#solid block units

[venkatselvanbuildtech]

Cosmic Paver Blocks: Creative Design Ideas for Modern Landscapes

Introduction

Landscaping has evolved remarkably over the past few decades and nowadays, gardens are meant to serve as functional extensions of any living space. When it comes to hardscaping, paver blocks are at the core of that transition. Cosmic Paver Blocks are not only a fashionable and functional choice for both private and commercial use but also a reflection of everyday arts in outdoor space design. With various innovations in hardscaping, Cosmic Paver Blocks combine beauty and endurance using a variety of shaped blocks and patterns, resulting in endless artistic expressions for homeowners, architects, and builders. Whether it is an angled look in the city driveway or a calm otherwise puzzlingly arranged meditation garden route, Cosmic Paver Blocks use complex patterns, strong collars, and lock systems to express modernism and nature combined to professionalism.

This blog explores the distinctiveness of Cosmic Paver Blocks, their usefulness, and visionary artistic designs that might take form in a space where one has to live with and interact. Cosmic Paver Blocks are paving blocks created using high-strength concrete, whose edges are formed using advanced techniques like rubber moulding. The verses may be of a star-like, wavy, or circular layout, representative of the various spaces one passes through in the order of clusters, resulting in such names such as orbit tracks, galaxy spirals, or planetary rings.

Why Cosmic Paver Blocks?

Here are a few good reasons to consider Cosmic Paver blocks:

Durable: This concrete is made of high-quality material, making them perfect for both residential and commercial use. Ideal for industrial surfacing in high-traffic areas.

Customization: Choose between a range of colours, designs and finishes to suit your own individual style.

Eco-friendly: Many brands make these blocks with recycled materials and in ways that support a smaller ecological footprint.

Maintenance is a Breeze: In the event of damage, the interlocking design allows easy replacement of individual blocks.

Anti-Slip: The texture on the surfaces offers a good grip, perfect for slippery and wet areas.

Design Ideas With Cosmic Pavers

Galaxy-Inspired Pathways Design pedestrian pathways to resemble the swirling appearance of a galaxy. Texture with dark pavers (navy, charcoal or black) and punctuate with light (white, gray or silver) for the stars. Mix curved patterns to mimic the movement of the heavens. It’s a perfect style for garden paths, meditation spaces, and side yard trails.

Starburst Courtyard Layouts In courtyards or patios, position the blocks in a radiating pattern from the center — as though in a cosmic explosion. This starburst effect attracts the eye inward and screams to be noticed. Complete the look with lanterns for ambient lighting and sleek seating.

Cosmic Driveways Your humdrum driveway can become a starfield of its own by using paver blocks in a large format with etched or painted designs. Mix matte and metallic finishes for a cosmic shine. You can even add glow-in-the-dark pavers for a sci-fi, other-worldly look at night.

Orbit-Themed Garden Borders Design rotational or semicircular flower beds by using orbit-pattern Cosmic Paver Blocks. These patterns define garden regions and add softness to the language of the design. Pair with curved benches or rounded trellises to enhance the theme.

Otherworldly Patios and Outside Spaces Create wave or spiral interstellar formations by laying pavers in coordinating shades. Use complementing pavers to add raised platforms or seating circles in the middle. This setup is perfect for bonfire pits, pergolas, or yoga decks.

Zen Areas With Planetary Rings Create a relaxing and serene space with rings or circular layouts, like planetary rings. Combine light and dark stone colours and use gravel or moss in the negative spaces between the rings. This design promotes unity and balance in meditative outdoor nooks.

Colour Combinations to Try

Earth & Sky: Terracotta, beige, and slate blue for a grounded yet airy vibe.

Lunar Glow: Whites, silver, and charcoal for a moonlit, cool-tone feel.

Sunset Galaxy: Mix ochre, purples, and crimson for a warm, energetic look.

Neon Nebula: Vibrant shades like electric blue, lime green, and hot pink for a futuristic theme.

Tips for Installation to Get Better Performance

Plan Your Pattern: Sketch your design on paper or use software to visualize it.

Select a Durable Base: Use compacted gravel and sand for a solid foundation and even surface.

Blend Batches: Mix pavers from multiple pallets to avoid color variation.

Seal the Deal: Apply a sealant to prevent staining and enhance color longevity.

Allow Room for Expansion: Leave proper spacing to prevent cracking due to thermal expansion.

Maintenance Guide

Cosmic Paver Blocks are generally low-maintenance, but here are some tips to keep them looking fresh

Sweep Regularly: Prevent buildup of debris and moss.

Occasional Pressure Washing: Remove tough stains and refresh the surface.

Resand Joints: Refill joints with polymeric sand annually to prevent weed growth.

Examine and Replace: Damaged or sunken blocks can be replaced without disturbing the rest.

Conclusion

Cosmic Paver Blocks are not just building materials—they’re a style statement that blends futuristic design with everyday functionality. Whether upgrading an existing space or starting anew, these pavers offer limitless design potential. Why settle for plain paving when Cosmic Paver Blocks can express personality and long-term value? From galaxy-inspired walkways to starburst patios and planetary garden designs, you can turn your outdoor space into a celestial experience—right here on Earth.

[alokchettinad]

MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC: ഉയർന്ന നിലവാരമുള്ള നിർമാണ സാമഗ്രികൾക്ക് ഏറ്റവും നല്ല പരിഹാരം

സുശക്തവും ദീർഘകാലത്തേക്കുമുള്ള കെട്ടിടങ്ങൾ നിർമ്മിക്കാൻ സിമന്റിന്റെ ഗുണമേന്മ സുപ്രധാനമാണ്. MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC (പോർട്‌ലാൻഡ് പൊസോളാനാ സിമന്റ്) വിശ്വാസ്യത, ദീർഘായുസ്, ഉന്നത പ്രകടനം എന്നിവ ആവശ്യമായ നിർമാണ പദ്ധതികൾക്കായുള്ള മികച്ച തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പാണ്.

എന്തുകൊണ്ട് MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC തിരഞ്ഞെടുക്കണം?

1.കൂടുതൽ ശക്തിയും ദീർഘായുസും MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC ഉയർന്ന കമ്പ്രഷീവ് ശക്തി നൽകുന്നതിനാൽ, കനത്ത ഭാരം താങ്ങാനും കഠിനമായ കാലാവസ്ഥ പ്രതിരോധിക്കാനും അനുയോജ്യമാണ്.

2.മെച്ചപ്പെട്ട പ്രവർത്തനക്ഷമത ഇതിന്റെ സൂക്ഷ്മ കണികാ വലുപ്പവും മൃദുവായ വസ്തുതയും സിമെന്റിനെ എളുപ്പത്തിൽ കലർത്താനും ഉപയോഗിക്കാനും സഹായിക്കുന്നു, നിർമാണത്തിൽ കാഴ്‌ച്ച കുറയ്ക്കുന്നു.

3.കിരീടങ്ങൾക്ക് എതിരായ മികച്ച പ്രതിരോധം പൊസോളാനിക് ഗുണങ്ങൾ കാരണം, MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC വിള്ളലുകൾ രൂപപ്പെടുന്നത് കുറയ്ക്കുകയും കെട്ടിടങ്ങളുടെ ഘടനാപരമായ ശക്തി വർദ്ധിപ്പിക്കുകയും ചെയ്യുന്നു, അറ്റകുറ്റപ്പണി ചെലവ് കുറഞ്ഞ് നിലനിൽക്കും.

4.പരിസ്ഥിതി സൗഹൃദവും ദീർഘകാലമായി നിലനിൽക്കാവുന്നതുമാണ് കുറഞ്ഞ കാർബൺ എമിഷൻ ഉപയോഗിച്ച് നിർമ്മിച്ച ഈ സിമന്റ്, ആധുനിക നിർമാണ ��ദ്ധതികൾക്കായി കൂടുതൽ പരിസ്ഥിതി സൗഹൃദമായ ഒരു തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പാണ്.

5.വിവിധ നിർമാണ ആവശ്യങ്ങൾക്ക് അനുയോജ്യമാണ് നിങ്ങൾ താമസകേന്ദ്രങ്ങൾ, വ്യാപാര സമുച്ചയങ്ങൾ അല്ലെങ്കിൽ വലിയ അടിസ്ഥാനസൗകര്യ പദ്ധതികൾ നിർമ്മിക്കുകയാണോ, MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC എല്ലാ നിർമ്മാണ ആവശ്യങ്ങൾക്കും ഉചിതമായ പരിഹാരമാണ്.

