#Only using because I was forced and it frustrates me endlessly

[vio1315]

Can't believe people say firefox is a better browser honestly.... you can say it has better privacy etc etc without making it sound like it has the same quality of life features

[communistkenobi]

if we want to talk about where trans men tend to be overrepresented in transphobic discourse, it’s in relation to scaremongering media profiles of detransitioners, framing trans men as misunderstood women with internalised misogyny who have mutilated our bodies and are now left ‘ruined’ because of HRT and surgery. This is used to argue for policies that restrict access to trans healthcare, especially for minors (notice how often we are talked about as “young girls”!) putting a ‘sympathetic’ face to transgender hysteria by talking about the “victims” of transgenderism. But this is still an incomplete picture without accounting for transmisogyny, as trans women are the “perpetrators” of this victimisation, convincing “confused young women” to cut off their breasts and take testosterone. It centres around the ‘corruption’ of femininity, as trans men forsake our ‘natural’ femaleness and trans women as ‘appropriating’ it.

This is why Matt Walsh, JKR, and other prominent transphobic figures asks the question “what is a woman?” and not “what is a man?”, it’s why Posie Parker advocates for armed cis men to go into women’s bathrooms to “protect women from men invading women’s spaces,” its why terfs are so fixated on trans women as ur-misogynists, it’s why right wing politicians like Pierre Poilievre & the Conservative Party of Canada focus their ire on blocking trans women from public spaces.

Saying this is not a denial of trans men as victims of transphobia (hello! I am a frequent one!) and its endlessly frustrating that these conversations get derailed into “well what about MY experience where XYZ horrible thing happened to me” as if the conversation about transphobia should only ever remain in the realm of interpersonal violence and victimisation. It’s very handy to stay in that arena because the only rebuttal to that tactic is to deny this random person’s experiences or “ignore their lived reality.” But I’m not talking about experience! Transphobia is a structural force in the world which means we don’t actually need to rely on individual accounts of violence to understand it. taking stock of that structure is only a “threat” to “trans masc voices” if you think structural discussions of oppression are de facto “misandrist”

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, jing yuan, aventurine

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (fem! receiving), toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub

⚝ — BLADE

blade feels to you like a storm, his grip on you endlessly overwhelming yet not because he's forcing it on you, no, but because his dependence on you was suffocating.

the stellaron hunter was dangerous, you were very much aware of it, although never pondering on the fact that you were playing with fire here.

his cock slides in between your folds before slipping to your hole, right then, you can feel the hot push of his tip, slow at first, but persistent, burning and stretching you. blade opens you up as you clutch at his shoulders each time, you're certain you can take him, you can't— it won't fit—such always crosses your mind but, you see, your skin was burning and hungry, submitting to him, to his cock sliding in fully— so smooth on your walls, thick inside, searing.

blade clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity, and well— maybe you were, he certainly looks at you with an intensity that borders on desperation, a string he needed to hold on to if he wanted to keep at least a little bit of humanity inside himself or else, he’d fall apart.

"you ground me," he murmurs, voice low, his hand searching for your own as he grips it a little too tightly— his neediness haunting as he slumps forward, still thrusting hungry shoves of his cock into you as the rhythm changes just a little, but the pressure was increasing, becoming more meaningful.

in this rare moments, the way his hands tremble slightly when he brushes your hair behind your ear, there’s a tenderness, yes, but you cannot shake off the feeling of being scared of him— were his words the truth? did he mean what he said? would he hurt you in the end or are you really the one to put a light in his dark, twisted world?

⚝ — JING YUAN

jing yuan was always in control, his charm making each and every friend or foe bend to his will effortlessly— and well, you’re no exception. 

frankly, he's used to people following his lead without question, without turning on their own brains, his words were so fittingly persuasive that you barely even notice when you started agreeing with everything he said.

you whine out a breathy, "fuck, more—" as he laps at your clit, the vibrations of his hums and groans making you arch your back into him— you're so sensitive, jing yuan makes you feel all of it with his tongue, all the nerves down there and how muscle slurped and licked a stripe along your slit to tease you, shamelessly moaning against your pussy right after.

"i’m only looking out for you," he lazily mumbles into your cunt, "I know what's ugh—, what's best for you," his fucked out grin disarms you completely as you look down, admiring the view of his hands, big hands, clutching at your trembling thighs before he gives your stomach an anticipatory twist.

he's not forceful though, don't misunderstand, yeah? because simply, jing yuan doesn’t need to be, his self assured confidence made it feel like any resistance would be literally ridiculous. 

after all, his charisma pulls you in, his beauty and face being chocolate box pretty, ethereal and powerful, leaving you wanting to please him too, so badly yeah, to stay on his good side.

⚝ — AVENTURINE

from the outside, aventurine was unable to be read— and even once you got close to him, you found yourself having more difficulties reading him.

his standards were impossibly high, that's for sure, and he never hesitates to point out when you fall short. for some reason he critiques everything you do, from the way you handle the tasks he's given you to your smallest habits, never failing in exhaustedly rolling his eyes with an edge of frustration.

however, wasn't it just amazing how he was always there to clean up the "mess" you made in getting all the tasks wrong, or anything really.

something unmistakable random could happen in your life, even just a favorite item you suddenly lost and aventurine would always be there to help you— like a white knight.

of course, you cannot question him on anything, he was your superior and losing your job would be the last thing you wanted, next to losing the little relationship you've built over the last couple of months with him.

you feels it in your legs, your stomach, your hands, your soul when he touches you— pleasures you.

it's the desire overtaking you first, making you give yourself up entirely to the harsh rhythm of his hips displaying no mercy. aventurine hisses as you squeeze him, the faintness in his head almost making him swoon as your leg tremble and his cock throbs hard in you, the tremulous thrill inside your belly building to a merciless dance.

"i’ll be here, buried right here—" he hums and grinds his hips, his fingers drawing a line on your stomach, up and down, "feel that? you feel me there?"

"not that you, fuck— deserve it," he grunts, cupping your cheeks and brushing a thumb over your lips, "you made so many mistakes today," he breathes while staring down at his cock splitting your puffy cunt.

he adds, "you should be thankful i was there,"

an embarrassed, little sorry was all you managed to get out in return and ugh— the friction of him rubbing against your walls felt absolutely sickening, like you're about to cum and scream any second now.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[writeriguess]

Hii could u write smth like bakugo x deaf reader, like he learns sign language for the reader and they date x

Louder Than Words

Your world had always been silent. Not quiet, not peaceful—just silent. The kind of silence that stretched endlessly, where vibrations and flickering lips were your only clues to what people were saying.

Most people fumbled around you, tripping over their words, their expressions tight with awkwardness when they realized you couldn't hear them. They would over-enunciate, speak too slowly, or just outright avoid talking to you. You had gotten used to it.

But Bakugo Katsuki was different.

You noticed it the first time you met him in the halls of U.A. He didn’t look at you like you were fragile. He didn’t look frustrated when you didn’t react to the loud explosion he set off in a training exercise. He just looked at you. Like you were normal.

That should’ve been your first clue.

At first, Bakugo didn’t know how to communicate with you. He was loud, brash, and relied on his voice more than anything. But when Kirishima explained that you were deaf, something shifted in his expression.

"Shitty Hair, how the fuck am I supposed to talk to them then?" Bakugo had grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he scowled.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, they read lips really well, but learning sign language would help a lot, man."

"Tch. That sounds like a pain in the ass."

But then, a week later, you caught him practicing.

You were sitting in the common room, scrolling on your phone when movement caught your eye. Bakugo was standing near the kitchen, his face scrunched up in concentration as he looked down at his hands. He was signing. The movements were rough, imprecise, like he was still getting used to them, but you understood instantly.

"Hello. My name is Bakugo."

He fumbled through it, fingers stiff with unfamiliarity. When he noticed you staring, his face turned an alarming shade of red.

"The hell are you looking at?!" he barked—then immediately scowled because he realized you couldn't hear him.

You smiled, amused. Slowly, you signed back, "Good job. But relax your hands."

His scowl deepened, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

From that moment on, Bakugo made it his mission to learn.

He practiced in secret, watching videos, forcing Kirishima to help him. You’d catch him muttering under his breath while signing, brows furrowed in deep focus. He hated getting things wrong, but he hated not being able to talk to you even more.

The first time he held a full conversation with you in sign language, you almost teared up.

It was late at night, and you were sitting outside on the dorm balcony. The stars were bright above you, and the night was calm—until the glass door slid open, and Bakugo plopped down beside you.

"What are you doing out here, dumbass?"

You blinked, stunned. His signs were stiff, but completely understandable.

Smiling, you signed back, "Watching the stars. What are you doing here?"

Bakugo huffed, looking away. "Wanted to check on you. That a problem?"

Your heart swelled. "No. I like it."

He turned to look at you then, crimson eyes soft in a way you weren’t used to seeing. He hesitated for a second before signing, "I like being here with you."

From that moment, everything changed.

