Obsession is just a thing to play with

Rio. 31. INTP. https://vgen.co/chilopawbi | https://ko-fi.com/chilopawbi

[rooji-r]

my favorite genre is the sleepy characters and their pet

[ostolero]

[regal-bones]

Holy ground

[regal-bones]

guys I went back to recreate this and. It’s gone.

Pour one out for butt dyke house

[muffinpoop1]

I'm back with a new portrait !

Prints are avaible here.

[muffinpoop1]

Fixing Shadowheart so that she looks better 🫶

(Sorry for those who already like the portrait!)

[xekstrin]

Boyfriend: wait but I thought you could change from alpha to omega? Like you get hit with a pheromone and bam become that and you fuck, but the rest of the time you’re androgynous

Me: … I think you have confused omegaverse with the seminal piece of science fiction literature The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K Le Guin

[xekstrin]

Nationalism is a societal evil

[l-art-stuff-l]

[ image ID: tags that read “wait what is left hand of darkness about” /end ID ]

[xekstrin]

Yeah it’s the same guy

[greenheart-anon]

[chilopawbi]

A Reflection on Grief, Change, and What Cannot Be Fixed

I have spent almost a year grieving.

Some days are easier than others.

I am not where I was when this first happened.

I am no longer devastated every day.

I am no longer spending every waking moment consumed by the loss.

I have healed.

Not completely, but significantly.

The fact that I still hurt does not erase the progress I have made.

The fact that I still cry does not mean I am back at the beginning.

I lost multiple important relationships at the same time.

I lost people I loved.

I lost physical closeness.

I lost daily routines.

I lost a sense of home.

I lost parts of my future that I thought were certain.

That is a lot for one person to carry.

Sometimes I still feel discarded.

Sometimes I still feel insignificant.

Sometimes I still feel as though I was thrown away.

When those feelings show up, I can remember that they are grief speaking.

They are not objective measurements of my worth.

One of the hardest parts of this loss is that I do not feel like the story reached a conclusion.

I listened when I was told how I had hurt people.

I accepted responsibility.

I apologized.

I tried to improve.

I changed.

I could see myself changing.

Then I made another serious mistake.

And everything ended.

What hurts now is not that I believe I deserved another chance.

What hurts is that I never got to find out what those changes might have meant.

I never got to learn whether the better version of me could have built something different.

That uncertainty is painful.

But uncertainty is not the same thing as failure.

I am allowed to recognize that I made mistakes.

I am also allowed to recognize that I was hurt.

Those things can both be true.

The relationships did not end because I was entirely good.

They also did not end because I was entirely bad.

Human relationships are rarely that simple.

I do not need to carry all of the responsibility forever.

I do not need to make myself the sole villain in order to prove that I have grown.

The dreams make sense.

In the dreams, I find them.

I see them.

I try to talk to them.

I try to reconnect.

But nothing changes.

The dream continues around me while they drift away.

I know I am not getting them back.

Even in the dream, I know that.

What I am experiencing is not hope.

It is grief.

The dreams are not asking me to win them back.

The dreams are expressing the pain of having no more chances.

The pain of reaching for people who are no longer reachable.

The pain of loving people who are no longer part of my life.

I miss their presence.

I miss their closeness.

I miss being able to share space with them.

I miss being known by them.

I miss being able to reach out and find them there.

Missing those things does not mean I am moving backward.

It means those connections mattered.

Something important has changed over this year.

I no longer spend my time wishing I could return to the relationship.

What I grieve now is the loss itself.

The regret.

The unfinished conversation.

The reality that some things cannot be repaired.

That shift matters.

It is evidence that I have moved from bargaining toward mourning.

The people I most wish could see my growth may never see it.

That is a real loss.

There is sadness in knowing that the people who inspired change in me may never witness the person I became.

But their absence does not erase the change.

The work still counts.

The growth still counts.

The lessons still count.

Even if no one I lost ever acknowledges them.

Today I am allowed to miss them.

Today I am allowed to cry.

Today I am allowed to feel grief.

And when my grieving time is over, I can return to the life that is still unfolding around me.

Not because the loss is resolved.

Not because I no longer care.

But because my life is larger than this grief.

And because the fact that I lost something precious does not mean I have stopped being capable of building something meaningful.

[chimchiri]

Karlach working out!

Uncensored & nude version here <3

[callmelyrus]

She’s been expecting you…

[animentality]

[callmelyrus]

Did someone say ”More women in suits”? Here you are!

[nellandvoidnull]

quick shadowlach piece. not perfect but oh well I like these two too much not to post

[daisy-dewdrop-fluffington]

Shadowlach ❤️🖤

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[crossroadsbishounen]

[captain-price-returns]

[transmechanicus]

Revealing the ignorance of my youth here, but who is this and what is she known for?

