#Visualization Center C

[rabbitcruiser]

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

[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

[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.

[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

[tklpilled]

iris

“i went to windrise to paint today,” albedo muses. he thinks back to earlier that day, trying to recall the details. “that big tree with a statue in front of it. it’s really quite beautiful, and you get an amazing view of mondstadt from there. i’m not sure how to explain it, but something about it feels almost spiritual.”

albedo has traveled across mondstadt, and other parts of teyvat as well, and he’s never found an area that feels quite like windrise. not only is the view unmatched, but he always feels as if someone is watching him—not to threaten him, but rather, to protect him.

“the bard was there—venti, I believe? he kept me company. his songs are incredible, and i noticed many more crystalflies than usual. i think they were drawn to his music.”

he glances over to his stand, where a painting of the area sits. while sitting under the tree would be relaxing, he wanted to capture it in the painting. so, instead, he sat facing mondstadt, and painted the tree on the side with its branches stretching across the canvas, almost blocking the sky entirely. the walls of mondstadt are in the distance, across the lake sparkling in the sun. If albedo had to judge it, he’d say that the painting is rather accurate; but of course, it can never compare to the real thing.

“i do wish you had been there, though,” he says, continuing on with his one-sided conversation. “i could use some practice painting people, but then again, i don't think i could do you justice. not even a kamera captures your beauty.”

he looks down at his lap, unable to hide his fond tone. “what do you think?”

a wail is the only response he gets.

albedo sighs, drumming his fingers impatiently. “it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you, you know.”

scaramouche lets out another squeal, his head thrown back in helpless laughter. “i c-cahahan’t!”

albedo swirls his fingertip around the center of scaramouche’s stomach, just circling the rim of his navel. it’s sending the poor puppet into hysterics—but as long as he still has the energy to kick his legs so frantically, albedo is sure he can last a little longer.

“but you’re talking to me now, aren’t you?” albedo asks, tilting his head. “i’m just trying to tell you how pretty you are, and you won’t even listen. i’m hurt.”

scaramouche bats weakly at albedo’s hand, though he’s clearly not trying hard. “shuhuhut uhup!” he squeaks, arching his back, and although his face is already red with laughter, albedo swears it gets worse.

he wishes he had his art materials with him. he’d love to paint scaramouche’s laughing face, capturing it in time for him to look at whenever. he can already imagine the colours he’d use, the pink hues contrasting so sharply with the cool, earthy background, the freckles scattered across his face, the way his eyes squint shut. the one problem is that sounds can’t be transferred to visuals—if he could, albedo would gladly paint scaramouche’s laughter onto a canvas forever. or maybe he could use scaramouche’s body itself as a surface; it’s a work of art on its own, after all. albedo often imagines himself drawing on it, creating constellations with his scars.

he’s abruptly yanked from his thoughts by a sudden loud whine. he glances down, realising the problem. his finger has dipped into scaramouche’s navel, a spot he hadn’t even known was so sensitive.

he chuckles. “i always discover new spots every time. i’m convinced you’re ticklish everywhere.”

scaramouche snorts, grabbing albedo’s wrist and holding on tightly. “sh-shuhut the fuhuhuck uhup! i swehehear, i’ll…!” whatever else he was going to say is lost to frantic giggling.

ah, well. albedo knows it wouldn’t have been a genuine threat anyway.

[rin-and-jade]

Copy, and then Paste! : A Post About Introjection

You know it—the title is based off the Ctrl C and Ctrl V function from computers, but did you know we have our own version too?

Introjection is more than just mimicry or replicating something though, it apparently plays a far more important role than you'd initially thought. Want to know the answer? Let's check it out then! (not a clickbait)

Okay google, what is: to introject

Out of 1253 results, here is the recommended definition,

"Introjection occurs when a person internalizes the ideas or voices of other people" from Therapist Development Center

From the related result, here are top 3 examples: - When you internalize the idea of "crying is for the weak" - When you believe that you're not good enough - "I must dress pretty so i am socially accepted"

You can introject many sorts of things such as behaviors, mindsets, beliefs, traits, concepts or even feelings.

Articles on: How introjection happens

Well, it is a very complex process on how introjection happens, or why. But this search engine (me) will try to explain the whole concept to you in a simplified manner!

We have started to introject many things ever since a child, the world is difficult on its own to learn from scratch, which is why taking in qualities and behaviors from what we expose ourselves to the most shapes how we navigate the world.

