as "entering second phase" or maybe post-boss dialogue. In the 2v2 narrative puzzle it can be a Full Boost quote. It really only makes sense to say once; and maybe Ageha's Shade could seem to respond to it? You probably get prompted to activate Light's Radiance for the final blow.

Ageha's Shade shouldn't get minions. He was a general in life, but like you said, he's the last vestiges of the old Ku. He doesn't have an army anymore. On a side note I want this guy to yell "FIX BAYONETS" so bad but guns aren't available yet. Need to pick out a Boost message, a Boost Attack, regular moveset because it can't be all support... so everything. Definitely gets Rally Troops or a similar move by the same name though.

Tanzy was an aspiring playwright, but it seems she never published. In Giselle's troupe she served as director, so it could be fun (more fun in a standard boss fight where there are more characters) to let her Shade mess around with turn order. Like, oh, you were setting Hikari up to counter Ageha's shields off? Haha no the adds just got moved to the top of the round and used up the Vengeful Blade stacks, Ageha's Shade is shouting orders, and Tanzy's Shade is about to hand you your ass. Speaking of adds, the most obvious basis is the other troupe members... but Tanzy pretty conclusively left them behind. Another possibility is to reference her unpublished scripts with unfinished marionettes, or if we want to have some fun, give Tanzy's Shade the same minions as Arcanette. Tanzy begins praying.... -> BREAK HER SHADE NOW! If this is a 2v2, Ruinous Kick makes sense as the Boost Attack because that's half your dudes. In a more standard fight, the Boost Attack should be something a bit more powerful. Regular moveset has the summon, the turn rearrange, probably a buff or two, and maybe a physical attack that inflicts something.

Agnea's Boost quote is mostly babbled interrogatives.

The Crackridge Flame

Ori's Shade is weak to Polearm/Dagger/Bow/Fire. Guess why. (some kind of Light element attack because come on it's in her name) Stop the Presses! / So Tired: inflicts Speed Extremely Down Dear Diary: equivalent to the Merchant job's Rest. Name does not change after Ori's Shade is broken for the first time. Ori can't do this anymore. -> this is gonna hurt

The Final Night sounds like it should be the Boost Attack for Lucian's Shade, but it would also be really funny to have it be the weakest attack. We'd need to name Lucian's other works to name the Shade's attacks... think we could crib Nearer the Flame from the Stormlight Archive? Lucian retrieves a notebook.... -> this is gonna hurt slightly less

Temenos starts going through all of Lucian's works, trying to line them up with the Shade's attacks, and Osvald is experiencing the internal conflict between "not my SpIn, not my problem" and the knowledge that it is Very Much His Problem. Castti is probably in the background like "oh shit I have seen that girl before."

Osvald will offer to explode the person responsible even if you hit Crackridge after Flamechurch. There is no expiration date on Grandpa Blast.

The Toto'haha Flame

Hm, fair point. I figured Castti's usual Slightly Unhinged Boost quotes fit the emotional charge well enough, but this wouldn't be that long after Trousseau. The metaphorical wound is still raw. She could have a Boost quote demanding that the Apothecary's Shade get out of her way. It can't understand her, but she doesn't know that. We could give the apothecary a name, but it also works to leave him completely unknown. Just another cooling body.

Keep the Grotesque Monster's weaknesses (Axe/Bow/Ice/Light), mostly physical moveset since the Apothecary's Shade is handing out debuffs. Give it the Grotesque Monster's Piercing Cry, because if I heard someone like Petrichor start screaming out of nowhere I would be pretty freaked out. Petrichor gives off an ominous aura! -> Apply axe to face, repeat. Hunt the Weak: single target physical, damage increases with number of debuffs and afflictions on target. This is kind of a dark mirror of Drastic Measures, but it works.

Someone's Shade is passing out every negative effect in the game. Bow weakness works, maybe also Dagger and something else for game balance I dunno.

Ochette's Full Boost quote for this fight is "I can't forgive you!"

At some point Temenos makes the connection between some of Petrichor's comments and Roi's disappearance, promptly flips out.

The Flamechurch Flame

The design philosophy here is basically OKAY EVERYONE, PUT ON YOUR ARCANETTE HATS, TODAY WE ARE BEING MEAN TO TEMENOS! And part of that is making him watch two of the most important people in his life aid and protect their killer. So that's 3 and 4. 3 has the extra gutpunch of making him wait for the other shoe to drop.

Crick's Shade can keep his playable moveset. Weak to Sword/Staff/Dark. You know why. Crick is watching Temenos.... -> For a moment, a player could mistake this for a "skip a turn" message, maybe a hint that the people who left the Shades behind are still in there (this is intended to be perceived in-universe)... NOPE THAT'S THE BOOST MESSAGE. Also a callback to the Felvarg. Should we make Crick's Shade have a Boost Attack that sacrifices itself, or is that too limiting in Mean To Temenos potential?