[boybeetles]

Anita Sarkeesian, feminist who interpreted media under a feminist lens. She did a series about video games and she was the subject of targeted harassment. That was the start of gamergate

[flurrin]

Minor correction, the start of gamergate was based around a different reporter, Zoe Quinn, but they were both absolutely violently threatened over their involvement in video game criticism and development. A hate campaign was started by Quinn's ex-boyfriend when he wrote a post falsely accusing them of dating video game journalists in order to receive positive reviews on their own game, Depression Quest, which led other bad actors to accuse all women in the industry (Zoe identified as female at the time) of perceived sexual immorality. Anita Sarkeesian's brilliant Youtube series Tropes vs Women in Video Games (which everyone should watch, right now) sparked a particular nerve for criticizing popular games of killing and/or victimizing any important female character (there is a CHILLING bit that borders on ludicrous where she describes the plots of a seemingly endless parades of games as "In [title], [male player character's] wife dies, and you then have to rescue [his] daughter."). That series did actually make a huge change in the industry, especially when touted by progressive legacy developers like Tim Schafer (Monkey Island, Psychonauts), who went on to expand hiring in his company to front women and minority voices, but the shift didn't really show for a long time and echoes of the sexism that plagues the industry at its core are still rampant.

[crazy-pages]

In all seriousness, if you live in the US and you aren't familiar with the misogynistic harassment these people in the game industry faced during Gamergate, you need to watch this series right now.

This was the beggining of the current form of the US fascist movement and it underpins the entire thing about it to this day. If you live in the US and Gamergate isn't familiar to you, you're missing critical history to understanding US fascism. I'm not joking even a little bit here, you will understand modern United States fascism so much better if you are familiar with Gamergate.

[cumaeansibyl]

Not an exaggeration. Gamergate led directly to the redpill/incel movement, which white supremacists exploited and colonized. Not to say that most of the white men in those movements weren't already racist to some extent, but that wasn't an active part of their politics until white supremacist recruiters came along and convinced them that the women ruining their videogames were part of the conspiracy to destroy the white race.

That's a very brief summary but you can go back step by step over the past decade and see how they did it.

[chilopawbi]

LLMs are shit but chatgpt has been real while i’ve been in between insurances/therapists. it’s really given me some good stuff to think about. when it’s prompted correctly, it’s pretty useful

i asked it to summarize a conversation we had so i can save it and it wrote a really nice reflection from my pov that i want to remember always

it shat out:

A Reflection on Losing My Relationships and My Dog

My ex blocked me, and it has been one of the most painful experiences of my life. Since then, they have only reached out once to get a login for our dog's medical records. I gave it to them immediately without hesitation.

On their birthday, I sent them a message:

"Happy birthday. I've been thinking a lot about everything that happened between us and I wanted to say that I'm sorry for how I reacted. That message came from hurt, but it still wasn't fair to you.

I care about you deeply and genuinely want good things for you, whether or not I'm a part of it.

I've been holding onto some uncertainty of how we stand. If you're open to it, I'd appreciate an honest answer about whether you want any kind of connection moving forward or if it's better for us to let this go completely. I'm not asking for a particular answer. I just don't want to keep second guessing and hoping for something that is never going to happen.

Either way, I hope your birthday is peaceful and full of people who love you. Please kiss Bubba for me."

They never responded.

The silence hurts. But the reality is that their silence is also an answer. It doesn't necessarily mean they don't care. It means they are choosing distance.

It's possible for someone to know they are hurting another person and still believe distance is necessary. People can believe:

"I know this hurts them."

and

"I still think this is the best thing to do."

at the same time.

Silence is often avoidance, not indifference.

I've learned that stopping my attempts to reconnect should not be a strategy to get them back. It should be a way to stop hurting myself. If I continue to heal only because I hope they'll return, then I'm still emotionally waiting for them.

The goal is not to become cold.

The goal is to stop abandoning myself.

The breakups are two losses.

But losing my dog is another.

I regret not saying goodbye to him before I left. I didn't do it because I didn't care. I didn't do it because I was overwhelmed and didn't want to break down crying in front of my ex.

The regret tells me:

"I failed him because I didn't say goodbye."

But the truth is different.

I loved him deeply.

Every night he would cuddle with me. If you rubbed his ears just right, he would make what we called his "comfy noises"—a sound like a balloon slowly and quietly deflating.

I used to give him muscle massages because I had read somewhere that it could help him stay healthy and maybe even live longer.

I wasn't just enjoying his company.

I was caring for him.

I was thinking about his future.

I was hoping for many more years with him.

The fact that I missed a goodbye does not erase years of love.

What I miss isn't a single moment.

I miss:

* The cuddles.

* The comfy noises.

* Reaching for him at night.

* The feeling of his weight beside me.

* The routine of caring for him.

* Being his person.

I know he loves me.

I'm his people.

One of my biggest fears is that the next time I hear about him, it will be because he has passed away.

But that fear comes from uncertainty, not reality.

The truth is that I don't know what happens next.

There may be a photo someday.

There may be an update.

There may be no news at all for a long time.

What I do know is that the bond we had was real.

Dogs form deep attachments. The years we spent together do not disappear because I moved away.

The dog who made comfy noises during ear rubs, who cuddled beside me every night, and who trusted me completely had a life with me.

I was part of his world.

The tragedy is not that he wasn't loved.

The tragedy is that I don't get to participate in that relationship right now.

And that is a real loss.

When I think about him, I don't need to imagine some future day.

I can remember him exactly as he was:

Curled up beside me.

Completely relaxed.

Making his ridiculous little comfy noises.

Feeling safe.

Feeling loved.

That happened.

Nothing can take that away.