#top air quality monitors

[zeroloop]

Radoff Now Air Quality Monitors

Questo e un sistema di monitoraggio per controllare la qualità dell’aria e non solo dentro casa . Nella scatola c’è il dispositivo, il caricabatterie e le istruzioni. Per usare il sistema bisogna scaricare l’app “Radoff” e registrarsi con nome, cognome ed email. Poi si può collegare il dispositivo alla rete Wi-Fi e gestirlo con l’applicazione ma anche utilizzarlo con assistenti vocali come Alexa…

[reasonsforhope]

"A team of researchers at Washington University in St. Louis has developed a real-time air monitor that can detect any of the SARS-CoV-2 virus variants that are present in a room in about 5 minutes.

The proof-of-concept device was created by researchers from the McKelvey School of Engineering and the School of Medicine at Washington University...

The results are contained in a July 10 publication in Nature Communications that provides details about how the technology works.

The device holds promise as a breakthrough that - when commercially available - could be used in hospitals and health care facilities, schools, congregate living quarters, and other public places to help detect not only the SARS-CoV-2 virus, but other respiratory virus aerosol such as influenza and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) as well.

“There is nothing at the moment that tells us how safe a room is,” Cirrito said, in the university’s news release. “If you are in a room with 100 people, you don’t want to find out five days later whether you could be sick or not. The idea with this device is that you can know essentially in real time, or every 5 minutes, if there is a live virus in the air.”

How It Works

The team combined expertise in biosensing with knowhow in designing instruments that measure the toxicity of air. The resulting device is an air sampler that operates based on what’s called “wet cyclone technology.” Air is sucked into the sampler at very high speeds and is then mixed centrifugally with a fluid containing a nanobody that recognizes the spike protein from the SARS-CoV-2 virus. That fluid, which lines the walls of the sampler, creates a surface vortex that traps the virus aerosols. The wet cyclone sampler has a pump that collects the fluid and sends it to the biosensor for detection of the virus using electrochemistry.

The success of the instrument is linked to the extremely high velocity it generates - the monitor has a flow rate of about 1,000 liters per minute - allowing it to sample a much larger volume of air over a 5-minute collection period than what is possible with currently available commercial samplers. It’s also compact - about one foot wide and 10 inches tall - and lights up when a virus is detected, alerting users to increase airflow or circulation in the room.

Testing the Monitor

To test the monitor, the team placed it in the apartments of two Covid-positive patients. The real-time air samples from the bedrooms were then compared with air samples collected from a virus-free control room. The device detected the RNA of the virus in the air samples from the bedrooms but did not detect any in the control air samples.

In laboratory experiments that aerosolized SARS-CoV-2 into a room-sized chamber, the wet cyclone and biosensor were able to detect varying levels of airborne virus concentrations after only a few minutes of sampling, according to the study.

“We are starting with SARS-CoV-2, but there are plans to also measure influenza, RSV, rhinovirus and other top pathogens that routinely infect people,” Cirrito said. “In a hospital setting, the monitor could be used to measure for staph or strep, which cause all kinds of complications for patients. This could really have a major impact on people’s health.”

The Washington University team is now working to commercialize the air quality monitor."

-via Forbes, July 11, 2023

-

Holy shit. I know it's still early in the technology and more testing will inevitably be needed but holy shit.

Literally, if it bears out, this could revolutionize medicine. And maybe let immunocompromised people fucking go places again

Also, for those who don't know, Nature Communications is a very prestigious scientific journal that focuses on Pretty Big Deal research. Their review process is incredibly rigorous. This is an absolutely HUGE credibility boost to this research and prototype

[loudlooks]

Day 13 - Nursing a baby animal back to health

30 day challenge notes: quantity over quality, limited editing, stand-alone/unrelated stories unless specifically stated otherwise, not always tiva, chronologically randomly set in whatever pre-s11 season seems to fit

A/N: Tony's curiosity could get Abby into trouble. Big thanks to @living-in-unreality for the prompt inspiration (please don't feel obligated to read this).

Prompt: Nursing a baby animal back to health

Word count: 850

-

The lab was mostly silent, except for the usual beeping and whirring of machines he would never quite grasp—Abby’s manuals were helpful, but without McGee’s help he surely would have made something blow up. He looked at the various monitors, trying to figure out if any of them were showing something related to their current case, but quickly realized he needed about five more years in college to even come close to deciphering any of that.

Tony blew air through pursed lips and checked his watch. Abby had ordered him downstairs immediately, and now there was no sign of her, or her tell-tale music. Not that he was complaining about the latter.

He sat down on a stool, spun around five times, and stopped facing the wall with the team’s photos. There was new one of Abby and Ziva, he noticed, and got up to get a closer look. Maybe snap a shot of it for his own team album, which contained a disproportionate amount of Ziva, but that was neither here nor there, and totally coincidental, doesn’t prove anything.

