#Visualization Center C

[rabbitcruiser]

The Visualization Center C was inaugurated on 27 May 2010 by Carl XVI Gustaf.    

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of happening to manage to go away to college ft. a shakespeare theater within walking distance & not just student pricing & pwyw but a freshman course taken at/with the theater / company, fun to think about all the nonzero exposure scattered all around to Theatre that i could be interested in & engaged with & respond to the idea of theatremaking big time but i had no context for this lmao like well i assume everyone adores Rehearsal & Playing A Role & Being Backstage or In The Greenroom just doing your own thing & the Idea of more of this, so that i feel neutral/average really

like on the note of no context, started dance classes as a Thing To Do when i was all of three? four? on the basis of [older sibling doing that] b/c like how else do i choose doing something. also did that w/[older sibling is being taught playing piano] + that i like to know how to do many things, like determined speedrunning of an edutainment learn to read computer program when i was three, except playing the piano never caught on for me (it'd be fine if it got to the point a song was muscle memory but i never got the hang of oh this note written here is [whatever it is without me having to count the steps in the staff] & ah that's here [without me having to look / count the keys]) so that was a miserable half hour weekdayly requirement for years. whereas dance was alright, & for a while the performance angle could be kind of fun for rehearsal, onstage, costuming, but didn't really have Roles, & was yknow everyone doing the same part at the same time & taller people in the back if there's rows, what older students did seemed more fun, plus like an annual nyc trip some did which didn't happen by the time it was relevant to me....but when it finally kind of kicked off like oh boy pointe shoes have panache & Make Noise (i suppose ideally you're quieter with it but ideally to me, Clonk Bonk Tap. & why not) but speaking of why not, that this also involved like oh shows that have Scenes & Roles even if this is all dance w/pantomime, got solos, costumes, more acting adjacent, more rehearsing, plenty of fun to me, unforch one of the most fun shows was ballet but in less Classical form & more character styles & i had the parent who could make anything into an ego issue who decided things Ought to be Classical despite knowing i enjoyed the more character style techniques as much or more lol so that was like, oh boy an adagio claire de lune quartet? pinch me. however a few more wins in there, fun getting to do a Cats inspired facepaint leg/armwarmers character that some absolute random audience member apparently liked so much their dad was like hey your number one fan, can we get a pic. which is in fact a great basis of an interaction to me

had a damper on dance class anyways from like lord the increasing gender "i'd rather not wear fitted dance garments" problems & my left knee getting more sensitive & my just more wearied like i don't see Fun Performances down the line, i was never doing this besides as a hobby, i'm gearing up to go to college where i kind of assume i could fail asap but the idea of keeping up with dance classes too is a bit much so what if we just didn't....meanwhile a drop of Drama(tm) in middle school, but just as like cycle of elective courses four per year so very Brief & i don't think was part of 6th grade's & yknow, middle school. but it was really fun to me still, not sure what all i even learned lol & yet. & like one time it was like uhh write your own scenes / play & Writing Original Stuff has never been a thing for me & is not only unrewarding but yknow difficult like i don't know. writing Vocab Sentences in like first grade i started to get annoyed at how contrived it felt & the teacher complained the sentences were too simple like clearly the context of what the word means is there but i'm sick of making up narrative beats & character arcs that have fuckall to do with me understanding what a bleacher is, but when i decided to Theme them on a computer game i enjoyed then i could rock n roll lol....anyway so Writing Material just became throwing preexisting characters in a bin & just being silly making jokes / stringing some fun plot along w/the acquaintances in the group assigned to be making this, & then Performing it was a high time i was like i love to do fun comedic stuff & be a villain, throwback to fourth grade and doing scenes from julius caesar like yaayyy nongendered casting b/c all the roles are guys anyway & i'm technically a villain which i enjoyyy, but i'm also like i wish anyone told me anything at all about acting techniques, i don't know what i'm doing beyond [talk loud enough]....feedback on the middle school class homemade performance was that nobody really knew what was supposed to be going on while watching it lmao like well that's fine b/c i'm not interested in writing fuckall, could've stood to have feedback that Enjoying Performing Onstage even that goofaroundly wasn't just expriencing the universal baseline lol ah well. my useful personalized feedback from middle school besides that as ever it was great that i got good grades & kept my head down (reading) was the librarian saying nobody checked out rebecca but i might like it, i did have fun & it's like oh nice when there's pleasant nontransactional gestures For No Reason i.e. you didn't even have to "earn" them, i was just getting to hang out reading in the library at the end of the school day. fond memory still like ah being readily handed one of the crushed oreos & gummy worm cups at the end of some early elementary school year Just Because i was there, wasn't that moved by like figurative pats on the head for good grades or what have you when i understood the conditionality of that just fine

in college like Introducing That Shakespeare Theatre like i sure did respond to getting to be up close & personal w/some professional actors & acting & plays, great time attending....kinda was tempted to get involved in the school theatre going on w/classes or productions but at this point it was like, i don't want my parents to be involved in anything at all ideally but especially not something i do suspect i'd genuinely enjoy & care about, plus it was like uh oh there'll be all these ppl older than me with even experience doing plays in high school & stuff :/ but another real damper was being around age peers incl my roommate who still Also had theatre experience & interest much more established & would be telling me like oh you're not a tenor if you're a man or oh you're not doing xyz right that way (based on their own perspective doing a whole other activity) like i love info & tips sure but not people feeling In Charge of me or even giving the awkward biting back genuine feedback wow nice good lmao....knowing some theatre people with theatre knowledge a bit helpful like oh these are some bway shows / cast recordings from like, the '00s & on, i've heard of Some of these, i've seen some macys parade show names....still just lacking context like what the hell Is broadway, just talked about like gonna take a while like it's this location & this technical capacity based venue designation & here's further context yet. still never really Did Theatre but seemed like a fun thing of Course ppl would be interested in, but luckily some Experiencing Performances, saw live stage shows in various mediums at various levels of professionality now & then, in retrospect like oh i think i saw some bway stuff Touring a few times, i just had no idea that was a ting, nobody explained shit lmao. disinterested parents who just kind of expected you to magically Pick Things Up by virtue of existing, but also don't ambiently pick up the things i don't want you to know about, you can bet it all always worked out great....parents at least a Bit interested in theatre / specific shows / recordings was certainly handy like oh okay not everyone would happen to be exposed to some shows even thusly, sure, but again like with no context / further info or really further way to engage with that....also backing off like i ripped off my siblings' pastime when i was three re: dance classes, just b/c their doing lively musical productions in high school seems super fun like i can't Also rip them off on that one (plus even like yeah family / parental proximity & attendance like eugh....)

like that the How Do You Even Get Context like all the time i'd be amazed if stuff i read or watched that i super enjoyed was like Also something i could find in the outside world, other people who liked it, even just the ability to procure it, like wow magical b/c yknow everything is just what i experienced by myself at home w/no significant onlineness yet or way to travel anywhere else. just pouncing on proximate enough things like queer & have to go to church? hell yeah tenor harmonies time & it's always Be Quieter Be Quieter lol well everyone else step it up, there's like 5x as many sopranos with 5x the rehearsal time going over The Melody....but seriously folks. only showing up late for an online breakout popular Current Bway Musical like oh hey btw what Is any of this? & still don't much know what goes on but at least a little more than i did for sure, plus i just don't keep my finger on the pulse of fuckall, i'm not so much more likely to check out musicals for the sake of being musicals so much more than i do movies b/c they're movies, maybe a little more likely though sure lol....& i just have more of that context like ohhh yeah i did super big time like doing live performance & theatremaking stuff the ways i got to / related activities, i just figured like well me & everyone else having the exact same response i'm sure. or same with enjoying taking it in, i suppose

which nowadays it's still like bummer i Never took in any acting technique just b/c it annoys me not to have anything besides idk making it up, also bummer idk how to sing any better than [also making it up] like no technique known barely in the same way, & i just like knowing things, i'd value knowing it just for singing to myself when nobody's around & i like to do a little performing too when pertinent, e.g. more than survive in the kitchen & i'm doing the choreography lol....utterly abstract though like i love to See people acting the crap out of acting & be like oh shit damn wowww, don't Really feel like ah actor au me is just over there....not even sure like ah you can be backstage in other ways, like i do not know how lol plus likewise i just don't think it's gonna come up yknow like we'll cross bridges when we come to them, who knows in this life. but i'm having the highest time ever as Audience, not live & in person but online & lively, like oh fuck yes finally digging into the relatively nicher more specific theatre live performace acting singing musicaling stuff i'd more specifically enjoy like pointing hands to head yelling are you seeing thising getting everything that i want so i do feel like it's worked out well. maybe low level for randos acting / singing instructing just cuz i like to Know & have the Option to wrangle playing around w/effects one can engage with but in the meantime like i Have always cherished proximity & audienceship so. fr Yayyy 💖

[fozmeadows]

There's a lot of conversations to be had around the current influx of Americans to Xiaohongshu (RedNote/Little Red Book) ahead of the TikTok ban, many of which are better articulated by more knowledgeable people than me. And for all the fun various parties of both nationalities seem to having with memes and wholesome interactions, it's undoubtedly true that there's also some American entitlement and exoticization going on, which sucks. But a sentiment I've seen repeatedly online is that, if it's taken actually speaking to Chinese people and viewing Chinese content for Americans to understand that they've been propagandized to about China and its people, then that just proves how racist they are, and I want to push back on that, because it strikes me as being a singularly reductive and unhelpful framing of something far more complex.