Call it a framework to work with,, it is used to learn manners, or understand how to respond to a certain situation by observing, then, these values are internalized, importantly shaping us as we grow older. Though, introjection doesn't understand good or bad qualities as they're seen as "the truth" to one's mind, therefore it's possible to introject literally anything.

It can also function as a defense mechanism, where we adopt these values and internalize them in order to cope, or to repeat similar tactics that proved to be successful for the previous person. For example, if you were bullied, bullying back will mitigate the hurt you could receive in the future. This generally represents fictives and persecutors respectively, though varies for each person.

Fictive.. Factive.. What is that, Siri??

There are many kinds of introjects.. they can be based from fictional medias, real people, or even concepts like art or songs. But what the??

Easy now, sure the amount of introject kinds could throw anyone off, but the concept still stands true, though it gets trickier when it comes to other introjected concepts such as OCtives or Songtives, which i will explain too.

Thing is, what will help you understand many different kinds of them existing, is envisioning that introjection operates in a spectrum. Thats right, they are on a scale.

The idea is that introjection exists in a continuum. Just like how alters have varying degrees of development (a shard, or fragment), this scale is not meant to simplify or categorize things in its literal sense, but to help visualize and understand the level of complexities.

The level of complexity of a scale lies at what it/you introjected: Lvl 1: Introjection - the most basic forms can start from traits, ideas, or concepts. Example: Alters that formed off songs, art, thoughts, and even feelings. Lvl 2: Internalization - then getting to more fledged values like behaviors, life views. Example: Persecutors who had internalized negative attitudes from abusers. Lvl 3: Identification - and then lastly, when you identify the qualities of a specific person. Example: General Introjects, Fictives, Factives. (identification varies in intensity)

Sometimes, these introjected qualities are absorbed by multiple alters or by oneself. If it does not get absorbed to a pre-existing part, a new alter will be created to contain these qualities that it has internalized instead.

An introject possessing multiple sources from different aspects is also possible due to this process. (these three terms are originally interchangeable as they are under an umbrella of introjection, but i prefer to use them to represent each levels)

There's no result on the internet..

"What bests explains multiple introjects of the same source? What's with source separation? What about the memories that comes with said source?" Might be the search history in your phone right now, It's okay to stop searching, your answers are right under these fingertips!

Duplication of sources

When it comes to multiple parts of the same or similar source, it can be due to reasons like current hyperfixation or resonating with the qualities of said media. It can as be simple as wanting to have the same qualities from the media, too. Lastly, comorbids like autism and BPD plays a factor on how often you will introject.

Even duplicates will not act the same as the other one, which means each can introject different things from the same source, in different intensity or variation or alternative versions of source.

Additionally, being polyfragmented increases the amount of fragments/alters that could form, thus contributing to higher chances of having duplicates.

Source separating

When one introjected the qualities of a person/media, there might be a chance they identify as person/media due to it. The idea is that when one associates these qualities directly to the person, which then has a feedback loop where because the specific qualities are present, means they are that person.

Continuing from the example of bullying to not get bullied, they might see themselves just like the bully from the past due internalizing its behavior, in general this is equivalent to identification. Any negative or positive qualities can be introjected that later grow to identification.

The notion of needing to source separate is not something that have to be forced upon immediately. As it should be a transient process where one has to detach from the current sense of identity with one that is original.

No one can be 100% free from introjection, so source separation would mean minimizing the intensity of identification while developing a more whole sense of true self.

Being attached to a source in some level can be a positive outcome to implement, especially if it reinforces positive emotions or memories. As long it is not causing harm to anyone, since sometimes the urge to become the source or convincing of being one can be destructive.

Source memories

Remember something that had happened to you, but never happened to the body? It doesn't mean the memory itself is entirely fake, it is more to abstract context like how dreams manifests according to how you feel on a specific situation.

Just like dreams, the whole accident may never have happened in reality, but it is reenacting what had happened in the past with its own version/remake.

This happens when the true event is too much to take in or remember. When you cannot remember what truly happened, the somatic and emotional aspects to the trauma is still intact. Which contributes to why these fake memories aren't entirely fake.

Its good to take note that having a memory of going through an event, that doesn't happen bodily, never means you do understand the true experience of such event. It's only the impressions and assumptions of it.

With that being said, you can understand what your source memories are trying to convey by matching up similarities in your current life, or uncover how you feel or think of the event. Then, you can start healing whatever was left unresolved.

A scroll to the end of the web

Basically to reiterate things, we do copy and paste people's qualities for a living. But, not as a mere function like how computers implemented it.

