#picture with description

[sel-jpg]

season 4 jon

[ID: A digital sketch of Jon Sims from TMA. He's a British-Indian Person with long wavy hair and a short beard. He is wearing a short sleeved t-shirt with "what I ask for: snuggles / what i get: struggles" written on the front of it and jeans. His facial expression resembles the "pleading" emoji. End ID]

[leroibobo]

the church in the coptic monastery of the virgin mary in bethlehem, palestine. this unique church is built inside of a cave tunnel which connects it to the nearby church of the nativity. the holy family is said to have passed through it during their stay in bethlehem. saint helena, who established churches across palestine during her time, is said to have established this one as well. the coptic archbishop of jerusalem purchased this and four nearby homes in the 1950s, establishing the monastery and re-establishing the church. today, the site is maintained by two nuns.

[strangersteddierthings]

Childhood friends AU Idea

Steve and Eddie are best friends who make plans to learn the elvish alphabet from The Hobbit so that they can pass notes without worrying about other people reading them.

The end of the school year (Eddie in 6th, Steve in 5th) brings a sadness to the two. Eddie's going to middle school and Steve's not yet, but they can hang out on weekends, and they have all summer so no worries. (Also, it gives Steve a little more time to learn elvish, since it'll be a whole year until they're in the same school again.)

Except yes worries because two weeks into summer, Eddie vanishes. When Steve bikes to his house to investigate, the whole house is empty. Packed up and gone. Steve goes to Wayne for answer and all he gets is a smile that doesn't really reassure and words of "his dad got a job opportunity, had to move on short notice. But don't worry, kiddo. I'll get you the number to their new place so you can call."

He learns elvish anyway. It's harder without Eddie to help but he's determined. Eddie might return, or maybe he'll get an address one day. Send a letter to Eddie in full Elvish.

Steve never gets a number or address. Summer ends and sixth grade comes. He doesn't want to forget all the elvish he's learned, just in case. So, he decides to keep a journal. He can write all about everything that's happening and when he sees Eddie, he can give it to him. It's a double win. Eddie will know everything he's missed out on AND it'll help Steve practice elvish.

Sixth grade ends. Eddie doesn't return. Steve did make friends with Carol Perkins though, so he's not as lonely. He hopes Eddie made a new friend, too. But not a new best friend. That's Steve's position, always.

Seventh grade brings Tommy Hagan, but still no Eddie. It brings a growth spurt and sports. Steve likes the easy camaraderie that comes with sports teams. It's like having a lot of friends, which Steve will only admit to needing in his journal. Needing many little connections of friendship to hold together the big hole Eddie left behind.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade brings him a Bruce Springsteen concert. He'd never thought of a boy kissing another boy until he'd witnessed it on stage but he thinks about it a lot after. The end of that summer brings an awaken he refuses to shy away from even if he has to hide it

Eighth grade brings popularity. Steve's good looking, rich, and liked among his peers. It brings the first (and last) time his dad says he's proud of him.

(Steve will spend the rest of his high school career chasing his father's approval.)

Freshman year brings Eddie back, but he's different. His hair is longer and his clothes are darker and he's distant. Defiant and angry. Steve would recognize him anywhere, dressed in anyway.

Eddie doesn't want his friendship anymore. Avoids him in the halls and cafeteria, but Steve is nothing if not persistent. He writes a full letter in elvish to slip into Eddie's locker, but Eddie catches him. Shoves the letter back, unopened, unread, with a harsh whispered, "Don't you get it Harrington? I don't want to be your friend. Fuck off."

Steve doesn't understand why. Not until the table top rants start. Conformity and jocks and brain-dead rich kids who get by on favoritism.

It hurts. Steve feels his heart break the day he finally gets the not-so-subtle messages drilled into his mind. Eddie hates sports, and rich people, and stupid people. Eddie hates all the things that Steve is.

Eddie hates him.

Sophomore year brings Steve a lot of things. It brings the acknowledgment that he was probably in love with Eddie, the way his heart twists the day he sees Eddie flirting with a girl in the hallway, the way he wants the lights out when hooking up with someone so he can imagine a different person pressed against him, the way he gravitates towards brunettes with brown eyes and the flickering hope it might make Eddie jealous. (The way he'd said the wrong name when Brent went down on him, too absorbed in the fantasy of someone else to get it right. Brent hadn't been offended by it, he'd been thinking of someone else, too. Steve finds solidarity for a little bit, until the school year ends and Brent leaves Hawkins.)

