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autizzysonikko · 11 months

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blackcur-rants · 2 years

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In the end, the greatest difference between Sia Kate Furler’s abomination “Music” and Dana Terrace’s animated classic “The Owl House” is this. Where Music Gamble ends her story by becoming ‘normal’ and assimilating into neurotypical society, Luz Noceda becomes her best self by leaning into the different way her mind functions and ends up changing everything for everyone she knows on the Boiling Isles, in large part because her friends, her mother, and her mentor Eda accept her for who she is.

Where Music is tamed, Luz is simply…loved.

@cynicalclassicist @cwonicdepwession @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @arianadeb0se @flightsofwonder

#the owl house #Luz Noceda #Music cw #Sia cw #ableism cw #Paraphrasing Kyle Kallgren here #references to abuse

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plinchy · 4 days

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I did it, Noel! ... (I'm so glad I'm wearin' my mask)

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orange-ghost · 11 months

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Long post? I've been thinking a lot about Sia's "Music" lately. No, I'm not trying to insult her. I'm talking about the film. Her diagnosis has been all over my timelines, and most people are condemning her for the film's content nonetheless.

I think all the other big Autism accounts have criticized her well enough that I don't need to add on. As they should. They've all said what I wanted to say & I personally won't be forgiving her so easily. But the "Music" fiasco... actually reminds me of how PAPERBOY (my webcomic) was born, in a way?

Matthew & his classmates have lived in my head since 2015. And I remember that when I started PB, I actually didn't know I was Autistic yet, either. At the time, all I knew was that I was a kid in Special Ed, that disability was an unspeakable topic, and that a lot of the people involved in it treated me badly.

Kids' brains are like sponges-- they soak up whatever's around them. And I was raised drowning inside of an awful program. One that didn't show nor teach us respect, acceptance, or anything like that.

I resented, looked down at "certain" kids with the more noticeable disabilities, for "making SPED kids look bad! You're the reason we ALL get seen as less than!" And the thought that I could ever really count as a disabled kid was my worst nightmare. Because in my head, being disabled would mean that all this abuse was justified. And that I was truly & utterly inferior.

And I'd wring out all that nasty thought-process water. It would spill onto the pages of notebooks that became PAPERBOY's first drafts. And oh, believe me, it stained.

But, unlike Sia, I was a kid then. She's grown. She also put that shitty story up for all to see, while mine was restricted to notebooks. And it was only a year or two after I learned about being diagnosed as a baby that the ND movement(s) started blowing up online. So I looked into it, and like... it opened my 14-year-old mind up a lot.

So you know what I started doing? CHANGING THE STORY. Writing a better one. One that was much less hateful. And I changed the core message from "fuck disability, and fuck Special Ed too!" to "being different is not something we should feel punished and pain for. We are a community. And we deserve better."

Autism is neutral & one if the most human things I can think of. It's not to be demonized or glorified. It's not a tragedy, and it's not always some amazing miracle, either. We are people, not props. We deserve to be spoken & storytold about realistically. And we should be embraced at the end of the day. You need to be willing to learn how to listen & respect life's Autistics as they are.

Sia can't undo the real life harm she & her ableism inflicted. I can't, either. But... she CAN choose to change, grow up & out of it, and maybe lead her audience with her. Hopefully, with her new diagnosis, all that time offline, and a crap ton of self-reflection, she can. I mean, I managed, and I'm nowhere near as life-experienced, smart, OR skilled as she is!

Truth be told, I kinda hope she makes another Autism movie? With a big writing team of experienced, Autistic storytellers who know what they're doing. Cast Autistic actors. And instead of writing about somebody that she clearly doesn't see as an equal, she can actually level with them & write them a better story, too. "Music" was dedicated to somebody, right? I think that Somebody deserved a story where they're not just seen, but they're heard. And spotlighted! (Music certainly wasn't.) So... why not try again?

Or hey, maybe not even that, maybe she can try writing from her own experiences as an Autistic woman this time. Growing up undiagnosed, what that was like for her, dealing with a taught self-hatred in a mask that seems to have controlled her life.

I don't know. I like to live my life focusing more on what we CAN do about something instead of doubling down or getting stuck on what we can't. And I think others should, too.

Doubt she's reading this, but like... you've gotta make this right, Sia. Do better. Figure something else out. That's all.

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angelboybreakdowns · 11 months

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i hope my younger sister dies.

#cw death mention #like. half /sia half /srs

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autie-hobbit · 11 months

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As Sia has revealed that she is Autistic in the last couple of days, here is what we're not gonna do.

