#Search query patterns

[digitalmagnate]

How To Compare Search Queries In Google Search Console ||Google Search Console ||Digital Magnate

#Google_Search_Console, #Search_query_comparison,

[herpsandbirds]

Hi hi! :D Do you know any pretty moths whose wing patterns could be described as a ‘burst’ or ‘explosion’ of color or pattern? I’ve been trying to find some but it’s not exactly a query I can easily put into a search engine lol

Moths:

Hello, I'm not exactly sure if this is what you're looking for, but try these out...

Tiger Moth (Barsine rubricostata), family Erebidae, Sabah, Borneo

photograph by Ollie Meidinger

Rosy Footman Moth (Miltochrista miniata), family Erebidae, Poland

Photography by Jacek Novak

Orange-banded Pine Moth (Milionia basalis), family Geometridae, Namdapha Tiger Reserve, Arunachal Pradesh, India

photograph by Rohit Naniwadekar

Geometrid Moth (Iotaphora iridicolor), family Geometridae, Doi Pha Hom Pok, Thailand

photograph by Antonio Giudici

[schoenpepper]

Intro: You choose the correct answer. Obviously.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, photos aren't mine, too much simping, swear words, google translated German, does Vil in a dress offend you? then go fuck urself

A/N: My love my darling my sweetheart my cutie pie babygirl dearie honey my honeybunch sugarplum pumpyumpykin sweetiepie cuppycake snookums ookums my dommy mommy queen dominatrix babygirl please step on me please degrade me hurt me berate me love me adore me drive your six inch stilettos through my guts and kiss me

Masterlist

Your fingers toy with the item on your palm. A delicate gold ring with leaf motifs and small diamonds, a round purple crystal in the middle. You're not too sure what it is, but it reminds you of his eyes: sparkling and bright, bringing their own shimmer wherever they reach. It's breathtaking. He's breathtaking. You haven't even seen him yet, and you already know he'll be stunning.

It's a little nerve-wracking.

Vil Schoenheit is always at the center of attention.

(At the very least, he'll always be the center of yours.)

You look out the window of the carriage in an attempt to distract yourself from your own thoughts. The trees lining the path seem to stretch upward as they yearn for the sun. The wildflowers are slowly wilting with the oncoming blaze of summer heat. You catch a glimpse of a creature lurking in the depths of the forest, waiting for its chance to strike.

(He's still in your head.)

The coachman opens the door for you and helps you step off the carriage before riding away, leaving you to marvel alone at the marble steps that lead to your destination. If you enter now, can you say with full confidence that the shining star, that beautiful prince of the Elven Empire, is your date? Will they assume that you meant it in a friendly sense? Even you don't have the answers to those questions. Whether or not he thinks of you as a friend isn't important to you; what matters is whether or not he sees you as something more. Maybe you'll get your answer tonight. Maybe you won't.

But you'll take the chance.

You have to.

The party's just starting to fill up when you arrive, yet too many people that you don't know are around you. None of your friends are here yet. It's the moment of quiet you've been looking for. Maybe, in the middle of all these strangers, you can finally think. Alone. Crystal chandeliers reflect rainbow light onto marble tiles, while colorful flowers are held inside glass vases, perched onto tables and pedestals every few steps. The music is yet to unfold into a glorious symphony, missing a few instruments to complete its melody. Your steps are drowned out in the sea of people as you walk yourself into a corner. Think, then.

Where is he?

Again, you are consumed by memories of lavender-tipped blond hair and lilac eyes, of fair and flawless skin, and everything that's him. Your eyes are always searching for him, skin always yearning for his touch.

(Gods, aren't you just pathetic?)

Your query is answered today through a series of quiet gasps and heads turning in a specific direction. You walk back to the center of the ballroom to see if it's him (of course it is; would anyone else be so blinding?).

Pure black silk is draped over his lean figure like a waterfall, reflecting a midnight sky in its satiny shine, with black chiffon sleeves billowing like a cape over his shoulders. A gold belt, carved like crawling vines, cinches his waist and matches the gold wreath that sat atop his hair. Long legs and shiny gold stilettos peek out from the high slit on his dress; a chunky gold collar-style necklace sits pretty on his collarbones; a gold vine bangle climbs from one shoulder down just above his elbow; and chunky gold hoops are clipped on his pointed ears. When Vil's eyes meet yours, you almost fall to the ground. The dark winged eyeshadow and metallic gold eyeliner, the matte black lipstick, and the gold patterns drawn on his cheek that signifies his status as elven royalty—

Breathe.

ohgodsohfuckohshitohwhatthehell—

You're forced to avert your gaze as you bring your hands up to cup your warm cheeks. He looks like divinity incarnate, and it's driving you just a little crazy.

"Y/N."

Okay. It's driving you very crazy.

"Senpai." You hate that your voice is so quiet and meek, and you just know you look like a tomato right now. A quick glance at other people confirms that you're not the only one killed by his charm, so there's that for consolation, at least. "You look beautiful tonight." It's an understatement, but you can neither look at him right now nor conjure any words more fitting for the vision. You deal with what you can.

"Oh, are you shy?" Vil chuckles as he tilts your chin up with one manicured finger. "Look at me. It would be a waste of all my efforts if my date refused to even look me in the eye." You notice he's wearing a ring, just a simple band, but with a familiar purple stone embedded into it. When you look into his eyes, however, your brain activity reverts back to that of a neanderthal.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

You nod.

"Are you glad you chose me as your date?"

You nod again.

"Would you like a kiss?"

You no—wait, um, fuck, what?!

Soft lips press onto yours for an annoyingly short kiss. Just a peck, really. It's enough to scramble your mind and get you to blue screen, though. "There we are, potato. My, you look disgraceful." He rubs off the small smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth. "Did you not choose a smudge-proof product? You should have; it's always best to be prepared."

Prepared for what???

"Senpai, um, would you like to dance...?" Good job; you've managed to stutter out a near-coherent invitation.

Vil leads the waltz because you're not feeling too great right now. Looking into his eyes makes you accidentally step on his dress, looking at his heels makes you distracted by the way the fabric sways to show his legs, and not looking at your partner makes you unable to dance correctly. In short, you manage to make an utter fool of yourself in a three-minute dance that's taught even to four-year-olds. In your defense, you truly believe anyone dancing with a partner like this would be in the exact same situation as you. "Hm, perhaps we should take a break by the buffet table. Would drinking some water clear your head?" You follow him and thank him when he hands you a glass of water.

He's hot, fine, whatever. But why does he need to be kind and considerate too? Does he really want everyone to fall for him?!

You know your thoughts are stupid and unfair on his part. You take another sip of your water and try to look at him again. It's okay; the three minutes of dancing have desensitized you already. Really. "Is something on my face, dear?" And your eyes are back to the glass of water.

He called me dear! What the fuck?!

"After you've finished, perhaps we can go for a stroll in the gardens? I think we'd both enjoy a quiet moment together, mein liebe."

You take a deep breath.

May whatever deity that wasn't defeated in the wars millennia ago hear your plea and give you mercy

Try Again?

[pseuddamntired]

Needle Lace Resources

This is a very long post, so I'm including a cut.

Tutorial-like Things, Others' Work

An overview of the stages of needle lace (specifically learning from Alençon, I believe. They link to a documentary type of video on Alençon lace): https://www.taixtile.com/needle-lace-first-steps/. This blog has links to other resources (one link is broken, if I recall correctly).

A very approachable first project, I think. From a lace maker who has done very cool illustrations with lace, Maggie Hensel-Brown: https://youtu.be/OLuRpJ96p4Q?si=gqBWqYxa755gFozr

This channel has videos of the stages of needle lace making. They specifically demonstrate Irish lace, I believe. But the stages are very similar to or the same as the stages in Alençon lace. https://youtu.be/dZVagIFCnLc?si=d8lRnPsmz5iTM0Z_

Pierre Fouché has a video about making dense filling stitches and even doing short rows to makes curves (something I tried but did not yet succeed at): https://youtu.be/DK5cMQND3b8?si=qySmT9yaoTcpsUV9 He also does really cool bobbin lace illustrations by constructing patterns in cell-like units.

An embroiderer tries needle lace in two videos. In one of them she tries different styles from different places: https://youtu.be/eTO7dA4oyl4?si=VInx35kql115bIIo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9Wa6-Qf5xw

Example of a different style of needle lace. Unsure what it is exactly. Some sort of cut work or reticella, idk: https://youtube.com/shorts/7DFogWC3tDI?si=uju74sPFbRj3_wrn

Sampler directions: https://youtu.be/oDKBfjDYBnU?si=shQYvaT4kAZD7BgV

Again, a more geometric style of needle lace. I don’t know the particulars of this style (styles?), since I’ve mostly been looking into styles similar to Alençon because I’m aiming for more illustration-like lace. This channel has multiple videos demoing and explaining that process: https://youtu.be/gJd6mkrsUCQ?si=AfVIiwljHvfismrX https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6dk721UwW4

Not so much instructions but video of a very skilled lacemaker working on a project: https://youtu.be/01H2GdEXLrs?si=2suFHSG4Kwa6Yl2m

Another lacemaker's work on their blog. I don’t know if they do as much lace making as they do other needle arts https://www.robesdecoeur.com/blog/needlelace-my-work-so-far

A lacemaker's work... the site is older and kind of tricky to navigate. Like. there's no home button, as far as I can tell. Album of their work: https://www.lacemakerslace.oddquine.co.uk/album/index.html Home page, I think: https://www.lacemakerslace.oddquine.co.uk/

Useful/Interesting Things to Know

Alençon lace -- specific French style from the Alençon region, which has a history of point lace and a current institution dedicated to preserving the skills and producing lace. This is the style that I was looking at examples of to try and learn from.

