#angular routing

[knockknockitsnickels]

Day 7, the Razor! She was the last route I got on my first playthrough, which was one hell of a way to end the game

[abdelfattah-ragab]

Angular Routing: Everything you need to know by Abdelfattah Ragab

Angular Routing: Everything you need to know by Abdelfattah Ragab

Welcome to the book “Angular Routing: Everything you need to know”. In this book, I explain everything you need to know about Angular routing. Routing helps you to change what the user sees in a single-page app. In this book, you will learn how to implement common routing tasks. You will learn how to set up routes, retrieve route information, display 404 pages, prevent unauthorized access, and much more. By the end of this book, you will be confident working with routing in your Angular application and be able to handle all kinds of scenarios. Let us get started.

Available on https://shop.tredition.com and https://www.amazon.com

[sh4nksslvt]

Surgeon’s Strategy

Law explains a battle plan, his hand brushing yours as he leans close, his smirk carrying a dangerously playful edge.

Law x reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, teasing a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe n akward word count: 1.8k masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Polar Tang’s map room was a sanctuary of sorts, a quiet corner of the submarine where the hum of machinery faded into a distant murmur, and the world outside seemed to pause. The walls were lined with charts and maps, some pinned haphazardly, others meticulously organized, reflecting the duality of Trafalgar Law’s mind—chaotic genius wrapped in calculated precision. A single overhead lamp cast a warm, amber glow over the large wooden table at the center, strewn with papers, compasses, and a half-empty mug of coffee that smelled faintly of roasted beans. You stood there, leaning over the table, studying a map of the next island on the Heart Pirates’ route, your fingers tracing the coastline as you tried to make sense of the scribbled notes in Law’s angular handwriting.

“You’re holding it upside down,” came a low, amused voice from behind you.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder to find Law leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, his signature spotted hat tilted slightly to one side. His golden eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and something else—something that made your pulse quicken. He was dressed in his usual polo shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the inked patterns on his forearms, and his sword, Kikoku, rested against the wall nearby, a silent reminder of his ever-present vigilance.

“I am not,” you retorted, though you quickly double-checked the map, heat creeping up your neck when you realized he was right. You flipped it with a huff, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe your handwriting is just terrible.”

Law’s lips curved into a smirk as he pushed off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots clicking softly against the metal floor. “My handwriting is impeccable,” he said, stopping just beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You’re just distracted.”

“Distracted?” You raised an eyebrow, turning to face him, your hands planted on your hips. “By what, exactly?”

His smirk widened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting one hand on the table next to yours. “You tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl. “You’ve been staring at that map for ten minutes, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t read a single word.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat as his hand brushed against yours, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through you. It was deliberate, you were sure of it—Law never did anything by accident. His fingers lingered just long enough to make your skin tingle before he pulled back, picking up a pencil to annotate the map.

“Let’s focus,” he said, though the playful edge in his tone betrayed his attempt at seriousness. “We’re docking at this island tomorrow, and I need you to understand the plan.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was still racing. “Right. The plan. Go ahead, Captain, enlighten me.”

Law shot you a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing slightly at the playful lilt in your voice. “Don’t get cheeky,” he warned, but there was no real heat in his words. He tapped the map with the pencil, pointing to a cluster of buildings marked near the island’s port. “This is the main town. Intel says there’s a Marine outpost here, small but well-guarded. We need supplies, so we’re avoiding direct confrontation.”

You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing against his as you studied the map. “So, stealth mission?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. His face was close—too close—and you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his eyes flicked briefly to your lips before returning to the map.

“Exactly,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension crackling between you. “You’ll be with me, scouting the market for medical supplies while the others handle food and ship repairs.”

“Me?” You blinked, surprised. “You usually take Bepo for scouting.”

Law’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Bepo’s great, but he’s not exactly subtle. You, on the other hand…” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering just a moment too long. “You blend in. Plus, I trust you to keep up.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, though you tried to play it cool. “High praise from the Surgeon of Death,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly. “Careful, you might make me think you like me.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that did nothing to calm your nerves. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he said, but his hand brushed yours again as he reached for a marker, and this time, his fingers lingered, curling slightly around yours before he pulled away. “Pay attention.”

You tried—really, you did—but Law’s presence was distracting. He explained the layout of the town, pointing out entry points, escape routes, and potential hazards, his voice calm and authoritative. But every time his arm brushed against yours or his fingers grazed the back of your hand as he adjusted the map, your focus wavered. He was doing it on purpose, you were certain, and the smug little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth only confirmed it.

“—and if we get separated,” he was saying, “you head to this rendezvous point.” He tapped a spot on the map, then glanced at you, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not listening.”

“I’m listening!” you protested, crossing your arms. “Rendezvous point, got it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Repeat it back to me.”

You hesitated, racking your brain for the details you’d only half-absorbed. “Uh… head to the… north side of the town square?”

Law sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Wrong. It’s the old lighthouse on the eastern cliffs.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “If you get lost, I’m not coming to find you.”

“Liar,” you shot back, grinning. “You’d tear the island apart looking for me.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the playful banter faded, replaced by something heavier, more intense. “Maybe,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But let’s not test that theory.”

Your breath caught, and the air between you seemed to thicken. Law was close now, his hand resting on the table just inches from yours, his body angled toward you. The map room felt smaller, the walls closing in as the tension grew. You could smell the faint scent of antiseptic and sea salt on him, a combination that was uniquely Law, and it made your head spin.

“Law,” you said, your voice quieter now, “are you trying to distract me?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though there was a heat in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “If I were trying to distract you,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you’d know it.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, stepping closer, your chest almost brushing against his. “Because it feels like you’re doing a pretty good job right now.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, replaced by a flicker of surprise, but he recovered quickly, leaning in until his face was mere inches from yours. “Careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Your heart was pounding now, but you refused to back down. “Maybe I like dangerous,” you whispered, your eyes locked on his.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you taut like a drawn bowstring. Then, slowly, deliberately, Law reached out, his fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly. His touch was light, almost tentative, but it sent a wave of heat through you, making your breath hitch.

“You’re impossible,” he said, his voice rougher now, laced with something that sounded almost like affection. “You know that?”

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the one who keeps touching me.”

His thumb grazed your lower lip, and his eyes darkened, his smirk replaced by something more intense. “You’re not complaining,” he pointed out, his voice low and husky.

“Maybe I’m just being polite,” you teased, though your voice trembled slightly, betraying the effect he was having on you.

Law chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Polite, huh?” He leaned closer, his lips hovering just above yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You don’t strike me as the polite type.”

Before you could respond, a loud clang echoed from somewhere in the submarine, followed by the unmistakable sound of Penguin and Shachi arguing over who broke what. Law’s hand dropped, and he stepped back, the spell broken. His smirk returned, though there was a lingering heat in his eyes as he shook his head.

“Saved by the idiots,” he muttered, turning back to the map. “Let’s finish this before they burn the ship down.”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to steady your racing heart. “Right. The plan.”

Law resumed explaining, his voice returning to its usual calm, authoritative tone, but the air between you remained charged. Every time his hand brushed yours or his shoulder bumped against yours, you felt it—a spark, a promise of something more. He was focused now, pointing out the finer details of the mission, but you caught the occasional glance, the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking.

As he wrapped up, he leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. “Any questions?”

You shook your head, still trying to process the last few minutes. “Nope. Crystal clear.”

“Good,” he said, but he didn’t move, his eyes studying you with that same intensity that made your skin prickle. “You’re with me tomorrow, so don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t,” you promised, then added with a grin, “As long as you don’t get distracted.”

His lips twitched, and he stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll see who’s distracted tomorrow.”

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the chest. “Focus, Captain. You’ve got a mission to lead.”

He caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you closer again. But instead, he released you, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’ll need it.”

You nodded, turning to leave, but you paused at the door, glancing back at him. “Law?”

He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging my question earlier,” you said, grinning. “You totally like me.”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “Get out of here,” he said, but there was no hiding the amusement—or the warmth—in his eyes.

As you left the map room, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but smile. Tomorrow’s mission was going to be interesting, and you had a feeling Law’s teasing was only the beginning.

[theachinghunger-if]

The Aching Hunger

Demo [9.4k Words | Last Updated 5/7/25]

You are a good, upstanding citizen. You’re a devoted best friend, get good grades in college, and life is looking up. You would go as far as to call yourself a good person. That is, until you aren’t anymore. 

When your best friend gets cheated on by her asshole boyfriend, you’re furious on her behalf. And when you see him at a party, something in you… snaps. In a fit of fury, you murder him. 

And this unleashes a bloodlust in you that no one would have ever expected, least of all yourself. Soon, a terrible, aching hunger forms in the pit of your stomach and travels up to gnaw at your heart. You want to kill – need to kill. The question is: can you get away with it, or are you destined to fall? 

The game has four romance options who go as follows:

Delilah (F) Delilah is the kindest, sweetest person you know. She would never even hurt a fly. But despite that, she helps you cover up the murder of her (ex) boyfriend with little more than a scolding look. There’s a burning in her eyes when you reveal your bloodlust before her. Could it be possible that she’s drawn to it?

Delilah is of average height with a lean, slender build. She has black skin, coiled black hair she keeps in locks, and dark brown eyes. She has a round, heart-shaped face and deep dimples.

Sebastian (M) Sebastian has always been a bright, easy-going guy. He’s always been a pleasant person to hang out with, despite his poor choice of best friend. But ever since his best friend’s death – well, ever since you happened to murder him – his joy has been muted. If he ever found out that you murdered his best friend, he would never forgive you.

(WARNING: Sebastian's route is unique in that it is meant to be dark, purposely deceptive, and potentially even downright abusive on behalf of the MC. )

Sebastian is tall with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He has sun-kissed skin and curly brown hair that reaches his shoulders. His eyes are a light shade of brown. He has a scar on his calf that winds all the way up his thigh.

Alexander/Alexandra (M/F)

A is the detective who’s been put on your case. They’re charming, with a silver tongue and a mind as sharp as a finely-honed blade. They’ll stop at nothing to discover who the serial killer haunting the streets of their city is. Too bad that that person happens to be you.

A is tall with a wiry frame. They have pale skin and light blue eyes. Their hair is a pale, platinum blond. Their features are angular and sharp, making them look almost shrewish. A scar slashes across their left cheek.

Hugo/Helga (M/F) H is your classmate who you’ve been assigned on a group project with. They’re a twitchy, nervous thing, often acting as if they’re afraid of the entire world at large. As your killing spree commences, however, they develop a fascination with your serial killing persona. Maybe they’re not as much of a delicate little lamb as you thought they were. 

H has a short, wiry frame. They have pale skin and light blue eyes, along with fiery red hair. Their features are angular and sharp, making them look almost shrewish. They have a smattering of freckles across their body.