സമാപനം നിങ്ങൾ ഉയർന്ന ഗുണമേന്മയുള്ള, ദീർഘകാലം നിലനിൽക്കുന്ന, പരിസ്ഥിതി സൗഹൃദ സിമെന്റിനെ തിരയുകയാണെങ്കിൽ, MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC ഏറ്റവും നല്ല തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പാണ്. അതിന്റെ പുരോഗമിച്ച സംയോജന രീതി കെട്ടിടങ്ങൾ കൂടുതൽ ശക്തവും സ്ഥിരതയുള്ളതുമാക്കി മാറ്റുന്നു.

ആത്മവിശ്വാസത്തോടെ നിർമാണം നടത്തുക—MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC തിരഞ്ഞെടുക്കൂ, മികച്ച ഫലങ്ങൾ നേടൂ!

If you want more information visit this website

https://www.chettinadcement.com/products/maxcrete-premium-ppc/

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[chettinad01]

श्रेष्ठ निर्माण समाधानों के लिए MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC की क्षमता को अनलॉक करें

मजबूत और टिकाऊ संरचनाओं के निर्माण में सीमेंट की गुणवत्ता महत्वपूर्ण भूमिका निभाती है। MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC (पोर्टलैंड पोज़ोलाना सीमेंट) एक उच्च-गुणवत्ता वाला सीमेंट है, जो उत्कृष्ट मजबूती, स्थायित्व और बेहतर कार्यक्षमता प्रदान करता है। यह विभिन्न निर्माण परियोजनाओं के लिए एक आदर्श विकल्प बन चुका है।

MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC के प्रमुख लाभ

1.अधिक मजबूती और स्थायित्व MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC उच्च गुणवत्ता वाले पोज़ोलानिक सामग्री से निर्मित है, जो इसकी दीर्घकालिक मजबूती और दरार-प्रतिरोध को बढ़ाती है। इससे इमारतें लंबे समय तक टिकाऊ और मजबूत बनी रहती हैं।

2.बेहतरीन कार्यक्षमता (वर्केबिलिटी) MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC के महीन कण इसे बेहतरीन वर्केबिलिटी प्रदान करते हैं, जिससे इसे मिलाना और उपयोग करना आसान हो जाता है। यह निर्माण कार्य को सुगम बनाता है और बेहतर फिनिशिंग देता है।

3.पर्यावरणीय प्रभावो��� से उच्च सुरक्षा MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC नमी, रसायनों और कठोर पर्यावरणीय परिस्थितियों के प्रति अधिक प्रतिरोध प्रदान करता है। यह इसे तटीय क्षेत्रों, औद्योगिक संरचनाओं और प्रतिकूल जलवायु वाले स्थानों के लिए उपयुक्त बनाता है।

4.पर्यावरण के अनुकूल और सतत निर्माण समाधान MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC के निर्माण में थर्मल पावर प्लांट से उत्पन्न फ्लाई ऐश का उपयोग किया जाता है, जिससे कार्बन उत्सर्जन कम होता है और सतत निर्माण को बढ़ावा मिलता है।

5.लागत प्रभावी समाधान इसकी मजबूती और कम रखरखाव लागत के कारण, MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC से बने ढांचे अधिक समय तक चलते हैं, जिससे निर्माण और मरम्मत लागत में बचत होती है।

MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC के उपयोग MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC कई प्रकार की निर्माण परियोजनाओं के लिए उपयुक्त है, जैसे:

•आवासीय और व्यावसायिक इमारतें

•पुल और सड़कें

•बांध और जल संरचनाएँ

•औद्योगिक और बुनियादी ढांचा परियोजनाएँ

मजबूत और दीर्घकालिक निर्माण के लिए MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC आपका आदर्श समाधान है।

If you want more information visit this website

https://www.chettinadcement.com/products/maxcrete-premium-ppc/

Contact us: 6385 194 588

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Chettinadcements

Twitter https://x.com/ChettinadCement

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Youtube : https://www.youtube.com/@ChettinadCementIndia/shorts

[springcatalyst]

TWICE now ive seen art by the same person on my dash and gone 'oh cool' and i check out their blog and see some takes that arent inherently braindead but ARE fundamentally not in conversation with any opposing viewpoints and clearly more about being right than having a good argument. and then a few months pass and i forget and i see more of their art and go 'oh cool' and check them out and. whatdya know. same shit, different hat

[doctor-says-im-alright]

alright, i figured from “Bold to assume i care at all about politics” that you probably don’t have enough interest to know about topics like that. i think the issue is less that people have zero reading comprehension and are jumping on you for no reason than that you didn’t articulate your point well, though i see you were cut off. i can see why you were blocked immediately because you claimed what the post was arguing for would be horrible and then went on to make a strange point (diversity leading to mass killing....?) but maybe the 2nd reply would have made it make some sense. i saw nothing about it being a global issue so that reply must not have come through either. personally i think singling out younger generations as not caring about our country and its colonial violence doesn’t make sense, as evidenced by college students nationwide currently risking their safety, futures and livelihoods to protest the US funding israel. i also don’t see how it’s a silly thing to complain about those who still aren’t radicalized because we have the power to make at least some change, such as universities divesting from israel. though as you said, easier said than done. anyway i’ll leave you alone now

I appreciate benefit of the doubt. The second reply really did specify what I meant. Ive completely forgotten it though. I tend to write the bigger concept first then write the specifics when saying something.

I also used to be really good at verbalizing what I mean to say but unfortunately with worsening conditions I have Ive really lost a lot of my ability to. Its a problem in person as well. Any time I try to explain what Im thinking at work takes me awhile lol.

Also what I meant by the statement wasnt that younger generations didnt care at all, I meant that their allegiance to the US wasnt a thing for the same reason you just gave. I was making the same point you just did but said it wrong it seems.

I was trying to expand on the post OP made into an actual event, like what would happen, how it could happen, etc. I cant see what made it immediately blockable by that one person, but I can only see what I said through the understanding I have which was the rest of it that disappeared. The mass killings wasnt a point about how it should stay the same but about how the us made itself into that which was agreeing with the op but ive said that a few times now and it isnt sticking so I must not be getting that idea out properly.

[quarterlifekitty]

Love the trope of Price mentally constructing a nursery in every home and apartment he’s ever known, in the house of everyone he’s ever dated— it’s the first thing he thinks of (right after where on his body he’s gonna tattoo their name).

He has his dream nursery memorized. It’s his mind palace. He wants cream yellow walls, because his baby is going to be the sun, the same way his wife is his moon, with the away she has over his heart of the sea. He wants an accent wall with wallpaper in a classic motif— the kind they use in pediatricians offices, to be honest. Building blocks, fluffy clouds, circus animals.

John loves tradition, generational passings on, well-crafted things that can last centuries if cared for well enough. He wants his nursery furniture, all of the stuff in his house, really— to be solid wood, handmade (he promises that he’ll make the bulk of it himself, the rest antique). He’d rather die than buy a brand new house without any history. No craftsmanship, all straight lines and 90 degree angles, no consideration to what makes a home feel like home.

Despite being such a trusted member of the team, he knows precious little about your home life. Fine by him— your past is your own, he has no right to it. One day, as you’re about to pack up for leave around the holidays, you ask to speak to him as a friend, rather than a captain.

It’s well known that Price doesn’t have the family he’s dreamed of. An old war dog, bridges burned with the ex wife from his youth, he doesn’t hold out a lot of hope. Maybe in the next lifetime, it will be different. He’ll have that yellow nursery.

You tell him, with an astonishing amount of composure, that your parents passed away almost a year ago. They’ve left the care of the family home to you. It’s quite an undertaking— large, as it used to host all manner of aunt and uncle and cousin generations ago. But now, people are in the spirit of moving far away. Old wounds and grudges, new opportunities. Your parents had their own issues conceiving— leaving you an only child.

Gaz has his family to go home to, so does Soap. No one knows what Ghost does, but everyone suspects he follows Soap home for the holidays. Price has been invited time and time again, but always politely refuses. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the dream out of his reach.

