#room description

[alittleinkspill]

High School Writing #3: Room Description

I felt the warmth of the doorknob in my palm as I twisted the sphere and swung open the door enough to get in without letting much of the warmth out. The heat was welcome compared to the blistering cold in the corridors of the house. My nearly frostbitten, bare feet stumbled off the dark oak floor and onto the plush carpeting covering the expanse of my room.

I shut the door behind me and stood there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath, the faint smell of burning logs filling my lungs, and allowing the warmth from the fire in the hearth to curl around me like the fuzzy dark blanket sprawled and distorted on my bed, the red sheets still marking where I laid a couple minutes ago, my novel open and upside-down on the bedside table between the two oak-wood single-beds, one mine and the other my brother’s.

My brother’s bed was painted a dark shade of brown, with gold-painted floral patterns carved into the wood. We both had the same patterns on our beds, but where his was normal oak, mine was dark oak; his sheets and pillows were a soft shade of red, mine were crimson; his blanket was covered with bright floral patterns, mine was plain, and a brown so dark it was barely distinguishable from black.

I detested the floral patterns carved into my bed, but in a couple months the beds would change, having lasted us three years already. I owe that change to my brother who played so aggressively on his bed that it now lays below our standards, and it was made of some really sturdy wood.

My brother was not in his bed tonight, the eight-year-old was snoozing soundly with my parents in their bed, cradled between the two.

I made my way around his bed over to my book through the dimly lit room, my feet sinking into the maroon carpet, examining the room as I went, the bright wood walls, the four metres on the left of my bed covered with bookshelves seven feet high. The wall in front of my bed was just closets built into the wall, blending in seamlessly except for the silver, metal handles.

The room lacked pictures, once again because of me, and it lacked a bathroom, that was not my fault, but part of the architecture. It was right outside my room, a door in the wall. I passed by the hearth, the logs cracking, a sound I found comforting. The cobblestone amongst the wood walls seeming odd but nonetheless remarkable. It had a very low railing, bright gold in the light of the fire. I moved past.

My gaze found the study tables, one for my brother, one for me. Modest tables, the flat top light brown and polished, while the rest was painted a dark shade of brown. It had no carvings nor designs. Two drawers rested in the table, one significantly wider than the other, the remaining bottom empty but walled on all three sides leaving the front. Our chairs were also identical, like the ones found in a computer lab, I always struggled with describing them.

The desks were set up parallel to the wall adjacent to the bookshelves, my brother’s next to mine, both desks currently bare.

As my hand now reached for the book, I looked up into the mirror hung flat against the wall, its base touching the table as though it was propped up on it. It was intricately made, with a wide top, narrowing as you went lower. The mirror, too, had no carvings nor designs.

I looked at the clear glass framed by the dark wood, and the boy stared back at me. He had dark, rough hair, and sunken eyes, once a bright, blue ocean. There was a light stubble on his chin, and his lips were completely dry. Light acne dotted both of his cheeks.

‘Teenage,’ I shrugged, and grabbed the book as I collapsed onto my brother’s bed, picking up where I had left off from between the around 500 pages. It was one of the novels I do not speak about, as I tucked my, now much warmer, feet into my brother’s blanket. They were aching from that bare foot expedition to the kitchen for a glass of water in the cruel rule of winter, but the ache was wearing off.

As I read on, I made a mental note of wearing my slippers the next time I felt like braving the cold.

- 29/08/2019

#high school writing #writing #short story #my writing #description #descriptive writing #descriptive #essay #room description #school writing #creative writing

[lesbiandardevil]

daredevil's pal

#at that point in my (their) life #begging praying etc for them to talk about the elephant in the room (years of lies) #the picture in the frame is technically a panel redraw of a polaroid foggy has somewhere in his house #i have a lot of feelings and thoughts about the whole identity reveal but this is not the time and place !!! #+ ratio + no one cares + L #anyway. #daredevil stuff #my art #daredevil #foggy nelson #franklin nelson #daredevil comics #comics #mattfoggy #thank you #image description in alt