A) Accuse her of lying to absolve the harm she did to this community.

And B) Say that her being Autistic absolves the harm she caused to this community.

I have seen so many people do A, and that is not okay. While I haven't seen anyone do B, I suspect her fans probably will, going off of how they reacted when all of the "Music" stuff originally happened.

Autistic people are capable of ableism towards other Autistic people. Autistic people are capable of being shitty people. Sia being Autistic doesn't absolve her of anything she did. And yes, people acting like she's lying is pushing this narrative.

I'm sorry if you don't like the fact that Sia is Autistic, but you don't get to decide that she's not just because you don't like her.

#actually autistic #autism #asd #autism spectrum disorder #autistic #sia #sia discourse #swearing cw #nat's posting

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moniehon · 2 years

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I bought tiny tomatoes even though I know the texture it's annoying for me bc like it's okay for like the first two times I eat them then the feeling starts again and they make me🤢

#ajdhsejsj bc like....the taste is fine #and theyre easy to make #but it gets hhhhhqgsa arghhhh gagdhegehw #bleah #come si chiamano i pomodorini in inglese boh #vabbe tiny tomatoes sia #im sorry for the people who followed me for my art and gets only posts about me complaining #ajdhejwjdjdufjdj #giu txt #cw food #oh also each time i forget how much they actually disgust me at some point #so after months of not buying them im like #yeah it can't be that bad #amsjsjsks

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bywons · 1 month

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𖦹 ICE, ICE, BABY! — PSH

⌕ where park sunghoon takes you on an ice skating date

pairing. bf!park sunghoon x f!reader wc. 0.5k tw/cw. kissing genre. fluff sru's note. requested ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated, PLS REBLOG if u like the fic !

the chilly winter air blooms goosebumps beneath your skin, eventually drying your lips which makes you lick them yet again. you wish you had brought lip balm with you to moisten your dehydrated lips, but a kiss from park sunghoon was just enough.

“c'mon, scared of a little ice skating?”, sunghoon smirks, suppressing a small giggle within himself as he watches you hold on to his shoulders for dear life to avoid a devastating crash against the ice floor beneath you.

“easy to say when you're a pro”, you scoff, your body gliding around the ice rink solely by the support of your boyfriend.

your ice skates did a horrible job of keeping you steady on your feet. your equilibrium constantly disrupts you, causing wobbly legs which makes you stumble, loud gasps leaving your mouth. or maybe you are at fault here really, first day at ice skating and expecting to ace it so quick? yeah, not happening.

but what did happen next had you screaming inside, and melting outside. your boyfriend of just four months, park sunghoon, kisses your cheek and paints it deeper, as he shoots the most endearing smile down at you, his hands wrapping tighter around your waist.

“does this help?”, he whispers. yeah well that does help you regain your stability and guide through the ice better indeed, your knees aren't wobbly anymore, the toe blades a lot more still.

but with that mesmerising face of his, not a single brain cell of yours could focus on the ice rink.

“kinda, i still c-can’t do it on my own though”, the stutter gives away your faux confidence and you mentally curse yourself.

“but i think you're doing just fine?”, sunghoon chuckles, letting his grip on your waist loosen up. and when you loose balance without his support again, it evolves to a laughter.

“totally not funny ‘hoon!”, you roll your eyes, your hands returning to his forearms to grip them harder, “why'd you bring me here to show off your ice skating skills and not even help me?”

“well maybe i also wanted to show off my girl at the ice rink?”, sunghoon says with a smug smile, to which he receives another eye roll from you, this time accompanied with a blush as he brings you forward face to face.

“really funny, nobody even knows us here”, you scoff.

“they don't have to”, sunghoon whispers again, his hands clasping the either sides of your face and pulling you dangerously close to his face, his starry eyes lost in yours.

and it's just a moments’ wait before sunghoons lips find yours, falling magically into puzzle pieces. it's soft, stirring and warm, immediately giving you butterflies in your stomach. you don't know how long the kiss lasted but every second of it felt so embracing. just like home.

you are the first one to pull back from the kiss, face hot and flushed from the kiss, and you try to look at his face but he's still looking at you, specifically your lips with his comforting touch lingering on your cheeks. you gulp, trying to hold back his forearms to stabilise yourself again.

but in the search of his hands, you find none on you.

“hey!”, sunghoon squeals, giving you the biggest toothy grin, “the kiss helped you skate huh?”