Search terms like different styles of lace that I’m not qualified to talk about but you can look into and do research on: Battenburg, point de gaze (very very fine work, like gauze)… More to be added as I learn about them.

The terms "needle lace" and "point lace" are both used to refer to lace made with a needle. I'm unclear on if there are subtle distinctions between them or if it's simply a matter of location. But having versions of a search query for both terms should help find more results than just using one.

Encyclopedia of Needlework by Therese De Dillmont is an excellent resource to learn how to do different stitches. It seems these stitches mostly come from Irish lace, according to the book. HTML copy of book available on Project Gutenberg here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/20776/20776-h/20776-h.htm I recommend using ctrl+f to search for "lace stitch" on the page. The end of each chapter in the HTML version seems to have a link to the Table of Contents that is at the end of the entire document. It has chapters for plenty of other needle arts, so it's a good resource all around.

If you want to find examples of needle lace, look on Wikimedia Commons! Using a variety of search terms will help you find more material for inspiration/observation than otherwise

If you want to design your own needle lace depicting objects, it might be worth looking at stained glass to see how larger shapes are broken up into smaller shapes that still feel complete.

You can use multiple colors! Let yourself use multiple colors, like stained glass!

Thoughts from the Learning Process So Far (some terminology used here, look them up so you know what the actual definitions are, but I’ll define what I mean by them)

Tacking vs Couching... I'm unsure about the actual definitions so I may be using them wrong here. In the videos I’ve seen tacking seems to be making a stitch that runs along the way the cordonnet will run. Couching seems to be just when the thread that secures the cordonnet comes up through the backing and goes down through the backing at the same point. With these definitions… Tacking went faster for me than doing couching, but it feels a lot less secure and precise for the form of lace I’m making. Unless I made the tacking stitches perpendicular to the cordonnet's path, the outline cord moved too much due to tension. If it's perpendicular and not a very short stitch, it might get in the way of your filling stitches or binding off stitches. Which might be fine, since you pull them out anyways. But it would also mean more holes in the backing, and at some point the holes are too close together and might tear the backing and pattern. I don't like that. Couching—much, MUCH more tedious for me because I’m not practiced at making the needle come up in exactly the right spot. but it feels more secure to me. The outline seems to be less affected by tension as you work. And I took some shortcuts for couching that helped. I don’t couch the doubled cord, instead I whip stitch back over the already-secured cord. I might make a post to demonstrate what I mean. It kind of messes with the shape/placement of my cordonnet, but for the sake of my impatience I’m willing to sacrifice the precise shape.

Backing material... To use fabric in backing like the instructions usually say, or not? Idk. For me, it’s hard to find the right hole for the couching stitches when I can't see my pattern from the back. It took a lot of trial and error until I got a feel for how to predict where my needle would come up. I don't like the way the poke-and-check method of stitching the cordonnet down tends to rip the pattern up (at least, with my easy-to-access materials. Probably better with better materials and more practice. Using my thumb to find approximately the right spot helped, but not enough). So I just used a sandwich of tape/paper/tape as my backing. If you're willing to fuss around with fabric in your backing, it might make it easier to remove the couching threads after you're done, and when I tried. The directions I've seen usually say to use a backing of doubled-up fabric, clay paper (I'm unsure what this is. might be a thicker paper than cardstock, or it might be paper made to contain clay particles. Probably more like the first option), and contact paper. My last attempt at making a backing used notebook paper (or other type of paper) with packaging tape on both sides to provide a smooth surface and structure. I think it worked fairly well, and I didn't have to figure out where to buy contact paper (or figure out exactly what contact paper was).

[warningsine]

Living online means never quite understanding what’s happening to you at a given moment. Why these search results? Why this product recommendation? There is a feeling—often warranted, sometimes conspiracy-minded—that we are constantly manipulated by platforms and websites.

So-called dark patterns, deceptive bits of web design that can trick people into certain choices online, make it harder to unsubscribe from a scammy or unwanted newsletter; they nudge us into purchases. Algorithms optimized for engagement shape what we see on social media and can goad us into participation by showing us things that are likely to provoke strong emotional responses. But although we know that all of this is happening in aggregate, it’s hard to know specifically how large technology companies exert their influence over our lives.

This week, Wired published a story by the former FTC attorney Megan Gray that illustrates the dynamic in a nutshell. The op-ed argued that Google alters user searches to include more lucrative keywords. For example, Google is said to surreptitiously replace a query for “children’s clothing” with “NIKOLAI-brand kidswear” on the back end in order to direct users to lucrative shopping links on the results page. It’s an alarming allegation, and Ned Adriance, a spokesperson for Google, told me that it’s “flat-out false.” Gray, who is also a former vice president of the Google Search competitor DuckDuckGo, had seemingly misinterpreted a chart that was briefly presented during the company’s ongoing U.S. et al v. Google trial, in which the company is defending itself against charges that it violated federal antitrust law. (That chart, according to Adriance, represents a “phrase match” feature that the company uses for its ads product; “Google does not delete queries and replace them with ones that monetize better as the opinion piece suggests, and the organic results you see in Search are not affected by our ads systems,” he said.)

Gray told me, “I stand by my larger point—the Google Search team and Google ad team worked together to secretly boost commercial queries, which triggered more ads and thus revenue. Google isn’t contesting this, as far as I know.” In a statement, Chelsea Russo, another Google spokesperson, reiterated that the company’s products do not work this way and cited testimony from Google VP Jerry Dischler that “the organic team does not take data from the ads team in order to affect its ranking and affect its result.” Wired did not respond to a request for comment. Last night, the publication removed the story from its website, noting that it does not meet Wired’s editorial standards.

It’s hard to know what to make of these competing statements. Gray’s specific facts may be wrong, but the broader concerns about Google’s business—that it makes monetization decisions that could lead the product to feel less useful or enjoyable—form the heart of the government’s case against the company. None of this is easy to untangle in plain English—in fact, that’s the whole point of the trial. For most of us, evidence about Big Tech’s products tends to be anecdotal or fuzzy—more vibes-based than factual. Google may not be altering billions of queries in the manner that the Wired story suggests, but the company is constantly tweaking and ranking what we see, while injecting ads and proprietary widgets into our feed, thereby altering our experience. And so we end up saying that Google Search is less useful now or that shopping on Amazon has gotten worse. These tools are so embedded in our lives that we feel acutely that something is off, even if we can’t put our finger on the technical problem.

That’s changing. In the past month, thanks to a series of antitrust actions on behalf of the federal government, hard evidence of the ways that Silicon Valley’s biggest companies are wielding their influence is trickling out. Google’s trial is under way, and while the tech giant is trying to keep testimony locked down, the past four weeks have helped illustrate—via internal company documents and slide decks like the one cited by Wired—how Google has used its war chest to broker deals and dominate the search market. Perhaps the specifics of Gray’s essay were off, but we have learned, for instance, how company executives considered adjusting Google’s products to lead to more “monetizable queries.” And just last week, the Federal Trade Commission filed a lawsuit against Amazon alleging anticompetitive practices. (Amazon has called the suit “misguided.”)

Filings related to that suit have delivered a staggering revelation concerning a secretive Amazon algorithm code-named Project Nessie. The particulars of Nessie were heavily redacted in the public complaint, but this week The Wall Street Journal revealed details of the program. According to the unredacted complaint, a copy of which I have also viewed, Nessie—which is no longer in use—monitored industry prices of specific goods to determine whether competitors were algorithmically matching Amazon’s prices. In the event that competitors were, Nessie would exploit this by systematically raising prices on goods across Amazon, encouraging its competitors to follow suit. Amazon, via the algorithm, knew that it would be able to charge more on its own site, because it didn’t have to worry about being undercut elsewhere, thereby making the broader online shopping experience worse for everyone. An Amazon spokesperson told the Journal that the FTC is mischaracterizing the tool, and suggested that Nessie was a way to monitor competitor pricing and keep price-matching algorithms from dropping prices to unsustainable levels (the company did not respond to my request for comment).

In the FTC’s telling, Project Nessie demonstrates the sheer scope of Amazon’s power in online markets. The project arguably amounted to a form of unilateral price fixing, where Amazon essentially goaded its competitors into acting like cartel members without even knowing they’d done so—all while raising prices on consumers. It’s an astonishing form of influence, powered by behind-the-scenes technology.