Bakugo didn’t just learn sign language for you—he used it. He’d sign insults at you in the middle of class, smirking when you fought the urge to laugh. He’d grumble in sign when he was annoyed, muttering under his breath at the same time.

Kirishima started calling him "Bakusign" because of how much he did it.

You fell for him fast.

And then, one day, he asked you out.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. He didn’t even seem nervous—just determined, like he had already made up his mind.

He found you after training, sweaty and exhausted, but his hands were steady as he signed, "Go out with me."

You blinked, your heart jumping to your throat. "Like… a date?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, dumbass, I’m asking you to be my goddamn battle partner. Yes, a date."

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too wide. "Okay."

His mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a grin. "Good."

Then, after a second, he added, "I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice."

Dating Bakugo was a unique experience.

He still cussed like a sailor, but he always made sure you could understand him. If he was talking too fast for you to read his lips, he’d slow down (grumbling the whole time). If you didn’t catch something, he’d repeat it without complaint.

And if anyone dared to treat you differently because of your deafness?

They didn’t last long.

Kirishima still swears he saw Bakugo grab a guy by the collar and snarl, "They’re not fucking broken, you extra. Don’t talk to them like they are."

You had never felt more loved.

One night, you and Bakugo were sitting in your room, curled up under a blanket. He had his arm around your shoulders, scrolling on his phone, while you leaned against him, completely at ease.

After a while, he put his phone down and turned to you, his expression serious.

"I wanted to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

His hands hesitated, then he exhaled sharply, like he was getting rid of his nerves.

"I love you."

Your breath caught.

Bakugo looked at you like his whole world depended on your answer, like he had just handed you his heart and was waiting to see if you’d break it.

With trembling fingers, you reached up and signed back, "I love you too."

His shoulders relaxed, and for the first time, Bakugo Katsuki smiled.

Not a smirk. Not a cocky grin.

A real, genuine smile.

And then, he kissed you.

[cece693]

Enemy (Edward Cullen x Werewolf GN! Reader)

Summary: Imprinting was supposed to be a good thing, not for you though. Fate seemed to be mocking you by having your imprint be a leech—Edward Cullen, to be more specific.

tags: gender-neutral reader, reader is a werewolf, post-Eclipse, Edward is your imprint, mentions of wanting to be dead, no established relationship

You were on enemy land, yet you didn’t care. Let them come. Let them do their worst. Maybe it’d be a mercy, a reprieve from the torment you’d been living. The trees around you stretched endlessly, their branches clawing at the sky like the fingers of ghosts, haunting you with every step you took into Cullen's territory.

Imprinting on a vampire—it should’ve been your death sentence. An abomination, they called it. The whispers, the disgusted glares, the sneers from your packmates. Your family wouldn’t even look you in the eye. So, why not wander where you weren't wanted? Why not provoke those you should be avoiding?

A snap of a twig echoed through the forest, and you halted, every muscle tensing. You knew he was there. You always knew. It was a curse, this damn imprinting, a cruel joke from the universe to force you to feel everything for the last person you should.

“Edward,” you spat, the bitterness in your voice impossible to hide. “I know you’re watching me. You may as well come out.” Silence stretched and then he emerged—graceful, quiet, like a shadow having been given a form. His golden eyes were fixed on you with such an intensity, it made your blood boil.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, his voice irritatingly soft, like he actually cared about your wellbeing.

A laugh escaped you, the sound harsh and bitter in the stillness. “And where should I be, huh? With my pack? My family?” You took a step toward him, your fists clenching at your sides. “Because let’s be honest, they’d prefer me dead. I imprinted on a vampire, Edward. That makes me as good as a traitor to them.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, defiance burning in your eyes. “And you—you hate me, too. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Edward’s expression tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact. That infuriating calm, as if nothing could shake him. It only fueled your anger. “I don’t hate you.” he whispered.

“Oh, don’t lie,” you snapped, shaking your head. “I know you do. How could you not? I broke up your happy little life with Bella, didn’t I? You were supposed to be with her, not be tied to…” You gestured toward yourself with a bitter laugh, “…whatever this is.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—pain, perhaps regret—but it was quickly replaced by his usual composure. “Bella and I were never meant to last,” he said with great honesty in his voice, catching you off guard. “We loved each other, but things changed. We changed. It was my choice to let her go.”

“Your choice?” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes. “Then why are you even here, Edward? Why bother with me? I’m just a mess—your sworn enemy, for crying out loud. If you hate this as much as I do, then do us both a favor and end it.”

He moved so quickly that you barely registered the motion. One second, he was standing a few feet away, the next he was in front of you, his hand gripping your arm with a surprising gentleness that left you frozen. His eyes bored into yours, a fire burning in their depths. “I told you, I don’t hate you,” he repeated, his voice edged with a hint of frustration. “And you’re not a mess, not to me.”

“You’re…” He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. “You’re my imprint. I didn’t ask for this, nor did you, but here we are. And I…I can’t stand to see you like this. I won’t lie and say it’s easy,” he admitted.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. We can’t change what happened, but we can try to make something of it. Maybe we start with being friends?"

You barked a laugh, though it was devoid of humor. “Friends,” you echoed, tasting the word like it was foreign. “You think we can be friends?”

“It’s a start,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “And maybe, in time, it can be more. If we both want it to be.”

The vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. You expected pity, maybe even indifference, but not this—this honest hope that things could be different. You let out a shaky breath, feeling some tension drain from your shoulders. “Alright,” you murmured, the fight leaving you. “Friends…We can try.”

A small, tentative smile crept onto Edward’s lips, and for a moment, warmth spread through your chest, easing some of the ache that had settled there. It wasn’t a solution, not by far, but it was a beginning.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Bodyguard

─────── · · THE GENTLEMEN (2024)

PAIRING: Bodyguard!Edward "Eddie" Horniman x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Your parents decide with your recent party-heavy behaviour that you are in need of an adult babysitter- or as they call it a bodyguard.

─ · · WARNINGS: contract relationship, child neglect, anxiety attacks, overall angst with fluff

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,112

─ · · A/N: Find it funny how many posts I see complain about "small fandoms" then you have The Gentlemen (2024). I need more people to talk to about this show...

─────── · ·

Up until now, you were always by yourself. In school you struggled to make friends and the few that you still kept in contact with were set with quarterly interactions. The large house you resided in empty besides the few staff that maintained the estate- they were disgusted by the lifestyle you lived- or rather, how they thought you lived.

You got used to not having your parents home, on having no one to ask you how your day went, if you ate that night and what your plans were later that week. The statue collection soon became your greatest confidants, the gallery your absolute favourite room to take lunch in beside the garden when the weather was acceptable.

In all the assets you held, the clothes all still new with tags on in the closet, the endless rows of wine bottles in the basement that your teenage self drowned in and the hedge maze you lost yourself in even when knowing where every exit and secret nook and cranny of. It was plastic happiness, just shiny objects staring back at you and reflecting upon yourself.

You tried to loose yourself in the high life just as every other member of your family did. Sleeping with actors and musicians alike, forcing yourself into yoga classes with young rich wives that only used their manicured nails to pierce each others skin behind doors. It was when you were reaching your late twenties that your parents took notice of your failing public image as you stumbled out of cabs, got caught in multiple scandals only because you were affecting their businesses.

And thats how you found yourself no longer alone but with an adult babysitter, or how your parents described it- a bodyguard.

─────── · ·

"I am old enough to take care of myself, I hate no need for someone to follow me around-" you started to say, your nails digging into your palms as anger started to swell into your eyes in unshed tears of frustration. A younger version of yourself would have been jumping out of joy for having company- your mature self only realizing how much having someone with you would only be added weight.

"Well it is too late for your opinion, the contract has already been finalized and settled, now he is waiting for you by the car. Please, don't make a further embarrassment of the family name," your mother concluded, already turning away from you and walking down the overwhelmingly bare and white hallway. Her heels clacking to a still as you picked up your voice in retaliation.

"How am I much more of an embarrassment than your lack of care or Cousin Simon's multi-day ragers! What about father's multiple hook-ups, or Jacklyns-"

"ENOUGH! I am sick and tired of your incessant whining since you were a child- you are a spoiled little thing since you were born. I gave you everything you could have wanted: books, toys, clothes, sports, and yet you throw all of my hard work aside for what- your constant need for attention? Your new bodyguard will give you everything you ever wanted- be grateful for once in your life and go- now."

The tears now endlessly poured down your cheeks, your breathing rapid, in-takes frequent as you stumbled outside the office space. Your vision was blurry, hands shaking and make-up now a mess as you threw yourself into the car without a second thought.

A detailed handkerchief was soon presented in front of your face as your eyes narrowed in confusion. Turning your gaze to the side and up an attractive man stared back at you. Brown curls framed his eyes paired with slim black frames for glasses. His beard was freshly cut, stubble poking out across his cheeks and chin as he offered you a polite smile at the time you took to analyze him and the well-tailored suit that fitted his tall form.