Choose your MC's gender

Customize your MC's appearance and personality

Choose between four different romance options

Get away with murder or don't

Feed that hunger inside of you, or try to reject it

All updates will be posted on this blog. I'm totally cool with asks about the MC, ROs, and so on. I’m a-okay with nsfw asks too. Thank you for checking out the blog!

[stargirlygirl]

no, you can't buy my ranch

rancher!sylus x spoiled!city girl!reader

⭑.ᐟ part one: new home

summary: today is the day you move into your dad's ranch house, but there's a problem. who is this silver-haired man touring your property?

contains: swearing, angst, 1.5k words

You never thought it would come to this, but as rolling grassy hills and cattle whir past your tinted car windows, you realise it indeed has.

You’re a city girl. You love the buzz and bustle of the concrete jungle; the fact that there are so many people, no one looks at you. You blend right into this fashion-forward, $8 coffee-drinking, road rage mania. It’s your home.

When your father bought a property in the middle of nowhere a few years ago, you didn’t think much of it. Not until a couple of months ago, when he asked you to pack up and move in there for the next year, so he won’t be taxed on rent collection. You were in utter disbelief and refused straight off the bat. You couldn’t give up your barista-made 57-degree oat milk lattes, let alone your apartment, or your job. And what of your gym membership? Your weekly outings with friends?

But here you are, growing frustrated at your GPS as you try to navigate the few roads of this tiny town.

You’ll be working remotely for as long as you stay here, and daddy-poo bought you an espresso machine in preparation for your move. In your mind, this next year couldn’t go any faster. You can’t wait to be out of here. Sure, the countryside looks nice. But it’s not going to be very nice when you find snakes in your backyard and can’t pop down to the supermarket after work because it closes at 5pm.

And don’t get me started on the small town gossip. Within days, everyone here will be fluent enough in your life story to write a biography about you. What high school you went to, every crush you’ve ever had, how many times you’ve peed in the pool, all of it! They’re going to know, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them from talking about it. You said so to your father when he saw you off.

“This is a bad idea,” you pouted. And he just sighed and waved as you pulled out of the parking lot and hit ‘start route’ to your new hellhole home.

For the third time in the last hour, your GPS has missed a turn and is now redirecting you back to the main road. The busy ice cream parlour workers must be tired of seeing your rust bucket of a car; they’re probably gossiping about this fucking loser who keeps circling. Determined not to go past your turn again, you drive extra slow, take the right lane, and round the corner when clear.

Driving to the end of empty grasslands, you find a small ranch house. Blue-tiled roof, white exterior, chimney, and is that a rocking chair on the porch? The sun is setting, tangerine hues casting the quaint house in a cosy glow. It’s enchanting, even more so as you pull off the dirt road and park on a nearby worn patch where you assume the prior tenants parked.

But there’s just one problem.

On the opposite side of the dirt trail is a black pickup truck. Stepping out of your beat-up tin car, the hinges groaning as you gently shut the door. Staring at the intruding vehicle, you notice the red interior of the truck and various tools stacked up on the tray. Huffing, you head to the passenger’s side and turn your handbag inside-out looking for the house keys. Upon grasping them, you lock your car and stride up your new ‘home’.

Drawing closer, you hear muffled voices from the side of the house. A deep, resonating chuckle accompanies feet crackling on the tall shrubs. You change course, following the sounds of the approaching strangers instead. It only takes a few seconds before silky silver locks glinting in the fading light come into view, followed by narrow crimson eyes. They settle on you instantly, zeroing in and assessing you like a predator does to its prey.

He’s gorgeous. Ahem. Fine. He looks fine.

Angular features, rippling muscles beneath his button-up, broad shoulders and the sluttiest little waist (that black vest understood the assignment). You’re practically ogling him with how your lips are parted, a bit of spit forming at the corner of your mouth while your eyes rake up and down his every line and curve.

Sylus’s dark boots squish every insect and hint of vegetation in their path until he stops a few feet away from you. His shadow looms over you, making you feel small and weak. His eyes have you glued in place, rendering you speechless and flushed as you wish you could run to your car and book it back to the city. So what if it’s another six-hour drive? Who cares? You certainly don’t if it means escaping the hunk of man in front of you.

Feebly, you murmur, “Who’re you?” The way it comes out, you sound like an abandoned kitten drenched by an unrelenting storm. He smirks; it sends chills rolling up your spine.

“I could say the same about you, kitten,” he confidently drawls.

Your eyes widen as you stutter, “W-what? What did you just call me?”

The man by his side, whom you haven’t even spared a glance at, interjects, “Miss, this is private property. If you don’t identify yourself, then you could be charged with trespassing.”

“Trespassing?!” You echo, a hint of panic in your tone.

Crossing your arms beneath your chest, you scold him, “If anyone’s trespassing, it’s you two.” Your gaze flickers to the silver-haired man, his sharp eyes still fixated on you; they observe every breath you take, the darkness beneath your eyes, and how you shift uncomfortably on your feet like you’ve been driving for hours.

You continue, irritated, “My father owns this property. Who’re you to come here and accuse me of—”

“Oh,” Sylus interrupts, his voice rich like dark velvet.

“So, you’re Miss L/n, then?” He continues with a raised brow and a mocking grin on his perfect face. Oh, how you wanna punch it off! You nod, a little knot in your brow, which he finds amusing.

The silver-haired man introduces himself, “I was hoping to make your acquaintance sooner or later. I am Sylus, and I’d like to purchase your ranch.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at him, sputtering, “Y-you what?”

“Mr Qin is a successful ranch owner and businessman. You have quite a nice block of land, Miss L/n. I was showing him around the property in preparation for a sale, once your father gives the word, of course,” the other man explains. You notice that he’s in a suit and holding several papers. Must be the real estate agent, you think.

You scoff, “Who… who do you think you are, you prick?” Pointing at Sylus, you scowl, “You have no right to be inspecting my land and you—” Your fury switches to the real estate agent, “are out of your fucking mind! Showing potential clients around here? Are you so desperate for commission? Get the fuck out of here or I’m calling the police.”

Delving into your back jean pocket, you retrieve your phone and open the dial pad.

Sylus’s charming chuckle unnerves you, “There’s no need to do that, sweetie. The tour is finished anyway.” Glancing up from your screen, you step back reflexively as he steps forward.

He holds out a red card between his long fingers, smirking, “My business card for when you’re ready to negotiate price.” You snatch it from him, glaring at him the entire time. And you don’t stop until you can make out his tall figure (bakery in full view btw) amongst the sunset backdrop, climbing into his truck and driving away in a flurry of dust and mystery.

Locking your phone, you slide it into your pocket and flip over Sylus’s business card. Address, email, phone number, all detailed in silver embossed lettering on a smooth background. But not as smooth as his voice. What?

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you trudge back to your car and flip open the boot. It’s a long night, pulling out the few boxes you could fit, carrying them up the porch steps and eventually dumping them in the warm living room. Luckily, everything’s mostly furnished. It’s just your homely touch that needs to be added.

You unpack the ‘essentials’ box: toiletries, fry pan and toaster, and phone charger. Shortly afterwards, you collapse into bed, a certain silver-tongued fox on your mind. His shrewd gaze haunts your dreams, as do the defined contours of his body, evident in the afternoon light.

Oh, what it would be like to feel such muscles beneath your palm, to have his eyes on you for eternity. Such dreams are forbidden, yet you cannot stop the wandering mind from doing just that in the early hours of the morn.

masterlist

[kasel-the-mightless]

IT'S NICE TO BE BACK!

At first this drawing was just a stylized version of a theater poster. But then I just— blink! And here we go again: Too much symbolism. But i don't complain tho!!

Okay, lemmie explain: This drawing is drawn from the point of view of the townspeople. How they see the three doctors, and how these doctors are presented in the story

Daniil is brightly lit. He is in the spotlight, his palette not one with the colors of the background. He is here a celebrated man and an outsider (And he is also the most detailed, because in Pathologic Classic his route is the most elaborated)

Burakh is the palest. He is angular, simplified, and at the same time, the one that best matches the background in style and colors. He may not be the flashiest fish in the school, but he is definitely the most reliable bull in the herd. In this picture he is the only one who truly belongs to this place and fits into it

Clara is stylized as an Orthodox icon for Reasons. She is in the shadow of the other two doctors, but at the same time she is above them - because she is something not quite human

There are some more funny metaphors and symbolism, but I won't explain them, bc it won't be fun if i explain it to yar guys :(

Other colour version:

[icys-junkyard]

Unova Battle Subway maps

My personal preferred map of the railways (one with blue markers, one with color coded markers)

An alternate map, taking the in-game subway map slightly more literally. (Bonus map with a few non-canon markers I added purely to help myself make sense of the seemingly pointless shapes of some of the routes)

Bonus extra map of the routes taken by Ingo, Emmet, or both of them, for those who want a more specific visual of those routes on their own. (Of course Emmet's line goes through the Pokémon World Tournament lmao)

Misc notes/thoughts under the cut

I'm not a train person, take all these musings with a grain of salt lol

Canon map note: I imagine this map only shows the large, intercity railways. Cities like Nimbasa, Castelia, etc likely have smaller, more complex subway lines all over the city like we tend to see IRL.

Canon map note 2: In an IRL setting, these rail lines are likely far less straight and angular than on these maps and could probably make a lot more sense if drawn with a freer hand and consideration for the landscape, but I tried sticking somewhat close to how it's presented in the game.

International (wi-fi) line: In the game it's the wi-fi line. In a non-game context I imagine this line is one that actually leaves Unova and goes to a neighboring region.

Subwayness: While not all of these lines are 100% underground like they might be in the cities, I like to think quite a few of them are partially or primarily in tunnels. Many lines go across water without a major bridge* on the map, or straight through harsh environments like mountains or deserts, some of which may be more convenient long term to go under rather than through. With the technology of the Pokémon universe, I imagine large stretches of underground train tunnels are entirely possible. (*Maybe there's smaller unshown bridges for the trains, but at least the line that goes right through Castelia's port to an island I'd like to believe could be underground under water)

Battle Subway: The Battle Subway itself likely only runs on these intercity lines.Assuming IRL distances rather than in game walking distances, depending on the length of the line, a lap or two could be a full days work for the bosses. Non-battle trains likely use these same tracks.

Anville Town: The branching path on the Anville line is strange, as it doesn't seem to point toward any known location. It could be pointing toward some unlabelled town or landmark, though I've seen some people posit that it stops at the Celestial or Dragonspiral towers (though they seem too far away for me to agree). My personal headcanon is that rather than the large branch shown on the original map, it's actually two branches going to Anville Town; a large alternate rail to help with rotating/moving trains going in and out of the rail yard there.