Firstly: while there's frequently overlap between racism and xenophobia, the distinction between them matters in this instance, because the primary point of American propaganda about China is that Communism Is Fundamentally Evil And Unamerican And Never Ever Works, and thinking a country's government sucks is not the same as thinking the population is racially inferior. The way most Republicans in particular talk about China, you'd think it was functionally indistinguishable from North Korea, which it really isn't. Does this mean there's no critique to be made of either communism in general or the CCP? Absolutely not! But if you've been told your whole life that communist countries are impoverished, corrupt and dangerous because Communism Never Works, and you've only really encountered members of the Chinese diaspora - i.e., people whose families left China, often under traumatic circumstances, because they thought America would be better or safer - rather than Chinese nationals, then no: it's not automatically racist to be surprised that their daily lives and standard of living don't match up with what you'd assumed. Secondly: TikTok's userbase skews young. While there's certainly Americans in their 30s and older investigating Xiaohongshu, it seems very reasonable to assume that the vast majority are in their teens or twenties - young enough that, barring a gateway interest in something like C-dramas, danmei or other Chinese cultural products, and assuming they're not of Chinese descent themselves, there's no reason why they'd know anything about China beyond what they've heard in the news, or from politicians, or from their parents, which is likely not much, and very little firsthand. But even with an interest in China, there's a difference between reading about or watching movies from a place, and engaging firsthand, in real time, with people from that place, not just through text exchanges, but in a visual medium that lets you see what their houses, markets, shopping centers, public transport, schools, businesses, infrastructure and landmarks look like. Does this mean that what's being observed isn't a curated perspective on China as determined both by Xiaohongshu's TOU and the demographic skewing of its userbase? Of course not! But that doesn't mean it isn't still a representative glimpse of a part of China, which is certainly more than most young Americans have ever had before.

Thirdly: I really need people to stop framing propaganda as something that only stupid bigots fall for, as though it's possible to natively resist all the implicit cultural biases you're raised with and exist as a perfect moral being without ever having to actively challenge yourself. To cite the sacred texts:

Like. Would the world be a better place if everyone could just Tell when they're being lied to and act accordingly? Obviously! But that is extremely not how anything actually works, and as much as it clearly discomforts some to witness, the most common way of realizing you've been propagandized to about a particular group of people is to interact with them. Can this be cringe and awkward and embarrassing at times? Yes! Will some people inevitably say something shitty or rude during this process? Also yes! But the reality is that cultural exchange is pretty much always bumpy to some extent; the difficulties are a feature, not a bug, because the process is inherently one of learning and conversation, and as individual people both learn at different rates and have different opinions on that learning, there's really no way to iron all that out such that nobody ever feels weird or annoyed or offput. Even interactions between career diplomats aren't guaranteed smooth sailing, and you're mad that random teenagers interacting through a language barrier in their first flush of enthusiasm for something new aren't doing it perfectly? Come on now.

Fourthly: Back before AO3 was banned in China, there was a period where the site was hit with an influx of Chinese users who, IIRC, were hopping over when one of their own fansites got shut down, which sparked a similar conversation around differences in site etiquette and how to engage respectfully. Which is also one of the many things that makes the current moment so deeply ironic: the US has historically criticized China for exactly the sort of censorship and redaction of free speech that led to AO3 being banned, and yet is now doing the very same thing with TikTok. Which is why what's happening on Xiaohongshu is, IMO, such an incredible cultural moment: because while there are, as mentioned, absolutely relevant things to be said about (say) Chinese censorship, US-centrism, orientalism and so on, what's ultimately happening is that, despite - or in some sense because of - the recent surge in anti-Chinese rhetoric from US politicians, a significant number of Americans who might otherwise never have done so are interacting directly with Chinese citizens in a way that, whatever else can be said of it, is actively undermining government propaganda, and that matters.

What it all most puts me in mind of, in fact, is a quote from French-Iranian novelist and cartoonist Marjane Satrapi, namely:

“The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same.”

And at this particular moment in history, this strikes me as being a singularly powerful realization for Americans in particular to have.

[thedevilsoftruth]

♡-Relief-♡

Gyomei Himejima x Afab Reader

Summary: You are married to Gyomei and are 5 months pregnant, but even when you are pregnant, Gyomei finds it hard to resist his desires.

Warning: Sexual content, slight sexual tension, vaginal fingering, oral ( f ), pregnant reader, not beta read! (srry!)

W/c - 3k ( I got a little carried away writing this, I'm sorry 😭 )

Minors DNI - I am not responsible for what you find on the internet.

It had been a few years since you had married Gyomei. He was the perfect lover, at least in your eyes. He never raised his voice at you, and you rarely found yourself arguing with him . He was gentle and kind and was exceedingly selfless, always putting you and your safety before anything else. But he was also a very sensitive man with a lot of trauma. Taking his trauma into account, it took him a long time to finally ask you for children. Not because he was scared of asking, but because he felt that he failed as a father once and didn't want to fail again.

And yet, here he was. Sitting with you, his 5 month pregnant wife outside in your backyard, eating a delicious dinner that you both prepared. The cold night air whipped past your face, making your body shiver with the breeze. Gyomei had already finished his second plate minutes ago, and he was now staring mindlessly into the night, though he could not see the beautiful dark sky looming over him. His large hand reached out for your waist, pulling you closer to him, your plate jittering in your lap as he moved you closer.

A soft murmur of an apology left his lips, and you vaguely reminded him that he didn't need to apologize by placing your hand on his knee. You laid your head on his shoulder and gazed up at the night sky, inhaling the fresh, cold air.

" The sky is beautiful tonight. " You told your husband mindlessly, wanting to start up a conversation no matter how small it was. He felt your hand on his, his fingers grazing over your soft knuckles before he grasped your hand fully, intertwining your fingers. He hummed softly in response.

" What does it look like, my love? " He inquired, closing his eyes, awaiting your response. You stared at the sky thoughtfully.

" The skies are clear. The moon is full, and the stars are very bright with the mountains off in the distance. " You told him, trying your hardest to describe what you were seeing that he could not. Gyomei visualized the night sky silently, trying to incorporate what you told him into his imagination. There was a silence between the both of you for moments, but it wasn't awkward.

" I wish you could see it. " You suddenly spoke, although you did not mean for the words to be spoken. You looked at your husband beside you. His thumb was running up and down your knuckles before he stopped. Squeeze. A small smile creeped upon his lips.

" You know my answer to that, my love. Now turn around. Allow me to massage you. " He instructed, his voice soft and sickeningly sweet. There was a very small underline of authority in his tone, and suddenly, you became aware of the copious amounts of times you had expressed your sympathy of his blindness to him. But you complied, and you turned your back to him, knowing that all your body needed at the end of the day was his hands relieving your pain.

Gyomei gently placed his hands on your shoulders, his hands large enough to match the size of your shoulders. A soft, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips as he started rolling his fingers into your skin. He pressed his thumbs near the back of your neck, slowly making lines up and down the center of your neck. He leaned in close to your ear as he massaged you.

" I do not need my sight to appreciate and recognize the beauty of this world. I have the other four senses that the gods have blessed me with to guide me through my days. " Gyomei finally spoke, trailing his hands down, kneading your soft skin under his skillful touch. You let out a sight of relief, your body relaxing under his touch. He smiled at your reaction, satisfied he was able to help you.

He was sure to be extra careful with where he touched you, given the fact you were pregnant. He knew that sometimes he could be unaware of his own strength, so this time, it felt like he was barely touching you. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. He felt the movements under his hand and made a confused look.

" A little harder, honey? And maybe lower. " You asked, looking at him over your shoulder. His face turned red, and he gulped hard.

" As you wish. "

His eyebrows furrowed in frustration. It wasn't anything inherently sexual, but Gyomei would keep getting reminded every once in a while that he hasn't been intimate with you in five months. Of course, he could live nine months without making love to you. You were pregnant! He wasn't going to wear you out like that while you were bearing his child. But, of course, there were always those few months after pregnancy where you had to recover--and oh, he was beginning to get frustrated with himself!

He exhaled deeply and lightly patted his fists along your back. You made a soft sound of satisfaction, and he could feel himself beginning to grow mad. You looked at him again when you felt him sighing, slightly concerned.

" Are you alright, my love? " You ask him, your voice laced with genuine concern. Gyomei forcefully relaxed his face and smiled.

" Happier than ever. " He responded, nuzzling his face into your neck. He wrapped his strong arms around you, and you melted into his embrace, your head leaning against his chest. You felt warm inside, and you began to think exactly what he was thinking.

You cupped his face with your hand and leaned in to kiss him deeply. He was surprised for a moment but was quick to give into it. His hand ran up and down your baby bump as he kissed you deeply, only adding to the intimacy of the moment. Then, his hands slipped to your thighs and began rubbing them gently. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and his tongue playing with yours. You could feel yourself beginning to pant, and you pulled away from him. Your lips quivered, and he could feel your thighs close beneath his hands.

" Gyomei? "

" Yes, my love? "

" This is embarrassing, but uh... " You fiddled with your fingers, not wanting to look him in the eye even though you knew he couldn't see you. He reached for your chin, sensing you had put your head down in embarrassment, and he kissed you passionately.

" Do not feel embarrassed with me, my dear. Whatever you need, I am happy to give you. " He said, his voice soft and understanding as he slipped his hands up and down your thighs sweetly. You felt your face heating up.

" I... I want you to make love to me. "

If Gyomei was holding a plate right now, that plate would have been crashing onto the floor and shattering into a million pieces. He stared in your direction, mouth agape in shock. It's not like he didn't want to make love to you. It's that he didn't expect you to even want him with the pain he imagined you were dealing with.

He didn't know what to say. You were beginning to get nervous.

" It's okay if you say no-- "

" No, I would like to. If that is what you want, I will give it to you. "

You felt your cheeks going red again. He cupped your cheek and kissed you with comforting and reassuring lips. His hands went over your belly again, and you smiled against his lips. He pulled away from you and grinned.