A somewhat muted chirping coming from the office was all it took to distract him and investigate the new noise. It didn’t sound like anything he had heard in the lab before. In fact it sounded suspiciously like a bird. Tony grinned, assuming Abby had changed the ringtone on her phone, and had left the device unguarded in her office. What kind of a friend would he be if he didn’t make sure there wasn’t an emergency.

With a quick glance in the direction of the sliding doors, he slipped into the office, zoning in on the direction of the chirping.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, as he pulled open the top drawer with confidence.

Victory made room for confusion as he stared at the source of the chirps. He tilted his head as if that would change, or rather, explain anything, and completely missed the sound of sliding doors and heavy footsteps.

“Tony!” Abby admonished. “Stop going through my stuff.”

With raised eyebrows, Tony said, “Your stuff?”

Abby made a disgruntled sound and stepped in between him and the open drawer.

Tony looked over her shoulder, and deadpanned, “It’s high time you do some spring cleaning here, there are birds nesting in your desk.”

Abby turned around abruptly, facing him and pushing him back a few feet, while shushing him. “You’re scaring it.”

“Abby, why is there a bird in your drawer?”

“I found it this morning.” She glanced at the hungry baby bird, not quite a fledgling, but getting close. “If you tell anyone I’ll-“

“Yeah, yeah, not an atom of evidence left behind, I know.” He looked at her seriously. “You really shouldn’t keep it here, though, you know that, right? If any of the evidence gets contaminated-”

The sound of the sliding door was quickly followed by Ziva’s hurried footsteps. She rushed into the office with a triumphant look on her face, and held up a cardboard box. “Abby, I have the…” Her eyes went wide as she spotted Tony. “Crickets.”

Tony looked at her in disbelief. “You know about this?”

“It’s just a baby bird, Tony, what was she supposed to do?”

He shook his head. “You can’t have live animals in a lab full of evidence and dangerous chemicals.”

“Shush!” Abby admonished, and took the box of crickets from Ziva, and tweezers from the desk.

Ziva played with one of her earrings, and glanced at Tony. “We can keep it in your desk, then, you always brag about how good you are at attracting birds.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I have never referred to women as birds, and you know it.”

“Never?”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “Not since I was a teenager.”

“Fine, I’ll keep it in my desk,” Ziva said matter-of-factly, and turned her attention to the nestling being fed. “It’s so round and puffy,” she said with a bright smile.

Tony frowned, and shook his head. “That’s not going to go down well with Gibbs.”

Ziva stood up straight and crossed her arms in front of her. “I was a Mossad officer, do you really think I’m afraid of Gibbs?”

He looked her square in the eye. “Yes.”

Ziva pursed her lips.” Okay, maybe a little.” She held up a finger. “But, Abby is his favorite, so all I have to do is survive his glare long enough to explain…” Freezing for a split second, she quickly glanced over her shoulder, certain Gibbs had snuck up on them.

Tony scoffed. “A little, huh?”

“You guys, it can’t even fly yet, it can’t go anywhere near the evidence.” Abby looked at Tony expectantly and gripped his arm with both hands. “You know how careful I am with evidence, it’ll only be for today.”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes, then looked at Ziva for backup. Ziva, who was staring at him with a puppy dog look he had never seen, nor expected from her.

His shoulders slumped, and he nodded imperceptibly. “Fine, but if Gibbs finds out, you two are on your own.”

-

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @hopeless-nostalgiac, @mrsmungus, @indestinatus, @happygirl-0408

[headstrongblake]

[ swat ] your muse swatting mine's hand away from something they're not supposed to touch. / kassy & o / @thewholecrew

for the afternoon it's nice to be outside. to breathe fresh air instead of the sterile hospital, she'd been dying to escape the second she woke up. this normal quality time in the sun with everyone surrounding her is exactly what she needs. & if octavia ignores the painful twinges in her stomach when she moves, it's almost like nothing terrible has happened at all.

she's still sitting on the picnic table with grant as nick begins to corral the group back toward them with his large plate of food. hunter and bellamy join them first before alec and kassy saunter up the hill together. alec encouraged rev to join them while it looked like kassy had enjoyed a nap under the tree, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before they sparkled as her arm linked through octavia's. "hi baby," o greeted her warmly, smiling as grant and her moved off the top of the table to the benches below. "alright, i cooked, you lot can serve yourselves." nick told the group as he smirked, setting out the last of the bbq while alec unpacked different sides and fruit trays from the coolers.

although her appetites had been low ever since the surgery, octavia couldn't pass up reaching for a plate to grab some strawberries before she withdrew her hand at kassy's smack. "hey!" her brows drew together, shooting her best friend a look. kassy simply shrugged her shoulders, "i will get you a plate all set," was all she offered as an explanation as octavia rolled her eyes, watching her best friend dish up an array of foods for her. even if she wanted to argue that she could get herself food, she knew it would do no good. it brought kassy joy to take care of them, and who was she to deny kassy after all she'd put her friends and brother through?