Pokémon World Tournament: Located in or very near Driftveil City, it was added in BW2 by Driftveil gym leader Clay. Considering Driftveil is a city, it could have multiple subway stations, one of which just happens to be close to the PWT. Alternatively, it could be a bit of a distance away and thus have it's own station.

PokéStar Studios: Located in or very near Virbank City. As the major intercity lines don't quite hit Virbank itself, I imagine Virbank only has one intercity station near the studio if it's within Virbank itself. That, or it has no intercity stations and one must travel the distance between Virbank and the studio to travel further.

Unity Tower: Literally this train goes through a port and right into the ocean to reach an island. This island is only accessible by boat. I'm convinced this train goes under the seafloor. That or it has a super cool Marine Tube situation where it's a subway tunnel, but the tunnel is transparent and the ocean and water pokémon can be seen out the train windows.

[meinkatzchen]

do you think a wolf/fox beastkin mix could happen? if so, how do you think theyd work? im trying to make an oc lol …

I was asked a few questions about beastkin headcanons and I'll try to answer a few here!

I may be wrong, as I didn't quite understand the question.

If you mean the existence of a hybrid, a cross between a wolf and a fox, then I had headcanons for the birth of a baby from two beastkins of different species: they do not give birth to hybrids, the child is born with the appearance of one of the parents, but in their appearance they can have both the features of the mother and the father (for example, if the father was a wolf-beastkin with black hair and yellow eyes, and the mother was a fox-beastkin with red hair and amber eyes, then the baby can be born as a fox with black hair and amber eyes or a wolf with red hair and amber eyes).

If I understood you correctly, then I can recommend the red wolf or maned wolf species! They seem to combine the appearance of a wolf and a fox at the same time!

Oh, birds! This is going to be very interesting, I've never thought about bird-beastkins before! Some traits may depend on the species, after all, some owl species have significant differences, but I have some that can unite all, without individual differences.

The first thing that came to my mind is that they have feathers in their hair or "feather ears" (which have to be hidden with magic) and instead of hair/fur on the body, they have light body fluff, very soft and delicate, such as what birds can have under their wings. The growth of their fluff is observed on the outside of the arms, on the legs, on the chest, in armpits, on the lower abdomen, on the lower back and on the shoulder blades. They also have a beautiful feathered tail!

Many owls have a spotted coloring, this is reflected on the body of the owl-beastkins in the form of birthmarks or moles, and their hair may also have strands that stand out in color, for example, too dark when the hair is light, which can look like an interesting hair coloring.

I don't think that owls-beastkins have the ability to turn their heads around their axis, but they definitely have a wider field of peripheral vision.

Some have a modest and quiet character, some are very artistic and noisy, and some can be both, having a labile emotional background, but none of them have a hot-tempered or aggressive character.

Despite their peaceful nature, they remain predators with a dangerous weapon - sharp claw-like nails on their hands.

Their smooth body movements are mixed with sharp and angular ones, which resemble the fast movements of birds.

It always seemed to me that it is the owls who can make the creepiest smile, without even suspecting that it can scare others.

They have expressive speech, voice modulation, which makes them excellent speakers.

I omitted such headcanons as good vision in the dark, good hearing, love of meat and others, because many beastkin have this and I do not want to focus on it constantly, sorry!

AAAAhhhh I love fennecs and coyotes! Yesss, I have some headcanons ♥

Headcanons for fennecs:

Love of hot climates, endurance at elevated temperatures (their big ears just help them cope with the heat), love to sunbathe, they can go a long time without water (relevant for Derek's route LOL).

These beastkins are short in stature and they have cool big ears and fluffy tails :3

Fennec-beastkins are very social, very talkative, very emotional, playful and irrepressibly active. 100% extroverts, among which there are both cowardly by nature beastkins, and a little aggressive (but in fact, they are not very good fighters).

Strong family ties: usually, they live in large families, in a house that is always noisy and full of life. Older brothers and sisters always look after the younger ones, and parents are ready to tear anyone apart for their little ones. It is rare to find a fennec-beastkin who would be a complete loner, they are characterized by increased care for their relatives and loved ones.

In fact, they are ready to eat everything and eat a lot. They have a fast metabolism, increased appetite.

They are very scrupulous about the cleanliness of the environment.

Headcanons for coyotes:

They are usually of average height, have a physique somewhere between asthenic and normosthenic, sharp fangs and a colder character, which implies a dislike of cooperation with anyone, but a love of freedom and solitude. Cunning and smart, often cautious, but curious. 100% ambiverts.

However, if they find people who are truly dear to them, they remain loyal friends and lovers. They can be difficult in character for other people, but they take relationships with their loved ones very seriously, with warmth, understanding and care. And if for some reason their paths diverge, then the coyote-beastkins never forget those they cherished and loved.

I would say that they are not at all squeamish, they can take on any job, especially one that pays well and if the coyote-beastkin can find some other benefit for himself. They can also take on some strange work out of boredom, as if trying to see how it will all end.

Hardy and fast. When bored, they can become playful in a more violent sense, but still, more often than not, they will try to avoid possible fights by solving problems diplomatically.

[dee-writes-anime]

Chapter 1: The Witch Accused

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Witch!Reader

SUMMARY In a village consumed by sickness and fear, you, an accused witch, are captured by a desperate mob and dragged to face judgment before the King of Curses, Sukuna.

CONTENT WARNINGS detailed depictions of a village struggling with disease, starvation, and decay, mentions of sickly children, livestock death, and human mortality, tense interactions between the narrator and villagers, including verbal accusations and implied mob violence, scenes of witchcraft involving blood and incantations, implied religious conflict, subtle criticism of faith and its intersection with fear and blame.

PLAYLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

The village had always been a brittle thing, teetering on the edge of ruin long before I was born. It was nestled into the crook of a valley, cradled by sinking hills that slumped like jagged scars against the horizon. It wasn’t a place you’d stumble upon by chance- hidden away from trade routes, tucked between forests thick with bramble and treacherous rives prone to flooding. The isolation had once been its greatest strength, a sanctuary from the wars and chaos that riddled the lands. 

And then the sickness came.  

It began as a quiet invader, seeping through the village like a shadow, causing soil to grow stubborn. Clinging to the roots of crops like a jealous lover, dark and heavy with clay. Even in the best seasons, it gave little, forcing villagers to rely heavily on cattle and scrape by on meager harvests of bitter greens, barley, and the occasional patch of onions. 

Then those shadows curled through pens, infecting the cattle that the village had once praised. Once sturdy beasts began to collapse in fields, their bodies bloating under the summer sun, they milky eyes staring blankly into the void. The surviving livestock, fewer in number each year, were gaunt and skittish, their hides stretched thin over sharp bones. They too seemed to sense the growing death in the shadows as their milk soured and their offspring grew weaker and weaker.  

And finally, shadows of sickness- of death- slipped through the cracks of straw roofs, finally having curled into every corner. The village itself was a patchwork of survival—wooden homes leaning against each other for support, their thatched roofs sagging under the weight of neglect. Smoke curled from crooked chimneys, its bitter scent a constant companion, mingling with the acrid tang of unwashed bodies and the faint, coppery smell of blood from the butcher’s hut. A well sat at the heart of the village, its water once fresh and clear, now tinged with a faint, metallic aftertaste that no one dared question too closely. 

The people bore the signs of its slow, merciless grip. Their skin was sallow, stretched thin over angular bones, their hands chapped and cracked from work that never seemed to end. Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes told stories of sleepless nights and empty stomachs. Their clothes, once simple but serviceable, were now threadbare and patched so many times the original fabric was hardly recognizable. Loose tunics hung over narrow shoulders, cinched at the waist with frayed cords, and the occasional shawl or cloak—woven from coarse, undyed wool—offered meager protection against the cold.  

The children fared no better. Their bare feet left prints in the mud as they scurried between homes, their laughter thin and fleeting. Many of them had red-rimmed eyes from coughing fits that never quite left, their small hands gripping sticks or scraps of wood as makeshift toys. Even the strongest among them looked frail, as though the village itself drained the life from them as payment for their survival. 

Generations had lived and died here, their lives marked by toil and prayer, yet little else. The temple at the edge of the village was the tallest structure, its roof patched with mismatched tiles scavenged from who-knew-where. Its wooden beams sagged, and the faint chime of its bell at dusk carried a mournful note. It stood as a monument to the villagers’ faith—faith that had grown brittle over the years, much like the wooden beams that groaned under its weight. 

Said temple was led by the “elders,” who could be considered a different breed entirely. They were wiry and hunched, their backs bent from years of labor in the fields and the weight of authority they carried like millstones around their necks. Elder Kazu was their figurehead, his face a web of wrinkles that deepened every time he spoke. His hair, sparse and snow-white, framed a narrow face with sharp, calculating eyes. He walked with a gnarled staff, its wood polished smooth by years of use, and though his voice cracked when he spoke, it still carried the weight of command. 

Beside him were the others—Elder Masami, with her thin lips and perpetually furrowed brow, and Elder Daiki, who had long since lost his teeth but none of his sharpness. Their clothing was slightly more intact than the rest of the villagers’, a sign of their status. Masami’s long tunic was adorned with faded embroidery at the cuffs, a hint of red thread that might once have been vibrant. Daiki wore a heavy woolen cloak draped over his narrow shoulders, its edges fraying but still imposing in its bulk. 

The market square was little more than a dirt clearing where merchants used to come, though their visits had dwindled to nothing in recent years. Even the well, the village’s lifeline, bore signs of decay. Its stone walls were cracked, and the water within tasted faintly of iron, as though the sickness had poisoned even the earth. 

The sickness only worsened from there as fevers stole both the strongest and weakest, the oldest and youngest, with seemingly no pattern, leaving behind far too little with scars in the shape of coughs that lingered like unwelcome guests. They seemed to move through this dying world like ghosts, their footsteps quiet, their voices softer still. A people clinging to the remnants of a life they no longer believed in and no matter how many stories the elders told, their eyes stayed empty. At first, they blamed the river, its waters swollen and brackish after a summer storm. Then they blamed the traders who passed through, though fewer came with each year. The blame shifted like the wind, but the sickness stayed, digging its claws deeper with each passing season. The village had limped through years of disease, desperation a constant companion whispering in the ears of the villagers as they eventually turned their gaze to me.  

“Her,” they whispered. “It’s because of her.” 

They never said it to my face, of course. They feared me too much for that. When I walked through the market square, their conversations would drop into hushed tones, their gazes shifting quickly to the ground. Mothers pulled their children close as I passed, shielding them as if my shadow might curse them. The few merchants brave—or desperate—enough to trade with me kept their words clipped and their hands trembling as they handed over what I bought. I never bargained with them. I paid full price or not at all. It wasn’t charity. It was control. They’d seldom leave small offerings at my doorstep —half-eaten loaves of bread, broken beads, wilted flowers. Apologies, or perhaps bribes, to keep my wrath at bay. 