Junior year turns Steve's life upside down (pun intended) with monster's coming out of walls. There's probably a lot more he should write about but his journal's pretty empty this year. Too traumatized to document. (Too afraid of what Eddie would say because Steve still writes in his journal like he plans on sending it to Eddie one day. Better to write nothing than sound crazy.)

And halfway through his senior year (don't think about how he's in it with Eddie, about the 4 classes they share, about how Eddie still won't meet his eye) he wants to fade into the background. Nancy and he break up. She's with Jonathan and he hears the whispers of how pathetic he is to be eating lunch with his ex and the guy that 'stole' her. Steve knows that's a lie, Nancy made her choice, and no one can say otherwise, but it hurts to hear. He can't be bothered to try and make new friends. How would he explain the nightmares? The skittishness. The fear of the dark, of pumpkin patches, of his own damn pool now that he's had time to process last year?

Then, the next year brings him Robin. Well. First it brings him an embarrassing uniform and then Russian torture (don't think about it. Don't think about how he'll shorthand the stock list by writing it in Elvish sometimes. Don't think about how the Russian's almost believe they just work for Scoops until they find the stock list in his pocket. Don't think about how they don't believe that the strange script they can't identify isn't proof he's a spy), but in the end he gets Robin. A Platonic Soulmate who understands the hidden side of him. She asked if he was ever in love, and he thinks of the Eddie he used to know, longs to know again, and describes her instead. She rejects him in the softest way possible and then confesses about Tammy, and he confesses about Eddie in turn.

1986 brings Eddie back into his life in the worst way possible. With a bottle to his neck and them both acting like they've never spoken before. It brings twisting guts as Steve lies awake thinking about Eddie alone in a boathouse instead of sharing a bed with him like they used to in elementary school. It brings Steve leading them to Skull Rock (popularized as a make out spot but started as a set of boys' favorite place to play pirates during the summer). Dustin and Eddie make references Steve pretends to not know, despite his own copies of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings and the numerous amounts of notebooks turned journals with elvish scrawled throughout.

There's a trek through the Upside Down. In another universe, Steve imagines he and Eddie talk. In this one, Robin sticks to his side like an extension of him (which she is), and glares at Eddie every time he looks in Steve's direction. Robin knows everything, knows it all, because there are no secrets between them.

They make plans to stop Vecna, once and for all, and Robin confesses she has a fear. That it won't turn out okay this time, but they have to try anyway. Steve clinks his bottle against hers and looks across the field to Eddie and Dustin. The stakes feel so much higher this time.

"I'm going to talk to Eddie if we survive. Make it right," he says.

"No. He's going to make it right because you didn't do anything wrong," Robin says, which is more support than he thought he'd get given the grudge she holds in his favor.

Eddie said make him pay and Steve does. Nancy advances, shotgun shot after shot and Steve's bounding down the stairs. Vecna beats him to the ground floor but not by much.

A hatchet's not the best tool to remove a head with but he manages. When he looks up, Nancy and Robin are looking down, both approving.

They find Dustin sobbing over Eddie and- and-

Steve's certain he's broken several of Eddie's ribs but he's breathing again, Nancy finds his pulse beneath all the blood, and Robin's retrieved the cut sheets to make bandages out of. Nothing is clean in this world, infection could kill him later, he might not save Eddie like he wants, but fucking Christ, at least if death claims him, it'll be on the right side of the world in a hospital.

Dustin, Robin, and Steve are at Eddie's side when Nancy leads Wayne into the room. They knew she went out looking for him (Steve was going to but Nancy had shoved him back in the chair with a look that left no room for argument) but even so they're startled by him.

Wayne has always been stoic and reserved, so it's no surprise to Steve when he just lets out a low whistle and says, "of all the people I might see here, you weren't one of 'em."

Steve swallows thickly and says, "well. I am. Here, I mean."