But you tell him this will be your first holiday alone in the house, and that you need him. You don’t know if you can bear the silence for the season. Not to mention all of the upkeep you’re behind on. He figures it’s as good a place to be as any, and he’s the type who needs his hands busy to find any peace.

He falls in love with your old place. Sure, the bannisters could do with being refinished, a bit of carpeting could come up, a few fixtures are spotty— but it’s a beautiful place. Still very much full of love and warmth, the traces of you and your little family are everywhere. In the tarnished silver picture frames, the fraying knitted potholders, the penciled in height markings at the kitchen door.

On the tour, he’s stopped dead in his tracks at one open door. Faded yellow walls, slats of chestnut. A crib.

You explain to him that it used to be your nursery. It had been your mother’s, too, and many more. They kept it perfectly in tact when you’d grown up and moved into another room, hoping that they’d give you a little sibling. The day never came. You’re wondering yourself what to do with it— your career hasn’t left you with much time or appetite for romance. There’s a stinging sadness dripping from your words like lemon juice. You admit that you suspect this family, once monumental, will end with you— the house passed to someone who will strip off the carved filigrees of the stair railing, throw white paint over all of the walls, and put grey vinyl over the hardwood. That is, if they don’t just tear it down. Land could be divided up into a few new apartment units.

You’re barely listening to yourself talk— just ambling along, as if you haven’t just revealed to John Price what his life’s been leading up to all this time.

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

[naptimepng]

teeth 

ghost x soap | 2.7k | ao3 

warnings/tags: biting, domestic, banter, rough sex, flashbacks, concussions, canon-typical violence, blood and injury, head injury, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies, implied/referenced drug addiction, football, alcohol, author doesn't drink, nor did they learn anything at all from google about how much beer it takes to get drunk, smoking, it takes absolutely nothing to get soap horny, ghost is well aware of this and abuses that knowledge to no end, flirting, idiots in love, kyle and price mentions, british slang summary: Soap has a thing for Ghost’s teeth. It’s nothing weird, no—more just… an appreciation for them.  a/n: im meant to be revising 😬😬 also the football match mentioned did actually happen and united fans are very sad about it. reminder: can and will block any minors/ageless blogs interacting so put your age in bio!

Soap has a thing for Ghost’s teeth. It’s nothing weird, no—more just… an appreciation for them. 

It starts in the morning after a night together. Johnny stumbling out of bed to wash his face and swirl some water around his mouth. Staring at his reflection in the mirror as he tugs at his hair, trying to get it to sit nicely on his head as Simon pads quietly into the bathroom. 

Mask off, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, naked but for the boxer shorts he’d tugged up his legs after getting out of bed. He passes Johnny at the sink, squeezes at his hip and drops a brief kiss to his temple before going to take a piss. Johnny doesn’t pay him any mind, too preoccupied with the bite mark left in the meat of his shoulder. He touches gingerly at it, hissing a little through his teeth when it stings. The shape of it is… nice. He admires the crescent moon of teeth marks, a mine stamped onto him for all the world to see. 

It has him chubbing up again between his legs, cock going heavy at the hot lick of arousal in his belly, knowing that people will know who he belongs to when they leave the safety of Simon’s room. 

The toilet flushes loudly, and Simon nudges gently at Johnny’s hip with his elbow to reach the sink, washing his hands before stepping behind his sergeant and resting his chin on his shoulder. His thick arms circle Johnny’s waist, locked at the front as he holds him. 

“Y’alright?” Simon asks quietly, eyes half-closed, still soft and pliant with sleep. “Wasn’t too rough wiv ya, was I?” 

Johnny huffs out a little laugh, hand reaching up to pat his lieutenant’s cheek. 

“I’m a big boy, LT, can handle ye no problem.” 

“I know, you prick, just checkin’ in. Fuck me for askin’,” Simon murmurs, peeling himself from Johnny’s back with an eye roll. 

He doesn’t notice the way Johnny’s eyes linger on the flash of silver on his canine when he begins to brush his teeth, or the subtle hitch in his breath when Simon hooks a finger into his mouth to check the healing cut in his cheek from when he’d bitten down on it last week in a drill. 

Morning routine done, Simon runs a hand through Johnny’s mohawk and tugs lightly at the roots, smirking when a low, affected grunt comes from the sergeant. 

“Alright, MacTavish, ‘nuff gawkin’. Know ‘m handsome, y’don’t have ta stare,” he says dryly. 

Johnny swats his hand away and scoffs. 

“Bastard.” 

The next time is in… less than stellar circumstances. In the middle of a firefight, blasts rattling through the ground around them, the sky grey with dust and smoke. Conditions are less than optimal, and they’re wildly outnumbered but on their way out, still solid and unbroken until— 

Ghost is hit hard in the head, toppling backwards and hitting the ground hard. Soap roars over the gunfire, heart constricting in his chest—

“LT!” 

Johnny thinks the ground must shake when Ghost falls, gun skittering across the sand, eyes sliding closed as he grunts with the impact. Soap’s at his side immediately, gun slung behind him, feet digging into the ground to drag them both behind the relative safety of a wall. It’s half-collapsed, but secure enough to hide them until they’re cleared for evac. 

Ghost is no help, basically deadweight in Soap’s arms—fuck, don’t call him that, Soap thinks, teeth gritted because he’s not superstitious but better safe than sorry.

Slumped against a pile of bricks, Soap lets himself suck in a ragged breath, already patting Ghost down, hooking a finger under the mask to try and examine the wound and fuck, he’s worried because there’s no halfhearted shove when the mask is pulled over his head.

The entire left side of Ghost’s head is sticky with hot blood, matted in his hair and thick on his lashes. Soap brushes a hand over his cheek, scanning for the source of the bleeding and feels his thumb catch just above his ear. The wound by his temple looks superficial, but the bleeding is heavy, still dribbling down the side of his head when he scrunches his face in a grimace. Ghost lifts a hand, scrubbing at his eyes and smearing more blood over his mouth and cheeks. 

“Got a b-bleedin’ headache—fffuckin’ hell,” he mumbles, tongue slow to move as he squeezes his eyes closed, grunting in pain at a loud blast some distance away. 

Soap knows he’ll refuse to take morphine or anything of the sort for the pain—a low, murmured admission into the back of his neck in the quiet safety of twilight that he’s scared it’ll take him too, the same way it did his brother. 

So, no. Simon Riley sticks to his own vices, and tries to focus on the one with his fingers currently prodding around his scalp. 

Johnny’s face is blurry, hazy through the film of blood and dust over his eyes. There’s a deep furrow in his brow that Ghost reaches up to soothe, sliding his thumb across the pinched muscles and down his cheek, murmuring, “So pretty, Johnny, you know tha’? Can’t—don’t want you worried ‘bout me, y’hear me? Want you ‘appy all the time, Johnny.” 

Soap stares down at him, eyes wide, panic bright as floodlights in his expression. He’s clicking his mic on immediately, checking the uneven dilation of his pupils as he holds one eye open then the other. 

“Cap—Ghost’s hit, looks like a concussion, I’ve no’ got any pain meds on me—he’s bleedin’ a fair bit too, got blood all down the side of his face, it’s bad, sir—” 

Johnny, bless him, stressed as he is, does do his best to soothe him—distract him from the pain. Shuffles back against the wall and tugs Ghost’s heavy fucking body into his lap and grips his hand between his, rattling on about his injuries over comms but Ghost isn’t listening. Too caught up in the steady flex of the fingers holding his hand, wishing stupidly that they could do this forever. Somewhere quiet and soft, his head in Johnny’s lap, eyes half-closed as he talks his ear off about something or other. 

Gaz’s voice comes crackling through comms—“Tav?” 

Soap straightens, attention closing in on his fellow sergeant’s voice. 

“Aye?” 

“Price says they’ve got medical on the line, said they can help. Skip’s joinin’ now.” 

Price’s voice settles some of the panic burning like a star in Soap’s chest, deep voice quieting the buzzing in his ears as he says, “Got medical here, told me they can walk you through patchin’ Ghost up. How copy, sergeant?” 

“LT’s broken,” Soap rushes, “could be a concussion, heavy bleeding from a head wound, no visible GSWs, pupils are fucked—” 

“Rog. And you, Soap?” 