To them, I was an outsider, not because of where I came from but because of what I could do. They feared me, but they needed me, and that fragile thread had kept their hatred at bay for a while. 

But it wasn’t always this way. Once, I had been one of them, tolerated if not entirely accepted. My knowledge of herbs and remedies had been a boon when the sickness first came. I had eased their fevers, soothed their children’s aches, and kept the worst of it at bay for a time. But the lands were sick—sicker than any tincture or spell could fix—and my small successes weren’t enough. The people needed someone to blame, and it was easier to point to the witch who lived on the outskirts of the village than to face their own failures or the cruelty of the world. 

Their fear, though, was not entirely misplaced. 

I was no saint. My patience had worn thin years ago. The first time someone dared to accuse me outright, I made a spectacle of it. I hadn’t harmed them—no need to dirty my hands for a fool—but I had spoken their name during a storm, loud enough for the thunder to carry it, and left dried bones where they would find them. I let their imagination do the rest. The next morning, they left the village, and no one dared to follow. 

Now, they called me a monster behind closed doors, muttering their curses to their gods, but they still came to me when they had nowhere else to turn. When the children coughed too hard to breathe. When their crops failed, and they needed someone to tell them it wasn’t their fault. I helped them—sometimes—but not without reminding them of what I was capable of. They needed the fear as much as I needed them to feel it. 

For all their hatred, they couldn’t help themselves. It was easier to fear me than to admit their gods had abandoned them, that the sickness in the lands had no cure. 

Despite their fear, the village clung to its routines like a lifeline. The blacksmith’s hammer still rang out in the mornings, dull thuds echoing through the square. Children still played near the well, their laughter sharp and fleeting, as though they knew better than to let it linger. The temple bells still chimed at dusk, their hollow tones calling for prayers that no one truly believed would be answered. 

But beneath it all, the air was thick with tension, like the pause before a storm. The villagers had spent years shouldering their burdens, but even the strongest beams splinter under enough weight. And when they broke, they would come for me. 

The village was a place that could survive anything, but it would never thrive. It was a monument to endurance, a lesson in scarcity. It had stood against the odds for generations, but I could see the cracks spreading, could hear the creak of its foundations. These people had long since forgotten how to hope, how to dream. I’d watched it happen, year by year. All they knew now was fear. 

And fear, I had learned, could only be contained for so long. 

“Morning, Elder Kazu,” I said as I passed, my tone polite but edged with sharpness. My hands clutched the woven basket at my side, filled with bundles of herbs I had spent the morning collecting. The elder gave a stiff nod in return, but his jaw was tight, the corners of his mouth pulled downward. 

“Witch,” he said finally, his voice low, as though afraid it might carry. “The land suffers, and you—” He hesitated, his lips trembling before he found the courage to finish. “You walk as if it doesn’t touch you.” 

I stopped mid-step, turning to look at him. The others near the well froze, their eyes darting between the two of us like rabbits scenting a wolf. 

“You think I’m untouched?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, almost pleasant. I stepped closer, slow enough to watch him shift uncomfortably. “Tell me, Elder Kazu, how untouched I must be when you’ve come to me five times this year for teas to ease your cough? Or when your grandson came to me, pale as death, because nothing the temple priests did could break his fever?” 

Kazu’s jaw tightened further, and his fingers curled around the edge of his walking stick. “And I paid you for those things.” 

“Yes,” I said, my voice like silk. “You did.” 

I let the silence stretch, thick and suffocating. One of the other elders shuffled uncomfortably, the sound of his sandals scraping against the dirt breaking the quiet. 

“I’ve done no harm to you or this village, and yet you speak of me as though I brought the sickness upon the land myself.” I leaned in just slightly, enough to make Kazu stiffen. “Perhaps you should stop looking for devils in the shadows and instead ask why your gods have turned their backs on you.” 

The crowd around us sucked in a collective breath, their fear palpable. Kazu’s face turned red, anger mingling with something sharper, something he wouldn’t dare admit to himself: fear. 

I straightened and turned to go, my basket swaying lightly at my side. “Let me know if your grandson’s cough returns,” I said over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want him to suffer for your pride.” 

Later that day, as I sat outside my small home on the outskirts of the village, I saw her approaching. I recognized her as one of the people in the crowd from earlier in the morning, she had been clutching the rosary at her chest as she watched the whole ordeal, shaking like a leaf. The woman’s steps were hesitant, her child clinging to her skirts. She wasn’t the first to come here, and she wouldn’t be the last. Still, I didn’t move, watching as she stopped a few feet away. 

“Please,” she said, her voice trembling. Her eyes darted around as though she feared being seen. “My son—he hasn’t been able to breathe all day. The priest said... said it’s in the hands of the gods now.” 

The boy’s face was pale, lips tinged blue, his breaths shallow and uneven. It was a cruel sight, one that tugged at the edges of my mind, though I wouldn’t show it. 

“And you think my hands will do better than theirs?” I asked, leaning back against the doorframe. My tone wasn’t kind, but neither was it cruel. It was deliberate. 

She hesitated, clutching the boy tighter. “Please,” she said again, desperation cracking her voice. “I’ll pay you.” 

I tilted my head slightly, letting the silence stretch just long enough for her fear to blossom. Then I stood and pushed the door open with a creak. “Bring him inside.” 

She hurried past me, her steps unsteady but driven by urgency. The child let out a wet, gasping cough as she lowered him onto the cot near the hearth. I ignored her trembling, focusing on the boy. He was far gone, but not beyond my reach. Not yet. 

“Wait outside,” I said, not bothering to look at her. “You’ll only make it worse.” 

She opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it, retreating reluctantly. The door creaked shut behind her, and I let out a slow breath. Alone at last. 

I crouched beside the boy, studying his face. His breathing was shallow, his small chest rising and falling unevenly. Reaching into my basket, I pulled out a bundle of herbs and laid them on the table, their pungent aroma filling the room. 

I worked quickly, grinding the leaves into a thick paste with a mortar and pestle. The rhythm of the grinding was steady, almost hypnotic. With a knife, I nicked my finger, letting a few drops of blood fall into the mixture. The paste hissed and darkened as my blood met the herbs, a faint shimmer rippling across the surface. 

“Breathe, child,” I murmured, my voice low and steady. “Breathe deep.” 

I smeared the paste across his chest, the dark substance soaking into his skin. His body jerked, his back arching slightly as his lungs fought against the weight pressing down on them. I closed my eyes, pressing a hand over his chest as I muttered an incantation under my breath. The words were old, their cadence sharp and commanding, filling the space with a thrumming energy that crackled in the air. 

The room grew still, the tension thick as the boy gasped suddenly, his breaths deep and ragged. The blue tint in his lips began to fade, replaced by a faint flush of color. His chest rose and fell evenly now, the rattling gone. 

I wiped my hands on a rag and sat back, watching him sleep. The paste on his chest had vanished, absorbed into his skin, leaving only the faintest trace of its presence. I felt the pull of exhaustion settle into my limbs, but it was a familiar weight, one I had learned to carry. 

The door creaked open, and the mother stepped inside. She froze when she saw him, her hands flying to her mouth. “He’s—” Her words broke into a sob as she dropped to her knees beside the cot, gathering the boy into her arms. 

She turned to me, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Thank you.” 

I should have known they wouldn’t leave it at whispers. Fear has a way of festering, and tonight, it seemed ready to boil over.  

It had only been hours since I sent the woman back on her way that I heard a knock at my door. It was sharp, relentless, and entirely unwelcome. 

I didn’t answer at first, letting it echo through the quiet of my home. Only a fool would come to my door so late, but then again, this village was full of fools. When the knocking didn’t stop, I sighed, setting aside the herbs I’d been drying by the hearth. The hour was late, and I wasn’t in the mood for their desperation tonight. 

When I opened the door, I was met with the gnarled face of Elder Kazu. Behind him stood three men, their faces half-hidden in the dim glow of lantern light, their expressions tight with unease. 

“Elder Kazu,” I said, my voice flat. “To what do I owe this intrusion?” 

The elder’s gaze darted past me, as if searching for something—or someone—inside. His knotted hands gripped his staff tightly, and his jaw was set with a determination I hadn’t seen before. Behind him, the men shifted uncomfortably, their fingers tightening around the tools they carried: a shovel, a rusted scythe, and a length of rope. 

“The child died,” Kazu said, his voice cracking like dry wood. “Despite your... efforts.” 

I stiffened, the words sinking like stones into my chest. The child from earlier. His mother had come to me, begging for help, and I had given it. My craft was strong, stronger than their faithless gods. But sometimes, even I could not bend fate. 

“And you think that’s my fault?” I asked, my voice calm, though I could feel the simmer of heat beneath it. 

“You said you healed him!” one of the men snarled, stepping forward. I recognized him—Hajime, the father of the boy. His face was twisted with grief, his eyes red-rimmed and wild. “You lied! You cursed him, just like you’ve cursed this whole village!” 

I met his glare, unflinching. “Your boy was dying when you brought him to me. I bought him time, nothing more. If you want to blame someone, blame the sickness in the land. Blame your gods for abandoning you.” 

Hajime surged forward, but Kazu caught him with a firm hand. “Enough!” the elder barked. His voice wavered but held enough authority to make Hajime fall back, trembling with fury. 

“It’s not just the boy,” Kazu said, turning back to me. His voice was quieter now, almost steady. “The crops failed again. The cattle are dying. More children are sick. And yet, here you stand, untouched. Unharmed.” 

I raised an eyebrow. “You think my survival is proof of guilt? Perhaps it’s just proof that I’m smarter than the rest of you.” 

That was the wrong thing to say. 

The men moved as one, lunging forward with clumsy but determined hands. I fought back, my nails raking across flesh as I twisted and kicked, but there were too many of them. Rope snaked around my wrists, biting into my skin as they wrenched my arms behind my back. Someone grabbed my hair, forcing my head down as they shoved me into the dirt. 

“Let go of me!” I snarled, my voice cutting through the night. “Do you think this will save you? Do you think your gods will return because you’ve tied up the only one who ever helped you?” 

“Quiet!” Kazu barked, his staff slamming into the ground with a dull thud. “We’ve had enough of your poison, witch. You’ll answer for what you’ve done.” 

They hauled me to my feet, the rope biting deeper as they dragged me into the square. My bare feet scraped against the ground, the cold seeping into my skin as the village came alive around us. Doors creaked open, faces peering out, and soon the square was full of murmurs and nameless faces. 