" Let's go inside. "

~~~

You hadn't been naked in front of him for months. You were nervous and very embarrassed about the way you looked. Even though you were only 5 months in, you couldn't bare the changes of your body and you could feel the pregnancy hormones start to kick in when he heald you in his arms, seemingly paying no attention to your body changes.

His hands grazed over your hips where you had the most stretch marks, his head slipping between your thighs. You slapped his hand away, and he quirked a brow at you, confused.

" Did I do something wrong, love? " He asked innocently, his soft face looking up at you.

You instantly felt bad.

" No! 'm sorry. I just... ah, forget it. "

He stared in your general direction for several moments, a very confused expression etched on his face. He actually looked kinda cute. He cleared his throat and rose up to meet you. He didn't realize how close his face was to yours. A large hand sneaked up your side, taking your breath away.

" Something is troubling you. You know you can trust me, my love. " He reminded you, cupping your cheek in his rough hand and rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You felt like you were going to cry. What did you do to deserve him? He felt hot tears running down his hand. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing people cry. But if there was anything he hated more than seeing people cry, it was seeing you cry. His heart ached, and he felt like he was also going to cry.

You didn't understand it. He didn't either.

" It's just... we haven't been intimate in so long. And, ive... I've gained weight since we found out about the pregnancy. " You explained to him, your voice being broken up by sobs. Gyomei felt like his heart was breaking. He placed each hand on either side of your face and kissed you.

" Is that what you are worried about? My love, there is nothing wrong with a little weight gain. My love for you will continue to be as infinite as the stars no matter what you look like. " He told you with glassy, teary eyes. He was so soft-spoken, so gentle, so loving. He loved you so much, and he made sure that that was vividly clear to you every day. It only made you want to cry more. " Plus, our child is growing inside you. And that, my love, is the most beautiful thing ever. "

He wiped away the hot tears that were streaming down your cheeks, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. When he closed his eyes, tears rolled down his cheeks as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him deep in his cloudy eyes.

" Kiss me, Gyomei, please. " You pleaded him with a soft sob. His large thumbs continued to wipe away your tears, and he leaned in with quivering lips, capturing yours in a passionate kiss. You felt instant relief wash over you, and you hiccuped against his mouth, but he didn't seem to care.

His hands ran through your hair, tilting his head to kiss you deeper. You softly moaned against his lips. A strong hand fell down to your neck, a gentle thumb brushed against your jaw and a sweet voice whispered to you,

" I love you. Never forget that. "

And oh, how breathless he left you as he trailed soft kisses down your torso. You parted your thighs for him once more, his board shoulders keeping them apart as he bent down to kiss your tummy. So many emotions washed through you when his strong hands caressed your thighs, and he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You whimpered softly as he softly kissed your wet folds. Your tears finally stopped when he parted your outer lips, allowing him more access to your core. A gasp left your puffy lips as his mouth latched onto your soft, aching clit. He sucked slowly while he prodded two thick fingers against your entrance. You bit your finger as his fingers slipped inside you. He heard your gasp, and a smile crept upon his thin lips as he continued to eat you out.

" Feel good? " He asked against your sweet cunt, which be ate at like the finest of candy. Your pussy fluttered against his fingers at his words.

" Y-yes. Oh-oh god... " You whispered as his fingers slipped into you deeply, stretching you wide. It was like heaven. The duo of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you was enough to get you closer to god. Your eyes fluttered shut, and your hips bucked against his hand, begging for more.

All this man needed to do was to just kiss you and hold you in his arms for all of your problems to go away. His tongue parted your folds and flicked against your clit, his free hand rubbing your belly in soft circles.

The contact of his hand to your belly sent a warm feeling of pure love flowing through you. The skin on your thighs rose with light goosebumps, and you could feel him smiling against your core as he felt your reaction. You sighed as he twisted his fingers deep into you, burying them to the hilt as he pumped them in and out of you slowly. His tongue flicked up and down your clit, humming softly and sending vibrations to flow through your body.

You reached down and grabbed a fistfull of his hair, but he didn't flinch. If anything, it motivated him. He redoubled his efforts of your clit, and shook his head against your core, closing his mouth around the tiny bud and kissing it harshly. His eyes opened, his thick brows furrowed, and, for a moment, you could swear he was staring right at you. It made your legs weak, and your thighs clenched around his face. He didn't push you away, nor did he seem frustrated by it. In fact, he loved when you did things like pulling his hair, clawing at his skin, or clenching your thighs around hum.

His deep brown eyes that were clouded with his blindness were locked onto yours from in between your legs. It was certainly a sight. His eyes rarely ever directly found yours, and for him to be able to be staring at you like that, especially in the intimate position you were in then, was something that could make you crazy. But, the moment quickly died out as they darted off into a random direction before he closed them completely again.

His lips softly kissed your throbbing clit, pecking at it like the finest of fruits, rubbing the tip of his tongue in slow circles around your flesh and making you moan loudly. Your hips bucked towards his face, your fingers pulling at his scalp and your thighs beginning to shake in his arms.

You moaned his name guttarly, your eyes rolling back as his fingers curled around that special part in you that sent you flying. Your lips parted, your mind souly focused on the feeling of the pleasure that he was granting you and that feeling only. He responded to your cries of pleasure by pumping his fingers slightly faster and sucking onto your clit harshly. Your eyes closed tight, countless moans leaving your lips and making your husband get so incredibly hard.

" Angel, "

Suck. Kiss. Thrust.

" Are you close? "

His voice was like music to your ears. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers at the sound of his voice, your tight walls clenching onto him for dear life, trying to keep him inside you as long as it could.

" Y-yes. " You whimpered, grinding yourself against his hand, desperately seeking more friction. He growled and heald your hips down, his brows furrowing in pure concentration as he quickened his pace at literally everything.

He withdrew his mouth from your cunt and rose up to your face to kiss you. He replaced his tongue with his thumb, rubbing against you in tight, hard circles. He drank down your moans and rested his free hand against the side of your neck. He kissed the corner of your mouth and peppered kisses down your jaw until he lifted your face with his thumb, gaining access to the area below your jaw. He kissed his way down to the center of your neck, his thumb continuing to rub against your clit and send you to heavenly bliss.

But what got you the most--because it was so unexpected, especially coming from him, was his only smug remark of the night,

" You like that? "

Your face immediately heated up. Your thighs closed against his hand, and for the first time, he actually pushed them back open. He bowed his head back between your legs and slowly began kissing your cunt again. You stared at him In shock.

Who was this man?

You felt hot. Really hot. Suddenly you couldn't breathe as his fingers curled and thrust into your g-spot, his tongue making sweet love to your clit. Your legs shook and kept closing in on his face, your hips jerky as the pleasure began to consume you. His eyes opened, and he did that weird thing again where he looked at you.

His large, rough hands wrapped your thighs and heald them open for him so he eat at your oversensitive cunt more. You felt so flustered, so confused, but so incredibly turned on. Once he was satisfied you got the hint and wouldn't move as much as before, he finally let his fingers slip back into your cunt. But this time, it wasn't two that he slipped in. It was three.

You cried out, and he responded by digging his fingers deeper into you and closing his lips around your clit.

Suck. Kiss. Thrust.

" Fuck, " you whispered, putting your hand over your heated face, your puffy lips quivering as your husband completely and utterly devoured you. You could feel that familiar sensation building up inside your abdomen. You were going to cum soon, and judging by the way your cunt was fluttering and clenching around him, he was aware of it too.

" C'mon, sweetie. " He encouraged, rising his body up a little, letting your legs fall on his board shoulders as he finger-fucked you into bliss. You whimpered and moaned continuously, your eyes fluttering shut, soft cunt pulsating on him and begging him to stay inside you.

" Gyo... d-dont stop! Feels--feels so g-good. " You choked on your moans, your legs shaking helplessly on his shoulders. He reached an arm out so his free hand could fondle your plump breast. His fingers curled and thrust against your g-spot once more, causing you to gasp out and jerk your hips towards him.

God, he could listen to those sweet sounds all fucking day long. His eyes rolled back, quickening the pace of his fingers. And suddenly, you couldn't take it anymore. You finally poured down on him, your hot, thick cum spilling onto his thick fingers and the sheets. You panted, desperately trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high.

He pumped his fingers I to you a few more times before he finally withdrew them. He wiped his fingers onto his hoari, his mouth drinking up everything your leaking cunt had to offer. He darted his tongue out, tasting your cum-coated folds, swiping it up and down and gathering every last drop of it.

And finally, when he was done, he rose back up to meet you. He let your legs drop back down, and he kissed you gently.

He cupped your face and smiled at you when you pulled away.

" I hope that relieved some of your pain if you had any. " He spoke softly, his hand tracing over your baby bump. You hummed in contentment and smiled as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You wouldn't cry for the rest of the night or any other night of your very long pregnancy. But, you would still be in pain, and Gyomei would always do whatever he had to do to relieve it.

[dualityvn]

A little bit off topic from recent events, but Keith looks so beautiful.

Although the last post wasn't exactly happy or back to normal yet but I just want to take time to appreciate our sweetheart a little.

Keith looks like an angel. He always does. That was my first thought when I saw him in the flower shop, when he stood in my kitchen wearing Tenerbis's clothes(even if he doesn't like them really he still looked gorgeous), when he took me to dinner and rambled about flower language(I really find it interesting and sweet how he knows so much), and especially on that picnic in the forest where there was no one else(besides Tenten of course [cause I picked that option]). And when he was talking about that flower that's center resembles a bee's mate to attract them, only able to get pollinated if it does a good enough job I honestly found it a sad but deeply beautiful metaphor to himself or rather how he views himself.