And Wayne gives him a watery smile and crosses the room. Pulls Steve into a hug that Steve thinks he probably wants to give to Eddie instead, but Eddie's not awake and standing and Steve is. But then Wayne says, "I told Eddie he couldn' chase ya away. That if he just talked to ya, you'd understand. He tried so hard to make ya hate him, and for what? For ya to be at his bedside anyway."

And Steve sobs. Loud and ugly and suddenly Dustin's there, and so are Robin and Nancy, and it's probably the most awkward hug for all the others but it's the best hug Steve's had in years. He doesn't even care that he's crying because how can he? Wayne's all but confirmed that Eddie doesn't hate him, maybe never hated him. That Eddie has an explanation, a reason for it all, and all he wants is Eddie to wake up and tell him.

Steve finally gets his apology two days after Eddie's release. It's the first time they've been alone together since- well, since elementary school. Wayne drove him here then lied about needing to check on something and said he'd be back in an hour or so before abandoned them to the awkward silence in Steve's living room.

"I'm sorry, Steve!" Eddie blurts out loudly, then looks startled by his own yelling.

"I know. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't."

"I know. Still do anyway. Would like to know what happened, though."

And Eddie tells him. How his father's debts came calling and they ran. How his mom got sick real fast, and his father's crime spree and prison sentence following her passing. How Eddie discovered the same thing about himself that Steve did but didn't have the same acceptance of himself. Hated that another thing marked him as Other. Freak.

He tells Steve how he couldn't let Steve back in because he was afraid of losing him again if he ever learned.

"I didn't think you'd be okay being friends with a faggot," Eddie spits the word out, dirty and mean and directed at himself.

Steve makes a decision then. "Follow me." And he helps Eddie up the stairs and into his room. Eddie sits on the bed and watches as Steve digs out notebook after notebook after notebook, until they're a tower on his bed. Then he topples them over in his search for the first.

Eddie takes the offered notebook with confusion on his face, looking from the cover, where 1978 is written on it. The summer Eddie vanished from Steve's life.

"Open it."

Eddie does and gasps. "Steve. Is this-"

"Every single one of these notebooks was written to you. For you. About you. I read The Hobbit for you. The Lord of the Rings. I learned elvish for you. I think I've been a little bit in love with you since the day we met on the playground on my second day of first grade."

"Steve," it comes out breathless and awed.

"Eddie," Steve repeats back to him, just as breathless as Eddie tosses the notebook aside and reaches for Steve instead. Hauls him in to kiss him senseless amongst the proof of Steve's devotion.

[chronurgy]

Gortash designs and builds mechanisms so I imagine he has to be able to sketch fairly decently in order to sketch his projects and designs. And I'm imagining a pile of charcoal sketches of Durge, done over their entire acquaintance, starting out with sketches of them in battle and then slowly becoming more detailed and intimate and as they do, the titles changing from things like "The Bhaalspawn" and "Bhaal's Chosen at Their Bloody Work" to "The Chosen in Contemplation" and finally just Durge's name

[grand-line-shenanigans]

For those of us who cannot comprehend big numbers (me) I have done the math. FOUR FUCKING YEARS. SECUNIT WHAT THE FUCK.

[lunacias]

these are the silt verses, and I name our disciples thus

[wellfine]

"Five minute truce?" "Four minutes."

[obv10usly]

he loves this “sad pimp” blanket more than he does ph— 🔫💥

[lesbiandardevil]

daredevil's pal

[bitepoint]

sucking the strap

18+. claire, ashley, ada, jill x gn!reader

all re women deserve a complementary strap for surviving the horrors. ur the one sucking in this one + light degradation&praise themes + strap also described as 'cock'/'dick' u get it

claire

half-expects you to play it off. it’s a light tease through a half-grin when she asks if you'll suck her cock, all nice and pretty on your knees for her. but the way she looks at you, eyebrows lightly raised and pretty blue eyes that stray too much and too often down to your lips, clues you into her play for plausible deniability.

you know, and she knows, because when you get on your knees for her and place your hand over hers at the base of the strap, she exhales something shaky. when your lips finally wrap around the head, eyes flicking upwards to meet hers, claire has to fight a little to meet your gaze head on — her eyelids flutter on a breath, ‘fuck…’, when you hollow your cheeks and get to work sucking her off.