Pontiff Jörg's Shade gets the Standard Cleric Weaknesses of Sword/Dagger/Axe/Dark. It has reason to use the Cleric moveset, but I was thinking we could nab something else from the Claude fight and give it Reflective Veil from the OT1 Cleric. Also, Lock Away. The move that prevents the target from recieving aid or items from any other party member. (And a slight nod to Whatever Was Up With Alpates.) Starts battle by using it on Temenos.

(Balance-wise, Temenos can break Crick with his base kit but not the Pontiff partially because this works with the story - Temenos hitting Crick's worldview with a metaphorical sledgehammer vs That's Your Dad - and partially because between Temenos' Latent and Throné turning into a protective blender it's probably fine.)

Throné uses her "Sorry, but I won't hold back!" Max Boosting quote for this fight, but even using the same voice clip it's meant to come off in a slightly different light. (You ever think about how her HP Thief bark is a sarcastic "You're too kind." and her "healed by Temenos" bark is a much more genuine "You're too kind, Temenos"? Because I have.) Temenos tries to talk himself out of a breakdown when Max Boosting. He fails. Possibly devolving from "keep it together, that isn't really him" early in the fight to beaten-dog whimpering in the second phase.

2v2 narrative puzzle ramble One reason I'm more inclined to use this for a fic is that the Journey For The Dawn locks you out of your daytime Path Actions. Sun's not rising. In writing, there's less trouble with carving out an exception in the game mechanics. The idea I had was that the Shade battles would yank the corresponding travelers into a sort of dream space where it isn't day exclusive or night. Kind of like a cross between Temenos' "The truth lies in the flame" Detective Vision thing and whatever was going on while Hikari duked it out with his shadow. (Said shadow: "Not me this time. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole.") From the outside, the two fighting appear to be asleep standing up, twitching and mumbling as if caught in a particularly vivid dream. Temenos "Commitment to the bit" Mistral sees two people snap out of that trance for the first time and immediately goes "Welcome back. ^_^" Throné may or may not be winding up to smack him.

This also works with having both the Arcanette fight and the Shade fight at Flamechurch. Arcanette certainly looks like she could cast Spell of Really Bad Trip. Basically Throné and Temenos are in the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Boss Fight while everyone else is trying very hard to kill Arcanette with hammers.

Back to Path Actions, I still don't know how all of those would work. Going down the list

Agnea: Entreat to get "Tanzy" to show you her journal works, Allure doesn't. Both these people have chosen their paths. Hikari: Challenge is a little redundant but potentially serviceable, Bribe less so.

Partitio: Purchase and Hire could both work for trying to coax "Ori" back to the land of the living. Purchasing a paper moreso. Osvald: Trying to get at Lucian's notes fits Scrutinize or Mug, although Mug is again redundant. Let him see that!

Ochette: Provoke is already happening, especially with Petrichor's Shade dropping everything to focus Ochette down if she summons one of the Creatures of Legend. Befriend is... not happening. Petrichor can starve. (Party pretty sure this is the first time they're heard Ochette curse.) Castti: Inquiring to get the unknown apothecary's name so the party can effectively lay him to rest is kind of sweet. In that vein, Soothe has already been done with Malaya and also believe her she's trying!

Temenos: Guide has also been done already, and Coerce is not only kind of already happening but isn't going to work on Shades. Sorry, Temenos, no chances to say goodbye for you. Throné: Stealing in combat is already part of the Thief kit (also pickpocketing Temenos' family in front of him is Not Cool Dude). Ambush is OP in anything resembling an actual fight, so that's another no.

So we're 4/16, 5.5/16 with partial credit included. Unless you have better ideas. Still wish to subscribe to your newsletter.

Latent Powers, Talents, and EX Skills though...

All Together Now... probably not. Dance Session maybe. Song of Hope a more positive maybe Learned Skills would be great if this were Jin Mei's Shade. See Light's Radiance prompt above.

Hilarious though Negotiate Schedule may be, nothing of Partitio's really works here. Teach... maybe?

Indomitable Beast into Beastly Fangs looks fun. Or Indomitable Beast into Provoke Beasts. Get her ass, fellas! Concoct has potential for showing the Apothecary's Shade how it's done... except it's mindless.

Moonlight Judgement: hehehe. Could have it not proc at the start of battle, wait until Temenos pulls himself together enough to effectively fight the Shades. This works better in the Arcanette + Shades version of the fight. Prayer for Plenty and Heavenly Shine both have story potential. Blessing of Darkness: "Consider the following: mine's better." Veil of Darkness is also good here.

Took "standard class weaknesses" from the Dolcinea fight with Love's Marionette, for the record.