Don't forget to consider who you will be friends with and how it'll impact you socially, and double-check whether you have adopted someone's essence that doesn't serve a meaningful purpose for you. You do become what you are exposed to, just like how you are what you eat.

Feel free to let us know your introject experiences, it could help validate someone else's experience, too!

- j & chaos

[new-holocene]

ode to abandoned projects

normally i dedicate my public facing social media accounts solely to sharing my finished artwork, but I figure some reflection on the past few years of my development as an artist would be worthwhile. I was initially trying to find an old gmod map I made (I didn't find it), and in the process I found a number of screenshots of WIPs spanning the past 7 years. for many of these projects, they were abandoned because I got too busy with school/university.

from march 2017. made in unity. I don't remember the specifics of this project. I think I was trying to make a short narrative walking sim.

from december 2017. I wanted to make a short smw romhack. I remember drawing level designs on a spare piece of paper after finishing a secondary school exam early. one day I'll make a romhack, one day...

from may 2018. I had just replayed marble blast ultra after finding it had a PC port. shortly after I found all the textures were just in the game files and could be modified easily. myself and an old friend wanted to make a 'games repainted'-esque mod. I claim full credit for every marble game since that's included a 🤔marble skin.

from march 2020. a mockup of a piece I was calling 'alignment chart' for the first time I had ever applied for a bursary. this used a mixture of generative art pieces i made in processing and graphic design. this piece is interesting to look back on because it marked the development of my art style for the first time, and the psuedo-cuneiform generator ended up being a recurring feature of my art. my application was rejected because i did not read the terms and conditions to realise it wasn't open to university students - and I was still studying computer science at the time.

from may 2020. I was aiming to participate in the low res game jam but never got to finish due to university work taking up my time. I never fleshed out the mechanics of the game, but the goal was to take care of the tree in the center of the map. it doesn't look like much, but I really pushed myself (or rather, tortured myself) by not using a game engine and writing this in C++ with raylib instead.

from april 2020. this was going to be a browser based demake of five nights at freddy's (a game I've never played and have no interest in) titled "five years at yanderedev's". I figured that it felt too close to participating in lolcowing someone and that it was in bad spirits, so I scrapped it.

from september 2020. a mockup of my homepage sharpfourth.net. I kept the logo and general layout for whats on the site currently, but didn't include the scanner warped images.

from october 2020. I wanted to make a walking sim in the quake engine, but once again, university work got in the way. however, this got me familiar with the basics of using trenchbroom (a map editor for quake), which came in very, very handy for later projects.

from october 2021. myself and some close friends had planned to make a zine detailing how to do DIY feminising HRT in Ireland (and maybe the UK). we never got around to writing it (partly because we feared potential legal repercussions for disseminating medical advice lol), but this marked a further development of my art style.

from october 2021. I had hoped to make a first person RPG in godot. once again scrapped because I got too busy with uni. I spent ages trying to implement a wonky movement system that could be exploited, being inspired by bhopping from source or strafe jumping from quake. the dialogue system was the last thing I worked on. I used trenchbroom again - this time with qodot - for making the prototype map. while making this demo, I realised the potential use of godot and trenchbroom in visual art, something i would revisit during my first gallery residency.

from march 2022. this might be the most unassuming piece in this collection, but it marks a significant turning point in my life. I was tasked with making diagrams for a group project in uni, but given that I was facing extreme burnout and apathy towards the course, I instead "doodled" with the elements of the diagram. this spiraled into me writing my zine/short-story EATARTHU, which I then used to apply for a gallery residency. I was fortunate enough to get the residency, and I dropped out of college to pursue art.

as discouraging as it might be to constantly start and abandon projects, it's important to stop and remember that ever single abandoned game or drawing or album or whatever marked a chance for you to learn and develop as an artist. one day you might very well finish a project, and it'll reflect a bit of every single abandoned one of its precursors.

[rabbitcruiser]

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

[cokoweee]

Heavens to Betsy I’ve been meaning to go on this rant forever but I keep forgetting for some reason

Quick disclaimer- I’m not analyzing your comic at all, I just notice little accuracies that make me happy.

~

Ok coming from a psychology major student, your description of PTSD and mental health issues is actually pretty dang good. Idk if it was intentionally researched or not but there’s like a ton of stuff that’s consistent with real life trauma and it’s quite frankly impressive

Again not sure if this was intentional or not but the thing on his back reminds me so much of old school electroshock therapy which I adore bc

A: it causes confusion and memory loss which you’ve shown and

B: kinda implies that maybe he did his own research when deciding how to deal with everything or

C: again is incredibly accurate in the fact that most trauma patients continuously seek pain out, and in turn report feelings of extreme boredom and numbness when not actively experiencing pain or reliving trauma. In his case going borderline catatonic when he’s not freaking out.