[dunmeshistash]

#Daydream Hour #Dungeon Meshi #Laios Touden #Kabru #EH Scans #Its very amusing that Kabru as cunning and methodical as he is has a messy room #Especially When you compare it to Laios tidy room #edit: added image descriptions #rooms

[poop-flying]

man i don't know. what happens when a gladiator takes a liking to the jewellery their patron gives them? what happens when it won't come off?

here's flesh made stone #2426540, link below the cut!

flesh made stone

#i spent too long staring at it so here's some lore and off you go #first time using descriptions hope it works! #flight rising #fr outfit #fr dragon share #fr dressing room #frdressingroom #dragon share #shann outfits shit

[grocerystorelist]

night, midnight, lose my mind – george daniel

a stranger lights your cigarette outside the club, setting something else in you aflame. what follows could burn you down with it. inspired by this from @toomuchracket <3

minors dni. dom/sub, lots of d word, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, breeding a bit (not sure where that came from) and way too much possessiveness for a hookup

wc: 3632 thank u @think0fmehigh for reading this over and finding me the 2nd pic!! ok enjoy everyone <3

You lean against the brick outside the club, cold biting through the back of your jacket. A few people are milling about and chatting, smoke clouding the air. Beside you is a man with buzzed bleached hair, jawline cutting through the chill of the night as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He stares down the street, seemingly fixated on something in the haze, and you bite the urge to shuffle closer to him, to ask him what’s on his mind. Rolling your ankle, you let out a content sigh as you slide down the wall, digging for the lighter in your pocket. After a few flicks, you frown. It’s not working. 

The man tilts his head down. “Hey,” he says. You look up. He nods his head towards the lighter in his hand, holding out a hand to help you up. “Need a light?” You accept it gratefully, hoisting yourself up. You fumble out the pack from your pocket, hanging one from your lips as you slide closer to him. He raises his eyebrow as he holds up the flame. It’s a challenge. Another step closer, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek as you dip your head to touch your cigarette to the light. He smells like whiskey and his own cigarettes, and you slip under his outstretched arm to lean against him as you inhale the first lungful of peace.

The muscles of his arm flex around you, the quiet display of strength renewing the blush on your cheeks. The two of you smoke in silence, but you swear you can feel the burn of his gaze on your face as you look resolutely ahead, unwilling to betray just how hot you think he is. A huff of air ghosts over you, and you snap, bringing your head up, staring at his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” you breathe. A beat. He groans and snakes an arm around you, pulling you into his body, pink lips crashing into yours. He takes a step to cage you into the wall, a broad hand rising to cushion your head from the brick, to press you further into his embrace. He kisses hungrily, and you wind your arms around his neck as his other hand travels up your leg to grab your ass, pushing and hitching you up. Dizzy, you pull away to catch your breath, a string of spit stretching between you for a moment as you giggle, looking up and down the street to see if there are still others around.

He sets you down, a grin spreading across his face as he takes in just how disheveled you are from your brief kiss. You smooth your hair and tug your skirt down, wiping across your face to get the rest of the lipgloss he hasn’t kissed away.

“I could really use another cig right now,” you laugh, pulling your pack back out to grab one, winking as you motion for his lighter. You’ve barely exhaled the smoke before he’s kissing you again, tongue desperately searching for a taste of the tobacco in your mouth as his hand cups your jaw. It’s brief, but combined with the nicotine it sends you into a headrush, vision clouding over as his tongue swipes over yours.

He steps back and pockets the lighter with a smirk, crushing the end of your cigarette under his sneaker. “See you back in there, princess. I’m George, by the way. Let me know if you need another light.” The door shuts behind him. The bubbles in your chest grow until you spin around, dizzy from the feel of his arms around you, the press of his forearm slung around your neck. You want his hands pushing into the flesh of your throat, long fingers wrapped all the way around your fucking neck.

You tilt your head back against the wall, laughing at the absurdity of it. Coming back in, you text your friends, before you swipe open your phone’s camera to look at the state of your makeup. Lips ruined, but otherwise relatively intact. You wonder what you’d look like if you went home with him.