The government will need to prove whether this type of algorithmic influence is illegal. But even putting legality aside, Project Nessie is a sterling example of the way that Big Tech has supercharged capitalistic tendencies and manipulated markets in unnatural and opaque ways. It demonstrates the muscle that a company can throw around when it has consolidated its position in a given sector. The complaint alleges that Amazon’s reach and logistics capabilities force third-party sellers to offer products on Amazon and for lower prices than other retailers. Once it captured a significant share of the retail market, Amazon was allegedly able to use algorithmic tools such as Nessie to drive prices up for specific products, boosting revenues and manipulating competitors.

Reading about Project Nessie, I was surprised to feel a sense of relief. In recent years, customer-satisfaction ratings have dipped among Amazon shoppers who have cited delivery disruptions, an explosion of third-party sellers, and poor-quality products as reasons for frustration. In my own life and among friends and relatives, there has been a growing feeling that shopping on the platform has become a slog, with fewer deals and far more junk to sift through. Again, these feelings tend to occupy vibe territory: Amazon’s bigness seems stifling or grating in ways that aren’t always easy to explain. But Nessie offers a partial explanation for this frustration, as do revelations about Google’s various product adjustments. We have the sense that we’re being manipulated because, well, we are. It’s a bit like feeling vaguely sick, going to the doctor, and receiving a blood-test result confirming that, yes, the malaise you experienced is actually an iron deficiency. It is the catharsis of, at long last, receiving a diagnosis.

This is the true power of the surge in anti-monopoly litigation. (According to experts in the field, September was “the most extraordinary month they have ever seen in antitrust.”) Whether or not any of these lawsuits results in corporate breakups or lasting change, they are, effectively, an MRI of our sprawling digital economy—a forensic look at what these larger-than-life technology companies are really doing, and how they are exerting their influence and causing damage. It is confirmation that what so many of us have felt—that the platforms dictating our online experiences are behaving unnaturally and manipulatively—is not merely a paranoid delusion, but the effect of an asymmetrical relationship between the giants of scale and us, the users.

In recent years, it’s been harder to love the internet, a miracle of connectivity that feels ever more bloated, stagnant, commercialized, and junkified. We are just now starting to understand the specifics of this transformation—the true influence of Silicon Valley’s vise grip on our lives. It turns out that the slow rot we might feel isn’t just in our heads, after all.

[mclarengf]

veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo

fucking carlos sainz in a club bathroom

[1.8k] - ¡18+ mdni!

note: first ever smut, hope this goes well…

taglist: @foreveralbon @aviscarrentals @disneyprincemuke @hangmandruigandmav @whoreforbrownies @lightdragonrayne

¡¡read part one here first!!

turning back to you, the stranger smiles, and leans in to ask, “do you want to have some proper fun?”

you jerk your head back, searching his face for any sign he’s joking. there’s none.

slowly, your lips curl into a smile and you nod, slipping your hand back into his. he raises an eyebrow in intrigue and starts moving toward the back of the club, near where he’d been stood before. 

he parts the crowd with one arm, not letting go of you with the other, even if it would make it much easier to clear the way.  

he stops in front of the bathrooms. 

“you want this, hermosa?” 

you nod again, and he goes to push one of the doors open. then you pull his hand back quickly, having thought of a complication. 

“what’s wrong?” he stares down at you, puzzled by your sudden change in manner.

you frown back at him for a second, trying to word your query correctly.

“what’s your name?” you finally ask.

he doesn’t blink.

then, he smiles, and starts laughing. 

“ay, i was too distracted by your beauty, i forgot to ask what your name is!” 

he’s got a nice laugh, and you’re still a little bit drunk, so you start laughing too. 

“my name is carlos,” he finally tells you. 

“carlos,” you repeat, rolling it around in your mouth, copying how he had said it; lingering on the ‘r’ and with a quiet ’s’. when you’re happy with your pronounciation of his name, you tell him yours. 

he does the same, practising your accent after you. you’re definitely staring as he does so, watching as his lips form the vowels in your name, then drifting upwards to the small wrinkle between his brows as he tries to replicate your speech pattern.  

“come on!” your words drag you out of your thoughts before your brain can, and you lead carlos through the bathroom door. 

it’s not a bad bathroom, for a club this busy. it looks clean enough, there are no obvious stains on any of the tiling… you’re not here to admire the restroom though, unfortunately for the janitor.

carlos is looking at you with those hungry eyes, and he locks the door as he settles back against it. you don’t bother waiting for him to make the first move this time, rushing towards him, pressing your mouth onto his. 

now, in the security of a locked room, carlos is less cautious about his movements. still paying full attention to you as you make out, he reaches around you to feel for your zip. you can feel him smile as he finds it and he undoes it easily, sucking and nipping at your lips the whole time.

he moves his mouth lower, and turns his attention to sucking a hickey onto your skin, licking and biting at the area where your neck meets your shoulder.

you back off from him and drop your hands from the back of his head as you step out of the dress, but he tastes so good and he’s turning you on so much; you don’t want to break your kiss to breathe. somehow, in your haze, carlos had managed to swap places with you, his arm now caging you against the door, which is cold against your back.

it’s him who lifts his head first, licking his swollen bottom lip as he stares at your body. 

“eres guapísima,” he trails a finger across your navel, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “you are beautiful.”

you want to roll your eyes, or blush, or hide at the compliment, but something about the way he says it tells you that he means it, that it isn’t just some line he says to all the girls he meets in dark clubs.

you reach for his shirt as he pulls you back in again; your hands go for his buttons as his go behind you, to unhook your bra. 

both tasks are equally difficult, and after realising this, you mutually decide to swap jobs. carlos forgoes the formality of buttons and pulls his shirt up over his head as you let your bra fall to the floor.

he drops to his knees, seemingly with no regard for his poor kneecaps, and pulls at your panties. he taps at your leg for you to step out of them, and nuzzles his nose up your thigh, provoking a shaky sigh from you. 

somehow still observant in your state of absolute euphoria, you see him stuff your underwear into the back pocket of the trousers he’s still wearing.

he takes your leg and hoists it onto his shoulder. then he grins up at you, giving you no warning before he buries his face in between your thighs. 

“fuck, carlos-“ your supporting leg shakes as he mouths at your clit, two fingers pushing into you already.

your hands pull at his hair as he starts scissoring and curling them inside you, hitting that spot every time.

he’s so good at this, you barely have enough awareness to think, and god, his mouth-

you can feel a growing tension in you, so you pull off him before you can come. carlos stares at you again, dazed. you can’t judge though, god knows you’re out of it too.

“wanna- mm, wanna come on your cock, carlos. want your cock,” you whine out, pulling at him to get up.

he pushes himself up and you’re instantly undoing his belt and his fly, pulling his boxer briefs and pants down in one movement.

he’s already hard from eating you out, you notice. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he strokes himself, and you don’t plan on breaking the eye contact either. 

you watch as he twists his hand at the top, then throws his head back, eyes shut and mouth open in a state of bliss. 

“fuck, carlos, i need you!”

that finally causes him to spring into action, holding onto the leg that was on his shoulder and tapping you on the bum as he says, “vamos; jump.”

you do as he says and he catches you easily. he walks you both over to the sink and sets you down on it. the porcelain is cold, but you don’t care.

he stops one more time, as he’s lining himself up with your entrance, doe eyes staring down at you, giving you one more chance to back out.

fuck, you can feel his tip against your cunt; he’s so close. your legs are still hooked around carlos, so you simply pull your feet towards you, causing him to stumble your way too. he bottoms out in one motion, and you feel so full.

“give me a second,” you breathe, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

he obliges, and lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. you can feel his exhale from where your skin touches, and from deep inside you. you clench a few times around him experimentally, and it’s his turn to falter.  

“mierde.”

taking your actions as a green light to move, carlos pulls out almost entirely, before sinking back into you. 

“you’re so big,” you moan out when he’s fully in you again. 

he breathes out a laugh at that, before being cut off as he rocks his hips against yours. you’re overwhelmed by the feeling, his cock is hitting all the right places in you, and he’s everywhere.

he’s fucking you so hard, so filthily, in the bathroom of a club you’d met him at maybe only an hour ago. your eyes roll back as he keeps thrusting into you.

“carlos, please, please, i’m so close, i’m-“

his hand reaches up and starts rubbing circles into your clit. 

“come for me, amore.”

you let the tension snap, and feel your breath hitch as you come. 

carlos fucks you through your orgasm, slowly, and stills when he sees you blinking back the stars in your eyes. how the fuck he didn’t come when you were squeezing his cock, milking him for all he’s worth, you have no idea.

you smile at him tiredly, grinding your hips onto his cock as you try to make him come too. he starts fucking you again, chasing his own orgasm now, reckless and hungry.

you can feel when he’s close; his thrusts are getting slower and deeper, and he’s breathing harder. you’re trying your hardest to meet him with each movement, to take more and more of him.

you start babbling at him; you need him to come.

“want you to come, please, want you to come in me, carlos.”

that sends him over the edge.

he throws his head back as his hips buck forward, impossibly deeper. you can feel his hot come gush inside you. 

the next few minutes is filled with heavy breaths from the both of you, trying to recover from probably the best bathroom hookup of your life. carlos pulls his pants up first, then helps you to the floor. he brings your clothes over from where they lay in a heap by the door. he kneels again and holds your dress out for you to step into, then pulls it up, and gestures for you to turn so he can zip it up too.

you giggle at him. 