He looked beautiful when he got a slightly new look, he looked beautiful with pink hair and honestly he looks beautiful with every emotion on display on his face. I find him stunning with a bright smile and those shining blue eyes, but I also find him breath taking even when he's angry or upset, when just his gaze could pierce trough my soul.

In the last arts he truly looked like an angry/hurt angel who slightly calmed down after destroying worlds.

And this is not specifically about his looks only. I know the words I used are usually to describe one's physical beauty but for Keith it's like he has that beauty in his soul, like even if his appearance changed 180° he would still be beautiful because it would be him.

(a little note to the dear creator, I am very sorry if I got something incorrect but I am writing this from plain memory and feeling, also english is not my first language. I have to admire the fact how you're handling this "drama" roleplay, you write every response with such care and feeling that at times I tend to forget that it is only roleplay and I get a tad concerned for Keith(or Tenebris when it was his case). It's truly amazing how much effort you put into the blog and keeping people updated on the progress too. I truly believe you made 2 of the most interesting and loveable characters(to me for sure did), perhaps in the whole visual novel industry too. This little ramble was just made because these past posts has really gave me a strong feeling towards Keith and I wanted to put it into words, I hope you don't mind.)

- C🌸

AAaa, thank you so much, C. You're way too kind. And don't worry, you didn't get anything wrong I don't think!

"F-flattery isn't going to get me to act nice again!" - Keith

[witchunderthewillow]

Bright New Year’s Magic: Zesty Lemon Bars 🍋✨

🍋 These bright, tangy treats are infused with the cleansing, uplifting energy of lemons and the grounding sweetness of real Mexican vanilla, perfect for clarity, renewal, and fresh starts. They’re simple to make, delicious to eat, and full of magical intention. 🌙

Yields: 9-12 bars

Ingredients for the Crust:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour (Foundation and grounding)

• 1/4 cup sugar (Sweetness and attraction)

• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted (Wealth and prosperity)

• 1/2 tsp real Mexican vanilla extract (Love, and magical sweetness)

Ingredients for the Filling:

• 2 large eggs (Fertility and new beginnings)

• 1 cup sugar (Sweetness and celebration)

• Juice and zest of 1 lemon (Clarity, joy, energy)

• 2 tbsp all-purpose flour (Stability and structure)

• 1/2 tsp baking powder (Rising energy and expansion)

Directions:

1. Preheat Your Oven:

Set the temperature to 350°F (175°C). Grease an 8x8-inch baking dish or line it with parchment paper for easy removal.

2. Prepare the Crust:

• Mix the flour, sugar, melted butter, and Mexican vanilla in a bowl until crumbly.

• Press the mixture firmly into the bottom of your baking dish, envisioning a solid foundation for your intentions.

• Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until lightly golden. Let it cool slightly.

3. Make the Filling:

• In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest, flour, and baking powder.

• As you mix, focus on your New Year intentions: clarity, renewal, and fresh beginnings.

4. Bake the Lemon Bars:

• Pour the filling over the baked crust.

• Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the filling is set and doesn’t jiggle in the center.

5. Cool, Slice, and Garnish:

• Allow the bars to cool completely before slicing into squares.

• Dust with powdered sugar to add a touch of sweetness and visual magic (spirals or sigils are extra powerful here!).

Magical Correspondences:

• Lemon: Purification, clarity, joy. Perfect for cutting through old energy and starting fresh.

• Vanilla: Love, grounding, and sweetness. Adds depth to your intentions and fosters a comforting atmosphere.

• Sugar: Sweetness, attraction, positive energy.

• Flour: Grounding and stability, building a strong foundation for your intentions.

• Eggs: Fertility, creation, and the birth of new ideas.

Beautiful way to channel New Year’s energy. They can also be offered as a treat to your deities, spirits, or ancestors. 🍋 Serve them with love and gratitude to bring joy into your home. ✨

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

Color Symbolism in Newsies

Newsies (1992) is much beloved for it's use of color. From the pastels of the ensemble newsies to Jack's distinctive red bandana, the use of certain colors in the film do an excellent job of helping to tell the story. Exhibit A: the contrast between Jack's bandana and David's blue shirt which creates a visual representation of the contrast between the personalities of our two main characters.

Coupled with historical context and meanings, there are many connections between and insights into characters that can be gained by paying close attention to how Newsies uses color.

For the sake of brevity, I'll just be analyzing the colors in Newsies as they are used in costuming and ignoring set design or we could be here all night.

Red

In political history, red has often stood for revolution and rebellion. It's no wonder then that the leaders of Brooklyn and Manhattan both wear red. Red also indicates passion and bravery, which are key to the strike.

Besides Jack and Spot, Pulitzer wears red when Jack is brought to his study and attempts to bribe Jack to scab. Aka, Pulitzer is dressed in red at the height of exercising his power over Jack.

Center: Jack And The Beanstalk. Illustration for unidentified book of children's nursery literature, with Kronheim illustrations, c 1870

@sarahjacobs has an excellent post that talks about red symbolizing power in Newsies which you can read here.

Another interesting meaning for red comes from Jewish belief where the color red is linked to sin, but also to sacrifice and redemption. Jack scabbing to protect David and his friends after Pulitzer threatens them comes to mind.

You could consider Jack dawning his bandana again during "Once And For All" as symbolic of his redemption and reconciliation with the Jacobs and the newsies.

Red: Uncovering the Historical Significance of a Bold Color - Symbol Sage Political colour, Red - Wikipedia What colors symbolize Jewish culture?, Red

Pink

When most people think of pink, they often associate it with femininity. However, pink being a "girl" color is actually a modern idea which only gained significant popularity in the 1950s. Before this, pink was worn beginning in the 1700s by European aristocrats and became a color of success and class.

This meaning makes pink fitting for Miss Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark.

In the later half of the 19th century in particular, pink was also tied to youth, which is why we see Sarah and several newsboys alike in the color. As The Art of Dressing Well (1870) dictated, pink "is only fitted for the young. It is a charming color, and those to whom it is suited look very graceful in it."

Because it was also seen as a "paler shade of red", pink had masculine connotations that were also associated with red. Pink therefore occasionally shares the meanings of passion, aggression, and bravery with its parent color.

The first time Sarah wears pink is when she discovers Denton's article and becomes directly involved with and passionate about the strike.

Oscar Delancey, arguably the more aggressive Delancey, wears a pink undershirt. You also have Kid Blink in a pink shirt who is known for being very passionate and short tempered.

The shade of pink that Blink wears is the same shade as Sarah's shawl which she wears when she punches Morris Delancey in the face. Medda too isn't afraid to fight back and speak her mind at the rally. She and Sarah both exhibit bravery.

Refined, rebellious and not just for girls: A cultural history of pink | CNN Tickled pink: colors in the Victorian era - Recollections Blog The complicated gender history of pink | CNN

Blue

You've likely heard the phrase "true blue" before, this is because blue has a reputation stretching far back in history for representing loyalty and trust. Blue also often represents intelligence and tranquility. It's extremely fitting then that David Jacobs is always seen in blue, especially because he values honesty and prefers peaceful means of protest to violence whenever possible.

The color blue, specifically tekhelet or a shade of blue described in the Torah, holds significant weight in Judaism. It is sometimes referred to as the 'color of God’s Glory’ in Rabbinic literature and has been used in ancient and modern Jewish symbolism alike. This connects the color blue to the Jacobs family as a whole.

Even without the association to Judaism, the Jacobs family puts high value in education and truth. After all, it was Mr. Jacobs who taught his children not to lie and who insists on David and Les returning to school.

Left: King David with the Lyre, 18th century Sebastiano Conca (1680-1764)

Left: Tekhelet (תְּכֵלֶת) or "sky blue" tzitzit; Right: King David. Psalterium et horae ad usum Sanctae Capellae Parisiensis, 1360-1400

Because blue was historically both an expensive dye and pigment for painters, blue was worn by and used in art for only the most important subjects. Thus, blue became symbolic of nobility.

To the Renaissance artists, there was no subject more important than the Virgin Mary. While blue had been tied to female figures and goddesses previously across several cultures, Renaissance depictions of Mary led to blue becoming widely associated with humility, grace, and femininity in the Western world.

Left: Periwinkle flower, a symbol of grace and femininity and a Christian symbol of the Virgin Mary

Pastel shades of blue in particular became commonly feminine colors suitable for women and girls in the 18th and 19th centuries. Hence, it makes sense that Sarah would wear blue at the rally.

All You Need to Know About What the Color Blue Symbolizes | Slightly Blue What does blue mean in Judaism? | Slightly Blue The Secret History of the Color Blue — Google Arts & Culture The History of Blue as a Women’s Color

Purple

Because of its rarity in the natural world, and the labor historically needed to create purple dye, purple was highly prized and was considered a symbol of high status and honor.

Spot Conlon is the only member of the our main cast of newsies to wear the color purple, which visually symbolizes the newsboys' respect for him, his reputation, and his involvement in the strike.

The purple detailing on Medda's costume when we first meet and are introduced to her by Jack is also an indication of the respect other characters have for her.

Purple can also denote ambition and independence, characteristics that suit both Spot and Medda well seeing as Spot has "moved up in the world" and Medda owns her own theater.

Why is Purple Considered the Color of Royalty? | HISTORY Purple: Color Meaning, Associations, and Effects

Black and Grey

What about lack of color? In Newsies, we can easily tell our heroes from the villains through the use of color. Or can we?

The villains or "opposing forces" are all dressed in dark greys or black as opposed to the pastels and shades of brown that the newsies and their allies wear. Jack Kelly is an interesting exception, dressed head to toe in dark hues with the one color being the red of his bandana. Visually, Jack could fit into a crowd of newsboys, or of scabs and goons.

Black has long been associated, for obvious reasons, with darkness and secrecy. Similarly, grey is often seen as representing foreboding, moral ambiguity, and evasiveness.

The use of grey and black for Jack clues us into the fact that he is lying about his past and his family and also foreshadows his betrayal of the strike.

Which Colour represents evil?

[forthelostones]

— 🧚🏾(mdni; visual smut - modern au)

tw: mentions c*ck, phone sex !

based off this video.

when you and abby have been apart for so long and you miss her so much. she had been working so hard recently, back to back meetings, staying on top of her physical health, and ensuring you had nothing to worry about.

but that meant you were lonely at times. it wasn’t unusual to find you fucking yourself in the living room hoping she’d just come home early and catch you. and when she would come home and try to relax it resulted in her falling asleep during a movie or while reading. you loved abby so much but saw so little of her.