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @fleumiu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @lilacnini @haechansbbg nets! @/k-labels

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rookthorne · 2 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

A long day led to a long week, snowballing into a long, long festive season. The boys — your knights in shining armour, residing in their castle of artistry — they knew long before you yourself did, and they had an idea of how to turn it around, to bring a smile to your lips and to restore your vitality.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 1.1k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Absolute tooth rotting fluff, very light angst

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𖠺 I got so damned teary eyed writing this, and it is all for @sebstanwhore for inspiring me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𖠺 Angel By The Wings by Sia

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗡𝟯 — Free Space — Masterlist 𖠺 @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗜𝟰 — Matching Tattoos — Masterlist 𖠺 @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine — Masterlist 𖠺 @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Polyamory (January), Forehead Kiss (February) — Masterlist 𖠺 @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Being part of a polyamorous relationship dynamic with Bucky and Steve came with both its challenges and its blessings, in equal measures and abundances.

One thing, however, always threw you for a loop. It was how mischievous and sly the two of them were, especially when they compiled their scheming ways to pull off a plan.

The group messages were the highlight of the afternoon, as well as a pleasant, happy escape from the absolute chaos that was your shop — it seemed everybody and their grandmother was in need of a bouquet or help with something, and by no means were you going to turn them down.

You worked harder than ever before, and when it was finally time to lock up your haven for the night and head over to Quartet Ink, a sigh fell from your lips. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your mind, body, and soul, all aspects of cheeriness long dashed.

The boys had promised you sanctuary and an overwhelming number of hugs and the comfort that came with them — the two things you needed desperately.

Your shoes crunched over the sidewalk, the ladened snow piled against the buildings that lined one side, and your breath puffed in a misted fog — the cold Brooklyn winter was never kind to the flora.

The lights in Quartet Ink blazed yellow over the pavement, and you pushed open the door with a grunt of effort, and you were enveloped by the warmth of their castle.

“Petal! Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky called, his voice far away. You turned around from the door to find him at the other end of the shop, standing behind a gigantic printer that was whirring loudly. Before you could say anything in return, the papers in his hands were slapped down onto the table beside him, and he jogged over to envelop you in a hug. “How’s our pretty girl, huh?”

“Tired,” you mumbled and wrapped your arms around his strong back. “So, so tired.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “‘M so sorry, baby—c’mon, let’s get you a warm drink while we wait for Stevie.”

His hand rested on the small of your back as he guided you to the plushest couch in their waiting area, and he grabbed a blanket — the fluffiest, softest one you had ever seen; the very same one they bought at your favourite store just for you for when you visited — before he wrapped it tightly around your shoulders and tucked it under your thighs.

“There y’are, all snug,” he murmured. The press of his lips on your forehead made your stomach flutter. “I’ll be back in a flash.” The heavy boots he wore thumped quietly over the wooden floor as he retreated to the refreshment booth.

A few moments passed while he was out of sight; quiet clinks and shuffles the only give away that he was still tinkering away. “Do you want sugar–? Wait, who am I kiddin’, you’re sweet enough, you don’t need no more.”

A snort of laughter bubbled in your throat, and Bucky peered around the corner. “I’m not talkin’ shit,” he said as he pointed a spoon at you. “You’re sweet, an’ cute, an’ adorable–”

“We get the picture, babe,” Steve said suddenly, and the back door chime rang with his voice. “Which is why I brought these.” In his hand was a bag, full to the brim with all kinds of confectionery. “Can never deprive our girl of treats.”

“Very fuckin’ true.”

Steve sank down onto the couch next to you and put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. “You doin’ okay, doll?”

You blinked sleepily at him, but you smiled. There was no way you couldn’t not smile when they doted on you. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

There was a quiet thump in front of you. “Here you go, baby,” Bucky said, and he moved around the table to sit on your other side. “Before you drink up, Stevie and I have somethin’ for you…”

“What–?” Confusion made your brain grind to a halt — there had been no allusion to a surprise in their texts when they told you to come over after you closed up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s–” Steve paused, licking his lips nervously. You noticed that the both of them were fidgeting with the cuffs of the long-sleeved shirts, on the left side. “It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a little while, if we’re bein’ honest. You see… We knew, when you said yes to us that day, that this was somethin’ special.”

The memory of sitting on the very same couch you were on right now, all that time ago, when they asked you out on a date played on a loop in your mind — the nerves and the sheer overwhelming attention of them very well prominent to this day.

It made your stomach know with a mounting sense of apprehension.

“What this punk is tryin’ to say, Petal,” Bucky began, and he grabbed hold of your hand, his thumb brushing delicately over the skin of your knuckles. “Is that we did somethin’ we felt was right—even if it’s so soon, we don’t care.” He looked to Steve, bright, blue eyes shining with emotion. “Ready?”