“we should do that again.”

“here,” he passes you his phone, open already on a new number slot. you type in your details and hand it back to him.

you turn back to the mirror and attempt to pat your hair down a bit, attempting to hide your messy hair at least a little bit, but carlos wears his with pride; his chest even puffs out a bit when you point it out, “i don’t see a problem with that, guapísima.”

he grabs your hand to fit in his and you pull him down for a slow kiss, lazy and open-mouthed.

“vamos, hermosa.” carlos unlocks the door and pulls it open for you to step out first.

“yeah, carlos; let’s go, mate!”

you both look to your left to see the booth of carlos’ friends cheering at you. 

“shut up, lando,” carlos flips them off, though he’s grinning too, “pinche pendejo.”

as you walk away from them, carlos makes a show of squeezing your arse, where his mates can see. 

your own friends, only a couple booths in front of carlos’, are staring slackjawed at you and the ridiculously hot guy you just came out of the bathroom with, who is now holding onto your butt. 

you flash a smile at them, mouthing, “i’ll tell you later!”

“now,” carlos glances down at you, and then to your intertwined hands, “can i buy you a drink?”

[spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack]

aemond loves to watch you. aemond watches you dress, undress, bathe, and even do mundane chores. Do you know about this? He hopes not...

(18+) minors dni, you will be blocked.

warnings: smut, rough sex, squirting, fingering, aemond whimpering a lil, the reader is helaenas twin sister, perv!aemond, the reader a seductress lowkey. biting, public teasing, snarling YES he snarls. heavy breeding kink.

first time I've written on Tumblr in like 4 years, enjoy babes x (this sucks but the fandom is dying)

Aemond was a man of honor, duty, and sacrifice. He never strayed far from his morals.

But when he found the passages that led throughout the red keeps walls, he couldn't resist.

He had shuffled throughout the walls, begging to hear something, anything valuable. He had no clue as to what room he had stopped at to take a breath. But he found out shortly after his queries when he heard soft whimpers, his imagination trailed far, but he reigned it in, conforming to his expectations.

He pushed off the wall, his dragon-riding boots making null noise as he steadily walked towards the sound. The whimpers transformed into moans as he urged himself closer, there he spotted you, from a hole big enough for his remaining eye to see you; rolling your hips into your dainty fingers. Aemond almost felt bad, how unsatisfactory your small fingers must be for you.

It wasn't until your head fell back that Aemond grew.. hard.

Your eyes rolled back as you rode your fingers to completion, crying out as you squirted everywhere. Aemond couldn't believe what he was seeing, Who knew Helaena's twin was everything she wasn't.

And so, his obsession began. His visits had no pattern, but every time he'd visit; you would be ready and halfway to orgasming, or you'd be getting dressed/undressed, or bathing. It wasn't until a whole two moons after his first visit that he realized the synchrony of it all, as if you knew he was there...

His worries were pushed away as you opened your milky thighs, glancing in his direction. He blinked, then blinked again. You couldn't know he was there, Right?

Then as if you answered him, you pushed yourself onto your knees sliding two of your fingers into your wet cunt. Aemond's breathing hitched as his hands fell to his belt buckle, as his hands undid the belt, your hands moved faster; your whimpers of ecstasy turned into full moans.

It wasn't until he was pumping his cock he realized that you were moaning his name like a whore. He let out a quiet whimper as your fingers moved faster, his hand wrapped around his cock as he gently stroked. A pang of fear struck him as he looked back up, your eyes on his as your fingers moved in and upwards; searching for that spot.

Aemond wasn't exactly quiet with his advances on you, and after the first time he had seen you bare, you searched the walls; tapping like a madman until you found a small crack shaped almost perfectly for him to peek through. So you let him. And as your eyes met you bent your neck to the side with a final call of his name, "Aemond!" You wantonly moaned, your thighs shook as they clenched around your wrist.

Aemond couldn't last after that display, his hand tightened at the base of his cock. His cum, literally, painting the walls.

His heavy breathing rendered him unable to look up, for if he had he would have seen you staring directly at him. Your eyes were half-lidded as your chest moved hastily.

Dinner that evening was.. awkward to say the least. "So, sister... Mother told me she's planning your betrothal.." Aegon teased, Helaena sat beside him; head down fiddling with her fingers. You sat on the other side of Hel, and Aemond sat beside you, at the head of the table.

Your doe-eyes flittered between your mother, Alicent, and your eldest brother. "Oh?" Alicent looked peeved at Aegon's incessant teasing. "How do you feel about marrying-" Aegon was cut off by your mother's sharp tone. "Aegon! That is enough out of you... May we have a prayer, dear husband?" Viserys nodded, exasperated. Alicent nodded, placing her enveloped hands against her face.

the murmurs of your mother blessing your food didn't distract you and Aemond from glancing at each other, you picked up your goblet of wine; holding eyecontact.

Your ring finger danced along the ring of the cup, Aemond shuddered as he glanced in his mothers direction; only to see her scolding Aegon.

It wasn't until he felt your hand slide up his thigh, towards his inner thigh that he turned back to you. Your face bore no smirk, no grin, yet he knew you where up to something. He picked up his fork and played around with his potatos.

His breath hitched as he felt you grip the base of his cock, something Alicent noticed. "Aemond, Are you okay?" You turned to your mother, "I think he's unwell, mother, ill lead him to bed as it seems he's having struggles seeing.." Alicent looked scared for a moment, before nodding. "Of course, dear. I'll see you on the morrow." Alicent dismissed you.

You got up and walked to your fathers side, placing a kiss against his cheek. "Goodnight, father." You turned and pretended to help a sickly Aemond.

Your breathe quickened and your chest rose, causing your Aemond's attention to travel. "I promised myself we wouldnt end up like Helaena and Aegon." You whispered.

It was when you got halfway you your chambers Aemond pinned you against the wall, his rough palm placed softly on you throat. "What was this act set for, sister?" His gruff voice spoke out, his one violet eye glimmered in the moons light.

Aemond didnt know where this side of you had come from, Long had left the virtuous maiden that begged for flowers and jewels, now came the sultry nympho. Your fingers trailed his scar as his hand let god of your throat, his finger trailed you collarbone, the crevice of your breasts, up to the side of you neck. His faint touch made you shiver as you cupped his cheek, Aemond smashed his lips against you.

It was as if time had stopped, and you two were somewhere else. You moaned into the kiss, Aemond groaned at the noise, he pulled back; pecking you lips, your cheek the all the way down to your neck, where he had previously explored with his finger. His canine tooth teased the area between your neck and collar bone, then he bit down.

Not hard enough for it to draw blood, but enough to give you pleasurable pain. You moaned into the silent hallway, too loud. Aemond ripped his head back, shushing you.

"Come, my room is this way." Obviously Aemond knew where your room was, but as you gripped his hand all that mattered was you and him, his eyes trailed your hips as they swayed beneath the heavy dress

You shut your chamber door behind him, immediately reaching for the dagger on dresser. You put it behind your back and cut your corsets laces, your dress fell at your feet. Aemond untied his pant laces, as your nimble hands undid his tunic. Your shared heavy breathing and flushed faces made your stomach do twirls, could this really be it?

Aemonds soft palm landed on your cheek as he brushed your silver locks away, pushing his lips to yours as you moaned in surprise. You gently took a steps to the bed, disconnecting from the kiss; leaving a line of saliva connecting you two. The backs of your knees hit the beds boards, making Aemond grunt as your fell onto your back, looking up at him.

Aemond snarled, his fingers plunging in your heat, his thumb rubbing your clit; It took you by surprise, though your back arched and your thighs shook as it took you only a few curls of his gloriously long fingers to cum; His name fell off your tongue.

Aemond gripped one of your clenched thighs, pulling it apart as he leant in. "Are you sure?" He asked his voice thick of lust, you moaned as his hand travelled further up your thigh.

"Yes," You whispered, leaning up to his ear. "Take me"

He smirked as he positioned himself, aligning himself before gently thrusting his hips slowly. You had seen his cock multiple times, but to feel it was a complete different heaven. "Aemond! Oh my gods-" Your arms swung around his neck as he sped up, his cockhead directly hitting your g-spot. His silver hair almost hid his face, if it weren't for a little wooden clip Helaena had placed earlier.

When Alicent found you two together in the morning, she was accompanied by none other than Aegon himself. She sighed in utter disappointment; before leaving the room as Aegon howled in a fit of laughter...

He growled as he hid into your neck, nipping every few thrusts. "I'm gonna cum, sister." Your heavy breathing was music to his ears, just another sign you were close to cumming.

"Cum- cum inside me, Aemond," Your eyes grew teary as you clenched your thighs around his waist, "You want me to breed you, to fill you entirely, to make you mine forever?" Aemond asked rhetorically, but you still near-screamed your answer.

"Yes!" You yelled, jerking as you squirted, hitting his pubic bone and abdomen. That seemed to be the final thing to blow Aemonds fuse, "Im gonna come deep inside you, fill your womb with my seed." He hissed as your back arched, scratching his back.

[dljcem]

ೃ༄ Apple Cider

johnny cade x gn!reader

warnings: not beta or proof read, brief mentions of smoking/injury, prompt credits to @/lovemeagoodprompt

5 times johnny wanted to tell you he loves you + 1 time he finally did !

i.