today, she had a meeting with the partners and it would mean a boost in rank and salary. she stayed up all night, tossing in bed anxiously. you saw how stressed she was.

when she left that morning you woke up craving her by your side. which lead you to be soaked in return. you slipped her pillow down to your crotch, belly down, and started grinding slowly. abby loved feeling you like that, either with clothes on or off. you riding her thigh, her hip, her ass, or her cunt. you remembered how her lips felt against yours which made you more frustrated.

that’s when you took her strap out of the nightstand drawer. you lifted your hips and slid it in carefully, yelping at how tight you were. it was harder to be aroused when abby wasn’t singing praises in your ear.

“yes baby, oh-oh fuck, yes fuck me.”

you slowly grind against the toy and it’s base, rocking back and forth, but still it wasnt enough. in your shared bedroom abby had two large mirrors installed on the outside of the closet door. it made for a good view when she wanted to see your face during doggy. abby became so intoxicated watching your tits bounce and your mouth drop at the feeling of her inside you.

you removed the dildo from the strap and placed it on the center of the mirror. you thought it would be a good time to tease her. after you slide your pussy back onto the toy you take your phone and start recording. the thought being abby’s personal pornstar turned you on so much.

you press send, still slowly stroking her cock, smiling at how it was filling you up. it wasn’t just moments until you had an incoming facetime call. she had a private office at her firm, she would joke about it when she was first hired.

“no gaudy glass windows, i mean you saw the other ones, i got lucky, too bad we can’t play big boss fucks her assistant.”

you answer, cheeks burning, as you saw her top slightly unbuttoned, pants down and pussy exposed.

“i don’t have long.” she muttered, working her hand around her clit.

“oh now you have time for me.” you moan.

“come on, fuck yourself for me baby.”

[outofgloom]

CHRONICLER

"There is a link now between us," the Toa intoned, holding the Matoran's gaze.

The Matoran looked back, eyes wide behind its mask. It did not move.

"...I shall be with you, in heart..."

The Matoran's eyes wandered slightly, glancing to the cliff face behind the Toa, the empty black opening with its fringe of roots and stalactites. The cave-mouth was piled with detritus, with broken branches and scraps of metal, of armor...of limbs–

"Hey."

The Toa's hand was making the sharp attention-gesture between her eyes, and the Matoran's visual focus snapped back to center involuntarily.

"Look for me in your rest-state," the Toa continued. "I will come to you then, and speak to you of the things I see underground. Remember them."

"Remember them."

"Confirmed?"

"Confirmed."

"Good."

The Toa rose from her meditation pose, up and up, and towered over the Matoran.

"Return to the Koro and await," she said, and made the dismiss-gesture, stepping toward the cave mouth. She shrugged her shoulders powerfully, and the jungle air went even more humid as she stepped forward.

The Matoran was already turning away, walking down the path beneath the twisted broad-leafed trees. He tried to turn his head, tried to look back, but could not. He was the chronicle-unit now. His duty was to return to the Koro and await. Return and await…

He stumbled on the uneven path, which was furrowed by the passage of whatever creature had moved through the Koro several nights ago. A glint of metal caught his eye as he regained his balance. Off to the side. He walked onward, barely noticing. Return and await. He was the chronicle-unit. Return and await.

The Koro spread out before him as he left the cover of the trees, and he made a beeline for his hut. Return and await.

It wasn't until he'd entered the door and sat on the rest-pallet that he registered what he had seen, off the side of the path, in the torn grass, the mangled roots...

The old Turaga's mask, or half of it.

He shivered. Teeth marks.

He awaited.

* * *

It had been a few hours. The other Matoran had come to check on him, since he had not returned to the work. Their faces looked in at the door of his hut, but they said nothing. They saw his face, and they understood. They left him alone, to await. That was his duty, and theirs was to continue repairs, to recover the masks which could be recovered, to inter the bodies properly so that they might go unto Mata.

The hut was dim, and he had assumed the meditation position for some time, waiting patiently. Patiently…

Asleep. He had fallen asleep where he sat, but now he snapped awake. The Toa’s mask hung before his eyes, and for a moment he believed he had failed, had missed the chronicle. The Toa had returned, found him in his hut, and would berate him for his error!

He flinched away from the great mask, but there was no anger in those eyes. They simply stared him down, staring…

The hut was gone. The cave was dark and damp and cool all around. The main passageway descended in ranks of volcanic rock and flowstone, flanked by mineral pillars and overhung with the ever-present stalactites. Every surface was wet with moisture: dripping from above, flowing in rivulets, pooling in the crystal hollows. 

Perfect conditions.

The Toa perched spiderlike on a steep bank of flowstone and felt the water obey her command, flowing backwards to root her feet and hands against the stone. Droplets of water vaporized silently from the eye-holes of her Ruru, Mask of Night Vision, as she scanned deeper into the cave-interior and noted how it opened into a tall gallery pocked with tunnels and crevices. It wasn’t hard to pick out the right one. To the left, and a bit lower down, the delicate columns were cracked and displaced, tumbled over. The creature’s lair was there.

"Chronicle this," she whispered suddenly, and the Matoran felt himself embodied again, seated on the floor of his hut, though his other senses did not conform to this. His hands grasped blindly for tablet and carver, and he began to etch letters as a flood of information poured into him: coordinates and route, intel and initial analysis. He understood very little. The words were technical–not for him to grasp. Nevertheless, he carved them down.

The Toa was preparing. She cycled through a series of masks: Zatth, Ramau, and others he did not recognize, then back to Ruru. She was well-equipped for the task, it seemed. Once she had verified her Kanohi, she released her hold on the rock and, without warning, slipped forward and out into the open air of the gallery. 

The Matoran made a choking noise, and his heartlight beat in his throat as he fell with her, clattering the tablets away as he spread himself on the floor of his hut, desperately telling his mind that he was not there, not there–

The fine chains which wrapped the Toa's gauntlets and upper torso chimed as they suddenly unwound, beaded with droplets, and wove themselves into a web of metal and water around her, and she was hurtling through dark air, swinging and spinning, and then it was over. Her feet made the lightest of sounds as she came to rest on the cold floor before the leftmost tunnel. Crouching, she pulled a small stone from a slot in her armor and cracked it gently against the hard surface, causing it to glow blue and illuminate the area dimly.

The floor of the cave was scored with claw-marks, and he felt her confusion as she examined them but found herself unable to make a positive identification. The chains retreated partially to their position on her armor, but she kept a length ready on each arm, winding the water-soaked links into a series of loops and snares. She swung one of the chain-loops idly, and he watched the lazy arc of it, heard it whizzing in the air–

Her face was before him again: "Chronicle this."

More technical information flooded him, and he struggled to retrieve the tablet, to keep up: location of the tunnel within the cave-system, estimations of the creature’s size, potential strategies of summoning or entrapment or...

She was already moving ahead, down the tunnel. Her Kanohi had shifted to a Zatth, a Mask of Summoning, and after a few moments there was a skittering noise as a small horde of scaly Stone Rats responded to her signal, running from every crack and hole in the stone and crowding around her feet. Another pause followed, and then she stamped lightly, causing them to flee; all except one, which stood obediently before her now, fully under the influence of her newly-switched Ramau, Mask of Rahi Control. She commanded the rodent to run ahead down the center of the tunnel, following a few bio behind it.

The tunnel curved leftward, and she kept to the right wall, her eyes straining against the dark. She could feel vaguely through the Stone Rat's senses, but she'd need to switch to Night Vision again soon, or risk another lightstone. The tunnel curved downward now, and the particular echo of the small claws scraping on stone told her that the tunnel was widening, opening up into a larger–

Crunch. She stumbled as something pierced the Stone Rat's body, sharply severing her link with it. In the split second after, she had summoned Ruru and was clinging spiderlike to the damp wall of the tunnel once more, skating ahead silently. All at once, she saw the place where the tunnel broadened into a larger cavern, saw the stain where the Stone Rat had been, and the scar in the rock, and the dark, rippling shape which half-covered the tunnel exit. She stopped abruptly. He could feel her excitement. Plan changed.

She dropped from the ceiling and, in one smooth motion, freed another lightstone, wrapped it in a chain, and flung it headlong past the creature's visible torso, out into the chamber. The stone struck the floor and flared to life, blindingly bright, and she'd already switched to Ramau, now that she could see, was already dashing out into the larger space, bending her mind upon the mind of the huge slithering, rippling creature and its hundreds of tiny legs as it recoiled from the light and whipped around toward her.

Two blunt, dark eyes faced her, and two mandibles clacked below them, but she poured her mental strength into the mask, and felt the centipedal beast flinch away, its segmented flanks clicking and vibrating...

It lunged at her in one fluid movement, and she cursed. The beast was insectoid after all, and the Ramau was only fully effective against endoskeletal Rahi. An amateur mistake.

She dodged sideways and flung her arms up, letting the smooth body pass by her. The pistons in her shoulders surged, and she brought her armored gauntlets down hard against the beast's flank, fists together, felt the protochitinous plates buckle, and the centipede screeched, twisted away. A host of bladed legs sheared against her own armor, and she wondered what possible purpose such a beast could serve in Mata's world.

The flexile body whipped around again, and the creature's head was above her now, descending. She backstepped, and the mandibles snapped shut just short of her face.

"Enough of that." She grunted as a jet of solid water pounded from her outstretched arms, carrying with it the lashing, slashing links of her chains. The force of the blast flung her away from the creature and smashed it against the stone wall, partly flooding the chamber. For a moment it was all legs and joints scrabbling against the slippery stone, struggling to right itself.

She landed lightly on her feet and smiled. The noise of her chains spinning up again echoed in the space, and a whirlwind of water rose around her. She tensed and prepared to spring forward, aiming for the head–

Her foot would not move. She glanced down. Webs...Clinging, transparent webs. Almost invisible. Her foot was snared in a lattice which stretched across the floor, and her leg too. She slashed at the webbing with her chains and felt it give way, letting her step forward again, ready to deliver the final blow.