“Fine, sir,” he grits. “Can ye get med—”

“I heard ya,” Price says. “Patching through medical now.” 

Some time later, the firefight has died down and Price confirms evac is on the way. Soap’s still slouched over Ghost’s torso, nodding and humming along to the instructions coming through comms, some medic in his ear directing him through sealing the wound, the tissue surrounding it inflamed and red. 

He can feel his heart vibrating in his chest, cortisol buzzing through his veins as he seals the wound as best he can with medical tape after blotting some of the blood with a scrap of cotton torn from the corner of his t-shirt. After the wound is closed, he thanks the medic and shifts the two of them, Soap with his back to the wall, and Ghost between his legs, back to Soap’s chest. 

His heartbeat rattles against Ghost’s spine, rapid and refusing to calm despite Ghost’s improved condition (Soap’s been told to fuck off twice now). The ringing in Ghost's ears swells and he groans, eyes fluttering closed before Soap smacks lightly at his arm, saying, “Keep those eyes open, LT, cannae have ye fallin’ asleep, neck’ll be fucked when ye wake up.” 

“Heard ya, Johnny… gotta keep m’eyes on y’pretty face, don’t I?” Ghost murmurs softly, thumb skating across the raised tissue of the scar on his chin. He coughs then and the moment fizzles away as he swallows on a dry throat. “Fuckin’ parched, Johnny—y’got some water f’me?” 

Soap ignores the pretty comment, puts it down to the concussion, and wrestles the small canteen from his vest. He unscrews the top with his thumb, moving to lean around Ghost’s shoulder to press it to his mouth when Ghost hisses and swears. 

“Ah, fuck—I’m… ‘m bleedin’, Soap,” he murmurs a beat later, hand wiping at his mouth and coming away red. 

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, “was tha’ me? Didn't mean ta—shite, lemme see it—”

He hooks a finger into his mouth and swallows at the sharp edges of canines, an image of Ghost’s breathless grin—face splattered in white—snapping through his mind before he shakes his head and exhales hard through his nose. Willing himself to focus.

It’s a split lip, the skin broken where his teeth must’ve closed around the soft tissue from the impact as he fell. It’ll likely scar, and he tells Ghost so, murmured quietly before he trails off, dazed. The image of teeth in his neck, a familiar imprint sealed on his skin with soft, silvery scar tissue floods his brain and he thinks of what would come before. Harsh, ragged breaths into his mouth, thick cock splitting him open, moaning at the sharp twinge of a bite to his neck—

“Oi,” Ghost snaps. “What’s the verdict? How much damage?” 

Soap blinks several times, eyes clearing, and swats at Ghost’s waving hand before tugging a small suture kit from another pocket in his vest and getting back to work. 

Delirious and fucked as he is, Ghost notices the uncharacteristic quiet. Normally, Johnny would be chatting his ear off about something or other, but now the quiet is only disrupted with the occasional yell from medical personnel around them and brief, murmured updates as Johnny goes through the motions of laying the last knot and cutting the suture with his teeth.

It’s strange, but in all honesty, Ghost is too tired to put it down to anything beyond the beginnings of an adrenaline crash. 

It finally comes out on a mutual night of leave. Ghost texts him the address a few hours before they meet; some hole-in-the-wall bar deep in the heart of Manchester. It’s buzzing when they arrive. The air is thick with excitement—there’s a match on tonight; United V Spurs. 

Johnny’s not one to keep up with the football, more tuned into the rugby when it’s on, but he finds himself closely tracking the score on the TV mounted above the bar, pretending that it’s so he’ll have something to talk about with Gaz when they get back to base, and not because Ghost has been talking about the match since this morning.

They lose in the end—a stupid own-goal that left the score one-nil to Spurs. Ghost is miffed. Turns to drown his sorrows in a cig outside, pulling Johnny after him with a finger hooked into the belt loop of his jeans. Johnny goes happily, drunk off four beers and stumbling over his own feet. 

Outside, Simon leans with his back against the wall, mask pulled up over his nose as he puffs on a cigarette. Johnny stands between his legs, sloshed beyond recognition and swaying on his feet, only steadied by the loose grip Simon has around his waist. 

Johnny’s strangely quiet tonight. Watching through hooded eyes as Simon turns his head to exhale smoke into cold night air. The movement makes the light from the street lamps turn the pale stubble on his jaw white-gold. Johnny reaches with clumsy, pawing hands to touch Simon's face, and squeezes his cheeks. Stubble rasps against his palm when Simon's mouth splits in a gorgeous grin. All pale pink lips and brilliant white teeth.

It’s perfect, Johnny thinks, buck tooth and all. 

“Ye ken y’got nice teeth?” 

“Nice smile, y’mean?” Simon murmurs, still smiling fondly down at his sergeant. Softer around the edges as he admires the glimmer of sweat high on Johnny’s ruddy cheeks. He flicks the butt of his cigarette aside, watching it hit the ground out of the corner of his eye. 

“Naw, ah don’ mean… ah mean—aye, ye do have a bonny one, but ye’ve got nice teeth. They’re… nice. An’ ye—hic—ye always leave guid marks when ye fuck me,” Johnny mumbles thoughtfully, thumbing at Simon’s mouth, slow and sleepy in that way he gets when he’s had too much to drink. 

Simon snorts, a quiet huff under his breath. 

“Do I?” 

“Aye,” Johnny laments, face suddenly torn with anguish. “S’no’ fuckin’ fair too, have ta go oot an’ face the entire world knowin’ ah’ve got yer mark on me, still smellin’ o’ sex, hard as shite in ma pants—”

“Alright, alright, I got it,” Simon chuckles, hushing him with a light hand over his mouth, but Johnny’s not done, brow pinching as he fumbles to remove the offending palm muffling his words. 

“—an’ isnae like ah can fuck off fer a wee wank—”

“Oi,” Simon barks quietly. Mean of him, he knows, to use the tone of voice he only uses when he’s got Johnny bent over his bed, but it works. Johnny goes quiet and still, big blue eyes glittering at half-mast as they stare at each other. “Said tha’s enough outta you.” 

“Ye mad, LT?” 

Simon’s hand flexes around his hip. 

“No, Johnny. Not mad. Never mad at you.” 

It’s easy to admit it now. Safer because he knows Johnny won’t remember any of this in the morning. That it’ll all be hazy around the edges, blurred by the pounding headache and cotton-dry mouth, so he says it. Lets his voice go soft and earnest, lets Johnny kiss him then—his back against the wall, gentle, searching lips, nose bumping against his before their mouths meet and Johnny relaxes in his arms. Hands clutching at the front of Simon’s hoodie, uninhibited with alcohol, his want shining through without any pressure or anxiety to dampen it. 

When Simon bites lightly at the plush of Johnny’s lower lip, he melts, moaning brazenly into his mouth and grinding his hips sloppily against Simon’s. It makes him laugh, tipping Johnny’s chin back with a loose grip on his hair, tasting of beer and smoke and the salt of sweat. Johnny looks enamoured with him, pupils swollen in a way that Simon knows isn’t entirely from the alcohol, mouth slightly parted as he desperately catalogues each freckle and scar on his face, eyes glittering. Simon exhales long and slow, then licks his lips before lightly patting his sergeant’s behind. 

“Let’s get you back to base, eh, Johnny?” Simon whispers softly, squeezing Johnny around the waist. The moment is tender and slow, dipped in quiet affection before Simon smirks and adds, “Might even leave some more marks on ya if you’re good.” 

It’s cheeky, and Johnny groans loudly, head flopping forward onto Simon’s chest as the lieutenant chuckles—“Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph—shite, LT, ye cannae jes’ go ‘round sayin’ shite like tha’, fuckin’ burstin’ in ma skids, ye gorgeous bastard, s’no’ fuckin’ fair—” 

Back at base, after a rigorous cardio session, Johnny’s head is plastered to Simon’s chest, cheek warm with sweat, Simon’s thick arm resting over his back. He’s curled up against Simon’s side like a cat, hand stroking up and down the arm thrown over his belly, occasionally poking at a tattoo before he lifts his head suddenly. His hair flops over his eyes with the movement and he huffs, pushing it back with a clumsy hand. Simon glances down at him, meets those gorgeous blue eyes and cocks his head a little, curious. Johnny licks his lips, eyes hooded as he murmurs in that husky, sex-soaked voice—

“Ye reckon ah can get yer bite mark tattooed?” 