Shadows danced wildly across the thatched roofs of the village as torches flickered in trembling hands. They gathered around me like vultures circling a corpse, their whispers rising into a chant, fueled by fear and hatred that churned like poison in their veins. 

I stood in the center of it all, bound at the wrists, my face cloaked in shadow but my eyes unyielding. The ropes dug into my skin, rough and unrelenting, but I refused to show pain. My gaze swept over the crowd, unwavering, as if I were the one passing judgment. Their anger faltered when I looked at them—cowards, every last one of them. Some shifted uneasily, others clutched their children closer, as if I might lash out and curse them where they stood. 

“She brought this on us!” Kazu’s voice cracked like dry leaves, his bony finger trembling as it pointed in my direction. “The deaths! The sickness! It’s her witchcraft!” 

I tilted my head, letting the ghost of a smile curl my lips. “Witchcraft?” My voice was low, but it cut through the din like a blade. “Is that what you call your own failures?” 

The crowd rippled with unease, torches flickering as if the flames themselves feared me. I could almost taste their panic, a bitter tang that fed the growing ember of defiance in my chest. They wanted to blame me for everything that had gone wrong in their miserable little lives. They wanted a villain. And here I was, bound and ready to play the part. Their silence wasn’t just fear—it was a storm gathering strength, waiting to break.

“She has no shame!” a woman screeched, clutching her rosary so tightly it threatened to snap. “We must end this before her evil consumes us all!” 

The crowd closed in, their faces a blur of fear and hatred, their torches casting wild, flickering light. I felt the first tendrils of panic claw at my chest, but I shoved them down, keeping my gaze sharp and my spine straight. 

“If you think fire will save you,” I said, my voice ringing out over the square, “then you’ve already lost.” 

The words did little to calm them. If anything, it seemed to embolden them, their cries rising into a unified chant: “Burn her! Burn her!” 

Kazu raised a hand, silencing them with a single motion. “We’ll do nothing without the lord’s permission,” he said, his voice steady now. “Sukuna will decide her fate.” 

The name hung in the air, heavier than the smoke. Sukuna. The King of Curses. The monster who ruled over life and death in this land. I had heard the stories—the whispers of his cruelty, his insatiable hunger for destruction, his throne built on blood and fear. A chill ran through me at the thought of standing before him, but I didn’t flinch. Not here. Not now. 

The crowd parted as Kazu motioned for the men to drag me forward. My knees scraped against the dirt, my wrists burning against the rough rope. But I kept my head high, meeting their hateful glares with the same sharp defiance I always had. 

The forest loomed ahead, its shadows deep and foreboding, swallowing the torchlight as if even the trees feared the lord who reigned over this land. I kept my eyes forward as they pushed me forward, every step deliberate. Each one echoed my silent vow: If death awaited me at the end of this road, I would meet it standing tall. 

But deep in my chest, something stirred. Not hope—not even fear—but curiosity. A dark, creeping curiosity. If Sukuna was truly the monster they said he was, perhaps he would see what I already knew. That I didn’t belong in this crowd of cowards and fools. That my place wasn’t here, bound and powerless, but somewhere far greater. 

The flames of the torches dimmed as we disappeared into the forest’s embrace. With them went the last remnants of my old life. Whatever awaited me on the other side, I wouldn’t bow to it. Not to Sukuna, not to anyone. If the King of Curses wanted to break me, he’d need far more than rope and cowardly men. 

dividers by @strangergraphics

AUTHORS NOTE what better way to ring in the new year than posting the first chapter to a new series? Hope you enjoyed this one, my loves! More is coming very soon… hopefully 🩷🩷

TAGLIST @slutlight2ndver @surielstea @duhhitzstarr @arcanefeelings

[imagine-darksiders]

If it went down that route then I imagine strife would be the final boss between bride reader and freedom. imagining that battle breaks my heart because the whole time he just wants to keep the only friend he’s ever had 😭

"You want to leave?" he squeezes out through a narrow throat, staring down at you as the wind rustles his spiked, ebony hair.

The muscles in your own neck constrict achingly with the effort of keeping your voice from wobbling. Gently, you try to steer the Horseman back to reason. "I have to leave, Strife."

"... No..."

"Strife..." you sigh, tired beyond your years.

"No," he cuts you off sharply, brows drawn low over his blazing, golden eyes, "This isn't fair... You're... You can't go back."

For the first time in a long time, you're uncertain about standing so close to him. He seems to grow larger as you take a step back, his angular helm aimed at you as if he's got you locked in his crosshairs.

"You always knew this was going to happen-" you try, wringing your hands, pleading.

----

Strife suddenly bursting into his Anarchy form because his emotions are so overwhelming and he can't control his despair. His body responds to the terror of you leaving him as if he's facing a catastrophic threat.

[allophonicmess]

Sweetest Taste

Masterlist

15th Doctor x Reader (One Shot)

Part of the Doctor and Sun universe but can be read as a stand-alone

SMUT ( fem oral reciving & P in V)

4.3K

Tags: Fluff, Smut, body worship, consent, unprotected sex, established relationship

June offered the perfect time to visit London's Kensington Park for a stroll. Living in the bustling, vibrant city, you came to love it over the years. The park gates acted like a separator between the cold, busy and unpersonal streets and the lush green gardens that offered a sense of connectedness for the visitors, allowing them to escape from the pressure of the city and simply decompress and be.

You pulled at your clothes, making sure that you looked your best. It wasn't your first meeting; it was far from it. Yet, this day marked your first proper meeting with him in this new body, and it made you both excited and nervous, just like the previous times you two saw each other again with new eyes. Literally.

You felt a grin spread over your lips as you passed the black gates that separated the greenery from the greyish street. Passing the café, you stood momentarily, eyes wandering over the small, chapel-like building, the calm scene, and artistically set up plans in the middle of the grass. To your left, the view opened into the display of dark-orange cranesbills, lavender and other flowers. The ensemble reminded you of the sunset, rich in colour and contrast. Behind it, a line of angular ponds, lined with waterplants and accompanied by beautifully crafted benches, created the scene of the Italian Gardens.

This was the place you had decided to meet. You stayed on the reddish pavement, following one of the main routes through the park. The white oldtimer turned ice cream vendor stood in its usual place, attracting a small crowd of eager customers. They had formed a line, waiting patiently for their turn to receive their sweet treat.

"Should have clarified the time we meet", you mainly mumbled to yourself. You had told him when and where to meet you but in a more broad sense. Yet daytime also played a key role. You looked around for a moment. Perhaps a walk would be good to pass the time. You could follow the Long Water, take a look at one of the many statues and then come back a little later to see if he arrived at your set location. Or you could start searching for the big, blue police telephone box. It shouldn't be hard to find unless he fixed the chameleon circuit. Perhaps this new Doctor got tired of the Tardis' look, but you doubt it.

"Figured you'd be here around noon. Love to spend your-"He continued, but you interrupted him, finishing the sentence alongside him.

"Well, good on me to have thought of that" he spoke, the playful tone of his new voice made your grin before you consciously processed it. It was as if your body was drawn to him, able to recognise it anywhere, regardless of sound, tone or pitch. Always recognising, always drawn to it.

You turned around with a soft gasp, and there he stood. A big, inviting smile stretched over his face, adorned by a thin, trimmed moustache. His eyes held a twinkle that you couldn't quite explain. Youthful joy and pure ecstasy were the best words you could find. There were two ice cones, one in each hand. 99 Flake, you noticed. Vanilla soft ice with a chocolate flake, Simple yet classy.

"-lunch break in the park." You chuckled, approaching him and taking the cool dessert with a soft "Thank you".

"Bring some ice cream, you said. And here we are!" he cheered with a joyous laugh. You nodded, letting your eyes wander over his new look. He had changed; he put on some actual clothes. You didn't mind his 50/50 Bi-generation look, but it was… impractical for travelling.

He noticed your wandering eyes and decided to play into it. The Doctor stepped back, giving you a little swirl that made his orange leather coat swish. He had dressed up nicely. The outfit was new, certainly different from what he used to wear, yet it suited him so very well.

It reflected him, the healed and refreshed mindset expressed in daybreak's bright and daring colours. He wore light, striped sneakers, contrasting with the dark blue trousers. 'He really put some thought into this,' you thought, noticing the repetition of colours on his top. The zipper of his striped jumper was opened halfway, revealing the view of the necklace set he wore. An orange gem on one chain and an odd-looking golden shape on the other. They rested over a soft patch of dark chest hair that you took immediate interest in.

"You like it?" He asked with a flirty wink, stepping closer again and taking your free hand.

"Yeah, very stylish. It's new. Different, but I think it looks great. Especially the jewellery." You admired, feeling the cool metal of his ringers against your hand as you squeezed it to emphasise your comment.

"Thanks, darling." He chuckled softly, eyes moving from your face to the hand which held your now semi-melted ice cream that threatened to spill over your fingers.

"You want to lick that away before you get your hands dirty." He nodded towards it.

You quickly breathe a soft 'oh', turning the cone in your hand to clean it up. The sweet and creamy liquid made you hum in delight. You noticed that the Doctor was about to be in the same predicament as you. The molten cream snailing over the wafer.

"Same with yours. Don't want to make a mess." You joked, looking him in the eye. But he stayed serious, keeping eye contact for longer than you would find appropriate for the situation.

Then, there was a shift in the air around you. The soft reunion of lovers turning into something else…

His eyes focused on you as he licked away a streak of melted ice cream that dared to run down the cone. Those dark eyes watching you intently, clearly aware of the sexual allusion the action carried.

He grinned cheekily at your loss of words, clearly aware of what he was doing to you. But he wanted to take his sweet time with you. He enjoyed teasing you before, always did, but now it had a different tone to it. He felt a rush, watching you struggle; your attraction to him was undeniable.

Oh goodness, that stare was stirring something in you.

You released a breath, eyes following his pink tongue slide along the brown wafer with perfect pressure. He took his sweet time, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"Uh…" You started, gasped really, at a loss of words. Regeneration was a gamble, and you won.

"My plan?" You asked, shifting in your seat to get a better look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to sit down?" He asked softly, sweetly, with an innocent look. He waited for your approving nod, then placed his arm around your waist to lead you to one of the benches that lined the fountains.

You tried to calm down and get your pulse back to normal. You had seen him just yesterday. The other version of him, still him though. But this new factette of him thrilled you, willing to play along in his little game. It only would make winning the price sweeter and much more satisfying.

The two of you sat down on a bench. The wood under you had been warmed in the sun, making for a cosy spot. The Doctor moved in closely, placing one arm over the backrest. His hand rested on your shoulder and arm, stroking over it in a slow, calming motion.

"You chose a lovely spot", He commented, watching the place and people around him. He slid a little closer, making your thighs touch. He looked into the distance, where the Long Water widened into a river.