That was when she realized that she was standing in the entrance of another cavern, one which opened on the first. She hadn't noticed it in the heat of battle. It was a larger space, and there more webs, just visible along the walls and ceiling. Bodies and masks wrapped in filmy thread. A Turaga-sized shape off to the left, next to the corpse of another centipedal Rahi, much bigger than the first, all mummified in transparent silk...

She whirled. The centipede had fled. She was just in time to catch the edge of a dark arachnoid shape before–

Stinger. Sharp, venom-tipped. Long, many-jointed limbs descended around her, and her chain sawed through one of them before the stinger drove forward, impossibly fast, right into–

The Matoran's body arched and thrashed upon the floor, and his screaming tore the air as the vision ended.

* * *

"How long has it been?"

"Twelve days, great Toa, since the last Toa came to us."

"Toa Vysa, yes. And she chose a Chronicler, I gather?"

"Yes...great Toa. She chose Uhzu, the stonemason."

"Show me to them. I must read their chronicle first."

The Matoran hesitated. Its mouth worked.

"Great Toa...the Chronicler is...is in his hut."

"Very well, show me where it is located."

"It is just here." The Matoran trudged a few steps up the central path and stopped beside one of the round structures. Toa Imjah reached the hut in two strides. The door was closed and the windows shut.

"He is inside?"

"Confirmed."

"Call him out."

"I cannot."

Imjah frowned. "Explain."

"He sealed the openings with mortar. Three days ago. We–"

"What in Mata's name?"

The Matoran winced. "Uhzu...He would not come out."

"Why would he do this?"

"He...he carved the tablets, great Toa, the...chronicle. After the first Toa arrived. He told us that she came to him in his rest-state, and told him many things. It was his duty."

"This is standard procedure..."

"He did not stop. Night and day, he carved, great Toa. Then he shut himself in, and–"

"Yes, but why?"

"He...day and night...he screamed..."

The Matoran flinched as the door splintered inward under Imjah's iron hand. Dried mortar crumbled away from the edges as it was pried open. The Toa stooped and went inside.

"By Mata..."

A mask lay in the center of the round space. The body was curled against the back wall of the hut, motionless. The Matoran peeked over the Toa's shoulder.

"Is he...?"

Imjah could still detect the faint glow of a heartlight.

"Still alive," he said. "But what is all this...?"

There were tablets everywhere, strewn about. Imjah picked up one after the other, squinting in the dimness. Most were carved on both faces, and recarved with different words, overlapping, and recarved yet again, until the round letters were illegible, and the stone was crumbling.

"Is it not the chronicle?" the Matoran asked.

"I've seen better."

Something else caught the Toa's eye now. In the dirt floor itself, there were words carved, and into the walls, same as the tablets. Words etched into the frame of the low worktable to the right. Words carved on every surface, over and over.

"We couldn't spare any more stone tablets, from the repairs," the Matoran offered sheepishly. "That was before he sealed the door."

"Well, it looks like he made do," Imjah replied, "but it's nonsense. Unreadable." He shook his head, retrieving the mask from its place on the floor. "I've heard reports of other Matoran suffering from such madness in the past," he continued, shuffling further into the space, toward the body. "It's a sad thing, but most can be made right."

"That is...good?"

"Yes, and what did Toa Vysa say when she returned from her task? Did the madness begin after she departed? I had hoped to meet her here, or on the path, since she was overdue. There was a report of a Rahi-attack, as I recall."

The Matoran stared. Its mouth worked again slowly.

"Great Toa...ah...Toa Vysa did not return."

"What?"

The mask that Imjah held was covered in etch-marks, he realized. Covered in carved words, like the tablets and the walls and the floor. The body of Uhzu itself was also covered in carved words, words scratched into his armor. The tips of his metal fingers were worn down.

"She did not return from the jungle. Only the Chronicler came back, to...to await."

A shiver went down Imjah's spine.

"Twelve days, you said, since Toa Vysa came here?"

"Confirmed."

"And three since he sealed himself in?"

"Yes."

Imjah's heartlight was beating fast. He rolled the body of Uhzu over and placed the mask bluntly onto the face. A moment passed, and then the heartlight began to beat stronger, stronger. Another moment, and the lungs kicked in, and the chest expanded. Servos whirred in the frame. The eyes fluttered, still dim. Imjah shook the Matoran.

"Wake up. Wake up!" The eyes glowed and focused. He made the attention-gesture, and they responded.

"Relay your chronicle," he commanded. "Relay your chronicle!"

"Chronicle," the dry voice rasped. "Chronicle this."

"Yes, your chronicle. Your–"

"CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS–"

The words began pouring out of the dry throat at full volume, and the body twitched, arms flailing, fingers grasping, grinding at Imjah's face, and then, when Imjah swatted them away, at any surface they could reach. Grinding and clawing and carving words, words, words.

Iron bands sprang from Imjah's armor and wrapped themselves around the Matoran's limbs, restraining him. The head shook to and fro, still frothing words, but silently now, out of breath, until another iron band curled up and stilled its movement. Imjah sat back on his heels. Perhaps it was simply madness, or a malfunction, after all. Perhaps...

"There is a link now between us," Imjah intoned, centering himself and focusing his mind in order to interface with the Matoran's memory. "I shall be with y–"

"Hello?" the Matoran said abruptly, and Imjah froze mid-sentence. The voice had changed slightly, and the eyes had lost focus. "Are you there?" it continued. "Please..."

"I'm...I'm here. Who–"

"It hurts. It hurts. I'm here, please!"

"Stop! Listen to me–"

"It's dark, and my eyes...my eyes are gone, I think, and I can't get free. My arms and legs, them too..."

"Where are you?"

"The chronicle-unit's failed, I fear. I've been trying, trying to reach out, but the venom...it's affected my focus. Couldn't keep the pain out of the link. I think I may have broken its mind. Is anyone there?"

Imjah focused harder, trying to calm his thudding heartlight.

"Ah! Get away! GET AWAY! I know you're there! Curse you, I'll tear your webs. No more stingers! I'll cleave you in half you...ah! No more! You've eaten...You've eaten so much. Stop, or there won't be anything left! GET AWAY! ARE YOU THERE? PLEASE! CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE–"

Imjah yanked the mask from the Matoran's face, and the voice cut off. The body fell to the ground.

A long moment passed, and Imjah's mind raced. Had it been a remnant of the previous link, or real-time communication, or something else? He picked up one of the nearby tablets absentmindedly, then looked sideways, out the door. The Matoran was still standing there, eyes wide.

"Quickly, where did Vysa go?" he said.

"North, great Toa, up the path, into the high jungle. There are caves there." The Matoran pointed.

Imjah's shoulders gouged the doorway as he emerged from the hut. He stood a moment in the street, hesitating, towering over the Matoran. It occurred to him that the Koro had fallen eerily quiet, and he realized that the rest of the villagers had gathered, in the street and between the huts. All of their eyes were on him, unblinking.

"North, you said?"

The Matoran nodded, pointing up the central path once more. The crowd parted abruptly to make a lane for him, as if at a signal. Imjah stepped forward, but then stopped.

"I will...I will require," he stammered, then started again: "Protocol requires a new Chronicler be selected, to...to record my descent."

The villagers stared at him. The only noises came from the jungle, on all sides. He looked at them, and the villagers looked back, eyes wide behind their masks. They did not move.

He was still holding one of the Chronicler's tablets, he realized. It felt very small and fragile in his iron grip, but somehow also very heavy. The mad words stared up at him out of the stone. Chronicle this pain chronicle this hurt chronicle this dark chronicle this eaten chronicle this help...

Gently, he set the tablet down on the ground.

The eyes of the Matoran did not leave the Toa as he made his way silently up the path, out of the village, into the jungle.

[mejcinta]

Writing and Directing Choices of HoTD Season 2 and How They Harmed Storylines and Characters.

Hotd is a cinematic marvel...that much cannot be denied. However, I can't help but wonder had they just directed scenes better, if we could've gotten MORE from the characters as a result?

To me, what is off about season 2 compared to season 1 is this feeling that we're shoved outside as the audience. We're not in the characters' heads and experiencing what they're experiencing in the moment, therefore we wound up feeling like their actions in season 2 are ooc.

Think of Aemond in s1 vs s2. In season 1 we had time alone with him as a kid, when he went hunting for a dragon TWICE. The camera lingered on his face during tense moments to convey his feelings like when his eye was slashed out and he was boiling with anger and vengeance at Viserys' dismissal of his pain. Additionally, we had a lot of screen time with Aemond in s1, whereas in s2 he barely has any.

It's hard enough having a season slashed down to 8 episodes from 10, now we have more new characters thrown into the mix that need focusing on. So the writers had to be smart and the directors super efficient.

A scene of Aemond walking through the Streets of Silk, despondent about the B&C incident before he stops to go inside the brothel to be with Sylvi and vent out his frustrations and hurt would've done WONDERS for Aemond. Just that one scene would put us in his headspace and take us through this new development he has taken up over the 10 days since Alicent pushed him away, his shame, his guilt and resentments. With this one Aemond centered scene we would have perfect set up and context for why Aemond does what he does in RR to Aegon, why he clips Alicent's wings at the small council and tries to force Helaena out of her comfort zone.

Instead, the brothel scene started off with the pleasure house and we followed whores around before being thrust with the shocking scene of Aemond there without any explanation or justification.

Helaena also suffered a bit from poor visual direction. Instead of following her around the Keep before the B&C attack, we're forced to hang around with the criminals and at some point attempts are made to make them seem FUNNY and relatable (Cheese and his dog).

In all that confusion, we are somehow thrust into Jaehaerys' bedchamber where Cheese is holding Helaena captive. So random. Why did we not see HOW that happened?

Would it not have been better to cut from Blood and Cheese approaching to HELAENA preparing to retire to bed and suddenly seeing Cheese in the doorway??? Would it not have been better to be in the room with Helaena as she spends her final moments with her peacefully sleeping children before horror strikes?

Wouldn't it have been better for Helaena to remain in the chamber with her dead child in her arms as his head is carried away, unable to scream...instead of distracting us with her walking into Alicent having sex?

This moment was supposed to be about Helaena and her mental trauma, her grief, her pain. If anything her stumbling into Aegon as she tries to escape would've made more creative sense. And we end with Aegon screaming.

I feel like so much story potential and character potential was wasted in efforts to forcefully remind us that House of the Dragon is Alicent and Rhaenyra's show. In fact if you carefully observe the season, you can notice easily how focus is put on pointless and repetitive scenes featuring them while other characters remain underutilized and unexplored, even just by visual direction.

I truly hope that season 3 will apply better directing and writing that adds depth to characters in the minimal screen time that they have because this season just wasn't it.

[cepheusart]

Pvp jesusssss with a sworddddd