[theplottdump]

One Night in Al Simhara || Behind the Scenes & Director's Notes

The World:

Al Simhara was built in Strangerville using Nando's incredibly busted Get to Egypt mod. (which i tossed sunblind into as well and pulled a few ugly skyscrapers out of) My friend OakieDokieSims built the layout for me since he's fantastic with sight lines and scale (he also built the shells for Val's Lair and the UNIT office) and I finished off the set dressing for all the things I needed to be able to see in game.

I also added a lightmap to the pyramids from the mod so they would glow at night!

The Red Jacket™

There's a couple running themes/motifs in this story that I included. One of them is this red Suitcoat that we see Dick put on at the beginning.

When we cut to 35 years ago, Dick is in white and blue and Chet is the one with the Red Jacket. Dick is a more complicated character. He's my bisexual James Bond- (including all the negative connotations that come from being a sex pest) and I wanted to show how Chet really shaped him into who he became later on in his career.

When we see Force Ghost Chet at the end, he's not wearing his jacket anymore because it's been (metaphorically) passed onto Dick. He's now the confident older Agent that he admired so much. This was the original ending I had planned for him, but when i put all my sims on a lot together Carmela and Dick were instantly extremely attracted to each other and I was like hold on now I got brain worms.

So when he makes the conscious decision to retire in the epilogue we see him return to the blue and white and as a bonus I tried to have Carmela match the neutral tones we see her in in the flashback as well.

Little Notes and Nods:

You can tell a lot about a person from their shoes.

Poignant lyrical accompaniment to Dick pouring out one for the dead abusive homie who still lives rent free in his head.

@aheathen-conceivably cameo #1

Dick getting berated by the fruit stall lady cause i needed a quick snappy way to get him and chet in a closet together

Snapping a quick Dick Pic™ of some classified documents

I hastily added some papers flying around and have decided I now need a papers flying around object re: Natalia Auditore cloud of crows

Strategic Mirror Placement for Staking out Secret Handoffs and staring at cute girls

The first real shot of Chet's face is his reflection in a mirror.

I purposely didn't show Professor Ego's full face during most of the story cause I didn't want to deal with all the HE LOOKS LIKE DOCTOR FACILIER comments. I asked shooby to make him for me and yes he absolutely was based off him. 😂 I only refer to him in text since he was apprehended by UNIT right before the gen 6 story starts, so I thought it would be fun to pull him in for this

I don't think I've ever used Miguel for anything but during a weakness spiral I built Ale 2 houses and made him a massive extended family, and Miguel is his great uncle and also the reason Alejandro is part of the lawful good secret Society of Brilliance in the first place.

chet cheekily checking out ass in more mirror shots

Aheathen Cameo #2 - the case of the magical teleporting Alexis

I made the pose and placed the sign separately but it was such a happy accident i had to scoot it into the shot

Instead of her Magnum, I thought Queenie should have some nasty looking knives to play with. So I whipped up some Liujiao Dao or chinese deer horn knives for her.

bisexual lighting orgasm face

i created this effect on accident by selecting a sim with TOOL and sticking a relight ball in their face. I like how ghostly it looks but doesn't lose any detail.

reds, blues, and more mirrors. I wonder if that means anything.

Cheeky painting swatch switch so the closeup of the hands wasn't just a solid block of red which is not the color we're looking for right now. The bits of red and blue on white are more in tune with the mosaic analogy at the end as well. (which is a direct echo of dick's speech to chad from chet's funeral)

And we've come in a full Jo Stafford musical circle. Nice!

[outerwildsgeology]

What is a Rock?

Hey folks!

Before we get started with sharing our full survey notes, we thought it would be a good idea to go over some basic terminology to ensure we're all on the same page!

What is a Rock?

No, seriously! What counts as a “rock”? Geologically speaking, a rock is a solid, naturally-occurring collection of minerals. It might be made of a single mineral type, or multiple, but it is an aggregate of many individual mineral crystals that are interlocked together.

Fig. 1: An image of a coarse-grained granite showing individual crystals of feldspar, mica and quartz. Note that the entire rock is made up of these interlocking crystals.

What is a Mineral?

Okay, so we know what a rock is now - it's made up of minerals. But, what is a mineral? A mineral is a building component of rocks, and they have a very specific definition based on particular criteria that must be met. For something to be considered a mineral, it must meet all the following criteria:-

It must be solid

It must be naturally-occurring

It must be inorganic

It must have a definite and known chemical composition

It must have a defined crystal structure

What does this actually mean? Let’s walk through it. Criterion one discounts anything that is a liquid - such as water. As you know, rocks and minerals can become liquid when exposed to high temperatures, magma and lava for example, but in this form, they are not minerals, and therefore not rocks! They can only be classed as minerals once they solidify, provided they meet the other criteria alongside.

Fig. 2: Image of lava (a non-mineral due to its liquid form) and basalt (a fine grained, igneous rock, and the solidified form of many low viscosity lava flows).

As for the other criteria, naturally-occurring and inorganic are self-explanatory. No crystals that can only be manufactured in a laboratory setting are true minerals, because they cannot exist in nature! Crystals that are commonly lab-grown but can exist in nature (such as moissanite) still count as minerals. Inorganic means the mineral can be formed by inorganic processes. Something like calcite can be produced by animals (such as clam shells) but can also be formed by geological processes without the involvement of any living thing. This actually discounts amber as a mineral - since it is tree resin (formed organically) and is not replaced by any other minerals as is the case with fossilisation - therefore amber is not a mineral!

Having a definite chemical composition is also pretty much what it sounds like - it needs to have a chemical formula - a sequence of elements organized to form a compound that we know the definite composition of. For example, the chemical composition of quartz is SiO₂, which means it is a compound made up of atoms of silica and oxygen. Similarly, the composition of potassium feldspar - KAlSi₃O₈ is made up of potassium, aluminium, silica and oxygen atoms. When dealing with specific types of rocks, such as fine grained igneous specimens, the fine grain size of the individual crystals often makes it impractical to determine rock type via crystal analysis alone, so some geologists will use chemical analysis to aid in this - hence why it's important to know the definite chemical composition of your specimens!

Lastly, a mineral must have a crystal structure - but what is a crystal structure? The simplest way to imagine this is with building blocks. Each block is the unit that defines the chemical composition - for example, SiO₄ for quartz. So, one “block” of quartz will be a unit of SiO₄. By arranging these blocks in a repeating pattern, a larger structure begins to take form. Crystals are naturally orderly structures - imagine the blocks are piled nicely on top of each other, this is why many crystals have such well defined shapes!

Fig. 3: Diagram showing the atomic "building block" structure of quartz using a 3D model and ball-and-stick diagram; diagram showing "building blocks" arranged in the natural crystal structure; image of a quartz crystal - note the same crystal structure!

Something like glass, or a naturally-occurring glass, like obsidian, has these blocks arranged randomly, like if you were to take your tower and throw it into a storage bin. Because obsidian lacks this order on an atomic level, it isn’t considered a true mineral!

Fig. 4: Image showing a fragment of obsidian. Note the conchoidal fracturing on the obsidian - this is caused by the lack of organisation in its structure. The disorganised nature of natural glass and obsidian exclude them from being a true crystal, and therefore they are also not considered true minerals.

Unfortunately, we aren’t going to be able to run any chemical analyses in Outer Wilds, but we’ll do our best to compare what we see to real-world rocks, minerals, and features, and hopefully this will be able to steer us in the correct direction regarding some of these criteria to ensure we are making the most scientifically informed analyses possible!

What is a Fossil?

Now, we just said that minerals and rocks can’t be organic, and you’re probably thinking, well hold on a second, what about fossils? How can something that was organic become inorganic, and then a rock?

Let’s start by defining what a fossil actually is. Fossils are described as “any preserved remains, or trace of a once-living thing from a past geological age.” This includes anything from the fossilised skeletons of dinosaurs, to the delicate imprints of leaves and plants. Now, it’s important to note that not all fossils are rocks. Objects preserved in amber, for example, are classed as fossils - but as they remain organic they cannot be classed as a rock.

