honestly wish I could port my dreams into a text file & send it. I don’t have the ability to write stories worth a damn, but I’ve trapped a few disturbing ones in amber over the years.
The UT/DR community needs to become way more normal about people in wheelchairs. I'm being serious.
Don't care that they're jokes - I have now seen two "joke mods" of Deltarune where the joke is "this powerful secret boss is in a wheelchair now! Making them less powerful!" and it pisses me off.
We don't even use a wheelchair but we do regularly use a cane and sometimes our leg pain gets bad enough to consider the possibility of using a wheelchair one day. But that doesn't even matter because it should be obvious in the year of 2025 to even physically abled people that a person in a wheelchair is just. A person. (Or so I thought, I guess.)
in general i think how people decide what characters are "butch" or "femme" in media without a visual point of reference for its characters (podcasts, books, etc.) says a lot about what they envision those terms to include. yes i am still thinking about how the tma fandom unanimously decided the violent and animalistic physical representation of police brutality was a butch woman. also thinking about any character who's more brains than brawn becoming feminine even if they have no other real connection to femininity. thinking about how if someone in the relationship is butch the other one must be femme because butch4butch is too scary. and yes i am also still thinking about the people calling baru cormorant femme because WHAT are you basing that on.
Frozen arctic station – Start, final, All story is in files, demo show 9
[ Work in Progress ]
All story is written with files. It is added start and final for the game.
And this moment has come. When all the story is inserted into files. Frozen is going to ending.
There is a place in a story for action movie, uncertain and horror. And lots about explore. Virus. Mutations. Monsters. And exploration. And in the end. Snow. Lots of snow. Station is destroyed. And everything is in the snow. Hero is going away into snow day. Everything is white. And everywhere it is snow. Cold. It is Arctic.
Frozen. This means development of the game. It is going to the ending phase. It was a long duration frozen. So this means development.
Basic Pascal version 1.18 "Duckling" – most newest version. In this version there are 4 new games! Puddles at Countryside, Duckling Pseudo 3D, Road to Countryside, Duckling Goes 2D. And even more retro games! It is a pack of retro games with modern versions of Basic and Pascal.
It is now in development new version Basic Pascal pack games. This game will be included in a new version.
On a Saturday morning, a five years old boy was going down the stairs of his house. Quick, impatient, each of his steps was faster than the last. With his messy black hair, and wide golden eyes, the child looked particularly excited.
And, there was a reason for it. After spending weeks working on a personal project, his father had finally found the time to spend the whole day with him. This was why the boy had left his bed in a hurry, not even taking the time to brush his teeth, or even take off his monochrome, dotted pajamas.
For the first time in so long, he would be able to play with his father.
He bunny hopped from the last steps onto the first floor, landing with a small thud that made him feel powerful, like one of the superheroes he admired so much. Then, just as fast, he dashed to the hallway, where the door of his father’s office was.
It was always closed, and this day was no exception. Technically, it wasn’t like the child wasn’t allowed inside, but… He couldn’t help but think his father’s office was closed for a reason.
But today was different.
He reached out for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open.
-”Hello daddy!” he exclaimed with clear excitement. However, there was no voice to welcome him, or just acknowledge him, even just a little. Instead, the boy’s eyes fell onto a familiar silhouette, slouched over the wooden desk in the room. Arms were resting on the off-white keyboard, pressing keys continuously, prompting the computer to keep writing nonsensical words over and over again.
His father’s head was not turned in his direction, so all the child could see was dark, brown hair. His back was going up and down every so often, sometimes accompanied by snores that the boy knew oh too well.
Another night spent in the office, working until sleep forcefully reclaimed him. In itself, the situation was rather familiar to the little child, whose enthusiastic smile had long faded away. It was just going to be a normal day, then.
Sadness washed over him, and his shoulders fell. The excitement he had been feeling until now had disappeared, leaving nothing but disappointment behind.
Slowly, the boy left the room, and closed the door after him. It wasn’t the first time his father failed to keep his promise. The last time had been two or three weeks ago, and had gone exactly the same way: he would leave his bed in a hurry, go down the stairs quickly, and eventually find out his father had passed out on his desk from exhaustion.
Of course, his father always felt terrible afterwards, and it showed in the amount of toys the child would get in the following days- an apology, in a way. But while many kids would be happy to receive new toys to play with, especially so often, it just left a bitter taste in the boy’s mouth.
What he wanted was to be with his father. Not material things. Yet, he never said anything, never protested, for he knew his father’s project was incredibly important to him.