Steve nodded. In tandem, their right hands grabbed the cuff of their left sleeves, and pulled upwards, exposing the once bare skin of their forearms.

The reveal of what lay under the fabric made you choke on a sob, both utter shock and awe warred in your mind.

Along the skin of their wrists, within the maze of the other tattoos that decorated their skin, was the flower of your birth — tucked up against your absolute favourite Disney character. The artwork was indescribably theirs, fine lines and swoops of colour that would leave a painter of the Renaissance envious.

You couldn’t gather the words to express just what it meant to you; what it felt like to see such artistry for you — of you — on their skin.

“Oh, doll,” Steve whispered, and he shook you gently. “No tears, honey—it’s alright.”

The sudden wetness on your cheeks shocked you. “Oh– Shit, I’m sorry–”

“No apologisin’ either,” Bucky warned, and he kissed your cheek, his lips collecting and stopping the trail that threatened to fall down onto your lap. “We love you—you’re our girl, our Petal, and we wanted you with us.”

“Boys–” A hiccup interrupted the flow of words that threatened to burst free. “I just– Oh, fucking hell, I love you both so much.” You met their gazes, eyes flickering between the blue grey of Bucky’s and the ocean blue of Steve’s; desperately pouring out all of what you felt into a single look.

They didn’t answer with words — they only held you tight.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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dujour13 · 10 months

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🔮 for Woljif please? Unless you'd rather do it for Sia.

Thank you Ash 💕 such a good prompt, I only hope I can do it justice.

cw: kids are bullies

On the cliffside edge of the slums a pack of street urchins squatted in the mud before the peeling whitewashed planks of a whorehouse, because in the early evening when the sunlight hit the wall just right it became their theater of shadow-animals. The only toys they owned.

He came up obliquely and hunkered down among them unnoticed. Underfoot his tattered boots crunched on shards of broken glass, fish bones and discarded ribbons.

By now he knew there were only two types of people: normal people and tieflings. Of course normal people came in all sorts of shapes, colors and sizes, and so did tieflings, but what set tieflings apart was the horns.

When he was small (it was funny to think about now, he was so naïve when he was five) he thought tieflings were scary. The other kids would point them out and spit, and whisper the word like an accusation, and sometimes they would run and hide from them as if they were dangerous, so of course he did too. And tieflings were ugly. A lot of them had snake eyes and pointy teeth, and a half-starved, shifty look he had learned very young meant trouble: volatile tempers, snatching hands.

Then his own horns started growing in, the baby nubs itching and cracking the skin as they pushed out between his curls and gradually began to spiral.

He couldn’t recall now the exact moment the realization struck his child’s mind but the shock of it still hit like a brick in the face.

I’m a tiefling.

The other children realized too, you can bet on it. He did recall all too clearly that exact moment: the time he was scratching until his nails came away red and Mag had done a double take, reached over and seized the little horn right out from between his curls and dragged him before the other children to put this outrage on public display.

I am not, I am not! Let go!

That was when the tail-pulling and rock-throwing started. Most of them flat out refused to play with him anymore. Only the beggar girl he and the other boys used to throw rocks at didn’t seem to mind, or even to notice, probably because she was loopy. She was twice his height and hopeless at hide-at-seek but it was something, at least.

If he slipped into the crowd unnoticed like this, sometimes they tolerated his presence. He projected a rabbit onto the wall that someone’s shadow-wolf tried to devour, and a little scene unfolded that made all the children laugh.

At some point Mag must have noticed him, though, because soon the bigger boy made a hand-shadow on the wall with both fists interlocked and two curled fingers sticking up.

“I’m a filthy tiefling,” Mag’s thumb made the shadow-puppet say.

Woljif’s eyes narrowed.

All the other children of the grubby peanut gallery raised their fists in an army of shadow-crusaders. “Kill the demon!”

Fury choking him, he watched as they chased Mag’s tiefling back and forth. He couldn’t let this go. They didn’t get it. He was a kid like them. The injustice of it rose like bile in his seven-year-old throat.

His tail whipped. He balled his fists. Don’t call attention, he heard Yger’s gravelly warning in his mind. Mind your mouth, boy, he heard Gran.

The shadow-crusaders piled on, trampling Mag’s bleating tiefling into the ground.

Enough. They were stupid.

“Tieflings are not demons!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

They all glared at him over their shoulders.

“Piss off, demon,” said Mag.

“You piss off!”