she’s easy going, somewhat, transfixed by the sight and the way her heart leaps in her chest and heat pools behind the fabric of her harness, aching. brushes a thumb over the apple of your cheek and it comes off more tender than heated in the moment. her brain stutters to a sputtering halt and then kicks into gear — heavy — when you slip your mouth away only to start pressing kisses, sliding slow and sweet, along the shaft— she can only take so much teasing.

ashley

it’s with a little reassurance, long kisses down to the plush of her thighs and in-between, that you bring out this side of her — sticky sweet and a little dazed.

ashley's mind always goes a little blank, fuzzy around the edges, when you're on your knees in front of her, licking along the length of her pussy and teasing her clit like you had just before strapping on the harness for her.

her knees had been a little shaky then, bumping into your wrists as you lifted the straps along soft thighs, and she’d barely kept from buckling when you lightly suckled on her neglected clit. had steadied her hands on your naked shoulders with a soft moan that threatened to unravel her before you’d really begun, before you’d fastened and tugged for good measure.

it’s not her first time wearing a cock, not with you, but it might as well be. hypersensitive with each brush of the inadvertent pressure on her pussy and your fingers smearing the slick on her inner thighs, the transition from cunt to cock bares little significance, not when each time you take her cock into your mouth, tongue teasing and circling on the head, she can feel herself throb just the same.

ada

entertains you, in her own way. likes how pliable you get, a smooth hand cupping below your jaw and tilting it upwards, slow as she pleases because you’ll follow. syrupy eyes — your own — stick to her lips only for a moment before they drip back down to her length, a hair’s breadth from your face as she stands and you sit on the plush bed beneath you.

ada’s thorough, a picture of patience that’s really more of an indulgence on a deeper glance. when she brushes a thumb over your bottom lip, and your tongue peeks out to suck her in, she gives in. smiles, and resolves to give you exactly what you both need.

her fingers are slender, long, her ring and middle teasing their way past your lips and caressing your tongue with a cresting want that turns a little greedy as she sips at your tells, drinking in soft moans and the light brushes of your hands at her thighs. she replaces her fingers before you can really mourn the absence of something to suck on, to keep your mouth busy and mind full, and her hand softly guides her cock to rest at your lips, teasing their seam before finally resting the tip there. waiting.

doesn’t need to push, or prod, because you open up for her like that’s what you’ve always been made to do— and isn’t that enough of a reason for a reward?

jill

curls a warm hand over the back of your neck as you take her, nice and slow and deep. the weight of it — a reassurance and a reminder — slackens your thoughts, a molasses-thick drip down to your slackening jaw as you slip her cock further down and past your molars. the thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw brushes over the flush skin there, once then twice, before it trails to press down steady against your pulse point. thump, thump, thump.

the slip of your lips over her cock is smooth, easy, practiced, but your throat is still working to accomodate this new girth — your breath's even like you know what to do, because you do. jill's been training you, lately. so good that when finally work your way down to the base, your tongue rests obedient below the shaft and your eyes drag slow to hers, wading thick through the fog to meet them as dark as your own.

there's a heat that spreads through her, heady and thick down to the matching pulses between you, at the way you always take her so well — her cock, her pussy, her mouth. she hasn't even fucked that pretty mouth of yours yet, and you're already cock-drunk on the stretch even as she slips it out from your lips.

well— she taps her spit-slick cock to your cheek, smiling at the way you lean into the touch— there’s an easy fix for that.

[codgod]

eefo

[sel-jpg]

POV: You are Georgie Barker sometime in the late 2000s

[Video Description: The video shows an illustration of Jon from TMA in his university days. The video is slowly zooming in on Jon who is sitting at the foot of a blue couch, clearly exhausted, with an open book laying on his face and other study materials, pens, snacks and beverages in the space around him. He is also holding a can of monster energy. Jon is a thin British-Indian Person with medium brown skin, short dark hair and a bit of stubble. He is wearing a black Britney Spears t-shirt and grey sweatpants. On the wall in the background is a framed photograph of the Admiral. The Audio is someone saying "Absolute Academic Weapon. Academic. Weapon" and there's text overlayed that says: "oxford finals season claims another victim 😂😭". End Video Description]

[francy-sketches]

Rhaena and her pink barbie dragon 🎀

[takethebodymarc]

please appreciate this little moment from max's stream (july 18th '23) just him drowning not being able to do anything. foolish standing there but giving encouraging words. bad boy yelling telling him to hold his breath. max drinking his beer but then DYING. and to make things worse he wakes up in aypierre's room… you can just see and feel the despair...