Back in the club, you find your friends dancing in the same spot you left them, and you drag them to a table to get them a round as you tell them what happened outside. You lean forward on your elbows on the sticky tables as your best friend bats your arm, the group of them looking around to try and spot him. He’s tall, but low light and music make it hard to focus on one face for longer than a second.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get his number,” drunkenly exclaims one of them, craning her neck to look into the dark corners of the club. You haven’t spotted him either since you came back inside, but you’re resolved to make the most of the night. 

“Come on,” you say, swiping more lipgloss on. “Let’s go dance.”

You get down to the old pop blasting through the speakers of the club, spinning around and round until you’re dizzy. Every time you spot someone ridiculously tall out of the corner of your eye, heat shoots between your legs, only to be met with a twinge of disappointment when you realize it’s not him. Your friends try to distract you, pulling you closer to dance with them, laughing and singing along as you move together.

“He was probably a boring lay anyways,” one of them shouts, shaking her head. You nod with assent, eyes wandering now to see if you can salvage this night. But before you can land on another target, you feel the heat of a hand on your hip, pulling you away from your friends to spin you around.

“Was worried you forgot about me, princess,” George breathes into your ear, hips moving in time with yours. “Thought you found someone else.” You grasp his shoulders and grind into him, rolling your hips into the growing bulge of his jeans.

“I’m all yours for tonight if you want me.” You can feel his smile against your forehead, lips stretching to press a kiss there. “But what is it you want, darling?” George asks, biceps flexing as he grabs your ass, the black fabric of your skirt bunching in his fist. You know he can feel the lace of your underwear beneath them, pink lace growing damper by the second the longer his hand remains that close to your aching core.

“Want everything,” you gasp into his mouth, finally kissing him again. He breaks away before you can tug him further into you. “Gonna give me a name, first?” George teases, intertwining your fingers together. You reply with a wince, internally cringing at your haste, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He starts to tug you in the direction of the door, hands practically encircling yours.

“Wait,” you shout over the music, gesturing behind you. “Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.” Weaving through the crowd with George in tow you spot your best friend looking utterly blissed out, dancing without a care in the world. Tapping on her arm, you blush as she does an almost comical double take, eyeing George up next to you. “We’re going,” you say, letting out a laugh as she blinks.

‘Have fun, darling,” she responds. “See you soon!” The two of you turn to go, and you’re turning on your location as George opens his rideshare app, swiping through it. You burst into the cool night, the quiet of the street making you even more aware of the rush in your ears as you look at him, stark features highlighted by the single lamppost illuminating the two of you.

“Mine or yours, sweetheart?” George asks, thumbing open the address bar. “I’m fifteen minutes away.” He stands patiently, a far cry from the intensity you just felt in the club. You can tell he wants you to feel safe – letting you go back to your flat even though it would be a much longer drive.

“Yours,” you insist. “Shorter drive.” The car pulls up almost immediately, sleek and black as you pile into the back. George puts his hand on your leg as the two of you wait, the heat in the back of the car almost so stifling you want to roll the window down. Every bump in the road has you clenching around nothing, wishing he would slide his hand just a little further up your thigh to relieve you.

Soon enough you’re at the front door of his flat, hands clasped as he unlocks the door, ushering you in and closing it behind you. The two of you pause for a moment before he has you up against the door, kissing along your neck.

“I want to mark this pretty throat up,” he groans, pausing in one spot to suck a red mark on your flesh, the line of his body pressing you hard into the door. You want to be utterly overwhelmed by him tonight, for him to take over your body and clear your mind until there’s only one thing it’s filled with.

“You can do anything you want.” You mewl as he gets a leg between your thighs, grinding against him, his denim against your lace as you rub your clit on his leg. He lets you take control for a moment, letting out a low laugh when you give up, frustrated that you’re not getting what you need.

“Let me take you to bed, princess.” He carries you to his room, licking up the salt on the side of your throat. The heat of his tongue sends shudders down your body, clit pulsing with need. The denim of his jeans juts out, and you grind your hips onto the rigid line of him, wet underwear sticking to you.