With a wicked look Mag began to raise one finger. To point and accuse, or to sic the other kids on him? No. With slow, determined malice he turned the finger toward the warped boards of the whorehouse wall.

“Look!”

Now that he was standing, the horned shadow he projected seemed to loom over the squatting children.

“Demon!” shouted Mag. “De-mon! De-mon! De-mon!” And the other children took up the chant.

Woljif felt a stinging in his eyes that threatened to betray him, a betrayal from which he knew he would never recover. His mouth pulled tight. By now he had mostly learned to swallow that all-too-familiar lump of searing hurt rising in his chest.

“Am not,” he corrected them in an almost steady voice.

They wouldn’t listen. They went on chanting.

If they wouldn’t listen he would have to show them. Eyes flicking to the wall he advanced closer so that his shadow got smaller, more like a regular kid’s, but they kept chanting until the burning shame in his throat rose and rose and caught fire like lamp oil, and suddenly his whole body shuddered as with a whoosh an unnatural blue flame erupted from his skin, bright against an encompassing darkness like a total eclipse blotting the sunlight. A cold breeze ruffled their hair.

For a moment there was not a sound. The children gaped.

It was like it had swallowed the sun. Black as the Abyss, goat-horned and bat-winged, burning with cold menace. Crouching in its shade, the petrified children suddenly looked like bug-eyed mudskippers, mouths opening and closing in silent terror.

And then they scattered.

“Yeah, run! You’ll see!” Woljif scooped up a handful of mud and lobbed it after Mag, but it was only once they’d all disappeared that he caught his ragged breath, wiped his nose and turned slowly, fearfully, to gaze upon his crime.

It was scary.

He looked all the way down to where it connected to his feet just like a normal shadow should, and then back up again.

It even had claws.

Afraid and yet too curious to resist, he raised one hand, and it raised its claw in mimic.

Huh.

He waved.

It waved back. Almost cheerful-like.

And then it receded in the orange sunset flooding across the Sellen, and he was alone again.

#thanks for the prompt!!#turbulentpumpkin43 #woljif jefto #pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #pwotr pals

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duckymcdoorknob · 2 years

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Could I have an emergency request please? I feel like I still have to be nice about it.

Not only is a triple blow, but I’ve relapsed, another time with my eating disorder and had suicidal thoughts from family. It’s just getting so bad and loud again I’m so sorry.

Could I have Reki kyan comforting his s/o with this kind of problem?

Hell yes you can.

I’m pushing this up so far because Reki is such a comfort character and I FEEL EXACTLY AS YOU DO RN.

I’m so damn proud of you for reaching out to me. Please let me know if you need anything at all.

I love you, anon.

CW BELOW THE CUT: ED behaviors, Suic1dal Thoughts.

𝑅𝑒𝑘𝑖 𝐾𝑦𝑎𝑛

Anyone who sees you and Reki together will immediately argue that the two of you are soulmates.

You both fit like peas in a pod, mutually loving and supporting each other no matter the issue. So, when you suddenly distanced yourself from him, Reki was instantly concerned.

His attempts to keep his daily life at bay failed, for he was only worried about you and what was eating you.

Mr. Oka noticed, telling him to take a few days off. So, he hung out at Sia La Luce during the evenings. He met with his friends, mind swimming.

Langa and Miya noticed, asking him if he had been taking care of himself. Shadow noticed, offering to fight whoever Reki needed him to. Finally, Joe and Cherry noticed, the pink-haired male cutting into the thick tension.

“Reki, what could be causing you so much stress?”

“(Y/N).” He answered breathlessly, taking his head through his hands, “They’ve disappeared on me. I haven’t spoken to them in about three days, and I’m just so worried about them I-“

“I saw them yesterday.” Langa interrupted suddenly, “They were at our spot in the park last night. I tried to say hi, but they ignored me. If I’m being honest, they’re probably there again tonight.”

Reki’s eyes widened as he jumped out of his seat, immediately looking to Joe for permission.

“Go, Kiddo. I’ll keep your plate warm.” The man said, wrapping the boy in a jacket.

Reki wasted no time grabbing his own jacket, in the event that you would need one, and raced to the park on his skateboard. To his relief, you were exactly where Langa said you were.

“(Y/N)!” He called, sprinting toward you, “Sweetheart, hey, can you hear me?”

You look up at him, shivering violently with tears in your eyes. Your boyfriend carefully placed the jacket on your shoulders. He sat down on the bench next to you, “I’m here when you’re ready to talk to me, love.”

Instead of talking, you simply fell forward into his chest and let out all of your lamentations. Reki held you securely, rubbing the top of your head with one hand, and holding your waist with another. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s alright.” He whispered.