[northern-passage]

just found one of my favorite pieces of writing advice when it comes to interactive fiction, i think if you've read literally any of my work, it will be pretty obvious how much i use this in my own writing. i actually couldn't remember where i read this for the first time and on a whim i went through my twitter likes and found it in a thread. i'm going to transcribe it for ease of reading, but this is all coming from Alexander Freed (@/AlexanderMFreed on twitter)

he has a website here with other compiled writing advice about branching narratives and game design, though he never posted this there and hasn't really updated recently (but still check it out. there's some specific entries about writing romance, branching and linear & other game writing advice)

original twitter thread here

It's Tuesday night and I feel like teaching some of what I've learned in 15 years of branching narrative video game writing. Let's go in-depth about one incredibly specific subject: neutral / fallthrough / catchall response options!

Player ownership of the protagonist in choice-based branching narrative games (a la BioWare, Telltale, mobile narrative games, etc) is a vital aspect of the form.

The ability for the audience to shape a Player Character, to develop that character's inner life in their own mind, is unmatched in any other medium.

The Player determines the character's actions and THE MOTIVATIONS for those actions. The character's psychology can literally be as complex as the Player can imagine. However, this works best when there's enough space for the Player to develop those motivations. No game can offer enough options to support every interpretation imaginable; much of the character has to live in the Player's head, without necessarily appearing on the screen.

That's complicated. We're going to unpack it.

Generally, when presenting choices to a Player, we want those choices to be as interesting and compelling as possible.

But compelling, dramatic choices tend to be revealing of character. And no game can support hundreds of options at every choice point for every possible character motivation a Player might imagine.

This sort of narrative CANNOT maintain its integrity if the Player is forced to constantly "rewrite" their characterization of the Player Character on the fly. You want your Player to feel like they have more than enough viable options at any given moment.

At the simplest level of writing, this is where "fallthrough" responses come in.

In the examples above, each moment contains a response which furthers the story but doesn't imply a huge emotional choice for the Player. The Player is asked to choose A or B, agree or disagree, but can sidestep the issue altogether if desired.

These "neutral" responses are vital if both A and B don't appeal to the Player... or if, perhaps, the Player likes A but not the WAY A is being expressed. Milquetoast option C works for anyone; thus, the Player is never forced to break character because of a lack of options.

Questions work well for this sort of neutral option. Tacit agreement and dead silence also serve, in certain sorts of stories--as a Player, I know what's going on in my silent character's head and the game won't contradict it.

The important thing is that I'm never forced to take a path that's outright WRONG for my character. Even if other characters misinterpret the Player Character's motivation, my character's inner life remains internally consistent.

"Neutral" responses aren't the only ways to go, though. Some responses are appropriate for any character because they're tied to the base character concept.

Here, for example (from @/seankmckeever's X-Files), the Player is a marine on a mission. The Player can respond abrasively to her partner's fear or look into the issue (out of compassion or genuine belief), but our fallthrough is actually the TOP response.

There's no version of our marine who would absolutely break character by picking "Stay calm and on mission." It's not blandly neutral; rather, it reinforces aspects of the character we can be sure of and gives the Player an option if nothing else works.

Different sorts of narratives will use different sorts of fallthroughs. A comedy might treat the option to say something funny as a fallthrough, of sorts--it's entertaining and will never violate the characterization the Player has created.

In a quest-driven RPG, a fallthrough response can often boil down to "How do I move to the next step of this quest?"

That said, the strongest moments in a narrative will often have no "fallthrough" response at all. They'll work by creating multiple responses that, by overlapping, cover all reasonable Player Character actions while still leaving room for the Player to ascribe motivation.

[one-bunny-a-day]

20/11/2023