“Please, George, need you,” you whimper, head falling into the crook of his neck. He sets you down atop your sheets, kneeling between your legs as he guides your head to the pillow. His eyes are practically black, pupils expanded to drink in the sight of your heaving chest and the purple now littered across your neck. “Please, Daddy.”

That’s what gets him – he lets out a low moan as he palms himself over his jeans, broad knuckles and glinting silver rings groping the dark patch you left on him. “Say it again, princess.”

“Want your cock, Daddy.” You whine, damp hands fisting the sheets below you for any semblance of sanity, of stability. You feel like you’re on another plane of existence, hurtling somewhere where you’re reduced to a single pinpointed sensation between your thighs.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s cock to keep you happy?” George groans as he unzips his jeans, precum dotting his white briefs as he slips a hand below the elastic, lightly stroking as his other one comes up to rub light figures on your clit. You moan, hips jolting finally at the stimulation, and you realize he’s drawing letters across your folds. “R - G - E,” you catch, and he begins his attack anew on the bundle of nerves. “G - E - O - R - G - E.” His mouth remains slightly open, shiny and swollen pink lips betraying the pants he lets out as his eyes devour the sight of your puffy folds.

“Going to be a good girl and take my fingers, yeah?” You sob as his manicured nails tease your hole, finally working one in, stroking across your soft insides. George kneels above you, frantically shoving his briefs down as he maintains the rhythm inside you. His thighs bracket yours, tensing in time with his strokes, with the squeezes to his cock.

Your eyes widen a fraction, somehow even more turned on at the fact of finally seeing just how big he is. George catches this and tugs at himself again, the angry red tip disappearing into his fist. “Gotta get you nice and stretched for Daddy’s cock, need you to come again for me, princess.” He slides another finger in, the burn of the stretch radiating throughout your body as your cunt clenches around George’s two fingers, trying to accommodate them.

He bends down to lick at your clit, continuing to massage the soft spot inside of you, relentless as your legs kick under his frame. You wail, finally falling apart, pulsing around his digits as he fingers you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. “So pretty falling apart for me, princess.”

“Need more,” you mewl, legs shifting farther apart to situate him between them. George slowly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them up to lick at the slick stringing between them. The milky white of your juices swirls atop the black of his nails, bursts of your pleasure disappearing as his tongue laps them up. 

“Fucking love your pussy.” George kneels over you, hand grasping at your jaw as he stares intently into your eyes. “Be a good girl and open up for me, now.” Your jaw drops open, and you stick your tongue out, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. He spits red-hot into your mouth, wet fingers digging in to shut the taste of you into your mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.” 

“Going to be a good slut for Daddy?” He murmurs, “Open your legs again.” You spread yourself under his gaze, cunt still glistening from your orgasm, clenching around nothing. “Wider.” He grunts, grabbing your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder, sucking at the soft flesh.

“Do you have a condom, baby?” He holds himself still above you, eyes intense as he searches yours for an answer. You shake your head resolutely no, tugging him down.

“On the pill, Daddy, want you to fill me up.” George moans as he fists his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds. His tip catches against your hole, and you involuntarily clench, trying to draw him into you finally. Your back sticks uncomfortably to the sheets, damp with your sweat as you shift, anticipating George.

“Going to put it in now, going to be good for Daddy?” You nod furiously, hands running up and down George’s arms as he finally guides himself inside. He slides in slowly, carefully, pressing kisses back and forth across your cheekbones. 

“So fucking tight, princess,” he groans, biceps trembling as he stills inside you. “So wet and tight, all for me.” You whimper, overwhelmed, mind clouded in a haze of George. As the moments pass, you feel your insides practically rearranging for him, welcoming him into your dripping cunt.