Johnny couldn’t quite tell what you were talking about anymore. Somewhere in the conversation, he’d lost track of your commentary—who was running away, who was in jail, who was going with who, who stole what and where and why…

He was about to nod, feign (or try to, at least) some form of understanding, when you suddenly stopped.

“What?” he queries, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Do I have something on my face?”

Without saying a word, you lean in, skimming the edge of his jacket collar before folding it down. A deep flush covers his features—he can only watch in stunned silence as you regain your earlier position, almost like nothing had ever happened.

“There!” you smile brightly at him; he swears his heart stops. He’s about to say something, but you promptly cut him off, resuming whatever story you’d been sharing before.

ii.

Johnny rummages through his pockets for what feels like the tenth time—still, the familiar weight of his lighter is nowhere to be found. A smile plays on your lips upon seeing his predicament; he doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in frustration.

You retrieve your own lighter, tucked safely into the back of your jeans, and place it in his palm. That gets his attention.

“Keep it.”

He does so with hesitance, lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. Albeit a relatively small gesture, it has his head spinning—only you could make him swoon with something as insignificant.

“Thanks, Y/N.” he mumbles, averting his gaze before you can sense there’s something amiss. He drowns out the words threatening to spill from his mouth with smoke.

iii.

Johnny doesn’t like parties. Not the alcohol, or the music, or the outright concerning amounts of people. He does like you, though—perhaps that’s why he’s sitting on some flimsy couch instead of walking home.

His arm is going numb under the weight of your head, yet he doesn’t move a muscle. He briefly wonders how you sleep amidst such chaos; soundly, by the looks of it.

You stir with a small noise, further burying your face in his shoulder. He knows then he’ll be there all night. He can’t bring himself to disrupt your rest when you’re oh so peaceful.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

The rest goes unsaid.

iv.

Johnny lets you brush his hair back, doesn’t flinch as you press an antiseptic-doused cotton ball to the cut on his temple. The only sign of discomfort is the subtle creasing of his brows—somehow, you still catch on.

“You alright?”

He nods, straining a quick response to appease your concerns. He instinctively reaches up, traces the jagged outline of the wound. He knows for a fact it’ll leave a scar; an ugly one, at that.

“It’s not all bad,” you shrug, reading his mind once again, “makes you look tough.”

He looks away and tries to convince himself you mean nothing by it.

v.

Johnny rests his back on the grass, damp from the morning rain. You’re laying only a few inches away, hair splayed in different directions. He watches as you search for patterns in the stars—amidst your concentration, you don’t notice his gaze.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a closer look, smile because you’ve finally found what you were looking for (or, rather, something close to it.)

“…yeah.”

He glances at the dark sky; finds that its not nearly as pretty as you.

vi.

Johnny looks at the horizon, where the setting sun casts various shades of orange. The porch steps are rough against his knees, old and worn from years of use—still, he is calm. You seem to share the sentiment, much quieter than you normally are.

“Hey, Y/N?” his question is but a whisper; you hum in acknowledgment.

“I think I love you.”

Before he can regret it, you’re leaning your head on his shoulder. And, for once, you meet his eyes.

“I love you too, Johnny.”

[riseoftheangstywriter]

And here is the part 2 to this post!! Part one with Donnie and Mikey can be found there! :))) This was a fun ask to answer!

Leo

"Are you sure you don't want help?" you offer with a glance over at Leo's current predicament. On top of a pizza box he balances two soda cans and a small container of donuts from your favorite bakery in the city. Of course he's doing this all with one hand.

"Hermosa, please. I've got this. No need for you to lift a fin-" As he says that, something on the concrete makes him just slightly loose his balance, the soda cans rolling off from their position. Landing right into your own hands. "...ger."

Pausing for comedic effect, you grin, an unspoken agreement being made to not bring up what had transpired.

After all, it was your one year anniversary. Not to mention he had gone out of his way to make the sweetest little set up on the roof of this building so you could watch the sunset. Fuzzy blankets, string lights. and Leo. It's more than enough for you.

You settle in your spot, playing with the chain of your brand new necklace, Leo's present to you. It's hard not to admire the glint of the sapphire jewel pendant. Blue, just like his mask. You knew it wasn't intentional, having an affinity for the gem long before your feelings for him ever existed.

It was ironic however, like your heart had always known who it would belong to. Blue blue blue..

You felt strangely sentimental all of a sudden. Yes, it was only a year, ad yet the two of you had been through a lot, individually and together. Not to mention the years of friendship before that awkward stage of desperate yearning and denial.

You were.. proud. Of him, and also the "we" the two of you had become.

Leo enters your space, shoulder pressed against yours. A strand of hair is pushed away from your face. He had this ability to turn you to goo. Despite his occasional shyness, he knew exactly what did it for you. Frustratingly charming, but also way sweeter than he gave himself credit for.

He takes your hand, squeezing it. "Hey, y/n. You ready?" He coos in that deliciously soft tone he used only towards you. "Thinking about me when I'm right here?"

Lost in your head, you turn at his query. Knowing that his ego was just a front by now, you roll your eyes, returning the gesture as you rub memorized patterns into his palm with your thumb. "Maybe." You remember something suddenly. "Actually, I have a favor to ask first. Could you open a portal to my place? Just a small one right over my desk, need to grab something."

"Oh? Forgot something?" Grabbing a small pen from his handy side pouch, it comes alive with his signature ninpo as he draws a small circle in the air, a bright portal appearing.

Sticking your hand through, you feel around for what you're searching for, grabbing it firmly. What you pull out is a flat box, topped with a shiny blue bow, for a touch of flair.

You present it to Leo, a shy smile on your face. "For you. Happy anniversary, Leo."

His initial shock is replaced by a smirk, a signal he was about to make one of those silly jokes you loved. "A box? Y/n, you shouldn't have. And such a fine material?"

"Searched all over, last of its' kind," you play into the bit, trying to ease your growing apprehension about your actual gift to him.

His laugh soothes it, and you lean closer, wanting to see his reaction.

"Whaaaat...?" Leo says when he opens the box, the humor in his words gone and replaced by awe. "This is... the last Jupiter Jim comic I need for my volume 1-6 collection."

You nod, biting your lip. "In mint condition too."

"Y-Y/n, you shouldn't have," he repeats, and you don't miss the slight shake in his tone.

"Hey, don't worry," You lift the comic out from the box, not letting it crinkle to reveal the same exact one directly underneath. "I was able to find another copy. Not in mint condition, but still nice enough where you can read it! This one is just for display, since I know you've been dying to get your hands on it."

Hoping your explanation would make things better, you let him piece together his thoughts. Giving him all the time he needed.

But, what you get in response is what you least expected.

"I.. don't deserve this," like he can't stand to see it anymore, he attempts to move the box back into your lap. "I-I'll ruin it by accident, or whatever, and then all the effort you went through to get them will go to waste." He smiles, though it's fake, not reaching his eyes. "I appreciate it, you have no idea how awesome this is but- I shouldn't have it. Give it to Donnie, he wears gloves while reading his comics for crying out loud."

"Leo.." you say, softly at first. "Leo?" A question this time, because how could he even say that about something he's wanted for so long, and especially directed so negatively towards himself?

You make him look at you, tracing the stripes on his arm knowingly, comforting him. "I'm listening, and I hear you. But... no. No, I will not be giving this gift, your gift to anybody else."

"But I-"

"But I do deserve it is what you better have been trying to say, Leo," you scold gently. No anger or frustration is felt by you. Just an overwhelming amount of love and the need to tell him how he actually deserves every good thing ever, and if you could be an ointment to any pain he's ever felt, you would do so gladly.

"Donnie is just being Donnie, comics are meant to be read anyways right?" You hold his face, staring into his eyes. "I'm more offended you're refusing the box I thought you loved so much."

That line cracks a genuine smile, and you lean in. "There it is. It's fine, I'm hilarious I know. You can laugh."

He does laugh, after he slots his mouth with yours and savors your warmth towards him in a kiss. "You... are perfect. Have I told you that?"

"Mm," you hum, happy. "Yes." And don't ever stop.

You tap the sides of his face, garnering flushed cheeks and a series of churrs that fill your heart.

"Y/n...." He mutters through affectionate chirps. "You can do this later."

"When's later?" you say, relishing in teasing him for a moment longer.

Leo stills you, grasping your wrists. "After we eat, and after we go through the new issue," he kisses you again, making a promise. "I want to read it with you."

To that you could never say no, so you nod. "Okay. Fine. Truce! I surrender. No more more taps until then."

"Thank you.. not for that. For the gift," setting the box aside, he takes you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair.

"Anytime." You mold into him like putty, feeling grateful and content and Leo.

Even if the pizza ends up getting cold because of how long the two of you stay in the embrace, you can't say it wasn't worth it.

Raph

"Y/n, can Raph ask you somethin?"

You glance up from the book you're reading, the turtle mid-rep with the barbell he's working out with held in the air.

"Yeah, of course." you respond, seeing something was on his mind. Clear by the "Raph-chasm" as his brothers always called it.