Things about Octopath Traveler 2 that I think about WAY too much 2/????

Under the cut for late game spoilers, loose and speculative nonsense

So the four sacred flames and their connections with the gods connected to each one.

Brand and Sealticge to the Ku Flame

Alephan and Bifelgan to the Crackridge Flame

Dohter and Draefendi to the Toto'haha Flame

And Aelfric and Aeber to the Flameschurch Flame

Going to go ahead and put it out there, that my head canon is that the Moonshade order successfully completed the sacrifices line out in the Book of Night in this manner: Pontiff Jorg (Cleric, Temenos chapter 1), unnamed apothecary in Canalbrine (Temenos Chapter 2), scholar in Canalbrine (who's name I don't remember, also from Temenos Chapter 2) Tanzy (dancer/Sealticge aligned), Petrichor (Hunter), Ageha (Warrior), Ori (merchant), and Crick (Thief, as mentioned in some dialogue in Stormhail about his background).

I feel like, in a lot of ways, these flames would have been great spots for boss fights. I feel like, for a game like Octopath Traveler 2, just getting to relight the flames with ease was a bit too easy. There's a couple of different routes I personally would have taken with them.

Option 1 (least favorite) - the party fights a shadow creature of some type (excluding in Flameschurch because there is already a boss fight there). Alternatively, remix the chosen travelers' final chapter boss fight.

Option 2 - the party fights the shadows of the sacrifices associated with that flames gods (so Ku would be Ageha and Tanzy, Crackridge would be Ori and the scholar from Temenos Chapter 2, Toto'haha would be Petrichor and that unnamed apothecary from Temenos's Chapter 2, and Flameschurch (after Arcanette), would be Crick and the Pontiff (not a fun fight for Temenos especially)). Standard boss fights would be cool, but you could go a step further and have it a two on two fight with the chosen travelers against those shadows where path actions and skills came into play in defeating the shadows. Also makes the relighting of the flames a bit more personal. You've got potential either way with this option for some really cool character exploration and thematic resolution. This one is probably my personal favorite.

Option 3 - the party (or just the chosen travelers for that flame) fight the gods themselves (as a test). There's a few ways to do this too: 1. fight images of the gods. 2. the statues of the gods by the flames come to life and you fight those, not dissimilar to Osvald's chapter 4 fight with the Golem. 3. You fight a being of combined powers of the two gods, a strange and otherworldly combination of Alephan and Bifelgan for example, staff and scales in hand, plying magic and calling allies, making it rain in leaves as easily as flashes of magic lightning, or Brand and Sealticge (which I think would look something akin to Hinoekagura). This is also a personal favorite just to see how when faced with the gods, our travelers might act, when within the world itself the gods are mostly pretty hands off. The situation with Vide is an urgent one, and I think the gods would be willing to test their chosen in the final hour to make sure that they are truly ready.

I just think it would have been neat

[codenamesazanka]

might be tasteless/inappropriate/overstepping boundaries of me to wonder, but iirc Horikoshi has talked about how making a successful manga felt like a dream come true.

His first two series got axed early on, and he said that depressed him, he was ready to give up, but he was encouraged by his editor to try again. My Hero Academia, his third series, became a smash hit. But after years of working on it, he started to really burn out - health problems, sleep deprivation, overwork. He works 36 hours straight and when nearing breaking points, his editor would pat his shoulder and tell him "it'll be okay." He calls his editor a Hero for this, for helping him keep drawing, and credits this to changing his concept of what a Hero is. Still, the writing of the 3rd Act ends up feels like a complete mess with an even messier rushed ending.

My Hero Academia starts with Deku getting to realize his greatest dream. But then things get complicated. And then the war ended how it ended. All the saves the Heroes tried to do for the Villains end up only half-successful. The conclusion of Heroism we get is holding someone's hand and telling them it'll be okay, even if the problem is something like horrific child abuse that involves sewing a kid's mouth shut and locking him up in a basement for years. Nothing really changes except things are said to be 'nicer'.

And now in the final chapter Deku ends up feeling lonely and resigned and sad. The end of a dream...

(until All Might showed up again to give Deku a gift like in the first chapter so he can be a Hero and live his dreams again. Also Tagline says to look forward to Horikoshi's next work.)

[imperishable-prayers]

"..." As soon as she saw Patchouli come out from the explosion unharmed, her smile dropped for once. She's realizing that nothing's working.

She thought that the strongest attack she knew would've done something to her but... "That... didn't work...?" It was hard to hear but her voice sounded pained. Strained. Breaking.

With power?

She's doing that though. She's been attacking her with power this whole time. Raw power. All thanks to this charm she adorned helping her. Yet... she was doing incredibly fine...?

"S-So you... You still weren't taking me seriously? I-Is that it?" A small magic circle transported her blown-away Mini-Hakkero back to her. At that same time, an enormous magic circle began forming behind her.