You drop a hand to dip into his lower back, pressing in to tell him to start, to claim you as his. He draws out slowly, leaving only the tip of his dick nestled in your folds. You whine at the sudden loss, grasping at the sheets, clenching around air. He thrusts back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ” you moan. You’ve never felt more full in your life, the throbbing pressure inside your cunt leaving you squirming up the bed, only to be tugged back down onto George’s cock. Tears spill out of your eyes as he builds up a steady rhythm, damp chests dragging across each other, your tits sticking with the sweat from both your bodies.

He rails into you, alternating between harsh, quick thrusts and deep ruts that leave you gasping, every ridge of his cock dragging along the most tender parts of you. “It’s all for Daddy, isn’t it? Cute little hole all mine to use." You grab at the sheets again but your palms are too damp, your body jolting as George pounds into your body.

You feel dirty and overwhelmed, everything reduced to the singular point in the body where you connect, feeling the drag and pressure inside of you. You press down on your lower belly, crying out “I can feel you, Daddy, so big in me.” George’s hand dwarfs your own, holding it down as he pushes further, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing as he rails into you.

“Taking me so well baby,” he groans, and he spits down at where the two of you are conjoined. “Want to come inside you princess, stuff you full.” Dazed, you can only nod, hurtling towards the edge. He reaches down to touch your clit, calluses rubbing as the fire in your lower belly suddenly roars over you. Your vision goes white as you come, a supernova as your slick leaks out around his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering. George has been slowly rutting into you as the last of the shockwaves roll over you, but he picks up the intensity as your eyes refocus, no longer glazed over. All you can do is lie there and take it as his thrusts shift you up the bed, his burning eyes never leaving yours as he plays with your tits.

“Fuck, gonna make you mine,” George rasps. You can feel when he starts to come, his whole body tightening up as he curls into your neck, shooting warm spurts of cum inside, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. Everything in your brain stops as his cock pulses in your overstimulated cunt, leaving you satiated and blissed out, eyes sliding shut as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Eventually, he slips his softened cock out, kissing you hard on the mouth as you wince, suddenly so empty.

You feel his release start to seep out, trickling through your folds and adding to the damp mess on the sheets below. Entranced, he pulls back to watch his translucent cum spill, dripping beads falling like nectar from the sweetest fruit. He reaches out to touch. 

“Can’t take anymore, Daddy,” you sob, throwing an arm over your eyes as you try and close your legs against the thick fingers swiping through your core. “Gotta make sure it takes, princess,” George says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before lifting himself off of you.

George moves down the bed to lie on his stomach between your thighs, hooking an arm under each to pull them apart, baring your glistening entrance again. He lets out a ragged breath before he starts lapping at your folds, getting everything that’s been lost already. You wail, already so far gone from your first two orgasms that another one seems impossible.

“Daddy knows what’s best for you,” he snaps, reaching his hand up to shove two fingers in your mouth. You keen around them, writhing against the sheets as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, the tip of his tongue repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. His nose rubs against your clit and you put a hand on his head, trying to hold him there as you rapidly approach another peak.

“Naughty little slut, I thought you couldn’t take another one,” George says, his tongue running flat over your folds. “Need you to shut up now, so I can focus.” His hand slips out of your mouth to wind around your neck, saliva-slick fingers smearing over the delicate flesh as you struggle to get another breath out, completely overwhelmed by him. He’s not putting any pressure on your throat, but the suggestion of his massive hands choking you has you on the edge in seconds, gasping at the thought. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you plead, “make me cum.” George dives back into your cunt with a fervor, sucking and fucking his cum out of you, wet and messy and utterly filthy. His hand tightens around your throat and you can hear his tongue go in and out, laving over spots that have you seeing stars. You’re lightheaded, weak as you teeter on the precipice, anchored only by the feel of his hands holding you down on the mattress.

Your orgasm shoots through you, spasming around his tongue as you arch against the sheets, covering the lower half of his face in slick. You’re practically floating in the sheets, reaching some higher level of existence as you finally close your thighs to turn on your side. When you finally come to again, George has a clean pair of briefs on, sitting up against the headboard as he strokes your arm. A glass of water sits on the side table, and you can see your phone plugged in next to it. A groan rips out of your throat as you sit up, the ache in your core already apparent as you shift.