[ID: Three drawings of Evbo from PvP Civilization in different poses handling different swords, labelled A, B and C. He is a blond teenage with a black, gray and green sweater, a matching headband and green sneakers. In the first drawing, he stands still, determined, and holds a wooden sword. In the second drawing, he is positioned a little crouched to defend a possible attack, holding a golden sword and looking tense, with a bandage over his cheek. In the third, he is advancing on someone with an iron sword in one hand and a flint and steel in the other. He looks more serious and still has the bandage in his face. There is a visual reference for the flint and steel in the image. The words "Evbo - the chosen one" are written at the center of the canvas. /end ID.]

[rabbitcruiser]

The Visualization Center C in Norrköping was inaugurated on 27 May 2010 by Carl XVI Gustaf.    

[abrcmswrld]

NSFW Alphabet | TFE!Edward Nashton x Reader

Word Count: 1,979

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), seriously this whole thing is smut and that’s it, AFAB terms used

Summary: A collection of drabbles centered around sex with my version of Edward Nashton from my fic series: The French Exit.

Author’s Note: This is dedicated to the discord server. I’ve loved getting to know their Eddie’s. Thank you for giving my Eddie a chance.

HBD Pookie<3

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

He's tender and clingy, keeping his arms wrapped around you for as long as he possibly can until you finally nudge him off to clean up. After that he's helpful, he loves taking the time to wipe you down. He'll take any excuse to touch your body, really.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He's never given it much thought for himself. He's always thought himself to be below average in most categories. Whether it's looks or strength, he's always felt himself fall short. But he can recognize that he excels in brains. He is quite proud of the mind he has.

When it comes to you however, he can't find a part that he doesn't like, but the feeling of your thighs is absolute heaven to him. He loves to sink his fingertips into the soft flesh as he laps his tongue over you or as he fucks into you slowly. He also loves to rest his head on them and feel your fingers trailing through his hair.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a disgusting person)

He will cum anywhere you ask. By the time he reaches his climax, he’s putty in your hands. Any dominance he may have held is gone as his legs shake. You want him to cum on your stomach, back, face, inside you? He’ll do it. But if he’s being honest he prefers to finish inside of you. The sticky slickness as he continues to rut into you even after finishing is the perfect overstimulation.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's very voyeuristic. To an alarming extent. The view from your window is just perfect. He can feel the pressure in his pants the moment you begin to undress after a long day at the office. Of course, you know exactly what he's doing and you secretly get off on it too.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He has very little experience. Aside from a pity handjob in his early 20's, he's avoided most sexual interaction. He doesn't find it easy to go on dates. He has a decent idea of how things work as he has watched plenty of porn in his lifetime, but I wouldn't call him experienced.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His weak spot is missionary. He loves to hover over you with you caged in him arms. He enjoys taking it one step further and lifting your leg to his shoulder. It gives him the same pleasure of seeing your face with an added bit of pressure that gets both you and him to the edge faster than any other position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

You’re the one person he can let a chuckle out with. He tries to embrace that side of himself in closed off spaces with just the two of you, such as the break room. But for some reason he can’t make it translate into the bedroom. He’s never been so intimate with someone before, it’s very serious to him. He’s too focused on the ecstasy of the moment and the feelings he has for you pouring out to goof off at all.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps himself trimmed decently. He tried to shave completely once, but ended up giving himself awful razor burn and cuts. He’s not been a fan since.

He doesn’t have a preference for his partner. He loves for them feel confident however they choose.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

As previously said, he’s never experienced such intimacy with anyone before. Never had someone touch him with such tenderness, like they want to heal all of his wounds, internal and external. He often finds himself crying during the act. It’s not a sadness response and it’s something he’s found he can’t quite control. He just wants you to know how much he loves you in that moment. He wants to be as close as two souls can possibly be.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s masturbates decently often. More often after developing a crush on you. Less often when the tension breaks between the two of you. He’d much rather feel your hand, mouth, heat, than his own hand.

Before you, his relationship with masturbation wasn’t great. Years of catholic guilt can do that to a person. He often fights the feeling of shame after his release. He struggles to enjoy the feeling of bliss while coming down. Watching you pleasure yourself for him, and the way you whimper and smile through it intrigues him, and he strives to be able to enjoy himself in a similar fashion.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Voyeurism: This is his big one. It’s questionable at times. He knows it’s sick, the way he watches you through your window, but he can’t help himself. It’s as if you left the curtain open as an invitation.

Even as your relationship progresses, he finds himself asking you if he can watch as you pleasure yourself. He loves to observe. He loves to take note of the things that make you whimper.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He prefers the comfort of your home. It’s warm and safe and comfortable. Nothing else to bother the two of you. Although he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about bending you over his desk at the office. He finds himself getting hard in his pants as he thinks about it, looking over his shoulder at your concentrated face as you sit at your own desk. He pushes the thought away for his own good.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s ashamed to say that everything you do turns him on. He hides it out of fear of offending you or making you believe he only likes the sex, but it’s the little things that get him going. The way you bite your lip while you concentrate on work, the way you laugh at his jokes, the brush of your legs up against him, it all turns him on.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He’s not big on any form of weapon play. The idea using a weapon (even in a safe and monitored way) on you makes his stomach turn rather than turn him on. He doesn’t like to mix that side of him with your intimacy.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He definitely prefers to give rather than receive. Not that he doesn’t enjoy receiving, but he gets just as much pleasure from eating you out. He loves to bury his head between your thighs and rut against the mattress. Pull him in by his hair and he will cum in his pants.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace depends on the mood he is in. Sometimes he enjoys a loving, slow pace. It allows him to slowly take you apart, piece by piece. But sometimes he loves to drive into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin slapping against yours spurs him on. He loves the way your eyes roll back as he abuses that spot inside you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Shockingly enough, Edward enjoys quickies. He likes to think of it as a miniature version of what you always do. If you’re pressed for time, if the two of you have work, he loves to get in one last fuck. He loves to cum inside of you and watch you leave for work right after.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

His entire life is a risk. The Riddler is a risk. He’d rather not bring you into that risk. He’s seen the way that porn frames scenarios of risky public sex to look enticing, but he just can’t bring himself to enjoy it with you. He’d never put you in a risky position on purpose. You’re the one pure thing in his life.

However, he is willing to experiment with kinks inside the comfort of your own home. He’s supportive when you ask and always tries his best to feed into your fantasies, even if it doesn’t always stick for you guys.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

His stamina is dependent on his mood at the moment. If you have him extremely riled up, he is ready to go multiple rounds with little to no recovery period. However, sometimes he loves a good lazy fuck and to just cuddle up to you afterwards in a hazy, tired bliss.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’d never owned toys before you. He’d thought about it, but never gotten the courage to try them for himself. He knows you own many though and he enjoys using them with you. His favorite is pressing your vibrator to your sensitive bud as he fucks you deep. He loves the way it makes you squirm under him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease and be teased. Although he does find it difficult to tease you for very long. He loves to hear you beg for him and the moment a soft ‘please’ escapes your lips he gives you everything you need.

He loves when you are unfair to him. He loves the playful look in your eyes as you gives him teasing kisses and licks all over his body.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He tries but is generally unsuccessful at holding in his cries and moans. They often come out as a choked off and whiney mess. He loves to hear your sweet noises. He nibbles at your weak spots until you cry out his name. It makes him smile into your flesh.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves to see you wear his clothes. He has to hide the erection growing in his pants when he does something as small as giving you his jacket to wear when you’re cold. It’s such a small action but the way his clothes practically swallow you makes his heart race.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Watching porn all those years hasn’t helped his self esteem. He finds himself feeling insecure about his size a lot. He’s about average length, but is decently thick. He loves it when you let him know how much he stretches you, and the way you clench around him as he drives into you. It’s the only thing that can ease his insecurities.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He is ready to go pretty much whenever. All it takes is the slightest touch of your hands down his chest and sides and those longing kisses, and he is ready. He finds that his sex drive is much higher since becoming intimate with you. It’s a new experience and he finds himself craving you often.

Z = ZZZ (... how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He has gone most of his life struggling with sleep. The orphanage had given him horrific night terrors and his sleep schedule has never been normal. But, after sex with you he feels a calm wash over him that he can't explain. For once he is peaceful and finds himself drifting to sleep rather quickly.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

1969 was, effectively, the final year for the Shelby Mustang. By now assembly had shifted in Michigan from California where it was contracted out to A.O. Smith Corporation. Smith, an established Motor City contractor, had brought a level of serious manufacturing skill, supplier management, procedure and standards never seen at Shelby’s facility where LAX met the vibrant (and sometimes extreme) subculture of Venice, California.