Cheeks feeling warm, you pitifully chuckled to yourself and took the napkin, opening up your handbag to find a compact mirror as you readjusted yourself. Satisfied you thought of handing the piece of cloth back before decided otherwise, the man noticed your hesitating hand with a brief chuckle before responding, "I can take it back later, are you doing better now miss?"

Still struggling to find your voice to signal your shock, grief, and anger after the interaction with your mother- you forced a nod before looking out the window. Your shoulders only rising as anxiety coated every goosebump on your skin. The man opened and closed his mouth a few times, debating with himself to continue conversation before decided to continue the ride home in silence- much to your approval.

─────── · ·

A few weeks into having your bodyguard, who you found to be named Edward- Eddie he insisted you called him with how much time your spent alongside one another. You tried to forget he was there as you continued your schedule, taking breakfast in bed as he stood outside your door to take you down to the car.

You would then head to your morning yoga classes. He would stand near the door, your water bottle and bag in hand as multiple of the said-to-be-married women tried to coax him into their beds with fake eyelash flutters and tight-fitting clothes yet he would keep his gaze forward. Eyes only snapping to your own as he greeted you with a pleasant smile, asked you how your session went and provided you with the materials in hand before leading you out once more.

Next, a walk around downtown and a visit to the local galleries, two steps behind you he walks was, you could see his shadow overtaking your own on the floor as you talked with the curators- wondering if you could add to your parents (now practically your own) growing collection before heading back home for lunch among the paintings or flowers.

You would insist on Edward- Eddie, to sit across from you. A guilty part eating away at yourself for having someone to join your little glass prison as you offered food of your plate only to be denied. "I will take care of myself once knowing you are fully taken care of miss, now please enjoy your meal- act as if I am not here as you usually do."

When you first met him, you failed to realize how comforting his baritone voice sounded in your ears. How heavy he made each word feel as they draped a blanket of calmness of yourself in reassurance. Offering him a smile in silent thanks, he raised a brow in question to your reaction yet continued just as he asked- chipping away at your meal before turning in early for the day.

─────── · ·

He was protective, you noted to yourself- maybe even bridging on overprotective as his eyes followed your shining form in that dress across the bar top and towards the dance floor as you met up with nepo-babies and start-up engineers alike.

You danced in twirled, a smile fighting its way across Edwards face as he took in your radiant smile as you drifted in between the sea of sweaty bodies and pumping music. The strobe lights had him seeing double before clarity soon coated his vision alongside red as a man felt of your backside. He watched you politely smile, your shoulders crawling upwards, your spine twisting into itself as you tried to raise the mans touch to a more respectable level before looking for a way out once realizing he was not taking the hint.

Edward walked through the people as the crowd parted for him with his determined steps. His hand gripped the mans, his head flipping over to catch the glare in his stare levelling his own. "More along," Edward said in a firm tone leaving no room for question- or what you both thought. The man smirked up at your bodyguard, a laugh erupting in his throat as he leaved in closer a finger pressing at Edwards chest. "And who are you to tell me off, the girls single so you need back the fuck off man- I got to her first."

"And it seems even though you were first, you are the last person she wants to be with right now. I ask you again to leave or I will show you out, your choice," Edward replied. His head and tone dipping towards the shorted man as you looked in between the two. Not knowing weather to jump the man for touching you or to jump your bodyguard for the vein budging from his neck. Your stomach soon decided for you as you leaned into Edwards side, face pressing into his arm, "I want to go home now, I feel like shit."

"Alright miss," and with one last glare towards the man, he wrapped his jacket around yourself as you fell back into and out of your party lifestyle once realizing he was not going to leave your side and also realized just how much his gaze on you made you feel like a teenage girl once again.

Butterflies in your stomach, skin hot and eyes wide as you stared up at him in a drunken daze. You felt his hand on your cheeks as he inspected your face, catching on your nose as some residue still sat on its tip. Wiping it off with his thumb before calling up your driver. He sat with you the whole ride home as you snuggled into his side with your hazed babbles.

Once exiting the car, you swore to feel the need of puking- the next moment he was holding your hair back, rubbing your back as you emptied your stomach into the front bushes.

You don't know how you made it into your bed the next day, or slipped out of your heels and took your hair out of its style in your drunken state. Yet you celebrated yourself by taking a bath that morning before getting lost in the warm waters that soon turned into cold realization. You couldn't look at your bodyguard for the next week without doing your best to speedily walk away from him, or turn your head when he asked about your itinerary.

You hated how much you smiled when hearing his chuckle at your antics, reminding you it was all part of the job. And you equally hated the disappointment your heart felt when he mentioned your time together was a contracted one.

─────── · ·

You soon became obsessed with taking in every detail of this man. How after you asked where his glasses went on that first day had returned the next. How he fixed them every time you laughed at a snide comment he made, joining your commentary of the women at yoga that day.

You became fixated on how his suit would move with his body, fabric subtly outlining the muscles of his arms, how how when you ate dinner in the greenhouse, he would straighten out his coat on the chair behind himself. Rolling his sleeves up before picking up the seemingly small teacup in his large hands with high-class elegance before casting you a cheeky wink as you choked on your own drink.

You loved the way he rushed to pat your back, ask if you were feeling alright and then went back to his emotionless facade as if nothing had happened moments later and you too would fall into this habit. Your lagging mind catching up with your heart as realization overcame the two of you on how nothing more could come of this- nothing good at least.

Edward would open every door for you, allow you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk, would make sure you had the booth seat and take a hand in between your shoulder blades, sometimes the back of your neck in crammed and crowded spaces as you made your way through your parents workplace events and end-of-year parties.

And every night when you would come home, the house quiet your cold bed waiting for you with dim lights. Edward would wish you a goodnight before softly closing the door, you would wait in the far side of your room till you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore in fear of asking him to stay with you.

To truly give you all of his time, your mothers voice came back into your head, calling you selfish in your wants and you listened once more. Listening had gotten you to meet Eddie but maybe you were failing to listen to the right parts...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: It has been such a long time since I have written something, I hope that this was not a terrible read (hahaha... ermmm...)

[redjademilktea]

Last night's episode of 4 Sided Dive was absolutely wonderful in terms of the amount of insight and perspective we got. Not only the Crown Keepers interlude, but also for campaign 3's themes as a whole.

Specifically what fascinated me though, was the incredible analogy Aimee drew between the Ruidian culture and colonial influence on indigenous/colonized spaces in real life (around the 1h32m mark for reference). It was amazing question to ask and I'll love Aimee endlessly for it because it touches on am interesting parallel between the discourse surrounding the Exandiran gods and what they thematically can represent to us as an audience.

Before I dive into my thoughts, I want to preface this by saying this is my specific perspective as a queer woman of color and daughter of a refugee. While my year-5-in-a-PhD-program brain may just be over analyzing this too much, what Aimee brought up just deeply resonated with me in a way that I don't really see talked about in discussions around the themes of campaign 3. Additionally, the ideas I'll be talking about borrow heavily from Christine Taitano DeLisle's Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity under U.S. Colonialism in Guam (2023). Its an incredible piece on indigenous knowledge production and political action that importantly looks to decenter colonial perspectives and history (and more importantly recenter indigenous histories, knowledge, and perspectives in a way that allows us to dislodge the idea that colonialism is something that is immutable and inevitable.)

To quickly summarize Aimee's point/follow up question, she pointed out that the way Ruidians have engaged with, repurposed, and were resentful towards Exandrian cultures mirrors some of the real life experiences of colonized/marginalized communities in relation to colonialism. It was such a powerful comparison to make because in a lot of ways, the struggle of the Ruidian people over the course of the campaign along with the looming question about the gods and whether or not to save them is (intentional or not) deeply resonant with the idea of colonialism and the ways it is deeply ingrained in the even mundane aspects of our life.

In a lot of ways, the Exandrian pantheon can be seen as a colonial force. One that came in and displaced a preexisting order of things and entrenched itself in the new way of being it established. Ashton and Laudna have repeatedly pointed this out throughout the campaign. There was life and existence before the gods. The gods are merely a different mode of being, not the only and inevitable mode of being. Life, society, and being can and did exist without them.

And its important to recognize that aspect of the gods, because it helps us understand their motivations that much better. Aabria in her description of what Opal saw in the Spider Queen as she tried to take Opal as her champion was poignant. Opal did not see an omniscient, unknowable entity. She saw a woman. A woman who was frustrated, angry, and most importantly frightened. They keep Predathos chained away not to protect life on Exandria nor because they feel a moral obligation to do so. They are doing so because they are afraid. Their mortality is at stake. And, as Aabria keenly pointed out, their pride is as well. Every action, every move is out of self preservation. An attempt to save themselves because Predathos demonstrate that not even the gods are a permanent thing.

You'll find (as Anne Stoler writes about frequently) that colonial systems are much the same. They are vehemently intent on self preservation. Any action they undertake and any narrative they create about themselves is solely done to preserve the way things are currently. And that includes narratives that the way things are currently is somehow inevitable. That things were always coming to this moment. Often, this is done at the expense of framing other modes of being as somehow antithetical to the way things are now. That it needs to be this way. And that this way is right and forever.