“Do you think you can stand, babe?” George asks, hand on your lower back. You nod, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet as he busies himself finding a washcloth. The water has found its way into the bathroom with you, and you take appreciative gulps as he kneels before you, murmuring apologetically at the first wipe of the cloth through your folds.

“Sorry princess, gotta clean you up,” he says as you hiss, the coolness jarring against your skin. He pecks your knee when finished, and you wrap your arms around his neck to lift yourself as he slips a pair of his boxers over your hips. You feel like you could burst from the tenderness – surprised that a bar hookup is treating you so nicely after you’ve just been calling him Daddy in bed. “We should do this again,” you chuckle, fingers exploring the new bruises across your throat as you look into the mirror. He pulls you back against his warm chest, kissing the marks he left as you smile at the girl in front of you. Yeah, you could do this again.

#Sorryyyy description is more dramatic than it is but I kind of want to write a follow up where it would actually make sense #I feel filthy oh god. godbless george bedford daniel and godbless boiler room content #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel x you #masterlist

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”

- The Reptile Room, Lemony Snicket

#I just love grief related descriptions okay #the reptile room #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #lemony snicket #he is the most author of all time #idek if that even makes sense but I said what I said #mcd

[vibrantvetty]

“Whenever I see a pillar of light in the daytime, I’ll see a windchime hovering in the air.”

#myart #furry #furry art #anthro #anthro art #illustration #digital art #echo project #fvn #the smoke room #tsrvn #tsr #Dimitri Popov #the smoke room vn #background study with a furry in the foreground art hack #I kept thinking about this description and had to get it out of my brain

[wraith-caller]

Fia is a Tarnished called to grace without having first experienced death, which may be something of a rarity. Melina tells us some of Marika's words across 2 different churches, the Third Church and the Church of Pilgrimage:

My Lord, and thy warriors. I divest each of thee of thy grace. With thine eyes dimmed, ye will be driven from the Lands Between. Ye will wage war in a land afar, where ye will live, and die.

Then, after thy death, I will give back what I once claimed. Return to the Lands Between, wage war, and brandish the Elden Ring. Grow strong in the face of death. Warriors of my lord. Lord Godfrey.

That indicates that Tarnished get their Grace back only after dying. The opening cinematic does a little to corroborate this. Hoarah Loux is impaled by arrows, the Dung Eater is being hung, and Gideon Ofnir is in his casket. Goldmask is a little more ambiguous, but given the others are dead, and the way he's sort of splayed out on the ground with his prayer book and other items in disarray around him, it seems like he could have fallen dead abruptly.

Fia is the only one that is unambiguously alive. She is sitting up, actively looking at the sight of Grace, and she tells us she was exiled from home for seeing it. So it's very interesting that she is very devoted to and at peace with death, when she may be one of the few Tarnished to never have died to begin with.

#fia the deathbed companion #elden ring #of course the navy hood item description indicates there are other tarnished who saw grace while alive but perhaps its less common #iirc fia's the only one we know who has done so with any certainty #i feel theres room to argue that the hoslows and lanya were alive bc whatre the chances 3 different related ppl who wouldve likely died at #different times all received grace and came back to tlb independently #but lol stranger things have certainly happened in that world so #maybe d twins too but given they only ever had each other its more reasonable to think they couldve died at the same time #ie to ppl killing them for being cursed or sth #and since they share a soul that might factor into things #wraith meta

[prokopetz]

Inadvisable video game premise #137: Time-travel parser fic where it’s the narrative viewpoint that travels in time, not the player character, shifting the verb tense of the narration accordingly. The narrator is always describing the same “present moment” for the player character, but from different temporal perspectives: looking back from the future, speculating about it from the past, or describing it in the moment.

Past-tense narration is the most restrictive in terms of what actions you can take because the narrator can say “no, that’s not what happened”, but is more informative than other tenses because the narrator may provide information that the player character couldn’t possibly have known at the time, or explain why certain requested actions were not taken.