"So what's your plan?" He turned back to you, taking a lazy lick of his treat. He was almost finished.

"I was wondering how you want to proceed now. Do you want to keep your routine? Work, here on Earth? Travel?" He squeezed your shoulder, waiting patiently for your response. His head was turned back, the light shifting in his short, dark hair. The colour bordering between black and a lush midnight blue.

"I liked the routine. Me staying here, taking care of Earth while you are off. You taking me on dates when you find the time." You shrugged.

"Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear it." He pulled you in for another kiss. It was less passionate but undoubtedly made you feel his love. The Doctor petted your face quietly, watching you with warm admiration.

He sighed, something shifting behind his eyes. "I should have made more time for you." He whispered with some sense of grief behind it. "You deserve so much more than what I offered you." He moved even closer, and the arm around you pulled you into him. His hand moved towards your face.

He held your face gently, fingers curled and ringed knuckles resisting against your pulse as his thumb glided over your cheek.

"That will change now. You will be my priority." His eyes moved between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission to kiss you. You granted it, leaning forward to meet him in a soft, shy kiss. It was new, different to the feeling and rhythm you were used to. But you adapted, just like so many times prior. You found a new rhythm with him, lips moving in a sweet dance.

The two of you only let go to catch a breath of air, grinning shyly at each other like smitten teenagers. "You liked that?" He whispered with a breathy chuckle. Your actions, visible acceptance of this new version of him, took away the feeling of nervousness.

"Yeah, very much." You replied with a smile, just as relieved as him. Change was a constant in your lives. Things and people; everything was constantly changing. Yet you remained.

"I'll admit: I'm a fan of this." You vaguely motioned towards him, his face and body. "It suits you." Your own smile widened as he seemed to light up. The complement boosted his already strong confidence and charm. He radiated a warmth that you just wanted to bask in.

You didn't mind the silence. It felt easy and natural. But you were giddy, high on his smile and the joy you felt. So your brain went into overdrive, leading to making a silly confession.

"You know what I couldn't stop thinking about?" You asked, unable to hold back a childish giggle, already overly excited to reveal it.

"What?" He asked, watching you intently.

"Those thighs." You giggled, placing a hand on his left leg for emphasis. The woolly material of his trousers was rather rough against your fingers. But you felt his warmth seeping through the pant leg.

"Is that so?" He grinned. First, it was innocent, playing to your joke. But then it turned hungry before shifting into a stern expression.

And there it was again, that tension around you.

"You know what I kept thinking about?" He asked, his thumb tracing your lip.

You only managed to let out a breath of air. Yet he took it as a response to reveal it to you.

"I kept thinking about how sweet you will taste on this new tongue."

Oh, you were done for.

Your eyes met his. A spark was ignited the moment you saw the lust and longing reflected in his intense stare.

"Take me. Now."

What ensued was a mad rush for the Tardis. He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off to the location of the well-known police call box. He had parked it just outside the other park gates. There, resting in the shade of tall plane trees, right next to old and out-of-use red telephone boxes. You would have laughed at it and appreciated the joke if it hadn't been for the delicious ache between your legs and the heat that flushed your body.

The Doctor practically ripped open the Tardis door, letting you in before him. He stepped in quickly and slammed the door shut the moment you were both inside. And not even a second later, you found yourself pressed against said door. Pillowy lips caressed yours as soft hums escaped between them, and strong hands grasped at your sides. All you could see and feel was him.

You threw your arms around his neck, gently scratching his neck and toying with the collar of his leather coat. That evoked a hiss from him; his tone made pain and pleasure mix.

"Need more of you." He hissed, placing his hands under your ass and pulling you up. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles behind him to create stability. Thank the universe for Timelords' strength. He didn't carry you very far, though, slowly setting you down on the edge of the Tardis console. The surface was slightly sloped, but the new design allowed for free space between the control elements. You believe it might even have been made like this on purpose. Naughty machine.

This new position allowed you to be on eye level with the Doctor, if not, being a little taller than him. He noticed it, too, breaking away from you and grinning at you with marvel. You placed your hands on his jaw, feeling the skin there, the shaved hair over his sharp cheekbones. You pulled him in for another kiss, this time leading him in it. You held him there momentarily before your hands smoothed over his neck, along his ears and back down to the coat collar. A tuck signified him to shrug it off, and he obliged. The garment fell to the floor with a soft swoosh, leaving him in his jumper and pants.

You broke the kiss slowly, pressing your forehead to his as your hands wandered over his shoulders and back, feeling the strong yet lean muscle underneath the woolly material. He did the same, tugging at your jacket and shirt in the hope of finally being able to touch your skin. You let the coat slip from your arms, lifting them immediately to let him pull off your shirt. It left you in only your bra, sitting on the white metal console.

"You look like a goddess", He sighed, going for your neck and the soft spot behind your ear. The kisses there turned into playful nibbles as he carefully held the skin between his teeth to suck at it. It made you gasp, a shower running down your spine. You pulled the Doctor into an even closer embrace, hands holding him firmly.

He hummed against your skin, hands massaging the skin of your waste. His lips moved lower, over your clevis, down to the spot on your breast bone just above where your breasts connected to the skin. He licked down a stripe, only halting when he was stopped by your bra. It made him look up.

"Will you allow me to find out?" He looked you deep in the eye, waiting for your consent. His fingers were tracing along the hem of your jeans, eager to have you be rid of them. You nodded, holding onto his shoulders.

"I need you to use your words, darling." He kissed your jaw for emphasis; his right hand had moved up to the small of your back, tracing the spot where your spine connected.

"Yes, please." You managed to answer, already pushing yourself up on his shoulders to make it easier to free yourself of your pants. He grinned, making quick work of the zipper and button. He freed the jeans and underwear from under you with a swift pull. His hands explored the now-exposed skin of your thighs before pulling off your shoes to take off your pants for good.

He sighed at the view in front of him. Lips skimming over your thighs as he slowly and gracefully got to his knees. His hands traced over your back and down to your hips, squeezing them. The Doctor looked like he was about to pray, eyes focused up at you in admiration, soft breaths excepting through his slightly opened lips. He pulled you forward by your hips, making you lean forward and stabilise yourself with one hand on his shoulder and one on the console.

"My good girl." He whispered into the soft skin of your thigh, the moustache deliciously ticking you. His hands were on your knees, keeping your legs spread for him.

"Let me have some of that sweet taste." He mumbled before he oh so slowly licked over your core. You gasped, feeling his hot breath on you and heavenly pleasure against your clit. He kept his eyes focused on you, licking in slow motions before taking your pleasure bud in his mouth and gently sucking on it. The sensation was otherworldly, making you throw your head back. Years of experience had made him so good at making you gasp and scream, and the regeneration into a woman had evidently benefited his understanding of female pleasure.

He kept at it, lapping at you like his life depended on it. At some point, one of his hands had moved from your knees to your thigh, massaging it gently in the rhythm of his licks. You weren't going to last long if he kept going like this.

You moaned softly, trying to gather the energy and will to make him move. While this was great, you needed to feel him inside you.

A hand was placed on his head, making him stop to look at you.

"Too much?" He asked; the wet shine of your juices on his moustache made you even hotter.

"No, it's great, but I need you to feel you." You explained weakly, "I need to feel you inside me." You slid slightly lower on the console to get down on shaky legs, hoping they could hold you up.

But he was faster, swiftly getting back on his feet to carry you like he did before. The dark wool was rubbing against your core deliciously with each step as he carried you over the ramp towards the bedroom.

The Doctor placed you on the edge of the bed with just as much care and admiration as he had picked you up with. He was crouched before you, smiling softly in anticipation. You grinned, smoothing your hands over his neck and over the cool metal of his jewellery. The zipper of his jumper was only halfway open, so you took the little metal handle to open it fully, allowing you access to the gentle splatter of chest hair. Your hands moved over his torso, but you had to stop as the material offered no more room before the seams would give away.

"You are overdressed", You stated, making him chuckle. He readily lifted your arms to help get rid of his clothes. Fingers snuck under the waistband of his pants, grabbing onto not only the jumper and the light undershirt as well.

"Much better", you mumbled, placing your hands on his chest to explore it. He was fitter than you expected. Muscles stretched and flexed under your hands, and he brought his arms back down to hold your shoulders, pushing the straps of your bra down. He moved awkwardly from one foot to the other to shrug off his trainers.

That left him in his socks and pants. Still, too much, you decided and started fumbling with the button of his trousers.

"You got what you wanted. Let me see those legs again." You joked, making him laugh as he freed himself of the last of his clothing. He leaned over you, kissing you softly as he worked on the hooks of your bra. It hadn't been long since the two of you had had sex. But not with this body; it excited you to feel him again.

You slid back on the bed, allowing him to kneel and hover over you. The bra had been taken care of and thrown on the pile of clothing on the floor at the foot of the bed. You were getting ready to lay on the bed, having moved the duvet and additional pillows aside, but the Doctor stopped you.

"Can we try something?" He asked, still leaning over you, hands caressing your neck and the back of your shoulders as you turned towards him.

"Yeah, sure." You answered, interested in what he had in mind.

He kissed you again, gently holding your lower lip between his teeth before letting it go to focus on you.

"I want you on top." He stated simply. Kissing along your neck, fingers tracing your sides. "I want to watch you take what you need." He spoke against your chest in between soft kisses. "Is that alright?"

He asked, and you never knew that asking you for your consent to try something new would be so hot.

"Yes," You hissed. He had taken one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on it and holding the other breast in his hand. His thumb was moving over the other in soft circles.

"Lovely." He commented, giving your chest one last kiss before leaning away from you to arrange the pillows to make himself comfortable. A few were placed against the headboard, allowing him to lie in a half-sitting position. The Doctor nodded to you, signalling that he was ready.

"C'mon then. Let me feel you." He beckoned you, hissing in pleasure when you moved over to him, lowering yourself over his lap. His cock was half erect, so you pumped it a few times, letting the tip grace over your folds.

"You are so good", He whispered, eyes closed in pleasure. He reached for your body, hands exploring your back. "So good to me." He mumbled, already drunk on you.

You positioned him, slowly lowering yourself into his lap and moaning in pleasure just as he did. You took a few breaths, stabilising yourself on his shoulders. He felt different but filled you oh so deliciously.

"I'm gonna move now." You announced, making him nod. His hands had found their place on your hips, pulling your torso a little forward. He looked up as you filled his vision. You looked ethereal; the dimmed light of the Tardis was behind you, creating a halo around you.

"My goddess, my sweet sweet girl." He groaned, pushing his hips into yours to reach deeper.

He held you, slowly pulling your chest into him. You were both catching your breaths, lying in a loving embrace.