"IS THAT IT?! I'M JUST THAT MUCH OF A JOKE TO YOU?! TO THE POINT I CAN'T EVEN BRUISE YOU?!" She roared, her face growing more emotional. Tears flew out her eyes. "WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?! IS IT THAT I'M SO FAR AWAY FROM BEING AS POWERFUL AS YOU THAT I WAS STUPID FOR EVEN TRYING TO BECOME A MAGICIAN IN THE FIRST PLACE?! IS THAT IT?!" She felt pretty cold, despite how much her burns hurt.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I BEEN DOING WITH MY LIFE IF I STILL CAN'T EVEN BRUISE SOMEONE LIKE YOU?! HAS IT ALL BEEN A WASTE OF TIME?!"

As soon as she summoned a new red crystal, the orbs that revolved around her would all be destroyed, bringing her defense back to normal.

She wildly cackled, choking on her own breath at a few moments. She continued preparing her last attack. "I-I can't take this anymore!! I can't, I CAN'T!! I-I'm so pathetic! I'm the most pathetic magician to ever exist!!"

The five crystals revolved around her entire body fast. She thrusted her arm outward towards the librarian, her Mini-Hakkero pointing at her. Her Mini-Hakkero, still feeling overworked from the last blast, is now being overcharged with even more energy than before! One blast of all that accumulated energy could most certainly shatter the entire thing!

"PLEASE!! I BEG YOU!!" With just one more casting of a regular barrier for herself, everything was set. She knows the barrier would shatter in mere seconds, but... she couldn't seem to care.

Koakuma seemed to be scared of what was about to happen, flying away from the likely place of impact. The Flandres rushed at her, ready to tackle her to the ground.

"JUST! LET! ME! WIIIIIN!!!"

Everything fired. It all combined with each other. It was as blinding as a flashlight being shined into your eyes in every angle but the middle, where it was dark. What was it?

A monstrous rainbow laser corkscrew, imbued with the elements of all five crystals, along with the demonic energy that spat out of her dying Mini-Hakkero as a last Master Spark. All while she was stuck within her own blast, her own body not influencing it in any way.

The closest thing that could be an equivalent to it would be... a solar eclipse that could bend light into rainbows taking the form of a beam.

The Flandres dodged it as quickly as they could, barely escaping the firing radius of it.

This seemed to be working! The high number of bullets, along with the golems acting as a disturbance, seemed to help keep the witch at bay. Focusing on dodging the hands of the golems, dodging the aimed bullets and navigating through a maze of bullets that expanded outward was too much to keep track of! Not to mention her lungs growing ever colder, her breathing getting heavy again.

Still not understanding why though, she just upped her fire resistance and upped the heat of the flames that were engulfing her, changing the flames from red to blue... and then to violet! She didn't up her fire resistance that high! She was burning herself now, wincing through the pain... and yet, she didn't care. She just laughed while firing back against the unrelenting onslaught of attacks with her own spells!

"Hahahahaha~!! Patchouliii~! This is such a fun final bout, Patchouliiii~~!!" She yelled in glee, her voice sounding strained... She does her best not to get hit by the bullets to no avail, a few smacking against her body. These bullets seemed to singe her more than usual.

Barrier Sign ~ "The Four Orbs of Hachiman's Soul"

Four orbs, red, purple, blue, and green respectively, came out from her body, attaching to each other by invisible string, creating a barrier that makes magical attacks and bullets deal an eighth of the damage they would've dealt unless the four orbs were destroyed.

"I only wish that it was just against the two of us!!" She shouted, almost sounding like a pained whine.

Fire Water Wood Metal Earth Sign ~ "Witch's Stone"

Stealing a page off of Patchouli's own attacks, she summoned five small crystals to spin around her, all five of them having different colors and different elements attributed to them. However, she wasn't going to use them in the same way Patchouli does.

She launched off of thin air, soaring up high until she was hovering over the encased bookshelves.

"I know you love learning, so you must know lots of magic spells, so~ much more than me!!"

The three Flandres went to fly up to the same vertical position Marisa was at. During the ascent, they'd see her launch her red crystal at one of them. The copy easily dodged it, letting it stab into the floor.

However, this was Marisa's plan.

"So, tell me, Patchers~!! What's your favorite part of--"

"--Prowling Flare?!"

Out from the red crystal came a grand BOOM, starting small, but slowly growing bigger and bigger, a black hole of an explosion. The protection given to the bookshelves couldn't reflect something like this, it could only hold its defense against it as it threatened to engulf whatever was around until it could reach Patchouli!

[todayisafridaynight]

no ones ever gonna understand how much i love daigo doin this stupid shit after dissolving the tojo

[pvremichigan]

Whoopsie time