Future-tense narration, conversely, offers nearly unlimited freedom in the player character’s actions, and allows you experiment without risk (i.e., because the narration is describing what would happen if you took the requested action), but the information gained thereby is unreliable on account of being speculative.

Present-tense narration has no special features, but serves as the temporal foundation for the other tenses; for example, if you do something in present-tense narration, that becomes What Happened, and you can then shift into past-tense narration to get more information about it.

Opportunities to shift tenses are limited, and many puzzles revolve around figuring out how to swap tenses in the correct order, or being stuck in an inappropriate tense (e.g., a looming disaster which you can’t do anything about because you’re currently stuck in past tense, and the disaster is What Happened, thereby ruling out any past-tense action that would prevent it).

#concepts #gaming #video games #game design #interactive fiction #parser fic #one of the late game puzzles involves the description of a room being completely different in past tense than in present tense #the solution involves realising that the past tense (and thus narrating from the future) narrator is misinformed #and figuring out what has misled them

[jarchaeology]

THE SCANNER SERIES: THE EARLY YEARS [Official NBC Press Release including 35mm slides for Mr. Rhodes - dated: November 6, 1996]

#the scanner series #jensen ackles #the scanner series: the early years #one of my favorite additions to the archive #it didn’t even list jensen anyway i’m the tags or item description #glad i spotted it and zoomed in #just an educated guess but i believe that’s the very first press release for mr. ackles #he was hired… not gonna find my notes rn but it was around nov. 1st #those photos were taken before the letter was written #and that pic is from his first scene on the show #annnnd i cant forget to mention the ghostfacer in the room

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

By the way, 50-something, strong Van Helsing insisting that skinny wet cat Seward is stronger than him will never not be hilarious.

#dracula daily #van helsings old man routine only works because everyone else is in their 20s #ok we don't get his age in the book #but based on descriptions he isn't that old #he also throws a person across a room later

[spottedenchants]

thinking about how jester tardised her and fjord's little studio with her magic paints

#jester lavorre #essek thelyss #jessties #yes i know the actual pigment description says that anything created with the paint becomes non-magical #i.e. the rooms are not actually extraplanar or whatever #but like- rule of funny states jester can just Do This now xD #anyway this Changes some things i was tinkering with in the bg of ts #because it's too funny to not xD #chanse chatters

[steinwayandhissons]

arctic monkeys and every time the word ‘love’ is mentioned

whatever people say I am that’s what I’m not

tonight there’ll be some love, tonight there’ll be a ruckus yeah regardless of what’s gone before

~ view from the afternoon

oh there ain’t no love, no montagues or capulets

~ i bet you look good on the dancefloor

all that’s left is the proof that love’s not only blind but deaf… yeah I’d love to tell you all my problem

~ fake tales of san francisco

she makes a subtle proposition, I’m sorry love I’ll have to turn you down

~ when the sun goes down

lady, where has your love gone, i was looking but can’t find it anywhere, they always offer when there’s loads of love around but when you’re short of some it’s nowhere to be found

~ no buses

well how can you wake up with someone you don’t love and not feel slightly phased by it

~ leave before the lights come on

favourite worst nightmare

it’s wrong wrong wrong but we’ll do it anyway cause we love a bit of trouble

~ balaclava

and those dreams weren’t as daft as they seem, aren’t as daft as they seem my love

~ fluorescent adolescent

there’s room for the trouble and there’s lovers to be had

~ this house is a circus

it’d be a big mistake for you to wait and let me waste your time, really love it’s fine, I said really love it’s fine

~ the bad thing

old yellow bricks, love’s a risk… houdini love you don’t know what you’re running away from

~ old yellow bricks

another roll around and another push and shove, further away from the idea of love

~ da frame 2r

the more you keep on looking the more it’s hard to take, love we’re in stalemate… you’re slacking love where have you been

~ the bakery

am I too quick to assume that the love is no longer in bloom

~ too much to ask

humbug

i had a hole in the pocket of my favourite coat and my love dropped into the lining