How do we go from something organic, like a bone, to an inorganic version of it? Probably the most well known form of fossilisation is via replacement - where organic remains are replaced by inorganic minerals. Most bones are made up of calcium phosphate and other organic materials. When an animal dies and is buried by sediment, these organic materials are replaced by inorganic crystals in a process known as permineralisation. Permineralisation occurs when the pores of the original specimen are infilled with mineral matter from the ground or water - which then, bit by bit, replace the original organics with minerals, eventually completely replacing the whole specimen! When this occurs, you no longer have your original animal bone, but instead a replica of it with a completely inorganic composition - a fossil! The minerals involved in replacement can vary widely, which can produce spectacular finds such as these pyritised ammonites, or opalised vertebrae!

Fig. 5: Fossilised remains of two opalised Iguanodon vertebrae; a pyritised Ammonite.

Other fossils, such as footprints and burrows provide a record of an organism’s life, as opposed to actual remains of the organism itself. These fossils are known as trace fossils and are normally impressions that have been made in soft mud/soil that has then lithified. The cool thing about trace fossils, and especially footprints, is that you’re left with a cast of whatever part of the creature made contact with the substrate - sometimes with incredible detail of footpads, claws, and/or skin. Other trace fossils include things like coprolites, gizzard stones, and nests! A trace fossil is also completely inorganic, as it’s simply an imprint of a creature, or something a creature left behind, and as such, technically classes as a rock!

Fig. 6: Photograph showing a dinosaur footprint mould and a dinosaur footprint cast. Both of these are trace fossils and have been formed via sediment infilling and lithification.

Alright, there was a lot of information there, but hopefully it has provided you with a strong foundation and understanding of what classes as a true rock! In our next post, we will be diving into the different rock types and the funky structures and features that they can create!

Hopefully, you’ll soon be able to start identifying a variety of rocks in your own Outer Wilds adventures!

If you have any questions regarding what we have talked about here, or indeed just about the Outer Wilds Geological Survey in general, please don't hesitate to drop us an ask!

Catch you in the next loop! The OWGS Team

[chettinad01]

Unlocking the Potential of MAXCRETE PREMIUM PPC for Superior Building Solutions

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[cerastes]

Any thoughts on stronghold protocol?

I think it's very fun and an excellent concept, but it needs fine tuning if they want to make it a permanent mode.

The concept is solid and I love it: Familiar units work differently because 1) of the auto-battler nature of it, where you set up everything and then let the game do its thing, especially important in this being the fact that skills activate based on effective auto attack range, and 2) there's no distinction between melee and ranged tile, and the maps are linear, simple rows that are designed around you having to necessarily meet the enemy yes or yes.

That in of itself is fun thanks to the variety of units and restrictions placed on the usual rules of engagement: You need to make sure your unit can actually activate their skill in a meaningful way, so you can't put Goldenglow or Laptop on the far back and global snipe, they won't activate unless an enemy enters their range. There's also a fun team-building aspect, more micro and immediate than Integrated Strategies, since you know what you'll be fighting from second 1 instead of having to gimmickproof your party in case of X or Y, with X or Y perhaps never happening in your run (ie: getting an Anti-Gopnik setup ASAP in IS3 if going for Last Knight ending). The items, cost opportunity, and ability to deploy doubles or make a strong Operator out of having three of them all make for a fun time, plus, every Operator costs 3 Coins no matter their Tier, meaning there's a very explicit incentive for you to upgrade your Supply Level ASAP so you can start getting those Tier VI Operators.

Now, what are the mode's weaknesses? Well, it's very hard to bounce back from a bad hand. If you just don't get something decent in the first 4 rounds, it's VERY hard to come back from that. You do have multiple lives and some rounds you just gotta lose and try again later, but if you didn't manage to win against an enemy, your odds are Very Bad for the next round because now they are even stronger while you may not increase in power significantly; Rerolling the shop is very cheap at 1 coin, which is encouraged until you can get a unit or item you can use, but at the same time, the deeper you go into the match, the more necessary it becomes to be able to make triples to get enhanced stats and free high rarity recruits, because Beagle can only tank for so long before she starts getting Bloodline of Combat'd out of existence in three attacks. In other words, RNG plays a huge, huge role, which is to be expected in a game mode that is as auto as its ever gotten in a game that has always had execution be involved in its endgame, but at the same time, it wouldn't kill to add some more consistency to your matches, such as the ability to spend perhaps 3-4 coins for a reroll that guarantees a Supply Level Tier recruit or a Supply Level -1 recruit, making it so you can pay a significantly more steep price in order to get something that's more likely to start paying dividends back when you are already on the back foot.

Now, this isn't an issue with Normal Mode, because that one isn't overtuned. It's Hard Mode (or Core Protocol) that really needs some fine tuning. I'm lenient on it because, well, it's literally the Hard Mode, it's meant to be hard and I want it to be more difficult, but there is a huge disparity in difficulty when it comes to the possible factions you are fighting: Hard Mode Sarkaz + Convicts is way, way easier than Hard Mode Sankta or Icefield + Anything. Sankta are insanely difficult, FAR more than any of the other factions in my opinion, with an enemy that's bulky, needs 4 block, and restocks Ammo to enemies that can use it meaning the Bomb Car Carts can produce infinite Bomb Cars to nuke the hell out of your composition, when they express counter to Bomb Cars is to not block them in the first place... Which is impossible due to the way the maps are built, as mentioned before. The way the HP scaling works, you'll never be able to meaningfully kill the Bomb Cars consistently before you get nuked, made all the more difficult by the Sankta units also including the Stun Crossbowmen from the Schwarz event and the freaking Lost Colossus from IS2 for some reason, so you are constantly eating long Stuns while you get Zerg Rushed by Bomb Cars that explode for lots of damage if blocked, or take Lives if they get past you, either because all your Block is already taken, or because your entire line is Stunned. Mind you, not even having two S3 Lumen is enough to take on this onslaught, as once you start actually blocking the Crossbows, they will stun their blocked, making for just too many units for Lumen to unstun, even when cloned. The only counterplay is literally to just have gotten a broken set up before this escalates. Which is... Kinda ass from a player experience perspective. I understand it's Hard Mode, but losing to the game not giving you the perfect storm of things you need, a very unlikely molotov cocktail of Operators and Items, to meaningfully play against this raw amount of units and crowd control, can be very frustrating. It's like I'm really playing late Overwatch 1 with all this crowd control.

In many ways, it's very reminiscent of SSS 1.0 where it was just very, very unfun because you could just get absolutely shafted by bad luck and Physical Damage was worthless. Unlike SSS 1.0, however, this is a temporary mode that they can refine and rebalance for an eventual permanent addition, which I think would be very, very fun. Overall, I love the game mode, and I hope they make it permanent. Right now, I think Hard Mode should be taken as something truly difficult, and Normal Mode for general play, because Hard Mode is pretty overtuned to the point where even factions that aren't the Evil Two, like Sarkaz, can completely shit over you with their Lifesteal guys, and if you get to Round 13 and have no counter to Mudrock, good fucking luck.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Dodge Challenger T/A

1970 Dodge Challenger T/A Sitting for 45 Years Is a Rare Barn Find in Sublime Green

Introduced in 1969 on the then-new E-body platform, the first-generation Dodge Challenger was a big hit, moving nearly 77,000 units in its first year on the market. And while it may seem rather common, the 1970 Challenger lineup included a few rare gems.

Nearly 73% of the cars were ordered in standard trim, leaving only 18,512 R/T models. Most of the latter left the assembly line with the 383-cubic-inch (6.3-liter) V8, and just 6,231 units were specified with the larger 440-cubic-inch (7.2-liter) RB and 426-cubic-inch (7.0-liter) HEMI mills.

The HEMI is arguably the rarest 1970 Challenger, with only 356 examples made. Just 60 were also ordered with the SE package, and only nine were convertibles. The 440 Six Pack version is also rare at 2,035 examples, while the regular four-barrel 440 found its way into 3,840 vehicles.

But Dodge also built a small-block gem that saw daylight in limited numbers. I'm talking about the Challenger T/A. Developed to homologate the Challenger for the SCCA Trans-Am series, the T/A was available for only a few months in 1970. And its short stint on the assembly line resulted in only 2,399 street-legal models being built and sold.