Raph sets the weight down with ease, sitting up from the bench. "Do you think.. I'm strong?"

Your knee jerk reaction to his question is an exasperated scoff, but you backtrack immediately, feeling like Donnie for a moment before going full support mode. "Raph, come on, you already know you're super strong that its ridiculous; but that's not bad! It's amazing."

He smiles, but just barely, expression going back to a frown. You wonder what must be bothering him so much that he's questioning his own strength.

"Right. But," he exhales, like he's finally letting something off his chest. "Do ya think I'm, well, big?"

Book snapping shut, you set it aside, abandoning it at the sudden shift in tone of this conversation. Having the hindsight to realize it was an important one.

"What do you mean by that? You ask, wanting clarification instead of making assumptions. It was Raph, your patience could never run out towards him.

The snapper grumbles to himself, the regret and frustration in his eyes making your heart twist. "It's silly, I know I'm big. Just.. am I too big?"

Suspicions confirmed you jump up, going by his side. "No. You are not too big," you reach out a hand to touch his shoulder, feeling protectiveness overcome you "Where is this coming from? Did someone say something?" You'd fight them, if you had to.

"No. Nobody said nothin," he takes your hand, letting the gesture calm the storm swirling in his head. "Don't you notice how many things I can't do because of my size?"

"No," you answer. "Who cares about the things you can't do, what about all the things you can? Oh Raph.. your size isn't a detriment, you know that right?"

He looks into your calm, concerned pupils, sighing heavily. "... I do y/n. Raph tends to forget sometimes, that's all. Specially' when I slow the team down, or break something by accident, or I can't wear neat clothes or costumes like the others."

Heart breaking for him, you hold him close, trying to hug him as tightly as you're able. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix this, but I'll never love you any less for being who you are. Actually, it makes me love you more."

"Really?" he asks with a voice so small and an embrace so gentle you'd truly never be able to guess what he looked like if you'd never met him before.

"Really." You reply with the certainty you knew he needed. In the back of your mind however, you were thinking of ways to make his situation better.

........................

"Hey! You coming?" You peak your head into Raph's room, where he's standing over his bed, arms crossed as he looks deep in thought.

"Yeah. Be there in a sec." Tonight was the annual Lou Jitsu marathon, everyone dressing up in various versions of their idols' (and also their dads'?) signature outfits.

Raph is struggling to pick from his small collection of accessories he typically wears during such occasions.

You, with innocent intentions and a smile that seems too wide for no reason, enters to intervene. "I can always pick for you, if you want. Hm, how abouttt," you set down a bag. "This."

"What's this supposed to be?" He pokes a digit in the bag to peer inside, your furious nodding urging him on to actually see what this mysterious package is.

"Surprise!" You shout out the moment the blue and orange jumpsuit appears in his hands. Looking like it came fresh off a movie set.

"Is this..." like he almost can't believe it, Raph holds it out, amazed by the fact it actually looks like it might fit him. "Mine?

"Yes! I got it made for you!"

"You did?" you see him search for words, only able to ask. "Why?"

"Because, I know you said how it bothered you not being able to dress up with your brothers. So.. I wanted to show you that it's possible! Sure, it takes some effort, but I don't mind. I'm more than happy to do something like this for you," you never wanted his size to be an insecurity for him, because he wasn't just the "big guy" to everyone. He's the big guy with the biggest heart and humility of anyone you've known.

When tears start welling in his eyes, you can't help but get emotional yourself, letting him take you up in his arms as your feet leave the ground.

"Y/N.. you don't have to go and do stuff like this for me, but it means a lot. Thanks for makin me feel special, I really love ya," he says while almost cradling you back and forth and pressing kisses on your forehead.

"I love you too," you close your eyes, hoping this put his mind at ease, even if it's just for the night. You'd be there for any tough day after the fact.

When Raph offers an arm to you before joining the others, all dressed up and ready for the reaction he's about to get, you realize there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[mspaesthetic]

Any interesting facts you have from studying how the photocollage environments and objects were made?

I'm unsure if this one qualifies as interesting, but it's an amusing fact nonetheless. Hussie's flagrant disregard of stock image licenses and exploitation of transformative use really comes to light when you see how often the Dreamstime watermark crops up in panels.

They used to overlay their giant logo over all of their images to coerce you into paying for the originals, but let's be honest, that never stops the more strong-headed and miserly from using them as-is anyway or just editing it out. I guess at some point they realized it was marginally more effective to use diagonal text and lines all over as the watermark.

You can faintly make it out on the pattern used as the wallpaper in the dreamtowers, on one of the appearifier's monitors, and on one of John's birthday gifts.

I also managed to find the image used for the alchemized bottle of MAGNETIC WODKA on Dreamstime. It might just be my imagination, but it looks to me like he edited out something around the center there...

Here you can just barely make out part of the spiral since he cropped out the original clock hands along with it.

I just happened to come across this one when looking up references for isometric buildings.

It's possible that he specifically entered search queries on Dreamstime, but I think it's more likely Dreamstime was just the predominant stock image website in general image search results. Or at the very least the one that had the most palatable watermark to work with.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Reference archived on our website

Abstract

Co-infection with diverse bacteria is commonly seen in patients infected with the novel coronavirus, SARS-CoV-2. This type of co-infection significantly impacts the occurrence and development of novel coronavirus infection. Bacterial co-pathogens are typically identified in the respiratory system and blood culture, which complicates the diagnosis, treatment, and prognosis of COVID-19, and even exacerbates the severity of disease symptoms and increases mortality rates. However, the status and impact of bacterial co-infections during the COVID-19 pandemic have not been properly studied. Recently, the amount of literature on the co-infection of SARS-CoV-2 and bacteria has gradually increased, enabling a comprehensive discussion on this type of co-infection. In this study, we focus on bacterial infections in the respiratory system and blood of patients with COVID-19 because these infection types significantly affect the severity and mortality of COVID-19. Furthermore, the progression of COVID-19 has markedly elevated the antimicrobial resistance among specific bacteria, such as Klebsiella pneumoniae, in clinical settings including intensive care units (ICUs). Grasping these resistance patterns is pivotal for the optimal utilization and stewardship of antibiotics, including fluoroquinolones. Our study offers insights into these aspects and serves as a fundamental basis for devising effective therapeutic strategies. We primarily sourced our articles from PubMed, ScienceDirect, Scopus, and Google Scholar. We queried these databases using specific search terms related to COVID-19 and its co-infections with bacteria or fungi, and selectively chose relevant articles for inclusion in our review.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Sad Knight Palmer speed-prompt inspired by the latest Halo short story, Halo: The Machine Breaks and bellygunnr and I's Promethean Knight Palmer Au

-

The Knight's connection to its battlenet conductor is gone. It is without the combat-wisdom of the Strategos command pattern states. It is alone.

There is silence in its thoughts save for the occasional ping it sends out. Query. Nothing. Not even an echo. It switches frequencies and tries again.

Something alien and not pings back.

There is warmth and icy fear churning in her core, both foreign to this frame of metal and hardlight. The signal is friendly but not battlenet. She knows him, because he announces himself with every message, with every data packet and brush against her mind.

Who is he? Who is this being in the data? There are so few stewards left floating in the Domain, so how does it live? Why are there no orders? Why is she alone?

It is a war machine. It needs orders. Knights follow orders, give orders to their schemas of crawlers and watchers. It is a battlewagon, it must have soldiers. She is a commander, where are her S-

Query. Nothing.

There is a human looking at her. Not even wearing any of their primitive human armor around its soft flesh. He looks worried. Pinched brow, lips in a tight line, and spine straightening out of remembered reflex when he knows she's seen him worrying again.

Query.

Who is he?

His face flashes through her mind. The Knight searches its databanks. This human's face is familiar and not.

Clarification needed.

Network isolation wreaks havoc on the Knight's functioning. It has its unit frame and nothing else. No rifle. No allies.

Query.

The being in the network that is not her Strategos wraps around her firewalls. He feels sad.

Query.

Why does this Ancilla[! He is an Ancilla!] act this way? Why does he not have orders?

Conjecture: It is wrong somehow. This unit has been abandoned.

Observation: This unit does not feel abandoned.

The Knight has been in this room with the wall between it and her watchers for multiple solar cycles. Many of the humans visit it, there are tests. Most even talk to her.

This Unit remembers something other than being this Unit.

This Unit has only ever had this frame. This Spartan misses her armor.

Tom won't stop visiting her even after she sent him away.

Roland answers her pings as best he can.

The fog dissipates for a moment and the memories surface.

There is the blunt hurt of recognition in the face of unceasing loss and then she is gone again.

Durance Membrane.

Failure at the time of Composition.

Davis deserved better.

Will they remember her?

Will someone come shut her off?

The Knight's connection to its battlenet conductor is gone.

[earthshine-moon]

An Unbreakable Bond

Fandom: LoTR: The Rings of Power

Characters: Elendil, Isildur and a secret 3rd one

Word count: 759

I’ll spare you the pain of reading a summary. I can’t write one to save my life

Author’s note: I got this idea from one of the reblogs on my post about Elendil’s tunic in the sea trial scene (s2) looking very similar to Isildur’s tunic in s1. I was so excited and I couldn’t wait to write it!!