On the topic of “freaking out” a lack or decrease in serotonin leads to a more reactive and intense episodes in PTSD. Or, because the little guy is like mega depressed coz of the whole situation, he gets way more intense and violent episodes that someone who was on like Prozac. And would tend to be more on edge and sensitive to triggers.

Then there’s his family. For some background, there’s a part of your brain called the amygdala. It typically works to control basic emotions, but responds very well to fear. In traumatic experiences, it pairs with the hippocampus (the memory center of the brain) to store vivid and occasionally sensory memories.

When a memory trigger is provoked and brought back into consciousness, it actually changes slightly depending on the context of which it recalled. Those memories are changed to fit how we make sense of them. So if he feels guilty for his brothers death, then his memories will reflect it whether or not it’s actually true.

Essentially, him having his brothers showing up all the time (looking the way they do) is really bad for him on multiple levels, and not just because they’re triggering visually. They’re like actually impeding his ability to recover by keeping him in an aggressive form of already intense fight or flight that comes from trauma.

On a happier note, one of the best ways to improve is to establish and nurture caring relationships. Awww

Aight ima stop here so I don’t bore you to death with random psych facts, but like kudos to you my dude because I could go on forever about some of the stuff in there

Uh yeah

-writing anon 🤡

WRITING ANON? SLAPPING OUT ANALYSISSISIS AND SHIT?

Bein real I dont do much research on shit even tho I should. I just go off what I’ve seen/ learned throughout the years. It’s always good to hear I’m doin ahit right tho!

Lowkey right with the shock tho. Or high key lol. Seeking pain there’s other ways people do it but mmm somehow this seemed the tamest way. Oh writing anon u silly lil saltine cracker

[gamerdog1]

Deadpool and Wolverine Review

If third time's the charm, Deadpool is the whole goddamn bracelet. I kinda grew up alongside the Deadpool movies. I saw the first one at overnight camp at 16, then saw the second in theaters at 18. Now, at 23, I feel like I've grown as a person, which means I can actually articulate how I feel about these films (though specifically, the newest one). I guess that whole 'wisdom comes with age' thing was right after all.

For starters, Ryan Reynolds absolutely kills it. I know the phrase 'born to play this character' is thrown around a lot, but it really fits here with him. Reynolds once again is a delight as Deadpool, with all his usual snark, pizazz, and heartfelt moments. He's always on point, either with a quick jab at another character, comical reactions, or his character's usual fourth-wall breaks.

He isn't always all happy-go lucky, though. The film, like the previous 2, has a story beyond gratuitous violence, one that centers on Wade Wilson's sense of inadequacy in comparison to other famous heroes. We see how his life has changed since the previous film (go watch that before this, it will not make sense otherwise), both for better and for worse, and watch him continue to grow as a person in a satisfying way. That, I believe, is what separates these movies from other ultra-violent movies of its type: that there is an emotionally-driven story, and it remains important beyond getting characters from setpiece to setpiece.

Though, that's not to say that this is some deep philosophical mediation on the character. Fear not, there's still as much, if not more, violent fight scenes and action here like the previous movies. After all, what would a Deadpool movie be without a few dozen (read: thousand) bad guys to kill, in creative and gorey ways? This film ups the ante, by giving more interesting fight scenes that revolve around different set ups (tower defense, 1v1 in a car, etc) to keep everything visually fresh.

There's never a dull moment in this film. Heart-to-hearts are full of little sneaky one-liners that take a minute to register. Tension between the two leads is thick enough to see, let alone cut with a knife. And all the while, the film keeps bringing in new reveals, fully using the 20th Century Fox backlog of C-listers to call back to this franchise's history, and keep them from fully being forgotten. Add that, with an army of multiverse Deadpools, and you've got yourself a film that even non-comic book nerds like me gush over.

Above all this, beyond the not-quite-irritating-like-most use of the multiverse, or the hundreds of liters of CGI blood shed, this movie did something so profound, I'm still reeling. It made me love Wolverine.

Growing up, Logan always felt like a gross old man type of character. The kind who pressures you to drink at a young age, and owns at least 20 guns that he refuses to part with. Any portrayal of his animal-ness always felt like lip service. But here... its like I've met him for the first time, and now I'm obsessed.