The T/A packs several unique features, including a low-restriction exhaust system with side-exiting pipes, a larger air scoop, a fiberglass hood, and a heavy-duty suspension. The stripe package is also unique to this car, as is the 340-cubic-inch (5.6-liter) V8 with a triple two-barrel carburetor setup.

An upgrade over the more common four-barrel 340, the Six Pack layout gave the T/A 290 horsepower to play with. And even though it's nowhere near as powerful as the big-block cars, the T/A has a solid advantage in terms of curb weight and handling.

Come 2023, the T/A is one of the most desirable versions of the 1970 Challenger. And while many cars are still around as restored gems, some are rotting away in junkyards and barns, often missing vital components. The Sublime green example you see here is one of them. But unlike other abandoned T/As, this survivor got a second chance at life, and it's roaming the streets again.

Documented by YouTube's "Auto Archaeology," this T/A spent most of its life off the road. According to our host, the Challenger was parked for unknown reasons sometime in 1977. So that's only seven years on the road and more than four decades in storage.

Parked with a four-barrel carburetor instead of the Six Pack setup, it remained in storage in Memphis and Arkansas until 2022. That's when the car was sold and dragged out of its barn. And surprisingly enough, the T/A emerged in surprisingly solid condition.

Sure, the Sublime paint has faded away, and the black vinyl top is long gone, but the body is straight and almost rust-free. There's some rust on the trunk floor, but it's an easy fix with a regular Challenger pan, which is relatively easy to find.

The engine bay was empty at the time of the rescue, but the car still had the original block. And even though the Six-Pack carb was gone, it came with a period correct unit. The driveshaft, air cleaner, automatic gearbox, and the original wheels (which are very rare) were still with the car.

Speaking of which, the automatic makes this T/A one of 1,410 vehicles built with this drivetrain combo. The vinyl top decreases that number even more. It's unclear if it came with a V1G gator grain top, but if it did, it's one of only 33 T/As built like this.

But the really good news about this Challenger is that it has since been revamped and put back on the road. It hasn't been restored just yet, but it's not a solid survivor that's no longer rotting away in a barn. And that's a win in my book.

[footygirl114]

Enemiga (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

Yet another fit motivated by the World Cup! Enjoy and please let me know what we think :)

Having moved to England from Portugal when you were 10, meant that you understood what it meant to be Portuguese, but you were able to grow up with more opportunities. Those opportunities led you to playing for Manchester United, but you never wavered with your national team loyalties. The feeling of leading your home country to its first world cup was like any other. 

You were becoming a known name in the women’s football world, being a CDM and the pivot both of your teams needed. You elevated the players around you and the Portuguese team had the talent already but making this world cup finally put the world on notice. You were gaining the attention of some of the big teams outside of England, but you told your agent that you would not entertain any of them until after the world cup. 

The month leading up to the world cup, you deleted all social media off of your phone and only stayed connected with your friends and family that were close to you. It helped to keep your mind focused on the upcoming games and stay connected with your teammates. This is why when you were out for a walk in New Zealand a week out from the start of the tournament you had no idea who you would run into. 

You had taken to getting up early with the jet lag, meaning you were out at 530am for walks. It was peaceful and gave you time to relax and let the weight of the game off your shoulders since no one was around. Because of this, you were not paying attention to your surroundings and when you turned a corner on the quiet street you ran right into a solid body. 

“oh my gosh I am so sorry” you said as you grabbed the persons arm to steady both your self and her. The spark that shocked your arm when you did shocked you and stepped back losing your balance falling flat on your ass. 

You could hear her stifle a chuckle as she reached down and offering you a hand with a “I am sorry too, I wasn’t looking.” 

Feeling your cheeks blush in embarrassment you pull your hand from hers and brush the dirt off your arms from when you landed and you say “It’s really my fault.”

She smiles and you cant help but think how beautiful she is, shaking your head of the thought you miss her say “you missed a spot.” When she reaches out and brushes her hand over your ass wiping the dirt off she smirks and adds “I think I got it.”

At this point you can feel your cheeks burning as you squeak out “thank you.” 

She smirks and steps closer and says “anytime” letting it hang in the balance, her eyes on you. 

You realise she’s looking for your name and you say “Y/N.” 

“Y/N” she repeats with a wink.

A horn honks behind you shaking you out of your stare and you look up at her and say “I should go.” 

She nods and says “I hope to run into you again Y/N.” 

Feeling the blush still you chuckle and say “me too” as you step around her and start to walk down the street. Holding yourself back from running away after that display. Before you get to far you hear her say “Nice ass Y/N, I’ll try not to make you fall on it next time.” 

Immediately you blush and make your steps quicker as you put more distance between the two of you. The whole walk back to the hotel you cant help but think that if it was another time you might have stayed and flirted with her, but the last thing you needed right now was to be distracted by a pretty girl you will never see again. 

**

The rest of the week you pay more attention as you go out on your morning walk, you were not going to be pulled into the web of the pretty girl again. You also made sure to keep at least 2 blocks between you and that corner any time you were out. 

The morning of the first group stage game had you sitting in a strategy meeting with your coaching staff. Spain was not going to be an easy game and with the best player in the world being on the opposing team everyone knew it would be tough. You were tasked with being her shadow, making sure she never had any time on the ball and making her life hell. 

You were confident in your defence to keep everyone else in check, but by shutting her down you would be limiting their options. One of the things that you always did pre-game was to make sure you did not get distracted by the other team’s warm up, so you never looked their way. It didn’t matter to you who you played you knew what you needed to do. 

Walking out behind your keeper was a surreal feeling. Your countries first ever world cup game, knowing how hard your team worked to get here made it that much better. It made you that much more focused on the game and not the screaming fans, or the players walking beside you. 

It wasn’t until 30 seconds into the game when you were forced to defend a throw deep in your end after a long ball off the kick off, did it click in your head. As soon as you stepped up behind the opposing number 11, and placed your arm on her back to keep her there. She turned her head to check her options and you met her eyes. Immediately the recognition on her face and the smirk lets you know she also recognised you. 

Movement in the corner of your eye brings your attention back to the game, you stick to your game plan and remain within 5 feet of her at all times. In the 18th minute a head injury causes the play to stop, and she walks closer to you and says “funny running into you here.’

You turn toward her and are thankful your cheeks are already red from running that the blush won’t be noticed as you say “good luck trying to shake me.” 

She smirks and says “Bring it Y/N, but I won’t go easy on you, I already know how to get you on your cute ass/” 

Before you can answer the refs whistle brings you back to the game, shaking your head you turn and see your centre back giving you a raised eye brow and you shrug your shoulders and turn to track Alexia on the free kick. 

The rest of the game continues the same, you never give Alexia the space she needs. She’s constantly having to turn and play backwards or you were reading her movements and intercepting passes before she has a chance to complete them. You can tell she’s frustrated but when Spain puts one past your keeper in the 85th minute, her shoulders relax a bit. 

You know it's over as you haven’t even got a shot on net in the second half has Spain has had all the possession. The game finishes out without another goal but you are definitely annoyed that they were able to get the one. You know for your first world cup game you are happy for how your team played and that you were able to hold out against Spain but you really wanted to hold on for the draw. 

After hugging most of your team-mates and consoling your keeper you started to shake the other teams hands. You saw Ona, your club teammate and immediately smiled and pulled her into a big hug. After exchanging pleasantries she says with a smirk “You really got under Ale’s skin today Y/N.” 

You chuckle and say “it was kinda the point Ona.” 

“No no” she shakes her head “I mean yeah you played well, but she came over and asked me all about you post game.” 

“what?” 

She smirks again and say “I think you got under her skin more than just how you played.” 

You feel the blush on your cheeks as you squeak out “I did?” 

She nods and before she can say anything else, Alexia walks up beside you both and says “What did you say to make Y/N blush Ona? I thought she saved that for me?” 

Feeling your cheeks heat up at Ona’s laugh and response of “we were talking about you Ale.” 

You smack Ona’s shoulder and say “Ona!” 

Alexia smirks and adds “Couldn’t help but talk about me?” 

Shaking your head you say “I am leaving now, good luck Ona” 

“Bye Y/N” Ona says. 

“what no good luck for me?” Alexia asks with a smirk. 