To me, its important to recognize these parallels. While Ruidians may engage with, adapt, and innovate off of Exandrian ideas, culture, and art, it is only because - as Aimee aptly phrased it - Exandrian culture as a direct result of the gods actions has "sucked all the air out" everything. What is there to engage with, if not the looming orb in the sky that has shaped every aspect of their existence?

It really brings the campaign-wide question of "should we save the gods?" into new light, at least in my opinion. Because its suddenly not about "saving the gods in a morally righteous act to preserve all life." It becomes a layered and complicated network of issues that makes the answer to that question incredibly difficult to answer. Is preserving the status quo because its how things operate now worth it at the expense of the suffering of others? What would saving the gods and the Ruidians look like? Is it even possible to save both? What changes to how things operate would be a result of that? How would those changes be handled?

I bring this up because there is a tendency in some discourse that I've seen to frame questioning the validity of saving the gods as inherently the "wrong" choice to make. When instead, when you see the cast struggling over the question, its because the answer is not straight forward. The gods are not necessary for life. They never were. They just are necessary for life the way things are now. And the question of what disrupting that means is such a fascinating one to engage with.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Bedrest:

Summary: Anakin has been running himself ragged over the months of the war, but he persists, because he is a Jedi. However, when you try to join him on the front lines he gets angry, the two of you need to work out your overworking issues...

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff.

Word count: 1,880

“What are you doing here!” Anakin yelled over the din of battle. He was sheltered behind an outcrop of rock, had paused to catch his breath, lightsaber still turned on and poised for attack when he saw you. A few metres behind him, talking hurriedly to one of the clones behind a similar structure. 

You looked up shocked. “Anakin?” He should not be here. You were about to give him a right telling off when an explosion hit one of the space crafts to your left. You duck for cover and hear him yell over at you. Running in his direction, you use his angry voice as a guide through the smoke and sand. 

“Over here! Force, get down!” He pulls you by the sleeve, just in time for a blaster projectile flung through the air at the space where you had been moment ago. You coughed for a moment and he surveyed you for any serious injuries before jamming his elbow into your ribs. “I thought you were doing a diplomatic mission on Naboo? What do you think you’re doing here!?”

How dare he. “Me? I got a message not two days ago that you were disposed to the hospital wing because of a serious head injury! I was sent in as a reinforcement. What could you possibly be thinking coming out here!” 

It was true that Anakin had been badly hurt and was currently running on adrenaline, two hours of sleep, and a copious, possibly dangerous, amount of pain medication. But he was a General, he needed to be here. And his Padawan was out there too. He looked down at you, the anger and stress he was feeling radiating off him in waves.Rather than scare or intimidate you however, you only felt yourself get more frustrated at him. For years you had known eachother, grown up together, fought together. And all that time he had pulled stunts just like this one. And he would get away with it. He always got away with it. But at what cost?

"Who went and told you that I was with the healers?" He asked grumpily, sending a quick look over your shelter at the battle ahead of you both. 

"Who do you think?!" 

He groaned ducking back down, "Damn it Snips..." He thought for a moment. "Look it doesn't matter now, we'll talk about it later-"

You started to protest but he cut you off, "What we need to focus on is getting to the control tower. So you wait here and I'll go-"

"Shut up Anakin." You rolled your eyes, endlessly annoyed with his selfish, protective, recklessness.

"What?"

"If you really think that I'm going to let you go out there by yourself then you're more hurt than the medics said. Come on, let's go."

"But-"

"No."

He glared at you for a second but you held his gaze. Finally he relented, sighing and looking up to the sky - or what you could see of the sky through the chaos and fumes.

"Alright, fine." He conceded and you smirked a little, standing up and moving to the next safe place to shelter behind, before he could change his mind. You heard him stand and follow you...and then stop.

"Oh great." You turned around and saw him bent over, trying to catch his breath. Hand clutching at his head for a moment, before falling back down. He shut his eyes for a moment, clearly gathering his strength, separating his mind and body so that he could continue. "Don't say a word." He said dangerously coming back to the battle, his stance fixing itself immediately upon opening his eyes again.

The conflict was long and hard but the two of you infiltrated the line and made your way to the control centre and cut off the power grid, there was a communications black out for the enemy and in the confusion your forces had taken the base. Anakin hadn't stopped moving the entire time and had been limping for about an hour now on and off. He had been walking on his bad leg for a while now though because of his various meeting with the other generals and the Jedi council, not letting them see his weakness, or see to his injuries. The idiot.

"Anakin." You caught up to him, grabbing his arm as he finished the evacuation discussions with Commander Rex. You pulled him away into a quiet hallway.

"What?" He hissed down at you, moving from diplomatic to surly in seconds, he was in pain. His whole body was stiff and you knew from experience that he was barely keeping it together.

"I need you to stop. Just for a minute. Master Che is free, we should go see her!" You pleaded with him, your own body was exhausted from the fighting, you hadn't slept in nearly two days. But you were nowhere near his condition.

"I'm fine." His voice was cold and stubborn and you knew what you had to do to get him seen to. 

"Ok well I need to go to her, please come with me." You talked through gritted teeth, hoping that he'd interpret it as pain rather than frustration. He paused for a second, watching you, and you could almost feel his mind whirring as he debated whether or not to follow you. He finally relented. 

"Fine, but if I'm called I can't promise to stay long." 

"Of course Ani, let's go."

"You what? You can't call me that."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't, not in public at least."

"We're not in public we are alone in a hallway"

He stopped and looked down at you. A cheeky grin playing on his lips now. "We are, aren't we?" 

"Don't even try that with me right now." You say, and you march in front of him, ignoring his childish huff.

As you make your way to Master Che's room, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. The war was taking a toll on everyone, and Anakin's behaviour worried you. You had always known him to be reckless, but now it seemed like he was actively seeking out danger. You had to do something, but you didn't know what. The battle was over, and you had both made it out alive. But luck always runs out. 

You pushed the thought out of your mind as you arrived at the temporary medical room. It was not the most crowded one you had seen, a smaller number of casualties had been listed on this occasion than many of the other battles you had served in lately. Master Che was just standing up from the side of a cot in the corner when she looked and and saw the two of you enter. Her look was nothing short of livid, full of disapproval and anger. But she swallowed it, walking over slowly to where Anakin had already planted himself on a bench - not a bed, he would not be staying long. 

“General Skywalker. I believe my instructions was rest?” 

She picked up a scanner unit and started to examine the wound on his leg. Tutting under her breathe all the while. It was a pretty nasty blaster burn by your reading of the scans, one which would require weeks of healing and care. But Anakin was already leaning forward to on of the medical trays, grabbing a handful of pills and shimmying off the remains of his trouser leg, leaving his leg bare from the knee down. “Bandage me up and I’ll be on my way. I have things to attend to, and you have more injured men than me.” 

Master Che sighed heavily, but you could see the resignation in her eyes. She knew there was no point in arguing with Anakin when he got like this. "Fine, but those pills will only get you so far. When you arrive back at the temple you must rest, one week will stop you from harming yourself permanently but I would recommend at least a fortnight. And I mean it, Skywalker, or else I'll have you confined to the medical bay for the remainder of the war.”

Anakin nodded curtly, and Master Che began to tend to his injury, muttering to herself about Jedi who never listen to instructions. You stood awkwardly by the side, unsure of what to do. Anakin's demeanour had changed completely now that he was getting medical attention - he seemed almost relieved to have the chance to sit down and take a break. You wondered if he had been pushing himself too hard, too often.

As Master Che finished her work, she turned to you. "And you, young one?” Her eyes scanned up and down your body but you hadn’t been so unfortunate as your companion. “Let me stitch that up.” She gestured to your head and you hand instinctively reach up to the space above your eyebrow, it came back bloodied. 

“I hadn’t noticed. Yes, please.” You sat down, ignoring a look from Anakin. He was brooding now. You hadn’t noticed. Blood was pouring over your forehead and all you could do was nag him about a burn? 

When she finally finished you both got up quickly, relieved. Master Che surveyed you both. “I don't want to see either of you back here anytime soon.”

You nodded, and helped Anakin to his feet. He was still limping, but he seemed to be moving a little better now. As you walked back to your quarters, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You knew the war wasn't over yet, and you had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse.

Anakin seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed at you. He didn’t acknowledge you hands on his arm, steadying his walk. You were certain he would reject it if he did. 

“It scares me when I think of you in battle. It’s hard for me to watch.” He said quietly, lowly. 

“It’s my job Anakin.” This was a well worn argument between you two.

"I know that, but it doesn't make it any easier. I worry about you." Anakin's voice was soft now, almost vulnerable. It was a side of him that you didn't see often, and it made your heart ache.

"I know you do, Ani. But you know I can take care of myself." You squeezed his arm gently, trying to reassure him. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions that you couldn't quite place. 