~ i haven’t got my strange

suck it and see

i wanna feel your love brick by brick

~ brick by brick

do you still feel love is a laserquest or do you take it all more seriously… when I’m not being honest I pretend that you were just some lover

~ love is a laserquest

your love is like a studded leather headlock

~ suck it and see

jealousy in technicolour, fear by name, love by numbers… crushing up a bundle of love

~ that’s where you’re wrong

before she showed you how to shake love’s steady hand

~ the blonde o sonic shimmer trap

your love’s not what I need, so don’t give it to me

~ evil twin

am

it’s not like I’m falling in love I just want you to do me no good… the look of love, the rush of blood

~ no.1 party anthem

love buckles under the strain of those wild nights

~ mad sounds

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough

~ snap out of it

love like locked horns, love like dominoes… love like thunder, love like falling snow

~ electricity

I know you’re nothing like mine cause she’s walking on sunshine and your love would tear us apart

~ you’re so dark

tranquility base hotel and casino

love came in a bottle with a twist off cap, let’s all have a swig and do a hot lap… but it’s alright, cause you love me

~ star treatment

when true love takes a grip it leaves you without a choice

~ golden trunks

pattern language in the mood for love

~ the world’s first ever monster truck front flip

I wanna stay with you my love, the way some science fiction does

~ science fiction

the dawn won’t stop weighing a tonne, I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done, but I haven’t stopped loving you once

~ the ultracheese

the car

lights out on the wonder park, your saw toothed lover boy was quick off the mark

~ jet skis on the moat

put your heavy metal to the test, there might be half a love song in it all for you

~ mr schwartz

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #listen this was purely out of curiosity #there are so many poetic and imaginative ways in which alex describes love #i just wanted a tangible record of every time he just straight up uses the word #i was surprised that humbug only had one mention and even that was a b side but when i was making this i realised that it was such a #lyrically dense and innovative album and descriptions of love were more elaborate and straightforward #*less straightforward #(might make a separate post about that) #also found that the other albums were quite consistent except the car #i found it interesting that most of the songs aren’t actually about the same kind of love like the earlier albums were #the earlier ones use love as a nickname and portray the physical embodiment of being in love #and even in tbhc it describes this feeling despite there being slightly fewer mentions #but the car seems more like a goodbye album… not even about breaking up… just goodbye which is very…. #there’s no room for love in amongst the melancholia and introspection #and makes me wonder about his relationship with love at the moment #it seems very disassociated and immaterial like he has no interest in spouting poetics about love like he did before #and i hope he can rebuild that relationship #i could probably say more but im not going to bc this is getting way too long #cheers if you actually read this whole fucking essay #i spent way too long on this if you cant tell

[br1ghtestlight]

During a neighborhood block party, Linda makes a mistake that could threaten the life of her favorite alley raccoon in the "The (Raccoon) King and I" episode of BOB'S BURGERS airing Sunday, Nov 19 (9:00-9:30 PM ET/PT) on FOX. BOB’S BURGERS © 2023 by 20th Television

#literally screamed NOOOOO 😭😭😭 when i read the description for this episode #if anything bad happens to the raccoons in this.episode im killing everybody in this room and then myself #little king trashmouth. AND HIS HUSBAND GARY. AND BIG BABY PUDDING SNATCHER AND HER BABY RACCOON KIDS #andy and ollie return in this episode yayy!! and rudy again. season 14 is a big moment for rudy fans #txt #bob's burgers

[moon-mirage]

Cressida

#the hunger games #thg #mockingjay #cressida #i really wanted to draw Cressida #aside from the tattoos there's almost no description which gave me some room for my own take on her #and i think it works #i wish i had a better grasp on how to draw tattoos...or ivy #but anyway i like her design

[catilinas]

👍: tidied my room + organised my evil cupboard 👎: i think all of my plants (except for The Robust Agrippa) have either died or are fated to die

#The Robust Agrippa is a ficus elastica robusta named after one of syme's descriptions of agrippa in the roman revolution #and is somehow thriving despite my room not getting that much light #beeps