And the child felt jealous of it, sometimes. How could a computer receive more attention than him? What could be so vital in it?
His dad had once told him he was making something to fight bad guys. At the time, the boy had felt admirative- how could he not, when his father was doing the very same thing that superheroes did?
But that admiration had quickly disappeared. After all, the only thing his father ever did was sitting in front of his computer, day and night. In what way was this “fighting bad guys”? Superheroes always attacked bad guys, with their fists, or their powers.
But what was his dad even doing? Had he lied to justify his continuous absence? The child had no idea- and he didn’t really want to know the answer either.
He made his way to the living room, and sat on the brown couch that dominated the room. Oh, how he wished his mother was still there…
Truthfully, he didn’t remember much of his mother, but the thought of her brought warmth to his heart. She had left while he was a toddler. Many times, he had asked his father where she went, but he always seemed to elude the question. Maybe, someday, the boy would gain an explanation.
He wanted to see her again so badly.
He sighed, and let his eyes wander into the living room. The walls were brown, devoid of any pattern. The wooden floor was just as simplistic- and so was the furniture, really. After his mother left, his father and he had moved into a furnished apartment- but for as long as the child remembered, his dad had never changed the decoration, or even just the arrangement of the furniture. No, he had always stayed in his office instead.
Everything had always been the same.
The neighbors had been the ones to take him to school, and bring him back. On the weekend, the boy would find leftovers in the fridge. Very early on, he had learned how the oven worked. His father seemed to still do most of the tasks, such as laundry and cleaning, but it was often early in the morning, or in the middle of the night.
All in all, the child had become very independent. He did have some friends at school, but once he came back home, loneliness greeted him again.
His eyes fell onto one of the framed pictures on the wall, which depicted family members and, of course, a large picture of his mother. Visits from his family were uncommon, considering how much of a hermit his father was, but there was someone who did come during the holidays.
Lesly, his half sister.
The child didn’t know the details, but he knew that she was ten years old. She lived far away with her own mother, in a town whose name he couldn’t quite remember. But the good thing was that she always came to see them during the holidays, and thus kept the boy company. Despite being brother and sister (well, half brother and sister, more precisely), they looked nothing alike. Their face did share some similar features, but that was it.
He had black hair, she had blond hair. He had golden eyes, she had blue eyes. In the end, both of them shared traits from their own mothers.
He sighed. Thinking about people he couldn’t see at the moment was just making him sadder. Considering he had nothing else to do this Saturday morning, the boy stood up, and made a few steps towards the large TV in the room. Next to it stood a little cabinet, in which DVDs were stored.
There, he picked up one of his favorites, Spider Man 2, and put it in the DVD reader. He then went back to the couch and turned the TV on, already tapping away on the remotes to start the movie.
// send me a word and I'll write a drabble for our muses || Accepting!
It all starts because Reno realizes the Boss knows the Flower Girl, and look, while no one would ever say anything, everyone knows there’s something… odd about her. Under Five isn’t safe by any means, but there’s a sense of peace there that isn’t in the other sectors, and everyone is pretty sure it’s because of her. So when the Boss needs something delivered… Well. No one thinks twice about seeing Reno below the Plate. It’s easy enough.
He never expected it to be so hard.
Aerith catches him sometime after that, and she asks him to give Tseng something. A letter addressed to Zack, but she kisses Reno’s cheek when he agrees.
When he hands off the letter, he kisses Tseng’s cheek too.
He has no idea that Tseng can smell her flowers on him. Flowers and dirt and, impossibly, sunshine, all there against his skin, under the sharp tang of the Plate and the metal.
Tseng wants to push him back and breathe him in.
He has no idea that she can see the weapon that Tseng is shaping him into. Tseng’s fingerprints are all over him, and when he touches her, it isn’t Tseng’s touch exactly, but it’s guided by those hands.
It isn’t enough, but it’s close.
He sleeps with Tseng first. It’s an accident. It was never meant to happen. But Tseng fucks him senseless, and laying there after, Reno realizes that it isn’t him Tseng wanted there. He only dozed off with his nose against Reno’s skin.
It was never him.
So when Aerith brushes up against him, a little more forward the next time he’s under the Plate… he passes it on. From Tseng to her. And she knows. He knows she does because of how she reacts, because when she breaks in his arms, it’s Tseng’s name on her lips.
It’s Tseng’s name on both of theirs.
The messages are more physical after that, and it isn’t long before Reno realizes that neither of them actually realize what they’re doing. They’re both so caught up with each other that no one else matters. It doesn’t have to be Reno, after all. It could have been anyone willing.