"I know… I know I just can’t help it… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead. It was a gentle gesture, but it sent shivers down your spine. It was far too intimidate and action and so close to the other soldiers but you allowed it. Basking in his warmth, his smell. It was smoky, and sweaty, and a little bit bloody. But when wasn’t he these days? 

You take a quick glance either side of the corridor and give him the quickest of kisses on the lips, he leans forwards into it preventing you from getting away. You grin into him but do pull back, “Come on General, bedrest has been ordered.”

[burr-ell]

abt ur syldor post and the tags abt seeing hcs/fics that make him physically abusive: there's this thing i've noticed where people are just incapable of engaging a character's life at the badness established by the text. It's usually the result of fandom's addiction to whump, but there's often this insidious implication that not only is the suffering valorous somehow, there's tiers to types of violence committed against someone that are more or less sympathetic. With Syldor, ppl aren't interested in the actual complex realities that can exist with abuse and indeed the one that informs Vex's story, they have to elevate it to physical abuse because clearly every abuser exists as a one dimensional caricature and the emotional abuse doesn't count enough

Responding to this anon as well as another on the same subject!

Yeah, what really bothers me about it is this idea that's not really unique to any given fandom because it's just a thing humans do (but is no less frustrating): that there are tiers of suffering, past which point you have to coo over someone endlessly and let them behave however they want, but someone who hasn't been through something "that bad" needs to put it aside and be objective. It's a bad enough idea on its own, but because of this attitude people will then start coming up with ways that actually so-and-so suffered through this trauma and that trauma, so they should be afforded that same protection and sympathy. So what you end up with is people not only portraying Syldor's neglect and bigotry and unreachable expectations in the most cartoonish way possible, but also tacking on physical abuse because that'll REALLY make people feel bad for the twins. It's like if you took a gourmet chocolate cake and were like I know what this needs! Let's empty a can of whipped cream on top and add sprinkles!

I think the addiction to whump and roving angst is definitely the most overt driving force behind it; it's just disappointing but not surprising that people would rather use quick shorthands for Feel Bad For My Blorbo Now instead of actually examining the story they were told on its own terms. It makes for less interesting writing, but it also indicates a real lack of curiosity about other people's lives and an unwillingness to engage with anything truly strange or unfamiliar. It's easy—and more than that, it's boring.

[pokechbi]

I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you could write about könig and ghost finding out that y/n is a couple years older than them! How would they react? If you’re not taking requests feel free to ignore this!!! Thank you!!

Hi ♡ Anon ♡ !!! Tysm !!! I'm so glad you love my writing. Thank you for the very unique idea !! I was so lost at how to even go about this at first but once i started i literally could not stop! So ty! Ya'll are bringing me out of my writers funk fr im so so grateful 💗

JSYK: I know zilch about military stuff so forgive me for any inaccuracies!

WC: 1.1K ♡

Enjoy 🎀

♡Konig & Ghost find out you're a few years older than them...♡

König

During the time that the KorTacs and T141 had joined forces, you had gotten pretty comfortable around the newcomers. Specifically one big, mountain of a man named König. He was a no-nonsense man when it came to his work, but aside from his duties he fared to be a pretty decent friend that you often hung around in your free time. You often asked him about his life in the military, learning many skills of the trade since he was a Colonel, and you had only managed to grow yourself to second lieutenant, the lowest commissioned officer rank.

While you were on the topic of years spent in the army, somehow your ages came into play and while he was still protective of revealing his exact age to anyone, he lead you on with the fact that he was in his mid-thirties. You were no priss, so talking about your age was something you didn't mind. When you revealed to him that you were a few years older than him over lunch, he paused, taking in your new revelation.

"You're older than me? How can that be? You look so...young" He trails off, stabbing at his lunch with his fork. You glanced at him, a surprised look on your face as you chuckled. He wasn't the kind of man to give out compliments very often, so it scratched a new itch hearing him use them on you. "Well thank you, that's very kind of you, König" She replied, her eyes darting from his eyes to the table.

"You carry yourself very well. Physically and emotionally, so I guess it's no surprise that you're older than some of us." He continues, his German accent thick on some words more than others. You smile at him as you blush slightly, waiting for him to finish chewing so he can continue speaking. "There's a quote, by the German novelist Franz Kafka. Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old." He clears his throat. "So...never stop seeing your beauty, I guess." He pauses after speaking, standing suddenly as he walks away from the table, striding towards the door before you could begin to reply.

You knew his social anxiety had caused him to distance himself from people sometimes, but you had no idea why he was still anxious near you after all the time you'd spent together. You were only just friends, right?...Right?

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost was fond of you, unlike some of his other unit members of T141. He admired the way you carried yourself on the field, possessing a natural leadership instinct that he had worked endlessly, for years to attain. He envied you at times. He envied your ability to take risks without much thoughts of consequences, and you always trusted your gut. Which 100% of the time proved to be right. He knew it was some weird woman's instinct that always overpowered him. It sometimes embarrassed him when you outdid him mentally, standing your ground and showing him who's boss in front of his soldiers. While you were still under his command, he saw you as his right hand woman, always by his side to have his back when he needed you.

The team had just finished a debriefing for the new upcoming mission that you all were set to leave for in a few days time. You reeled at the information that was revealed, running your hands over your face in frustration. He sat by your side, trying to cheer you up with his sarcastic jokes and self-deprecative witticisms. Ignoring him, you shook your head as you flipped through the classified files once more.

"In all of my 37 years of living, I haven't come across a terrorist quite like him. Jesus." You sigh, standing to your feet as you begin to pace the room.

"Excuse me?" He stood suddenly, pacing over to you slowly. Your neck cranes as he approaches you, towering over you like a building. You hated when he did this. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him backwards. "Come on, Simon. Back up. You know I hate when you do that." You say frustrated, your hand meeting his hard chest as you swallow hard. He doesn't budge, staring down into your eyes as he bores a hole into your very soul.

"Never mind that." He disregards her demand, stepping closer to her. "You're...older than me? Since when?" He asks in disbelief.

You chuckle at him, the smile falling from your face as you realized that he wasn't making one of his stupid jokes. "Yeah... so? What's wrong with that?" You say, crossing your arms over your chest, causing your breasts to perk up the slightest bit. His eyes slyly graze over your covered cleavage under your tight black turtleneck, so quickly you wouldn't have caught it if you blinked. Realizing what he was staring at caused your stomach to flutter, your gaze shying away from his as you drop your arms to your sides. You were alone in the room now, the silence thickening the air between the two of you and making it hard to breathe.

"Uhh... No. Nothing's wrong with that, it's just..." He trails off, ending his sentence with a chuckle. "It's just that what, Simon?!" You press, raising your voice at him the slightest bit. Your blossoming friendship with him was on the line, and you gave him a stare that read: choose your next words carefully, boy.

"It's just that...It explains a lot. How you've always been so... confident. So right about everything. I get where that's all coming from now." He chuckles softly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, scratching under the hem of his balaclava. "Trust me, I like it more than you know." He finishes.

You smile at him slightly and nod your head, suddenly understanding why Simon had favored you all this time, the puzzle pieces all fitting together now. You realized that he liked the fact that you acted older than him. Your usual feminine maturity making him feel secured in his team. You made him feel confident in his actions, as long as he was by your side. There also might have been another reason he wasn't upset at all at this news, and that was because Simon "Ghost" Riley, had a thing for being controlled by a woman in power.

There was now a clear cut reason he'd tag along next to you in his free time more than usual, asking for your advice on career-altering and mission-making decisions. He trusted you, more than a friend, more than his soldier. He trusted you as his woman, even if you didn't know you were his yet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[alientee]

Are you still taking Mauga requests?

Would you be willing to write a comfort fic where reader (she/her) has acid burn scars on her back, they're almost always in pain. One day during a mission Mauga notices something is off about reader, then eventually the pain is too much, Mauga learns abt the scars.

I’m so sorry that this took so long! I had writers block and work 😭 but I hope it’s too your liking if not I’ll try again.

Mauga x reader (AFAB undertones)

You never knew peace for long, you would always live your life normally until the searing pain started again. It took a lot out of you to deal with the aftermath of the burns you received on your back. Taking pain meds that barley helped only made you frustrated, not being able to rub ointment on your entire back without struggling made you angry, and taking antibiotics to prevent infection just made you sad.

But you overcame it, after the reconstruction surgery’s you thought it would be better. Yet life had a different agenda the pain wouldn’t leave you for long. And in your everyday life you had pain endlessly on and off. Nothing really made you feel like the pain was worth getting out of bed for. That was until you had met Mauga. Such an unstoppable force of a man he was, his job was to deliver pain to others and all you had know was pain. But he made you feel better than you had in ages.

It was worth it gettin out if bed doing your straining routine. It was worth the slight sting you’d get before more pain came as long as you saw Mauga smile. As long as he was happy with you, you could deal with the pain. But you felt that you could only hide from him. That you’re burdens aren’t his to bear, so you hid from him the best you could. If you say oversized dresses s are your favorite he’d get you more. If you didn’t like hugs our close touching because it makes you uncomfortable he wouldn’t push it. In retrospect he should have known something was wrong when he never saw you lay on your back not even on the couch.