You were both getting close.

He held you as you rode him, feeling blissful to see the expression of pleasure on your face. You felt your core tighten. His gentle fingers and thrusts move you closer to the edge.

"Go on," He said, moving onto his elbows to kiss along your neck. "Take what you need. I want to see you come."

His encouragement drove you closer; you fasten your paste while he uses his hands on your hips to push himself more deeply with each thrust. You were becoming hazy, so close to that sweet release. He noticed it, too, finding the soft spot behind your ear and sucking on it gently.

That threw you over the edge, coming with a gasp. You could feel your cervix pulsating, squeezing him inside you.

"That's it." He chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a moan as he, too, came. The sight of your orgasm, the fact that his words and actions had helped you reach that sweet spot. It gave him the last push to tip over the edge and cum.

"I love you so much", He mumbled against your ear, fingers skimming over your back and holding you close.

You hummed, "I Love you, too. Till the end of time," You turned your head away from its position against his neck to kiss him softly.

You stayed that way for a moment longer, petting each other gently and sharing kisses. With a soft groan, you let his cook slip out. You managed to shift onto the side, leaning next to him. You were spent, happy to feel the soft comfort of the bed underneath you.

The Doctor sat up to reach for the duvet at the foot of the bed, placing it over the two of you. He had lifted his arm to let you move on his chest, just like you always did.

No words were spoken as you moved to place your head on his chest, your free hand gently laying next to it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, arm wrapped around you and fingers smoothing over your arm in a slow back and forth.

He sighed, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of you next to him. He wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of his life and the ones following it.

You shifted a little to look at him, your eyes meeting, smiling softly at each other.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked softly, drawing patterns into his skin.

He hummed, thinking for a moment.

"The club? You go partying?" You asked, chucking at the absurd idea. He had never been to a club, not that you knew about. But with each regeneration came new quirks.

"I wouldn't mind a nap." He joked, smile widening as he saw you laugh. He squeezed your shoulder softly before leaning back.

"How about a nap. And then we go to the club?" He offered.

"Yeah, I feel like we should go to a club. Maybe something exciting will happen." He winked, leaning forward to kiss you again before settling into the pillows and closing his eyes.

[mysticstronomy]

HOW TO DESTROY A BLACK HOLE??

Blog#460

Saturday, December 7th, 2024

Welcome back,

Black holes want to absorb all matter and energy in the Universe. It’s just a matter of time. So what can we do to fight back? What superweapons have been devised to destroy black holes?

Black holes are the natural enemies of all spacefaring races. With their bottomless capacity to consume all light and matter, it’s just a few septillion years before all things in the Universe have found their way into the cavernous maw of a black hole, crushed into the infinitely dense singularity. If Star Trek has taught us anything, it’s that it’s mankind’s imperative to survive against all odds.

So will we take this lying down?

Heck no!

Will we strike first and destroy the black holes before they destroy us?

Heck yes!

But how? How could you kill a black hole?

This… gets a little tricky.

For a black hole, any matter entering the event horizon is added to the mass. Shoot bullets at a black hole, and you just make a slightly more massive, slightly more dangerous black hole. Detonate a nuclear bomb inside the event horizon, and you only make the black hole more massive.

Fire your forward phasers at the black hole, and that’ll still make it even more massive. Swap those bullets in for lasers and black holes don’t care. Within the event horizon, energy and matter are one, and those very same black holes can convert that energy into mass. So all your projectiles and energy weapons inevitably just make it more dangerous.

What if we crashed a star into it? Would that fill it up, or burn it out? Nope. It would just gobble that star up, and go on with its business. If we smashed another black hole into it? Would that tear it apart? The cause is also the cure? Not even maybe. As soon as black holes get within each other’s event horizons, they’ll just merge into a more massive, and even nastier, meaner black hole.

Number 1, it’s time to bring out the big guns. Reverse the particle flow, flood the dilithium chamber with exotic particles and route it through the main deflector dish, and construct your own black hole out of antimatter. Then kamikaze this new antimatter black hole right into a the black hole you want to destroy. Would that do it? Would that solve our problem?

As you probably know, when you crash matter into antimatter, you get an explosion of pure energy. It’s the most perfect energy weapon we can envision. Unsurprisingly, this brings its own set of complications. It’s not entirely clear you’ve still have antimatter in your antimatter black hole. It’s possibly been converted into a regular flavour black hole.

Still, if you *could* crash an antimatter and regular matter black hole together, you would get an incomprehensible explosion. Converting that entire dense and gigantic mass into pure energy, as calculated by Einstein. As soon as you did, all that energy would be immediately converted… into more black hole.

Nothing, not even light itself can escape a black hole. That includes all your magnificent explosion energy from your antimatter impact. You wouldn’t even see it happen. You’d just end up with a black hole with twice the mass. And that might be just what it wants.

As we learned in a previous episode, we can extract angular momentum from a black hole. By dropping material into the event horizon, we can remove energy and slow its rotation. We can even bring it to a stop. So we can slow down its spin, but that won’t make it go away.

So, is that it, are we out of options? Good news, we have one last strategy, and it’s so crazy it just might work. According to Stephen Hawking, black holes can actually evaporate over enormous periods of time.

Virtual pairs of particles are constantly popping into existence all around us. Then they recombine in a flash and disappear from the Universe. When one of these particle pairs appears right on the edge of a black hole, one particle falls into the black hole, and the other is free to fly off into space. And here’s the amazing thing. This might actually reduce the overall mass of the black hole.

So, over an incomprehensible period of time, even the most supermassive of the black holes will have evaporated away into a harmless soup of particles. It turns out, in order to defeat the black hole menace, all we need to do is ignore them, and they’ll go away all on their own.

Originally published on https://www.universetoday.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, December 11th, 2024)

"HOW ARE BLACK HOLES CREATED, AND HOW DO THEY GROW??"

[scumsucker]

Mech smut under the cut.

Trigger warning for snuff and intox.

Nocere's engines are already hot when Luna slams the throttle all the way forward. She's losing blood at an alarming rate, but she knows the mech will keep her going until her job is done. Her opponent is fast, maybe the fastest she's gone up against in that angular little black mech of theirs, and whatever type of sword it's wielding has already taken a few chunks out of her hull, not to mention impaling her cockpit. The engines take time to spool up, and she's going to need that power before long. Everything Nocere feels Luna feels too, and right now the engines feel like a fire in her chest.

"Careful now, I don't want my Puppy cooked, do I?" Handler's voice comes through with a click, pouring into Luna's head like honey, making her extremeties tingle and her cock twitch. "Closest support is two kilometers away, you'll be on your own for this, Pup, but I know you'll make me proud."

Luna gives an affirmative bark in reply, then fixes her muzzle when it slips a bit on her blood-slicked face.

"God, she's barking now" Someone else crackles angrily through the radio.

"I thought all the growling was bad, whats with this bitch?" Another chimes in.

"Its just gross," another manages before Handler clicks the radio to mute remotely. Luna understands, no distractions right now.

Whoever this enemy is knows they're outgunned if her allies get involved, but theyre too far to offer help and Luna is an ace on the backfoot. Thats a hard target to pass up for any self respecting pilot.

She looks around, but doesn't see her opponent, until...

There! A black reflection off an intact window. Lucky. Luna licks her chops while Nocere calculates the trajectory and offers the most likely route for her target to take. The engines are ready. Good. At almost the exact moment Luna has the impulse to move, Nocere is lunging to the right with a G-force that would put a rocket sled to shame, straight into the path of an extended sword. Shit. The blade pierces Nocere's hip, shredding away its left leg, and Luna screeches in fury as she feels the pain like it were her own.

Then the drugs hit. Combat drugs are outlawed on both sides of the war. Getting a soldier addicted to violence, pain, and suffering has just never panned out well for anyone. Luckily, thanks to Handler, Luna is special, and vats of the stuff are pumped into her mech before every mission.

Her screech turns into a howl of ecstasy when she grabs the wrist of her opponent, slowed just enough as the sword slices through her armoured hip joint, and in an instant the fight is over. Her opponent is built for speed, not strength, and the inertia tears their arm off at the shoulder. Their mech careens out of control and crashes into a ruin behind Luna, while she is voilently jerked sideways by the momentum. Her cock was already hard, but now it's throbbing unbearably. She dizzily props herself up on the sword, her new trophy, and uses it, with the arm still attached, as a crutch to hobble over to where her opponent is trying to recover. Not fast enough, maybe for the first time in their career Luna thinks.

Handler clicks her radio back on for her. She likes hearing what her opponent has to say in these situations and Handler knows it, but she only hears her allies.

"Oh my god, is this really what those drugs do?"

"This is disgusting."

"I actually think it's sort of hot, to be honest"

That last one is met with a series of groans and insults, but it helps Luna realize shes been moaning constantly since her leg came off. She doesnt care, she's too close now and nothing else matters. Its about to get to the best part and she won't let go of this euphoria.

The pointy little thing is just about to its feet when, with a rapturous wail of pleasure, she forces the blade down into its lower abdomen, severing it top from bottom. Now, the coup de gráce. Luna is throbbing already, her hips are thrusting into the air of the cockpit with only the barest hint restraint. She's done this enough times to know this is the climax. Nocere gets down on all three remaining limbs, straddling the broken thing beneath her, and opens its massive jaws. A mouth on a mech is unheard of, but Nocere is piloted by a dog and Handler had it built custom to reflect that. Blood and spittle drip from Luna's muzzle and Nocere's jagged, tungsten carbide edged teeth drip oil and coolant in thick gobs onto her prey below. A mechanical roar throatlessly bellows from deep in the machine as her opponent's head enters the maw, and then,

Crunch.

Luna cums in her suit, screaming rapturously and bucking her hips wildly into the air. Thick ropes gush through the suit's thin material, dripping onto the instruments and monitors below as she finds herself in a new type of Heaven reachable only through violence. Her tongue lolls out and her eyes roll back as Nocere lifts itself, taking the head off the ruined body beneath it, and crushing it down in its jaws. The metal groans and explosive bolts burst, sending shivers down her spine. Her hips buck with each one, the last of her cum spurting out with every thrust.

The radio clicks onto Handler's cloying voice, "Good girl! Aren't you just such a good girl for me?"

Beneath that, the coms are ablaze with warring factions of disgust and intrigue as her orgasm washes over and through her, but she can barely hear them. Nocere is pumping enough drugs into her to kill a horse, encouraging the orgasm at her Handler's command. Over the course of the next few minutes she slowly comes down, rolling her machine onto its back to lay with their annihilated prey. The binary suns of this planet both shine in through the gaping wound going clean through the cockpit and Luna slowly becomes aware of the excruciating pain of all her and her mech's wounds. A blissful smile crosses over her face and she lets out a content sigh, before Nocere lets her pass out.