Your love held you as you finally were able to cry out all of the pent up troubles. You inevitably stained his signature yellow hoodie, but he couldn’t give two shits right now.

“Reki I-I’m… I’m so sorry,” you whimpered.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Your boyfriend reassured you, “Keeping stuff inside will just tear you apart eventually.”

“I- I don’t.. I don’t know if im ready…” you whisper in reply.

“Then don’t be. I have as long as you need.”

After a few more minutes of quiet reassurance, you were finally ready to tell Reki of your week.

“M-My family…” you began, “They’re uh.. heh, being themselves again.”

“I see.”

“I just don’t really want to be here anymore.” You admit. “I-I hate who I am. I can’t stomach a single thing. Even the thought of eating makes me so sick. You shouldn’t be here, I don’t want you to be burdened with taking care of me.”

“(Y/N), sweetie-pie, there’s no place I’d rather be.” Reki replied with a gentle smile, “If it means that I can get you to acknowledge that how you’re feeling is okay, I’ll stay with you till infinity.”

“I want you to know first and foremost, that I love you to the moon and back. There isn’t a thing about you that I would change, and I hope that one day I can help you see that. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, that’s precisely why I’ve fallen so in love with you.”

“I want you here by my side until we’re both old and wrinkly, playing card games in a nursing home.” This comment got a watery chuckle out of you.

“I love you, Reki.” You replied, wiping your tears.

“I love you too, (Y/N). You’re so amazing, and I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You’re worth so much more than you think you are, and there’s just something about you that makes me love you so much more every time I see you. It will get better, I promise you. We’re not going to be stuck here forever, the clock will continue to run.”

“Now, if you’re feeling up to it, I can ask Joe to make you something very light at Sia La Luce, so you can join us for dinner. If not, you are more than welcome to come home with me. We can watch that one video compilation of the cats that you love so much.”

Regardless of your decision for dinner, you opted to join Reki at Joe’s restaurant. You were very pleased to see everyone, especially after a very enthusiastic hug from little Miya(who promptly let go and muttered insults along the lines of “stupid slime, making me worry”).

It would be a long journey to self love and re-discovery. But, you knew in your heart that if Reki was by your side, there’s nothing that you couldn’t do.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

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thetentaclecommander · 2 months

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The Prince of My Dreams (18+)

Rated E; Smut involving knives and plants. And nothing involving tentacles, hands and nails. Fandom: Resident Evil Main Ship: Nemesis/Jill Valentine Side Ships: Albert Wesker/Jill Valentine, Albert Wesker/Excella Gionne, mentioned Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine Chapters: 1/1 CW: possible dubcon due to mind control, implied mental and physical manipulation, implied/referenced medical torture, fear kink, faint blood mention, smut involving knives and fingers and tentacles, really fuck those Progenitor plants, tonal shift to 'happy' (full tag list on AO3) Summary: On Valentine’s Day, Jill was treated to a not-so-great home-cooked breakfast, handpicked (torn up, really) wildflowers, and a homemade card by her mate and child. It made the not-so-comforting dream full of awful memories fade away from her mind. Sometimes, purposeful forgetfulness can be its own ‘gift’. (You know full well I wouldn’t skip a Valentine's no matter how late >:) Filling in some blanks about her time with Wesker and Excella. Well, as reliable as that is.) ________________________________________________ Excerpt- One watching, ever watching in the shadows, the statue and decoration that breathed stood in place as commanded. Her masters danced and Jill watched with her eyes looking upon all this decadence built on the misery of others, too beneath the ones in this room to even breathe their air. In watching, Jill wasn’t even allowed to counter that statement, rough hands and built strength marking her as one of this world’s lessers. No, it was his new world she was to have; the ‘chance’ at inheriting a new evolved life generously given borne from him and his madness. Unlike the well-heeled director, Jill refused wholesale the idea of any world he would ever create; a world of nightmares if his ‘work’ was of any future indication. ............... The circle of thoughts brewing threatened to pool and fill her mind with the creeping dread of memories that ate her, humiliated her, and screamed at her before her eyes glanced about the room. Around her, around and along the dresser, the chairs, tables, and all the furniture were flowers. Flowers not from the garden. Wildflowers: truthfully, they were weeds. But they all surrounded her, flowers pulled up from the root all the color of a deep purple blue. Jill smelt the air and could smell the hint of something burned. An attempt at cooking. As she stretched her arms, a sliver of paper poked at her side. It was folded over like a small book. Jill opened it and smiled, the prior thought train finally leaving her. happi valentine’s day! from me and daddy. Written in a childlike scrawl, but the spelling is mostly on point. Under the words was a hand-drawn picture of what was meant to be her, Nemesis and Sia with a giant heart between them. It was so sweet of them. (Continue reading The Prince of My Dreams on A03)