He never knew he would see you fall to the floor in pain, he didn’t know how to react when you screamed in agony; Mauga truly didn’t know how to help you when one touch to you made everything worse. “Sweetheart please wear does it hurt!?” You shallow breathing was barely heard with a whisper of you back coming out. “Turn over please” you had turned to your stomach from your side. You knew Mauga was trying to help but you just hoped this wouldn’t make this worse, that it wouldn’t ruing anything.

Mauga picked you up by your stomach to take you to your shared room. He lays you down and begins to suck for pain meds and what he saw shocked him. You had so many meds in your cabinet, how long has this been going on, why didn’t you tell him. None of those things mattered now though. Now he needed to make sure you were comfortable as possible. He brought he meds and some water. Along with some muscle relaxing ointment, he slowly lifts your head to help you take the meds. “Can I touch you?” You hesitated slightly but you knew I’d help along with the acid burns the tightness you get in your skin sometimes added to the pain ; you nod softly to him.

He rubs the ointment into your skin slowly as possible. It takes a while but he’s gentle with you, and Mauga is never fully gentle or quiet. To have him treat you this way, for you to finally get help you never have, it made you cry even more. As he was rubbing the ointment on you his hand gripped your thigh. “Why didn’t you tell me, if you’re in pain I want to help you…. You help me alot ya know, you don’t trust me or somthing?” You could only shake your head, he didn’t get it and you didn’t want him too but you had no other choice but to come clean.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me, I didn’t want my constant pain to be a strain on us , or dictate how I live my life. I want to be able to live with you and forget the pain” Mauga rubbed your hair softly and kissed your forehead “Silly girl, your mine so I always worry about you. But if you think I won’t stick it out with you you’re wrong. I may not be the best at this emotional crap I just know how to have fun and cause destruction. So give me all your pain, let it out and don’t hold back I’ll be here to destroy it every time anyway I can.”

You both sit in silence as he runs his hand through your hair and stroking your face. “Still hurting baby girl?” You lean back into his warmth nodding slightly. “Im almost always in pain but it went down for now but it still stings a little.” “How about I get Moria or sombra to find something to help I’ll pay whatever as long as I can stop your pain even a little” All you could do was smile in contempt.

“Thank you Mauga”

[elderscrollsconceptart]

i've said this before but: i, personally, am *not* looking forward to any TES remake made in Unreal. i think it handles certain physics and lighting aspects much, much worse than Havok, the engine that original Oblivion uses [and technically also Skyrim, though heavily modified by that point]. i think UE5 is likely to kill a lot of the charm and unique feel of Oblivion, and i'm a lot more hopeful about things like Skyblivion. i've never loved an RPG made in Unreal, and Oblivion is one of my favorite games of all time partially because of the versatility of Havok. obviously i could be wrong, and honestly i hope so! but given bethesda's track record [and microsoft in general, which is their parent company], i think it's likely to be a lot... flatter than the OG.

So Ive been thinking about this constantly for the past few months. It's definitely possible the remake won't match the "vibe" of OG Oblivion. That concerns but as well. Half of Oblivion's charm is how janky and lowkey..bad? It is 😭 Thats not a knock btw! Games and genres often become DEFINED by their flaws despite their positives! Skyrim is awesome but id bet one of the first things the average gamer remembers about Skyrim is the ridiculous "giants hit you so hard you fly into space" bug. For Oblivion it's the absurb (and endlessly memed) behavior of it's NPCs.

I wouldn't be shocked if the outsourcing studio drops the ball as Oblivion is a huge and clunky game to begin with. Even a remaster would be hard to do. That said, all negativity/optimism we can have at this point is wholly based on leaks and assumptions so it's fair to reserve final opinions until we actually get a real look at the remake if/when it releases.

I will be honest and say I'm personally cautiously optimistic about the remake since as charming as the OG is, it's a technical and unoptimzed mess beyond the memes and charm of silly physics glitches. I love OG Oblivion! I also want to be able to play it without having to do a bunch of mods to (try!) to make it work on my PC.

IMO literally all the remake/remaster would need to do is improve things like draw distance, get rid of the absurd CPU restrictions the OG has, and make Oblivion run stable on modern hardware.

I've talked about it before but id very happily accept a 1 to 1 port of Oblivion for modern hardware if all they did was ensure the game ran smoothly. I've genuinely only been able to have a single full playthrough of Oblivion, and that was on the xbox 360. He'll I'd take a Switch port of Oblivion if it was in HD at least. I just want a stable game experience that doesn't require me to have an old dual core CPU or try a bunch of janky 12 year old INI tweaks and memory patches.

I've tried probably half a dozen times to get the game working on PC with the necessary performance patches/stability fix mods and I *still* can't get the fixes to last thru an entire playthru before some stability issue major quest bug forces me to quit.

Morrowind has OpenMorrowind which makes the game fully stable and playable on modern hardware (like my phone!) Daggerfall has Daggerfall Unity which has innumerable improvements and also allows the game to be played on modern hardware with little issues. Skyrim has been ported to everything except apple smart watches and is playable basically everywhere with only moderate stability issues.

Oblivion is the *only* semi-modern mainline TES game that is super jank out the box and doesn't have some "fixed" version that allows it to be playable and stable on modern hardware. If something like OpenOblivion existed, an official remake/remaster wouldn't be necessary

I will reiterate the super frustrating CPU restrictions the PC version has unless you use mods to circumvent them. Game literally will start crashing on you if you have a multi core CPU. Old games tend to have technical problems like this, but given almost every other mainline TES game has a safe and stable version that exists for modern hardware, its not fair that Oblivion gets ignored in this matter. We deserve a permanent and officially fixed version of Oblivion, be it a remake or a remaster. We shouldn't just rely on mods and fan projects to fix old TES games.

Daggerfall is another good comparison since yes, by remaking Daggerfall in Unity you DO lose some of the original game's charm, but you also gain a shitload of stability and graphical improvements which make the game accessible to modern gamers.

In lieu of a fanmade Oblivion project in the vein of OpenMorrowind/DaggerfallUnity, Oblivion NEEDS a remaster or remake to make it accessible on modern hardware. Skyblivion is cool! But it still looks like Skyrim with different architecture. That's not a knock on that project, it's just true since it's literally the Skyrim engine. In the same way Morrowblivion looked like Oblivion despite being a "remake" of Morrowind into Oblivion's engine. Skyblivion is a FULL remake of Oblivion (with some changes from what I understand) but we still deserve an official Oblivion remake/remaster.

Skyblivion doesn't negate an Oblivion remake and an Oblivion remake doesn't negate Skyblivion. If anything they compliment each other since they each would be doing things the other isnt/cannot do.

An Oblivion remake/remaster might suck (or it might be great!), but regardless of our feelings on the matter, its simply true that the OG grows less and less accessible the further we get from it's release 19 years ago...We deserve to be able to play Oblivion on modern machines. I hope the remake allows us to do that (and that it comes out to begin with lol)

Peace out yall ✌️

[kyoshitargaryen]

how my guides send messages through dreams + signs they send me to shift

to call these "dreams" is a bit inaccurate — it's something more like a mix of astral travelling, lucid dreaming, and shifting (I've done all three). I do have a special word I call them, but I'd prefer to keep it private for now. my guides use this "tristate" of consciousness for me to learn lessons and heal past trauma.

my guides weren't always so communicative, but I've gotten to a point where I've developed in my spirituality and my abilities (and perhaps my relationship with them) that communication become easy.

...that doesn't mean my guides are speaking english though.

understanding what the signs meant took a lot of time, patience, and introspection. it was a lot of frustrating tarot readings and even more frustrating dreams. but eventually, I understood, and you will too. just because these are my signs doesn't mean they will be the same for you, or that they will mean the same thing. this post is just meant to example how bizarre messages in dreams can be, and give you an idea of what to look out for.

absolutely read the italicized sections in the toc below

table of contents: when I need to stop sharing information ; when I need to heal from trauma or I am at risk of being triggered by it in the upcoming days ; signs that I'm able to shift ; signs regarding relationships like partners/family/friends/frenemies ; telling when someone from your past is coming back or if you have a soul tie with them ; how you know you're making the wrong decision in these experiences

when I need to stop sharing information

I just made a post all about making moves in silence and mal de ojo, which you can read here. this particular sign can happen if I've shared too much info, made a fool of myself in a social situation, or I shared a success to someone who throws me malo. (I swear to god if I have this dream after I post this I'm gonna be upset lol)

for absolutely no reason at all, my mouth will endlessly fill with debris. it's not vomit or bile, it's not spit, it doesn't taste bad — it's just some sort of mush. sometimes it's unchewed food just...spawning in my mouth. I can lean over and open my mouth, only to have a waterfall of debris come out seemingly infinitely.

only when I acknowledge the fact that I overshared will it stop. sometimes it will persist through the entire dream until I wake up or force myself awake.