Hugh Jackman has practically been playing this character since I was born, but only here do I really feel like we get to meet Wolverine in full. No longer is he that hunched-over, stoic gruff weirdo that X-Men have around, now he's a deeply emotional character with valid reasoning behind it, and strong motivations. We are finally in an era where tough guy characters are being done justice and allowed to have emotions, and it is glorious.

X-Men Apocalypse gave us a taste of what he could do, but putting Wolverine in an R-Rated movie was the best decision anyone could have ever made. His animal fury is on full display here, and with a higher age rating, ever stab and slice is shown in bloody, glorious detail. Pairing him with another character who can take hits and survive, like Deadpool, was a match made in heaven.

The two are perfect foils, playing off each other in such a satisfying way that had me disappointed when it was all over. Deadpool has worked with bigger, tougher guys in the past, but Wolverine's short temper and guardedness go well with Deadpool's silly, jokester persona. Platonically, romantically, sexually, I don't care. They're meant for each other.

Above all, Deadpool and Wolverine is a loving send off to the studio that made the X-Men film franchise. Its a culmination of all the passion and hard work that went into those movies, and stands as a testament to how far we've come since the first X-Men hit theaters over 2 decades ago. With a film like this as a sample of what's in the future, we won't have anything to fear.

[pmamtraveller]

THE FOUNTAIN OF LOVE /c.1785/ by JEAN-HONORÉ FRAGONARD

The Fountain of Love depicts a young man and woman rushing forward; their feet hardly touch the basin of a fountain set in the midst of a thick forest. Putti frolic are in the waters and billowing spray of that fountain; one of them holds out to the young lovers a cup of the magic liquid to drink from.

The story of the Garden of Love is an allegory representative of the nature and progress of love. It has its roots in the poetry of classical antiquity as well as the Middle Ages, all centered on this very Fountain of Love. The fountain brings forth the water from which either Cupid dips his arrows or lovers drink and fall in love.

Very often, fountains in Rococo art symbolize love, renewal, and harmony between human beings and nature. The fountain in this painting, which is the focal point, is a metaphor for the well from which love and emotional nourishment spring.

The artist's brushwork is fluid and lively, capturing the play of light and shadow in the outdoor setting. His style highlights spontaneity and movement, which therefore gives maximum effect to the naturalistic charm of the scene. The painting brings out soft impressions of the female figure's face and fluttering drapery.

"The Fountain of Love" is one of the paintings by Fragonard, which in its absolute sense shows the Rococo aesthetics and his skill in laying down the emotions through visual narration. It remains a beloved work celebrated for its elegance and romantic allure.

[nihonnojihifukainomajonoseiiki]

I made heart-shaped strawberries and cream danishes for a love spell.

These heart-shaped danishes can be a lovely addition to any romantic occasion or can be a special treat to invite love into your life.

What you'll need to make strawberries and cream danishes for a love spell

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup cold butter (or margarine), cut into small cubes

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup milk

1/2 cup cream cheese

1/4 cup powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Powdered sugar (for dusting)

A sprinkle of cinnamon (for added warmth)

Instructions

In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder.

Add the cold butter cubes and use a pastry cutter or your fingers to mix until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

In a separate bowl, combine the milk, vanilla extract, and lemon juice. Add this mixture to the dry ingredients and stir until just combined.

Knead the dough gently until smooth. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

In a bowl, mix the cream cheese, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract until smooth and creamy. Set aside.

In another bowl, combine the sliced strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice. Sprinkle some cinnamon for a hint of warmth. Set aside to let the strawberries macerate.

Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C) and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the chilled dough to about 1/4 inch thick. Use a heart-shaped cookie cutter to cut out heart shapes.

Place half of the hearts on the prepared baking sheet. In the center of each heart, add a spoonful of the cream filling followed by the macerated strawberries.

Top each filled heart with another heart shape, sealing the edges by pressing down with a fork.

Bake the danishes for 20-25 minutes, or until they turn golden brown.

Allow them to cool slightly before dusting with powdered sugar.

As you prepare and bake the danishes, focus on your intentions for love and affection. Visualize the feelings you want to manifest and let them flow into the pastries. Say a few words or a chant that resonates with your intentions, such as: "With every bite, let love grow bright. Sweet and pure, our hearts endure."

Serve the danishes fresh, preferably with a cup of hibiscus tea or rose tea. You can share them with your lover during a romantic evening or date night. If you'd like to, you can keep some as a personal offering for a self-love spell.