The gif and photo I used are under the title. But here’s the reblog anyway in case you want to take a look at the tags

@aadmelioraa thank you so much for letting me use your idea for this fic! I hope I did it justice

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Elendil had been searching around his bedroom for his wedding ring for what felt like hours. Thinking it had slipped off while he grabbed a tunic out of his dresser earlier that morning, he went back to it and opened the top drawer. He bent over, looking to the back and rummaging through it when his eye caught the sight of some familiar embroidery. Elendil swallowed thickly and pulled the tunic out from the depths of the drawer, dragging with it a memory.

The door scraped across the hard floor as Elendil pushed it open, revealing his wife sitting with her back to him. He stood there for a moment, admiring the way her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders. He stepped towards her, coming to a halt at her side and looking down at the khaki fabric and needle and thread in her hands.

The pattern that had been skilfully embroidered around the tops of the arms was simple yet beautiful. Arches stretched their way across the fabric, small knots forming dots adorned the spaces underneath them. His wife was working on the beginnings of a more elaborate pattern beneath it when Elendil glanced to his side. His eye caught on another tunic made from the same fabric, the same arched pattern stitched around the neckline.

“What are you doing?” Elendil asked at last, his voice as gentle as the hand he placed on the top of her spine.

His wife smiled softly, turning her head slightly in his direction while keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her work.

“Oh, nothing too strenuous; just stitching a couple of tunics for you.” she sounded light-hearted, despite her obvious exhaustion, “I have to do something otherwise I’ll lose my mind being cooped up in here.”

The hand holding the fabric moved to caress her stomach that had been steadily growing for the last nine months.

“No need to worry. They’ll be along soon; then you won’t have time to lose your mind.” Elendil teased, bending to place a soft kiss on his wife’s cheek.

He kept his face close to the side of hers as his eyes, sparkling with joy, drifted to the tunic in her hands.

“I prefer the other one.” he whispered, making the mother of his child flick her eyes up to his, a small smile forming on her face.

Reality crashed into Elendil, and his throat tightened. A moment’s consideration… then he left his bedroom, the tunic still clutched in his hands.

He found his son sitting on the step outside the back door, staring out across the garden. Elendil hesitated for a moment, his emotions almost getting the better of him. But he thought about how much Isildur loved his mother. How much this would mean to him. And he stepped over the threshold.

At the sound of footsteps, Isildur looked behind him. His gaze landed on his father’s solemn face first, before it dropped to the tunic. Isildur frowned and stood up.

“What’s that?” he queried, nodding at the khaki fabric.

Elendil looked down and forced the words out of his throat.

“Your mother made it for me before you were born. She made two, actually…” he trailed off for a moment to compose himself, “I’ve worn the other a lot but I’d forgotten about this one until today.”

Elendil looked up at Isildur who was now staring unblinkingly at the tunic with glassy eyes.

“I want you to have it, Isil.” Elendil stated softly, holding the embroidered garment out towards his son.

Isildur’s gaze snapped back up, his eyes wide and almost completely full of tears. He shook his head.

“No. She made it for you. I-”

Now it was Elendil who shook his head, raising his hand to stop Isildur’s protests. When he spoke, his tone was light and a small smile graced his features.

“You’ll get more use out of it than I ever did.”

Isildur returned the smile and, eyes still teary, gently took the tunic from his father’s hands. He looked down at it, holding it as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Isildur glanced up at Elendil before his eyes shifted away again. His father, who could always tell what he needed most at any given second, pulled Isildur into his arms.

“Thank you.” Isildur whispered, his head resting on Elendil’s shoulder. Elendil held his son just a little tighter.

[sombritas-des]

Connection - prt 1

-Body count au-

-driftcells au-

----

Hey…welcome to this odisea…hope you all can bare with me and this crazy idea that i had in mind…this is merely the introduction..is long so i have to segment this on chapters or else i think is too much..

----

The Drifter leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on the Beheaded as they worked together to bypass the labs security systems. He noticed something different about the Beheaded's demeanor, a subtle shift in their posture, a slight softening of their flames.

At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but as the days passed, the Drifter realized that the Beheaded was indeed changing. They were more relaxed around him, their signs less abrupt, their movements more fluid and they grew closer.

One moment stood out in particular - when the Beheaded had shielded him from a stray bullet, their flames flaring up to protect him without hesitation. The Drifter had felt a jolt of surprise, followed by a sense of gratitude.

As they navigated the City's underbelly, the Drifter began to notice the Beheaded protective behavior more and more. They would position themselves between him and potential threats, their eyes scanning the surroundings with an unnerving intensity.

The Drifter felt a sense of safety in the Beheaded presence, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. He started to realize that their partnership had evolved into something more, something he couldn't quite define.

One evening, as they rested in an abandoned alleyway, the Beheaded flames burning low, the Drifter caught himself watching them, studying their features, searching for answers. He felt a sense of wonder, of curiosity, about this being who had become so essential to his existence.

The Beheaded flame flickered in curiosity, meeting the Drifter's gaze, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the tension between them palpable.

The Beheaded bright core pierced through the Drifter's eyes, as if seeing into his very soul. The Drifter felt a shiver run down his spine, but he didn't look away, transfixed by the intensity of the Beheaded glare.

The Beheaded hands moved in a soft, gentle motion, signing a query, just over their shoulders "Everything okay?"

The Drifter's eyes dropped, his face growing warm. He hadn't realized how intently he'd been staring. "Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just...thinking."

The Beheaded form shifted slightly to the side as their hands moved again, their signs slow and deliberate. "About what?"

The Drifter hesitated, unsure how to articulate his thoughts. But something about the Beheaded gentle demeanor put him at ease. "About us," he said finally. "About how...different it feels, working together."

The Beheaded flames flickered softly, their core pulsing with a warm, golden light. They signed again, their hands weaving an intricate pattern. "We make a good team."

The Drifter nodded, a weird sentiment settled on his stomach,his eyes locking onto the Beheaded. "We do."

In that moment, the air seemed to vibrate with an unspoken understanding, a connection that went beyond words. The Drifter felt his heart beat faster, his senses heightened, as if he stood on the precipice of something new, something unknown.

But  Drifter's mind circled back to the Beheaded words, "We make a good team." The idea ringed inside his head, but the more he thought about it, the less it felt like a team. It felt like...something else. Something more.

He couldn't stop himself from throwing glances at the Beheaded, who leaned against the wall, their posture relaxed, their flames burning low. The soft glow of their core illuminated the thin lighted room , making them look almost...peaceful.

The Drifter's gaze lingered on the Beheaded hands, which hung loose and effortless by their sides. He remembered the way those hands had moved with precision and skill, the way they had signed with a gentle touch and at the same time how those hands were capable of such destruction.

His thoughts swirled, a mix of confusion and curiosity. What was happening to him? Why did he feel this...pull towards the Beheaded?

The Beheaded, sensing his gaze, turned their flame, their bright core meeting the Drifter's. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the tension between them palpable.

Then, the Beheaded posture shifted softly leaning slightly as to gaze at the drifter, it was almost as if their body were deflecting a cocky smile, and they signed, "Sleep, Drifter. We have a long journey ahead."

The Drifter nodded, his heart still racing, his mind still reeling. He simply gazed back at the beheaded as he felt himself grow tired, his eyes drifting shut, but his senses remained aware of the Beheaded presence, their warmth, their gentle hum as the flames flicker in the cold air. Drifter wrapped himself in his worn out capes, his chin resting on his knees, and closed his eyes, preparing for a dry, restless slumber. He had grown accustomed to the Beheaded taking guard duty when they camped outside, their unwavering vigilance a comforting presence.

The Beheaded ability to forgot rest and food made them an ideal sentinel, and the Drifter had come to rely on their steadfastness. He felt a sense of security in knowing that the Beheaded was always watching, always ready.

As he drifted off into a fitful sleep, the Drifter's thoughts lingered on the Beheaded, their enigmatic way to behave, their gentle signs, and their unwavering dedication. He felt a sense of gratitude towards them, a sense of trust that he hadn't felt in a long time. At least not in someone.

The Beheaded, sensing the Drifter's relaxation, settled into their own quiet vigilance, their flames burning low, their gaze scanning the surroundings with an unblinking stare. They stood watch, a silent guardian, as the Drifter slept, their presence a reassuring constant in the uncertain darkness.

Beheaded thoughts swirled in confusion as they gazed at the Drifter's sleeping form. They couldn't understand why they felt compelled to protect this mortal so fiercely. Caring was a foreign concept to them, a weakness they couldn't afford and yet, as they saw the soft shiver run down the Drifter's spine, despite their tough exterior, the Beheaded felt an inexplicable urge to comfort him. They moved closer, their movements gentle, and pulled the Drifter into a quiet embrace, their shoulder a steady support.

Their flames grew a bit stronger, casting a warm glow over the Drifter's face, and the Beheaded felt a strange sense of satisfaction. But the thoughts persisted, echoing in their mind like a mantra: Why are they doing this? Why do they care?