Shaking your head you say “No, you don't need it La reina” and you turn on your heel walking off the field with a chuckle. You catch yourself when you make it to the tunnel and shake your head of the smile, not wanting anyone to see you smiling over a pretty girl. 

**

The night following the next game, which you were able to pull out a 3-1 win against Zambia, where you set up 2 of your teams goals from great free kicks. You were lying in bed reading when you felt your phone go off with a text. Figuring it was your mom you checked your phone and confused when you saw an unknown number. 

unknown: You looked very good out there. You are so much more free when you play without having to be stuck to a cute Spaniards hip.

Before you can answer another text came through. 

Unknown: Don’t kill Ona, I forced her to give me your number. 

Unknown: It’s Alexia by the way, I should have lead with that.

You chuckle at her ramble, with the multiple texts. 

Y/N: No promises not to kill Ona, but thank you for the compliment. 

Alexia: Y/N, I mean it.

Alexia: You shut me down, which is not easy to do, you are an amazing player. 

The best player in the world telling you that even over text had you blushing in the dark at your phone. You have no idea how you gained her attention but you really liked that you did. 

Y/N: Well thank you. I am just happy we got a win at our first world cup. 

The conversation continues for a few minutes before you both bid each other goodnight, as you lie in bed close to falling asleep you think about your plans before the world cup. You came into this wanting to have no distractions and play your best football, but you cant hep but think about why you were playing in the first place. You loved the game and want to enjoy playing it, which you haven’t enjoyed more since being here, and getting to represent your country, and what harm was a little flirting with the enemy. 

[mysticstronomy]

WHAT ARE COSMIC RAYS??

Blog#486

Saturday, March 8th, 2025.

Cosmic rays are atom fragments that rain down on the Earth from outside of the solar system. They blaze at nearly the speed of light and have been blamed for electronic problems in satellites and other machinery.

Discovered in 1912, many things about cosmic rays remain a mystery more than a century later. One prime example is exactly where they are coming from. Most scientists suspect their origins are related to supernovas (star explosions), but the challenge is that cosmic ray origins appeared uniform to observatories examining the entire sky for many years.

A significant leap forward in cosmic ray science came in 2017 when the Pierre Auger Observatory (which is spread over 3,000 square kilometers, or 1,160 square miles, in western Argentina) studied the arrival trajectories of 30,000 cosmic particles. It concluded that there is a difference in how frequently these cosmic rays arrive, depending on where you look. While their origins are still nebulous, knowing where to look is the first step in learning where they came from, the researchers said. The results were published in Science.

Cosmic rays can even be used for applications outside of astronomy. In November 2017, a research team discovered a possible void in the Great Pyramid of Giza, which was built around 2560 B.C., using cosmic rays.

The researchers found this cavity using muon tomography, which examines cosmic rays and their penetrations through solid objects.

While cosmic rays were only discovered in the 1900s, scientists knew something mysterious was going on as early as the 1780s.

That's when French physicist Charles-Augustin de Coulomb — best known for having a unit of electrical charge named after him — observed an electrically charged sphere suddenly and mysteriously not being charged anymore.

At the time, air was thought to be an insulator and not an electric conductor. With more work, however, scientists discovered that air can conduct electricity if its molecules are charged or ionized. This would most commonly happen when the molecules interact with charged particles or X-rays.

But where these charged particles came from was a mystery; even attempts to block the charge with large amounts of lead were coming up empty. On Aug. 7, 1912, physicist Victor Hess flew a high-altitude balloon to 17,400 feet (5,300 meters). He discovered three times more ionizing radiation there than on the ground, meaning the radiation had to come from outer space.

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

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, March 12th, 2025)

"WHAT IS THE QUANTUM THEORY IN SIMPLE TERMS??"

[mecania]

i don't like a lot of discussions i've seen regarding whether radahn said yes or not to the vow for a couple reasons. 1) it's never tied into the greater theme of bodily autonomy/the loss of it in elden ring and is instead only ever brought up to make miquella seem worse and 2) i think it's not supposed to be the MAJOR focus regarding radahn becoming miquella's consort (yes you can still discuss it and i will).

I really do believe the reason why there's no solid proof in the story (aside from freyja, who is an important member of radahn's army, blatantly stating radahn would've wanted this. not saying to take everything at face value but her character does seem reliable enough when talking about radahn) is because that's not the point regarding miquella and radahn's vow. there is emphasis on mohg's body being used against his wishes but not radahn. if the game wanted to let you know it was not what radahn wanted they would've said it clearly because ansbach does so for mohg. radahn and miquella's unity (or rather failure to unite) is supposed to be representative of miquella's failures due to his misunderstanding of the world and the golden order. at the end of the day radahn and miquella do share similar enough motivations

the reason why radahn most likely sought to become miquella's consort is because miquella does not intend to usurp the golden order. miquella infact is representative of regression. his unalloyed needle returns things to its former state, his nascent state prior kept him in an ever looping cycle of nearing the crest of ascension and then going back to the beginning... he is literally the son of radagon, whose major contribution to golden order fundamentalism is the concept of return and regression being a way to achieve unity and completion. miquella is trying to restore the golden order to what he believes it once was, hence why he follows his mother's path. he seeks the land of shadow and abandons his flesh there because that is the root of marika's journey, by allowing himself to be rebirthed anew in this banished place of marika's psyche he brings the shadow to light in an attempt to integrate it into his new self. he completes this ascension at the same site marika ascended: the gates of divinity. the only example we have of a demigod who ascends successfully (i personally don't think marika is supposed to be viewed as a successful ascension) after shedding their flesh is ranni, who purposefully does not pick the same path as marika and rather seeks a defiance of the golden order's laws. regression and its failures is the whole point of the dlc. it is why we fell characters like messmer who are not carving a solution to a problem but rather are allowing a reignition of it, continuing the cycle of karmic accumulation and retribution after reincarnation.

importantly the basis of radahn's loyalty to the golden order is that he idolises what it was before, not what it is now. his appraisal for godfrey and also his friendly relation with messmer is meant to show you that he is a follower of the ideal that the golden order has fallen victim to some sort of degredation of its 'true values' over time. godfrey ushered in the new age through battle, and his consortship to marika marked the start of the golden order's reign. as for messmer, messmer is upholding the crucial foundation for the golden order's existence; marika's spite for the hornsent, but as i mentioned prior... his crusades against the hornsent only serve to repeat the cycle of violence, and by extension this makes radahn related to the ideas of stagnation and repetition. godfrey and messmer can be considered the building blocks of the current era, but both were banished and had their image ruined in the favour of some sort of progression/shroud over the origins of the golden order. like miquella, radahn is the son of radagon, and he boasts his red hair in honour of his father; yet again, the most important establisher of regression in golden order fundamentalism. in truth the impacts of the golden order we see now have always been the true values it has upheld, but like miquella, radahn doesn't see that. all of this aligns radahn well enough with miquella, both characters have always served to 'fix' the golden order rather than destroy it and establish their own orders.

it is also why miquella and radahn are an incestuous involvance. why they make a point of having miquella refer to radahn as his lord brother. they are both regressing so fucking hard they fall back on the 'true' heirs to the golden lineage; themselves, which is yet again another idea of purity and perfection as put out by the conservative ideation of the golden order. (the circle, the symbol of unity, which is also an everlasting loop closing in on itself. hence why miquella's choice is radahn. whereas ranni picks you, a tarnished who was exiled from the lands between and has no prior relation to her family. yet another way she breaks the concept of regression and recirculation)

it can matter on a larger scale when we are discerning the meta narrative and what this means for us, the viewers, and what we can retrieve from this. but in this case, both radahn AND miquella demonstrate how systems like the golden order strip one of their self autonomy in the name of a greater, holier force that must be worshipped (the concept of a percect leader and empire). miquella rescinds what makes him himself (his love) because of his attempt to participate in this system, even if he means to 'reform' it (which is clearly impossible if you know literally any amount of political theory at all). radahn lacks his own identity and defines himself via others. because he strives to be the perfect servant and defender of the system. hence why this also applies to malenia, she gives herself up fully to miquella in hopes of ushering in his era. but i literally have not seen any discussion about this when it comes to saying radahn might've said no... it's not discussed in an interesting way and instead seems like an excuse to place miquella as a sort of black and white villain.