[synergysilhouette]

11 more hot takes/unpopular opinions with DC and Marvel Comics

Originally this was 10, but I had one more to mention. And remember how my first post was Marvel-centric? This one is DC-centric.

Starfire and Arsenal were better Outlaws than Bizarro and Artemis and deserve another shot--I know I phrased this like a fact, but all this is subjective. I find Arsenal and Starfire more interesting characters and enjoy their chemistry with Jason and their romance with each other. I just wasn't crazy about the art we got for their run, nor the blatant oversexualization of Starfire.

2. Harley Quinn and Red Hood are the next-gen Joker and Batman (and I ship it)--I've thought about this forever, but Jason's broody, solitary-except-when-he-needs-to-collaborate nature reminds me of how Batman is commonly depicted, though Jason is a more violent version. Harley, being a whimsical and goofy antihero, thus feels like the next-gen version of her ex (though I understand if you find Punchline or Joker's Daughter as more deserving of that). I'd also love her on an Outlaws team with Jason and Ghostmaker. I also always felt like they'd have better chemistry than the popular Nightwing/Harley ship (which I never really shipped, especially with how they've had Harley sexually harass him in the past). That said, this works best if Harley joined Joker post-Jason's torture.

3. Jamal Campbell is the best cover artist for DC--His Nightwing art has me in a chokehold, and I love it! I also appreciate him making Nightwing curvy without it being from an ogling angle (see #5). That said, his actual work on Nightwing's issues isn't as good, but I think that's a time issue.

4. Travis Moore is the best issue artist for DC right now--I fell in love the moment I saw his work on "Wonder Woman." He's who I'd want as the artist for a "Red Hood and the Outlaws" series with Starfire and Arsenal. Really want him to do Nightwing, Titans, and a Tim Drake solo. Serg Acuna is a close second, but I'm not crazy about how he draws jawlines; they're more angular while I prefer them rounded.

5. DC needs to stop objectifying Nightwing--It's one thing to be sexy; that's cool, and it's something that the subject can (kind of) control. But Dick is constantly objectified and harassed, as well as being the victim of sexual assault on more than one occasion. Personally, I headcanon him "being okay" with the harassment and objectification in-universe due to the trauma of being assaulted and not wanting to make the situation worse, but in any case, he should be a superhero first, sex object second. You can have him be attractive without predominantly being eye-candy; I hate how Harley Quinn's tv show, "Gotham Knights," and "Nothing Butt Nightwing" wanna not only bring attention to him solely for his curves, but make him vain about it just so no one can criticize the harassment.

6. Marvel needs to stop going the demon route with Nightcrawler (especially now)--Given Kurt's kindness and Catholic faith (that fluctuates based on the writer, I guess), his appearance as a blue creature with a tail is mainly for ironic purposes. I hate how every now and then, they like to lean into the demonic angle for him, since it undermines his character SO MUCH. Plus since his birth has been retconned (hopefully for the last time), it makes no sense to connect him with demons.

7. Iceman has fallen out of favor with me--I don't think his solos have been very interesting, and it feels like they've made his sexuality a personality trait. I'd prefer he just stays a team member on an X-team (and eventually date Somnus if Daken is still unavailable).

8. Major X needed a rehaul, but he had potential--I already did a post on this, but the gist is that he needed a new everything: different dad (because not everything has to circle back to the Summers-Grey clan), different powers (because OP telepaths are a dime-a-dozen), a more unique costume in design and color, having a different storyline than "I came to prevent a terrible future," and MAYBE make him from Earth-13729 because I like some of the characters. Basically just keep Storm as his mom, lol. And this isn't a must, but as an advocate for more original LGBT+ characters, making him part of the community would be neat in my book.

9. Russell Dauterman and Lucas Werneck are the best artists at Marvel right now--This is my "argue with the wall" opinion, lol. They've made amazing art, and I wish they'd do the art for every X-Men comic, imo.

10. Where are the Gargareans?--It disturbs me that in the course of 15 months, DC had two storylines about a young man abandoned by his Amazonian mother and being (understandably) bitter about it when he finds out. Not to say everything would've been fixed, but aren't the Gargareans the male counterparts to the Amazons? The circumstance of sons of Amazons being abandoned by their mothers as per the rules of Paradise Island is never resolved despite the son's frustration and hostility. It's just like "oh yeah, that happened. Moving on!"

11. HiC was necessary (just not as it was)--We didn't need a murder plot for this to be good. Booster Gold and Harley Quinn being a duo with cute shenanigans around a serious premise was enough. Let these heroes get therapy once a year (or more; the issue itself could just be annual), and let us see these characters GROW, creating a stricter writing style for writing them rather than the flimsy style superheroes often face with different writers or when publishers go through a change in priority.

Hope you enjoyed this post! Any hot takes you agree with?

[learnastrowallura]

💚The Second House in astrology💚

We're back!! See part 1 here

All information presented here is from the ytb channel The Astrology Podcast (Chris Brennan) and from the book The Twelve Houses: Exploring the Houses of the Horoscope by Howard Sasportas and I will apply the knowledge on my 2nd house placements as well!!

Rate of importance based on angular triads: medium

2nd house: values, possessions, finances, attributes, assets, substance, ability, worth, safety, security ,money, ressources, income, the material, the tangible, the concrete, the physical manifestation/form, succedent, wealth, support, structure, stability, food, desire

The second house describes our money habits/psychology and how we view our finances (scarcity mindset for example); whether we save and save and save and never spend, or if we're flexible for example and have no problem spoiling ourselves sometimes+ financial priorities

It can also represent HOW we make money; if it is in a more traditional or modern way, would it fluctuate with time or stay fixed and stable etc as well as our money situation/how easy or hard it is for us to actually make and keep money

Adding to that, the sign that is in our second house could very well represent what makes us feel emotionally safe and secure, since the second house describes security as a whole not just financially speaking

Planets in your 2nd house are indicators of your potential money making skills and so one should definitely pay attention to them (if 2nd house is empty look at ruler of sign that is in 2nd house); sign, house and aspects matter as well

Personal example: I have Sagittarius in my second house and looking at its ruler which is JUPITER which I have in Libra in 11th house, I can definitely see that there I have money making potential in relation to that because I've always been quite a loyal and diplomatic friend, so for example for me cooperating with a close friend or even working in a friend's company might bring me some luck in money matters. Another way to interpret it would be using that Libra charm/energy to attract an audience/fanbase and go with that route. Either way it's a pretty cool placement to have tbh

And then I have Pluto and Mercury in my 2nd house, both in Sagittarius and I have to admit that the Pluto placement made me quite nervous at first because it COULD describe ups and downs money wise, but it could also imply just like one huge financial transformation which would be the kinder interpretation for sure

With Mercury it is obvious that whatever I have to say or write or teach someone could be something that I can monetize; but the interesting thing that I have noticed is that there is a conjunction aspect between the two planets in my second house and I've interpreted that as what I have to say (Mercury) could very well be impactful/trigger a transformation in people (Pluto) and thus affect my finances which goes with my Jupiter in 11th house as well+ Pluto is power so that's some food for thought I suppose

Comment down below your 2nd house sign, planets and aspects

I hope you enjoyed reading this post <3

Paid readings open

Masterlist

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[theoneandonlymettaton]

What is burgerpants doing? I would imagine someone who already dislikes mettaton would’ve only gotten more miserable.

Oh yeah, he's miserable alright. I wonder what's gonna be instore for him! I'm gonna talk about some spoilers in the actual game so beware!!!

TD;DR MTT hates him, and BG will always be miserable.

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I thought a lot about what MTT's and BG's relationship was like. A long time ago I used to think that MTT was an incredibly abusive boss that treated all his staff like scum, I believed every word BG told us. Until after looking more into the MTT resort's dialogues and realized that didn't seem to be the case. At least, most of it didn't. A lot of his employees actually think very nicely of him, the only monster who bad-mouths him is BG. Why? Either 1, all his employees (except BG) are too biased to realize that MTT is a jerk. 2, BG is exaggerating and finds the negativity in everything. Or 3, MTT treats all his employees well (except BG).

I find number 1 very unlikely. After you kill MTT and go back to his resort, the staff speak to you worriedly about his lack of presence:

"Have you seen Mettaton? He hasn't come by lately. I have a lot of respect for that man. I had trouble getting a job because I am so pointy and angular. But, being a rectangle, he understood my struggles."

"How unusual. Mettaton usually shows up now to tell everyone they're doing a great job. Even if I was having a bad day, we'll always give each other a thumbs-up, and... ... oh, what am I doing? I'm not being very professional."

"Blub blub... Mettaton isn't here to press his face into the steaks. He told me that if he ever disappeared, we could use my face instead... But, I'm nervous. What if my face doesn't taste very good...?"

Sounds EXTREMELY positive for an abusive boss. So, why does BG think so terribly of him? Or does MTT think terribly of BG? Well, let us change perspective first and look at BG as an employee.

Extremely rude to the customer after a slight inconvenience (ex. not buying anything, not having enough money, full storage, buys full stock, when we kill everybody)

Smokes on the job

Bad-mouths other monsters he has interacted with (nicecream guy, bratty and catty)

Stole burgers

A total incel. Down bad. Sorry I thought making this note was funny

Not the greatest employee. Does BG slack off because MTT hates him, or does MTT hate him because he slacks off? Not sure what the actual origin was of MTT hating BG so much...

Here's some things we know that MTT does to BG (According to BG):

Calls him into work until halfway into his shift

Plays a CD album about how bad he is at his job

Turns down his ideas with the excuse of, "that's not how they do it on the surface."

Gives him weird outfits ("promotional" costumes, or for "holidays", "specials", or "because he felt like it")

Makes (only) him wear said outfits in his office just to laugh at him before telling him to go back to work

We also know that after the pacifist route, BG tells us that MTT told everyone that they were free, but told BG, "don't think that means you're getting off work early."

If we are to believe that what BG told us is true, then it is safe to assume that MTT is not fond of BG. At all. Why? No idea. It's kind of like in Family Guy where everybody hates Meg for no apparent reason. Maybe there doesn't have to be a reason.

BG is also known to be incredibly pessimist and only sometimes expresses hope, but also lies a lot. He is very ignorant when it comes to other people's perspectives, and told us that we are being brainwashed by Catty and Bratty. He is incredibly biased to attractive people, or generally anyone who has a better life than him (which is almost everybody). Which could imply that everything he told us may not be 100% truth, but I still find it unfair to not believe in anything he told us though.

I made this faq way too long so I'm just going to end this analysis here

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I assume that he would just stay as a burger-flipper even after MTT's reign, but you may also find him working on other jobs throughout the comic. For comedic purposes, of course. Heh.