#nemesis x jill #monster x human #nemestine #monsterfucker #terato #dark fic #thetentaclecommander writes stuff #villianfucker #ao3 fanfic #crackship #rarepair #weskertine #wesker x jill #resident evil tyrant #resident evil au #valentines day #canon divergent au

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manonamora-if-reviews · 5 months

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The Tin Mug by Alice E. Wells, Sia See and Jkj Yuio

============= Links

Play the game See other reviews of the game

============= Synopsis

The Tin Mug is a short illustrated children's story of around 10 minutes. Meet the Tin Mug and his friends, Colin the colander, Silvia the spoon and Stu the stew pot as well as several others. Find out what happens in the magic of the Mug's birthday!

============= Other Info

The Tin Mug is a Strand game, submitted to the 2022 Edition of the IFComp. It ranked 51st overall.

Status: Completed Genre: Fantasy, Children's story

CW: /

============= Playthrough

First played: 3-Oct-2022 Played: 13-Dec-2023 Playtime: around 15min Rating: 3 /5 Thoughts: But we investigate little...

============= Review

The Tin Mug is a fairly short choice-game where you play as a tin mug, on its birthday. It is a fairly linear story, with the binary choices leading to the same ending. The game is maybe more meant for children, but it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Spoilers ahead. It is recommended to play the game first. The review is based on my understanding/reading of the story.

Though it is your birthday - as a tin mug - you are faced with many challenges: fancier china and crockery looking down on you for being so cheep, rowdy children not caring much for things, and well... the lack of birthday wishes. Through trials and tribulations, things take a charming turn, leading to a well deserved send-off. It is simple but hits the mark. Good deeds always pay off.

And had cute illustrations to accompany the text!

While it was very cute, I struggled most with the program used for this game. Strand is a parser-choice hybrid format (though it uses only the choice mechanic here), where the formatting of the text leave to be desired. - For longer passages, the program would force you to scroll back to the top of the added text to pick the story up from your last choice. This was particularly egregious when illustrations were added through the new bits of text. - As for the illustrations, their scaling didn't quite work, covering often too much of the page, forcing you to zoom out to get it in full. - Often, the dialogue would be formatted in ways that made it difficult to distinguish who was speaking when, as the speaker would change multiple times within one line/paragraph.

It is an entry with lots of heart, but needs a little tweaking still.

=============

OG Review during the IFComp:

Among the swarm of serious, scary and strenuous entries, it is nice to find sweet and soft ones to balance it out. Like Esther’s, The Tin Mug is a short children story with a lovely heart. The Tin Mug uses his birthday to do some good deeds :slight_smile:

While it was very cute, I had some issues with it (I think most of them are related to the program used):

The way the dialog was formatted made it often difficult to distinguish between speakers (some line/paragraphs would change speaker multiple times).

After some options, the text would move so far up, that you had to scroll to catch up. It mainly happened when new chapter started and when an illustration you appear.

In a similar vein, I feel like the game would benefit from breaks between chapters by starting a new page altogether.

Aside from the last illustration, I think the pictures are too large. I had to zoom out for some of them to get it in full.

Your choices make very little difference. There is a slight variation in the text, but the story is very much a straight line.

Overall, a fun cute play.

#The Tin Mug #Alice E. Wells #Sia See #Jkj Yuio #interactive fiction #complete #2022 #review #ifcomp #custom system

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jazzluca · 7 months

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BREAKDOWN ( Deluxe ) Generations LEGACY EVOLUTION

Mestamente, siamo arrivati alla fine della raccolta dei nuovi Stunticon Legacy con questo BREAKDOWN, quinto e ultimo componente della più recente versione di Menasor, squadra partita quasi col botto ma che appunto trova la sua conclusione in questo modellino tutt'altro che soddisfacente.

Infatti, se il remold di Dead End da Dragstrip era accettabile, vista la differenza delle due auto, molto meno è questo qua di B.D. da Wild Rider, dato che il veicolo rimane pigramente lo stesso, un'AUTO DA CORSA stile Ferrari 308, con solamente la parte superiore posteriore rifatta per somigliare specificatamente all'originale modello di Lamborghini Countach, e spostando quindi i fori delle armi per poterci piazzare un alettone rimovibile.