in the times where I made a fool of myself socially, the sign manifests as my teeth falling out. I often use harry potter spells in my dreams, so I try to cast the spell dental reparo to fix them. I find that if the situation wasn't too serious, my fallen teeth will return to place and heal, but if it's serious, the teeth will simply fall out again.

when I need to heal from trauma or I am at risk of being triggered by it in the upcoming days

this one, I'll have to be a bit conservative in what I share as the dreams itself are very uncomfortable and could be triggering to others. essentially, I am put into situations where members of my family will mistreat me in the same way I have been in the past or act out a social fear of mine (being bullied, cheated on, etc) — this though is not triggering or scary for me even in the dream, because my subconscious recognizes the people involved as being safe for me, so even when my dreams involve triggering matters, I know I am always safe with the people in actuality.

it's basically a way for my guides to recreate experiences for me and help me process them. it's a sort of exposure therapy. it's actually gotten a lot better and I appreciate the unconventional ways my guides are helping me heal.

signs that I'm able to shift

there are two ways my guides let me know that I'm able to shift were I to try immediately. it's taken me ages to finally decipher them, but finally I have!

water leaks from my fingertips, palms, from my whole body really

this one is a sign that I need to close my eyes in my dream and feel gratitude for my DR and my shifting journey. I typically affirm through this about my DR. it's pretty similar to the lullaby method, which you can read here. sometimes it takes me straight to a new reality, other times it makes me start falling in the void which can take me to another dream or to a new reality, it just depends.

I typically have more control in this dream versus the next example.

2. a physical sensation of energy leaving my body

if I had to describe it, it'd be like a vending machine popping out sodas or like when a baby is finally born (without the pain obviously). this one is a sign that I need to sit, close my eyes, cover my ears, and just affirm that I'm in my DR. the plot of these dreams are usually very hard to move against, so it's important that I don't even try to, I just completely disengage and focus only on my DR

signs my partner / family / friends has lied to me about something in my CR or I need healing surrounding that relationship

let me tell you, my guides and ancestors are SNITCHES. no one can get away with anything. my family and my partner know they can't hide anything from me, because one way or another, I will find out.

how to discern whether this is a trauma dream or a healing/prophetic dream — in my experience, the dreams that are meant to heal or give signs do not have any emotional harm. I will not wake up sad, hurt, or angry from them. they are not nightmares and do not negatively affect my emotional or mental health. you will notice a feeling like apathy during it.

the first dream of this kind can be very startling but they more often then not leave you with questions rather than problems. they are also extremely vivid and I personally believe they lie somewhere between lucid dreaming, reality shifting, and astral projecting.

also be aware of the fact that significant people in your life can pop up in these healing experiences doing some sort of harm to you — it's not a reflection of them, but rather your subconscious protecting you from being retraumatized by the experience, as you subconsciously know that these people care about you and would not harm you.

my partner

in the case of my partner, I'll have dreams that involve them cheating on me, which is something they have never done and would never do. it's an example of how messages from my guides are more symbolic than a one-to-one translation. essentially, my guides take any sort of lie to be a betrayal (for example, if my partner relapsed on nicotine and lied about it) and send me a dream that will reflect that betrayal.

family

for my family — and by family I mean people besides my parents, I'm fortunate to have a great relationship with them — I'll have dreams of arguing with or physically fighting them.

friends / frenemies / bullies

for friends, they are generally sweet, but they can and will represent your own insecurities in these healing experiences. if you find yourself being jealous of these friends in your daily life, they will pop up here in ways that bring that into focus. these will teach you how to confront your own insecurities, learn how to not hold them against others, and learn how to heal or move past them.

for frenemies or bullies — just generally people who don't treat you well — they will also be exaggerated in these tristate experiences. these are meant to teach you how to brush rudeness off your shoulder, and how to stand up for yourself.

how to tell when someone is coming back into your life, or if you have a soul contract / tie with them

these tristate experiences can also mean someone from your past is thinking of you, thinking of you in intimate ways, in your energy, dreaming of you, or going to reunite with you in the 3D soon in some way (in person, through text, through social media, etc).

it can feel as though you are speaking with them, the real them that exists in your life, not just a character in a dream. these dreams can be mundane, sexual — anything. sometimes people will check up on you, or they use these experiences to tell things or do things with you that they would not let themselves in person.

how you know you've done it wrong

at first, your guides may give you an easier time, letting you get used to these experiences before "punishing" you. these dreams are meant to align you with your highest self, your highest potential, so when you're acting out of ego or acting at low vibrations, you're doing it wrong.

once you've made some progress and learned what's going on, you'll notice a "punishment" for the times you act as your ego. for me, I'm immediately woken up or shifted back to my CR. it's genuinely instantaneous. this usually happens when I become physically aggressive in the dreams.

your meanings and signs may be different, but use mine as guidelines for just how weird and abstract they can be.

hope you enjoyed!

yoshi!!

[lovurg]

౨ৎ purely platonic — m. wheeler

𝐼. pairing/s: mike wheeler x gn!reader

𝐼𝐼. summary: after confessing your feelings to mike, he began avoiding you, leaving you in a state of confusion and heartache. you spent your days pondering over the past, trying to understand what had gone wrong and desperately attempting to forget about the whole situation.

𝐼𝐼𝐼. warnings: mike being an asshole, and miscommunication.

wouldn't you love to understand what he was truly feeling?

it has been weeks since you confessed and he was full on avoiding you and you were slowly getting tired of it. tired of all the “i need to think about it” yes you understood that of course, god how couldn’t you? you know the feeling but him ignoring you afterwards was just so plainly irritating and you wanted to curl up and die.

“he’s clearly avoiding you. he’s such an idiot, and, it’s not you, okay? he’s just a big pussy who can’t handle his feelings, he’s liked you since you were like what? five years old? lucas told me all about it and look. if he can’t figure out his feelings or if he cant talk to you about it then fuck him.” max said, holding you close as you teared up on her shoulder. it was complicated, and you kept telling yourself to stop crying over some stupid guy.

the same stupid guy you've liked ever since you found out your hair grew from your scalp not your ends.

now, you were stuck in a whirlwind of side glances and an inability to concentrate whenever he was around. he looked so happy, like he forgot everything that happened. and while he was having the time of his life, you were wallowing away in the corner of your room looking at meaningless platonic polaroid photos.

meaningless fucking polaroid pictures – they weren’t meaningless, no, not to you. the polaroid showed mike kissing your temple while you smiled brightly. both of you were covered in paint, you were painting dustin’s garage in this. a few weeks before you confessed.

was he leading me on? you thought, because friends don't typically kiss each other like that. not when one friend despises romance and the other is selectively kind, only to you. he held your hand, hugged you endlessly, and you almost fucking kissed on your birthday. none of that felt purely platonic.

you shouldn’t have ever confessed. everything would’ve gone like normal. and maybe you would never know what he felt about you but he did everything a boyfriend would do. and you just couldn't handle it. you thought you were strong, strong enough to resist the urge to confess, but here you were.

the next morning unfolded like any other. mike was hanging out with his friends, and max had chosen to spend the day with you, which made it pass relatively quickly. on your way home, you decided to stop by a spot that had been a special place for you and mike.

it used to be just the two of you, sharing moments and gazing at the view. the forest had always scared you, but with him, it felt safe. now, you were sitting there alone, lost in your thoughts.

suddenly, a twig snapped, and you turned your head to see mike. his eyes widened, and he offered an awkward smile.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, your disappointment and frustration evident in your voice. "here to reject me? go ahead, be my guest."

mike hesitated for a moment before speaking, "no, i actually, uh… i wanted to apologize. for everything, and yeah. i'm genuinely so sorry and…" you interrupted, "did max and dustin force you into this? you were never one for apologies. it's fine." you put on an awkward smile to ease the tension.

but mike called out your name, "let me finish. please. you hate being interrupted, so stop interrupting me."

you rolled your eyes but nodded, "okay, fine. go ahead. speak."

"i like you—no, i love you too," mike confessed, his words tumbling out with a mix of relief and vulnerability. "god, i was just being a damn coward about it because i didn't want to face you. how could you ever love someone like me? you're popular, you're amazing, you're so smart, and you use big words i can't even understand, and that's what i admire so much about you. jesus christ," he said your name, "i love you so much, you have absolutely no idea how much i just want to kiss you right now—"

before he could finish his sentence, you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. you rushed over to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him passionately. his arms wrapped around your waist, and your arms snaked up over his neck, pulling him even closer.

mike, slightly breathless but with a warm smile, managed to say, "that was… really nice, amazing. but my speech isn't done yet." both of you chuckled, and you urged him to continue, saying, "okay."

"when you said my bike was a little spruce, you were right," mike continued, his voice filled with sincerity. "you're always right. my tire had a hole, and when you helped me study for my biology test, i got a good score, even though ninety percent of it was just admiring you. but still, you get my point. you're too good for me. i don't deserve you."

you laughed softly and retorted, "fuck you, wheeler," while pecking his lips once more before wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "don't avoid me next time."

mike replied, "promise."

author's note: this is my first piece of fiction here, and it's quite short, but i hope you enjoyed it. please consider reblogging or liking it if you did! lots of love.