Now largely designed and specified by Ford staffers, the 1969 Shelby Mustang was drastically different visually from the standard Mustangs, with a completely different nose and grille, a wide rectangular opening with blacked out grille flanked by 7” headlights and with Shelby’s characteristic driving lights now smaller rectangular pieces below the attractive, but largely ineffective, bumper. The special Shelby hood had five ducts, three NACA-style surface ducts replaced the complicated but entertaining shaker hoods of years gone by to supply cold air directly to the engine air intake and two extractors at the back of the hood relieving underhood pressure and exhausting heated air in front of the windshield.

A surface duct behind the headlights and a scoop behind the door and in front of the rear wheel arch that was ducted to the rear brakes continued the performance theme. The rear panel was completely different from the Mustang, housing a set of 1965 Thunderbird sequential taillights with the rear license plate placed between them and including a small ducktail spoiler. The area under the bumper where standard Mustangs carried their license plate contained two rectangular outlets for the Shelby’s dual exhaust system. Standard wheels were unique 5-spoke Mag Stars with alloy centers and chrome steel rims.

Under the hood lay the 428 Cobra Jet which had powered the ’68 Shelby GT500KR. Both Ford and Shelby recognized the superiority of the high performance CJ and made it the standard engine for 1969’s Shelby Mustangs. 

At the end of the 1969 model year 789 Shelby Mustangs were in-process at A.O. Smith. They were visually updated with black hood stripes and a chin spoiler and given new VINs. Otherwise the 1970s were exactly the same as the ‘69s making these two years essentially identical examples of the end of the Shelby Mustang series which had begun only a scant six years before.

Avidly sought by collectors and obsessively documented by the Shelby American Automobile Club, most Shelby Mustangs are well known and have well known histories. Occasionally, however, a example appears which has been out of sight for years. Even more rarely it turns out to have been little used and continuously maintained by a thoughtful and caring single owner for nearly forty years.

The Black Jade 1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Sportsroof fastback offered here is one of those rare and highly desirable cars. It was delivered new to Ford’s dealer in Yokohama, Japan, Marubeni Motors K.K., and was sold thereafter to its first, and only, owner in Japan. It has been repainted in the original color once but is otherwise completely original, as delivered and has only 84,941km on its metric-calibrated export speedometer (52,779 miles.) Its sympathetic maintenance and care shows throughout in its clean, straight, rust-free condition.

Power of course comes from the 428 cubic inch Cobra Jet Ram Air V-8 engine which Ford and Shelby conservatively rated at 335 horsepower at 5,200rpm and a gut-wrenching 440 lb-ft torque at 3,400rpm. It puts the power through Ford’s highly regarded C-6 automatic transmission and Traction-Lok differential with high speed 3.00:1 gearing that takes full advantage of the CJ engine’s torque. In addition to the highly desirable drivetrain specification it is loaded with options including the Visibility Group, Goodyear white letter tires, Sport Deck folding rear seat, power front disc brakes, power steering, tilt steering column, Selectaire air conditioning, AM/8-track stereo radio, tinted glass, deluxe belts, tachometer and trip odometer.

It is finished in one of the Shelby Mustang’s most attractive colors, Black Jade. The interior and high back buckets seats are upholstered in black Clarion Knit/Corinthian vinyl that complements with Black Jade exterior.

It returned to the U.S. in 2006 but has never been titled by its current owner so it remains a one-owner car. Its absolutely clear history, one-owner provenance, highly original condition with known mileage and extensive options list are attributes shared by few Shelby Mustangs of this age. This is a rare opportunity for an astute collector to acquire a particularly significant, unmolested Shelby Mustang from the last, and most highly developed, series.

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

Powered by a 428ci V8 engine mated to a C6 automatic transmission, this beauty includes the original #Shelby owner card, a copy of the Shelby work order and Window Sticker.

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

[angelinecarax]

11/10/2022 ⌚THEN ---> NOW 🎐12/28/2024

While I started playing September 2021, those screenshots are from an older computer and since lost. I began learning about gpose mid-2022, but, frankly, crippling anxiety slowed me down a great deal. This was one of the earliest and most successful shoots - I used one from this day as Angeline's header for a while. Her visual changes are both crucial and cherished, but the most important change between then and now is how differently I feel and think about gposing.

Thank you @ubejamjar for tagging me into this. Getting a chance to reflect on this helped make my morning.

✨Angeline's combined necklace with emet-selch's pearl drop was a commission. I know how to do it myself now within a half an hour. This is now somewhat of a remnant from a previous version of what Angeline's arc would be - originally her romance with Emet-Selch would be much more centered, personal, reciprocal, even to the point that their final tryst would see Angeline pregnant during Endwalker. While that would make Endwalker a VERY wild ride, on further thought that's kind of at a filmi soapy level that's a little too ridiculous. Once Hippolyta being a dual figure with Angeline became the main Haunt thru the narrative I figured she had enough shit going on. All of that now only remains in the pearl drop necklace many of the outfits from this time have, though now Aymeric's necklace has become the go-to. 🎐The Anabaseios scarf accessory mod is the mod I learned how to item swap on. ✨The Faire Joi Sleeves and her french tip nails, baby's first upscale mod. Learned a great deal! 🎐Not visible: her Yuna earring, C+ adjustments to put some meat on her thighs, upper arms, and shoulders. ✨and her crown: her hair! Angeline's natural curls, the beloved IM~STRONG sim port, seen here as one of two hat compatible versions I made. I would have anxiety dreams about wanting this hair hat compatible and feeling so dumb that I didn't know how to do it myself, so when I was able to finally just buckle down and do it - well, the reason why I made such a big deal about it around my birthday was because it was a huge important thing for me! Her hair and her hats are integral to Angeline, so being able to Make Her Look Exactly Like Her has been like nothin else. 🎐I no longer have the shader I used in the first image, but I've since built a robust library of shaders specific to Angeline's character and how I want the camera to see her. I also know way way way more now about post-editing - I learned from the best!!! camera raw filter my beloved. ✨RIP in peace: the old catchlight eye system and her twinkle catchlight, and may you rise again Neopolitan Sculpts (not every project is a winner; after trying hard to tackle face sculpting I abandoned the idea because I couldn't recreate it exactly, and I was acclimatizing to her new vanilla face regardless)

Unfortunately, I've found myself with a great deal of habitual, chemical, thought-enforced anxiety - and I think very fast and a lot, so it's like trying to fight off a firehose. Channelling my neuroses has lead me to building a giant outfit repository, let me learn the inside and outs of Penumbra, Glamourer, Brio, Ktisis, Anamnesis, etc etc to the extent that I can really help others, and, glory of glories, I have a methodology to ensure that all the work I put into gposing gets saved. Camera angles, positionals, I'm not losing a project to crashing again!

Each of those things has lessened the anxiety greatly. One day I'll be free of it for good!

[shiftingfawnnn]

Explaining shifting/loa/meditation.

1. What is Reality Shifting?

Reality shifting is the practice of moving your awareness from your Current Reality (CR) to another one, known as your Desired Reality (DR). Shifting is real—you truly enter that alternate world. It’s not the same as dreaming or even lucid dreaming. Instead, you’re transporting your conscious mind to another reality within the multiverse, where infinite versions of existence coexist.

Reality shifting heavily ties into the Law of Assumption (LOA), which states that the reality you experience is shaped by what you believe to be true. If you assume that shifting is real and that you can successfully shift to your DR, that assumption manifests as your reality. The LOA plays a crucial role because it helps you align your mind with the belief that your DR is accessible and achievable.

People also use techniques like scripting (writing out details of their DR), meditation, and visualization to support this process.

2. Why Meditation and LOA Work for Shifting

Meditation

Meditation is a powerful tool for shifting because it calms the mind, aligns your focus, and heightens your awareness. When meditating, you enter a relaxed state where your brain waves slow down (alpha or theta state), making your subconscious mind more open to new ideas and beliefs. This is essential for shifting because:

Clarity: Meditation clears out distractions and lets you focus entirely on your DR.

Visualization: It helps you vividly imagine your DR, making the experience feel real and immersive.

Detachment: It reduces resistance by helping you let go of doubts and worries, which are obstacles to shifting.

Meditation also helps bridge the gap between your conscious and subconscious mind, allowing your assumptions (from LOA) to take root more effectively.

Law of Assumption (LOA)

The LOA works for shifting because it centers on believing and assuming that you’re already in your DR or that shifting is inevitable. The LOA principle—"what you assume to be true becomes true"—is a direct way to align your thoughts and feelings with the reality you want.

How it helps shifting: By assuming you are already in your DR, your subconscious mind accepts that assumption as reality. This eliminates doubt and makes shifting smoother.

Techniques that tie into LOA: Affirmations like "I am in my DR" or "Shifting is easy for me" reinforce your belief and help you hold onto the assumption until it manifests.

By combining meditation and LOA, you create a mental state that is focused, open, and aligned with your desired outcome, making the process of shifting more effective.

3. The Types of Shifting

a) Regular Shifting

This is the standard form of shifting, where you visit your DR temporarily.

Duration: You can stay in your DR for as long as you script or intend to. It might feel like days, months, or even years in the DR, but time often behaves differently there.

Returning to CR: Shifters return to their CR by using a pre-set safe word, signal, or simply waking up naturally.

b) Permashifting

Permashifting is when someone decides to remain in their Desired Reality permanently. Instead of shifting temporarily, they "move" their conscious mind to their DR for good and no longer return to their CR.

Why do people permashift? They may feel more connected to their DR, view it as a better life, or believe it aligns with their true self.

c) Respawning

Respawning is often described as a deeper form of permashifting. It’s when someone not only shifts permanently to their DR but believes their consciousness is reborn into a new body within that reality.

How it differs from permashifting: Respawning emphasizes starting over completely, as if beginning a new life in the DR.

4. Why Shifting Works

Shifting combines belief (through LOA), focused intent (through meditation and visualization), and the multiverse theory (the idea that infinite realities exist). Together, these elements create a system where your mind aligns with the reality you want to experience. By assuming your DR is real and attainable, calming your mind through meditation, and scripting the details of your DR, you tap into the power of your subconscious to access your desired world.

Reality shifting isn’t just an imaginative practice—it’s an intentional way to explore the infinite possibilities of existence.

I love you sansyyy