The Beheaded gaze moved to the Drifter's face, his features relaxed in sleep, and they felt a pang of...something. It wasn't quite affection, but it was close. They couldn't quite grasp the emotion, couldn't quite understand why they felt this way but it was a crushing feeling that weighed down on their chest.

As the night wore on, the Beheaded stood vigilant, their eyes scanning the surroundings, their flames burning steady, but their thoughts remained fixed on the Drifter, and the strange, unsettling feelings that had taken up residence in their chest.

As the night slowly wore off beheaded stood guard their flame was a soft beacon in the darkness perfectly controlled to lead a soft warm feeling as they simply remained watchful. Their body was coiled ready if anything dare to come near although the soft weight of drifter's head remained on their shoulder a reminder.

As the consciousness returned to Drifter's, his eyes fluttered open, his gaze met with the warm, golden glow of the Beheaded flame. He was disoriented for a moment, unsure of his surroundings, but as his senses returned, he realized he was still in the abandoned hall, the Beheaded shoulder his pillow.

He slowly sat up, his movements quiet, not wanting to disturb the Beheaded, who stood like a sentinel, their gaze fixed on the horizon. But as he looked closer, he saw the Beheaded gaze were distant, their thoughts a thousand miles away.

The Drifter's eyes roamed over the Beheaded unlike form, taking in the sharp angles, the calluses skin of the remains of their neck, and the soft, golden light of their core. He felt a sense of wonder, of awe, at the beauty of this being, who had become his unlikely ally.

The Beheaded, lost in their thoughts, didn't notice the Drifter's gaze, didn't notice as he slowly stood up, his movements quiet, his eyes never leaving their face. The Drifter felt a sense of connection, of understanding, as if he saw beyond the Beheaded tough exterior, to the complex, conflicted being within.

As the silence stretched out, the Drifter finally broke the spell, his voice low, gentle, "Hey..." he said, his word hanging in the air, a question, a statement, a connection.

The soft puff of smoke from the Beheaded flames was the only indication of their surprise, as their attention snapped back to reality. They turned their gaze to the Drifter, their core locking onto his eyes, a hint of wariness in their expression.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them palpable. Then, the Beheaded gaze softened, their gaze searching the Drifter's face, as if looking for answers to unspoken questions.

The Drifter, sensing the Beheaded gaze, felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn't quite read the Beheaded expression, but he saw something there, something that looked almost like...vulnerability.

The Beheaded hands moved, their signs slow, deliberate. "You slept well?" they asked, their voice low, gentle.

The Drifter nodded, his eyes still locked onto the Beheaded. "Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks to you."

The Beheaded gaze dropped, their flames flickering softly, as if they were unsure how to respond. But then, they looked up, their gaze meeting the Drifter's, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

The Beheaded flame faltered for a moment,soft yet erratic movements as if they were trying to contain a feeling that threatened to escape. They stood up abruptly, their movements almost jerky, causing the Drifter to stumble backward.

The Drifter's hands shot out, grasping for balance, as he struggled to process what was happening. He had been leaning against the Beheaded, and their sudden movement left him off-kilter.

The Beheaded stretched, their flames flickering wildly as they tried to hide their nervousness. Their attention darted around the room, avoiding the Drifter's gaze.

"Time to move," they signed, their hands shaking slightly.

The Drifter nodded, still trying to read the Beheaded behavior. He sensed that something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.As they prepared to leave, the Drifter couldn't help but steal glances at the Beheaded, trying to understand what was behind their sudden change in demeanor. The Beheaded mask of calm was slipping, revealing a hint of turmoil beneath.

The air was thick with tension as they set out into the unknown, the Drifter's curiosity about the Beheaded strange behavior growing with every step. Drifter adjusted his capes, securing them tightly to his back, his movements methodical. The Beheaded watched him, their gaze lingering on the Drifter's hands as he worked.

Once the Drifter finished, he nodded to the Beheaded, and they fell into silent step beside him. Their movements were synchronized, a testament to their growing partnership.

As they navigated the lab's corridors, the Beheaded flames cast flickering shadows on the walls. The Drifter's eyes scanned their surroundings, his senses on high alert for any signs of danger.

Their goal was to reach the exit, to escape the lab's confines and emerge into the bright, harsh light of day. From there, the Drifter could teleport them back to their base, where they would analyze the maps and plan their next move.

The Beheaded thoughts were a jumble of emotions, their mind struggling to process the strange, twisted feelings that had surfaced. They couldn't quite grasp what was happening, but they knew they needed to focus on the mission.

As they walked, the Drifter cast occasional glances at the Beheaded, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. He sensed that something was amiss, but he didn't push the issue, not yet.Their silence was a comfortable one, a testament to their growing trust. They moved as one, a united front against the unknown dangers that lay ahead.

-----

[part 2] [Part 3]

[fayes-fics]

Hello my friend! For the Fanfiction-Work-in-Progress Guessing game my word is:

Fingers

and in the HIGHLY unlikely event you're not using that word in a fic:

Solid

Hi lovely! 🫶

Again apologies that its been so long. Haha I think I know why you chose that word ;)

Fingers

That word features in NINE of my WIPs hehehe. Detail under the cut:

--

Your fingers sink into the luscious, thick, short chestnut waves, his scalp so warm against your fingertips.

--

“Will you now?” he dares, fingers swirling promisingly on your bare bottom.

--

Benedict inclines his head so his lips ghost over yours, teasing with an almost kiss. “Oh really? And what will you need from me?” he asks silkily, his fingers teasing patterns over your bare hipbones.

--

He bows his head, lacing his fingers together loosely in front of him as he looks upon you through his lashes—a gentle, reproachful demeanour that softens the sharper edges of your irritation.

--

You cling to his waistcoat and push up onto your tiptoes to spar more, his hands sliding down your back to grab your bottom, making you squeak into his mouth. You've never been held there before, and his fingers seem to span the whole of your cheeks.

--

You gasp into his searching mouth as Benedict’s fingers dive between your legs, passing featherlight over your clit, enough to have your whole body cant into him.

--

“What would, Santa?” you query, fingers digging into the meat of his quad muscle, the bright red fabric ruching under your nails.

--

“The latter,” your reply muffled around his questing fingers, a frisson low in your belly that he may take you roughly by the roadside in the dead of night.

--

“Oh no, no. The very opposite. To let her run wild…” his fingers trail up your forearm, causing goosebumps in their wake, your breath quickening. Then he leans in, his lips by your ear again, breath hot “....and hang on tight because that will be the ride of your damn life.”

--

So uhhh yeah sorry this is late. One day I hope to finish all of these WIPs.🤞Thanks for your ask 😁🧡🧡

[just-astrology-stuff]

Hi ! I was wondering if you could do Libra sun Gemini moon and Aries rising ? :)

Libra sun, Gemini moon, Aries rising.

Curiosity and inner restlessness spur you on to explore the world, to search for answers and hidden meaning. Detached and objective, you are a real intellectual, and it’s difficult for you to understand those who are content with surface impressions or who choose to dwell upon the superficial aspects of life. Eloquence is one of your greatest gifts. You can convince anyone of just about anything, because people can sense your inherent honesty and respond positively to graceful, easygoing manner. Even though you often alienate others with your incisive wit, most people appreciate your candor and realize your intentions are always the best. Boredom and indifference are the two things you must always struggle against. Enthusiastic and high-strung, you have a love for excitement and variety. Half the time you’re busy getting yourself into trouble and the other half you are busy trying to get yourself out of it! But those troubles are never at the expense of others' as being unfair will always bug you at the back of your mind.

You tend to view life from such a detached perspective, you may easily fall into the trap of believing that the world offers no one solace or hope. Then, instead of putting your faith in the here and now, you may search out otherworldly experiences through mysticism and the occult, or through your bizarre imagination. A pagan and a rebel at heart, no matter how hard you try to conform and adapt to the world you live in, you’ll never get over the feeling that you really belong in some other time and place. (A better look at 12th house and 1st house placements will help me elaborate on this more). With Aries ascendant you may have a strong push and pull tendency with wanting to be your true self but at the same time wanting to be some other version of yourself that may "suit" a group of people or situation better. In such cases, as self preservation, you may feel your social battery is a little drained as you slowly recognise this pattern about yourself.

One thing you have going for you is your sense of humour. You are able to laugh at yourself and at the human condition. So no matter how sad or alienated you may become, your underlying lightheartedness and appreciation of life’s irony should see you through. Humour and light hearted gossip is also a great way for you to make friends. You have great diplomatic skills and you may be able to avoid any conflicts or fights as long as do not take things too personally. You have a good balanced personality and are very self aware! At your worst, you have to be careful not to get too self critical or too egoistic! (again something that can be better explained looking at 12th house, 4th, 5th and 8th house placements). You're great at leadership roles- not just a leader that gives orders but gets down to the level of their team and listens. It is every other week you find a creative/intellectual project for yourself and you give it your all! Aries ascendant are famous for starting projects with soo much vigour they can burnout midway. But your Libra sun may keep pushing as it is "the right thing to do" to finish what you've started. I'm seeing a pattern of self-care that is essential for you to maintain- mentally and emotionally.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed making this post for you! Feel free to tip me if this resonates; feedback is appreciated always! Any queries related to payment can be addressed through DM. Check out my other posts here.