Che poi sì, a guardar bene alla fine in generale quella Ferrari non si discosta TROPPO dalla Lambo, visto che anche qui abbiamo le parti laterali del cofano un po' rialzate rispetto a quella centrale, ma PERLOMENO potevano sprecarsi nelrifare i finestrini e metterci le stanghette tipiche della Countauch, giusto per rafforzare l'illusione, quantomeno!

Anzi, peggio, che sta cosa dei finestrini l'hanno corretta nella versione ricolorata del pack gifset di Menasor, quindi ci troviamo oltre il danno pure la beffa. -__-

Ma sulla versione repack ci torno pure poi, e restando nella colorazione, il bianco principale è… troppo bianco, ad essere puntigliosi, laddove in realtà era un po' più sfumato nel beige, così come anche nelle versioni precedenti tipo il Combiner Wars.

E fa davvero fa strano dover rimpiangere l'auto dell'omonimo CW, che nelle libertà estetiche che si prendeva alla fine ricordava di più l'iconica automobile che fu di Sideswipe. ^^'

Ma se da un lato il Caimano Legacy è copiaincollato dal collega Squalo, da un altro invece si differenzia del tutto dal resto degli altri 3 compagni di squadra, dato che, come accennavo sopra, i fori posteriori per armi sono occupati dall'alettone, facendo svanire così la possibilità di armare l'auto con le due pistole del robot che ricordavano i cannoni bicanna dei G1… anche perchè la pistola è solo una, per lui!! ^^'

Perlomeno, l'arma del robot trova posto nascosta sotto il cofano, ma, ancora, possibile che Breakdown in questa maniera sia la mosca bianca del team? Capisco il fatto di dover piazzare l'alettone, ma era tanto difficoltoso e dispendioso fare comunque due pistole, che si sistemavano nei suddetti fori, e poi riattaccarci sopra o dietro le armi l'alettone? -_-

Passando alla TRASFORMAZIONE, è ovviamente quella uguale al Legacy Squalo, laddove il G1 Caimano ribaltava lateralmente all'indietro la parte posteriore dell'auto che diveniva le gambe, e ribaltava all'indietro il muso per rivelare la testa, mentre ruota le gambe e gira il bacino, mentre il muso del veicolo slitta appeso dietro la schiena e la testa esce aprendo il pannello del petto.

Di primo acchito il ROBOT non sarebbe male, qui con un bel blu scuro su testa, pugni e gambe ed il petto argentato, ma poi ci ricordiamo del giocattolo e del settei, dove il primo aveva il muso dell'auto ribaltato e non slittato come Wildrider ( e sorvoliamo sul discorso che tale muso si divide in 3 inutili moduli.... ), e "passi" l'assenza delle ruote sulle spalle, vista purtroppo sempre nello Stunticon Ferrari, ma almeno le ruote sulle gambe potevano far finta di farle finire all'interno e non all'esterno delle stesse, avanti o dietro che fosse.

Un'altra presa per i fondelli pare la colorazione dei piedi, stranamente bianca ma poi "corretta" in blu nella succitata versione del gifset di Menasor, anche se i piedi sono l'unico aggiornamento positivo rispetto a Wildrider, dato che ora presentano dei fori standard ( come praticamente tutti i Generations post WfC ) stranamente assenti nello Stunticon grigio.

Ritorniamo pure sulle armi, con la sola pistola nera orfana dei dettagli metallizzati dei colleghi ma che, ehi!, può unirsi all'alettone diventando una sorta si strana ascia! ^^'''

( Alettone che, visto che si stacca, in qualche maniera poteva ALMENO finire dietro la schiena come si vede nei settei del robot, ma no, non sia mai, figuriamoci…. ^^++ )

Infine, come già detto sempre per Wildrider, la trasformazione in GAMBA DI MENASOR è abbastanza relativa, dato che si alza il muso e si appiccica dietro all'arto già formato dall'esoscheletro del gestalt formato dal rimorchio di Motormaster, con il solo appunto che ancor più che per Squalo, si fa fatica ad agganciarlo e sganciarlo dalle due spine principali, quindi bisogna pure fare attenzione. ^^''

Eh niente, insomma, da prendere per finire la squadra degli Stunticon a livello collezionistico ma deludente come personaggio nell'ambito della stessa per le parecchie ragioni esposte finora… speriamo che ad Hasbro sia arrivato un sonoro feedback negativo e che per l'eventuale prossimo combiner facciano le cose a modo invece che farci concludere la raccolta dei componenti della squadra con l'amaro in bocca e pure quasi con un po' di rimpianto.