[saotoru]

10.31: GFD—GENTLE FEMDOM + ALL LEONS

happy halloween!! thank you to everyone who thirsted with me this month <3 here’s my last drabble on how all the different versions of leon like being dommed ♡

RE2R- PRAISE

of all the ways he loves being dommed, re2 leon has such a soft spot for being praised! nothing makes him squirm quite nearly much as hearing that he’s being so so good for you does. he needs you to praise him when he cums, babbles endlessly while he fucks his load into you, begging you to please tell me im your good boy, only yours, pleasepleaseplease i love you so much <3

RE4R- FREE USE

re4r leon has a terrible free use kink,,, he’s so tired of having to think and make decisions for himself, when nothing in his life has gone as planned; but as your personal free use boyfriend, he never has to! it’s actually embarrassing how much he fantasizes about being forced onto his knees by you, having his face fucked while his hands are bound behind his back, that he actually ends up being the one to ask you to please just use him </3 he just wants nothing more in the world than your pleasure be his only concern ♡

RE6- BITING

re6 has a thing for feeling your teeth on him !! he’s embarrassed about how loud he whines when your teeth sink into his lip while you kiss, when he feels your canines on his jugular, when you graze his tip while you suck him <3 he turns sorta brainless, mouth dropping open into an o and letting out little gasps and asks you to god please do that again <3

VENDETTA- ORGASM CONTROL

vendetta feels bitter about how so much of his life has been out of his control; that’s why he loves to be completely at your mercy, letting you take care of him and make all the decisions for him, like when he gets to cum! when it starts to feel too good, when he’s about to cum after thrusting into your gooey cunt for so long, he’ll stop because you didn’t give him permission to cum yet! pulls his cock out and rests it on your tummy and watches it throb while his orgasm ebbs away, but it’s okay because he loves bring controlled by you <3

INFINITE DARKNESS- FACE SITTING

id leon firmly believes there’s no better pleasure than feeling your full weight on his face. he’s so shameless about it too, draping himself over you while you sleep, waking you up with gentle touches, only for him to ask you to please sit on his face,,, he’ll mumble about how he’s so sorry for waking you up, for jerking off all night thinking about you grinding on his tongue to the point that he couldn’t wait any longer because he needs to taste you right now <3

DEATH ISLAND- OVERSTIM

di leon wishes he didn’t like overstim as much as he does! the palm of your hand circling over sensitive tip so so fast while he’s cumming hurts, it hurts so bad but he can’t get enough. bucking his hips, literally pleading for you to stop, yet makes no moves to get away from you. what’s worse is your teasing—how if he really wanted to stop he’d say the safe word, but no, he’s too much of a pain slut to stop, hm? ohh it makes him frustrated that you’re right and all he can do is moan and take it <3

[blackllghtshadow]

Power the Machine (Part one)

Hey, sorry for disappearing for some time, but I'm back with full force and as promised I wrote about Karl, hope you like it <3

Warning: Violence, cursing, mention of fatal fate, anger.

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

You worked for Karl Heisenberg, though you usually called him “Magnet” because of his powers.

Your days were simple enough: wake up, have breakfast, walk around the factory, help Karl with the machinery, and, if you were lucky, step outside to gaze at the sun—or, as you liked to call it, “making yourself blind.”

You never liked the outside world, which was why you chose to stay in the factory. It spared you from thinking about your unhealthy relationship with mechanical things. You swore you were cursed—any time you worked on a machine alone, it either broke down or completely shut off. Karl found your misfortune endlessly amusing.

Today was one of those days. Karl was out at a “family” meeting, leaving you alone in the factory.

“Damn it!”

You screamed in frustration for what felt like the two hundredth time. You’d been working on a small cleaning machine to help with the dust everywhere, but as always, problems piled up. First, you’d cut your palm on the blade underneath the machine. Then you lost a screw. And to top it all off, the factory’s electricity decided to malfunction.

“I swear, if this keeps up, I’m never getting out of bed again,” you muttered to yourself, your voice echoing in the empty space. You were alone, after all. Honestly, you needed a break—your frustration was driving you nuts. And it wasn’t like you could go cry to Karl about it since he was away.

After another twenty minutes of getting nowhere, you gave up and wobbled to your room, deciding to sleep off your frustration.

You blinked awake, groggy but a bit calmer—until you saw Karl’s hammer hovering above you, about to slam down on your head.

“Fuck no!”

You screamed, rolling out of bed and hitting the floor just as the hammer crashed onto your bed, breaking it in two. The hammer floated ominously, swinging like it had a mind of its own. But you knew exactly who was behind this.

“Fuck you, Karl,” you grumbled, standing up and brushing the dust off your clothes. Storming out of your room, you made a beeline for Karl’s office, determined to make him pay for nearly killing you and destroying your favorite place to rest.

You slammed his door open, ready to unleash hell.

“Karl, you piece of shit!”

You screamed at the man, who wasn’t even paying attention. Annoyed by his indifference, you grabbed a screwdriver lying nearby and stabbed him in the shoulder with it.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” Karl roared, shoving you away, his tone laced with anger.

Blinded by your fury, you lunged to stab him again, but he was quicker this time, using his powers to fling the screwdriver out of your hand. Undeterred, you jumped at him with fists flying. He blocked every punch, which only added to your frustration. Desperate, you aimed a kick at his groin, but he shifted just in time, making you hit his thigh instead. Before you could regain your footing, he trapped your leg between his.

Now off-balance, you had to grab onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso to avoid falling flat on your face.

“What the fuck is right, Karl!” you growled. “You destroyed my room!”

Karl growled right back.

“You destroy my factory every damn day, and I don’t go around stabbing you for it!”

You paused because… well, he wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t about to admit it. You started squirming, trying to free your leg, but Karl kept it pinned, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“Let me go, you asshole!” you shouted, smacking your palm against his chest repeatedly. When that didn’t work, you resorted to pinching his nipple and twisting it hard.

Karl howled in pain then shoved you back with enough force to send you stumbling a few steps. He clutched his chest where you’d inflicted your very justified revenge.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he snapped, glaring at you as if you were the unreasonable one in this situation.

“Oh, I don’t know, Karl,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe it’s the fact that you tried to crush me with your giant freaking hammer? Or maybe it’s because my bed is now a pile of rubble! Take your pick!”

Karl rolled his eyes like you were being dramatic. “I wasn’t actually trying to crush you,” he muttered, straightening up.

“Oh, well, that makes it so much better,” you retorted, throwing your hands in the air. “Next time, just say you’re summoning me instead of trying to turn me into factory paste!”

Karl gave you a lopsided grin—the kind that said he knew exactly how much he was irritating you and enjoyed every second of it. “What’s the fun in that? I figured this would wake you up quicker.”

“Wake me up quicker?!” You were practically foaming at the mouth now. “Karl, I’m going to—”

“Relax, will you? You’re fine. Aren’t you?” He gestured to you dismissively, as if nearly killing you was a minor inconvenience.

You glared at him, hands clenching into fists. “Oh, I’m fine all right. Fine enough to kick your ass.”

Karl laughed, loud and hearty, like you’d just told the funniest joke he’d heard all week. “Kick my ass? Sure, sweetheart. I’d like to see you try.”

You didn’t need more of an invitation. Fueled by your rage, you lunged at him again, this time aiming for his smug face. Karl caught your wrist mid-air, holding it with ease like you were a misbehaving child.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” he said, his voice taking on a mocking, almost paternal tone. “But you’re gonna need a lot more than that to take me down.”

You gritted your teeth, twisting in his grip. “Let me go, Magnet, or I swear—”

“What? You’ll scream at me some more? Maybe try to stab me again? Face it, Y/N—you’re all bark and no bite.”

Something about his tone, that mix of smugness and amusement, made your blood boil. Without thinking, you lifted your free hand and slapped him across the face. Hard.

The sound echoed through the room, and for a moment, both of you froze.

Karl slowly turned his head back to look at you, his expression shifting from shock to something much darker. His lips curled into a wicked grin, and his eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint.

“Bad move,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

Before you could respond, Karl tightened his grip on your wrist and yanked you forward, spinning you around so your back was pressed against his chest. He trapped your arms at your sides, holding you firmly in place.

“Let me go, you overgrown magnet!” you hissed, thrashing against him.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest behind you. “Not until you calm down, sweetheart. You’ve caused enough damage for one day.”

“You’re the one who broke my bed!”

“And you’re the one who stabbed me!”

You opened your mouth to retort but quickly realized you didn’t have much of an argument there. Instead, you let out a frustrated growl and stomped on his foot as hard as you could.

Karl flinched but didn’t let go. “Nice try, but it’s gonna take more than that to shake me off.”

You stopped struggling for a moment, breathing hard, and craned your neck to glare up at him. “I hate you.”

He smirked, leaning closer until his lips were near your ear. “No, you don’t.”

That smug bastard.