"o," bellamy's hand at her elbow startled her as she turned toward him. he held out some water for her before emerald hues watched his fingers leave her arm, moving to his pocket as he pulled out a bottle of medication. her teeth clenched as her insides excitedly reacted to seeing the pills her brother dispensed into his palm, "time for your meds," he said, offering them to her like she was still a child. it's for the best. both of them know it, but it only makes her feel weak. pitiful for needing her brother to monitor her pain meds until the stitches come out, and she can work toward kicking this again.

quickly, octavia washed down the medication with a silent thank you to her brother before she turned her attention back to grant and the plate of food kassy had created for her. while everyone chattered around the table, octavia slowly picked at the fruit on her plate, basking in the sounds of her family. grant's right...this feeling right here, how they support each other and linger in each other's company...this is what it's like to have a family. "hey guys... i have something to say," spilled out of her before octavia could really consider the consequences. this is her family, and she's only ever survived her addictions because of bellamy. his unwavering support as her family. maybe this time...it didn't have to be on just the two of them.

as the chatter ceased around her, emerald hues flickered to her big brother. she knew he already knew. he knows her better than anyone. has been there to experience her blissful highs and devastating withdrawals. "i wanna thank you all; really, these past few weeks are not how i wanted summer to end but it means the world to me the way you all rallied around bell while i was out, how all of you supported me while i was in the hospital..." she begins with her gratitude because although she feels incredibly undeserving of it, she loves all of them immensely. as she spoke her eyes wandered along her group, the addict side of her screaming to leave it at that. but she pushes it aside for her sake.

"i haven't been the most honest with any of you this summer..." she admitted, her eyes moving between grant and her best friend. by telling them the truth, she's accepting the long hard road to recovery. accepting that she no longer wants to shove everything beneath a glorious high. if she tells them everything, she admits the oxy is a problem too big for her to contain herself. "the massive drug debt chase had that got us shot? it wasn't just his. i've been using a lot of oxy and coke since july...thousands of dollars worth and um," shamefully, her head dipped from everyone's gaze as her hand curled against her sweatpants. "after this is all healed," she gestured toward her side where she'd been shot, "i'm going to stop using...i want to, but um, i guess you all are my family and i just...wanted you to know. tried of lying..."

[swirlysmile]

Hi! I usually don't go for angsty stuff but I read your one shot about the reader who ejects and I love it! And this came to my mind: hangman gets hurt, out of danger but the reader (who is a pilot too but they're not dating yet) spent a couple of hours worried until they told her what his state was and when she gets to his hospital bed and sees him starts crying because of the all worry she's been through and feeling relieved now, hangman wakes up and does some silly teasing about the fact that she's crying for him

your wish is my command, dear anon!

word count: 589

warnings; mentions of hospital, descriptions of wires, hangman still being pretentious after almost dying

Lil’ Old Me?

Logically, you know your job is dangerous. The planes can malfunction- pilots can too. Being faced with the realities of your job is much more shocking than being aware of them, though. 

“Is he alright?” You say, running up to Mav’s side. 

“Passed out in the hospital.” 

“Goddammit.” 

You’re hoping that Maverick knows

more than he’s letting on, but it’s not likely.  If you had been told a few years ago, when you graduated the Top Gun program, that you’d be this worried about Hangman, you would have rolled your eyes and laughed. The team building exercises that Maverick had forced everyone to do helped, though. 

Helped your opinions, helped your feelings, helped you learn to trust the people around you in the air. You always have to be cautious, you know that much, but maybe you’re a little too wary of your coworkers sometimes. 

After asking around base though, you realize Maverick wasn’t lying. He doesn’t know anything more than anyone else, or you for that matter. 

“You guys can go see him now,” Maverick says at the end of the day, and you let out a sigh of relief because he's okay, and also because the only other thing you’d been told was that he was out cold in the hospital.

“You look like hell dude,” Coyote stares, a mountain of treats in his arms. 

“Never been better.” Jake says, sarcasm dripping off of his smile. 

You almost cry. 

The exit sign is looking very tempting right now, but Rooster holds you in place. 

“Bagman.” Phoenix gives a mock salute.

“I feel like a Bagman.” 

“You look like one too.” Payback says, getting a little high five from Fanboy.

Everyone awkwardly shuffles throughout the small hospital room, I mean seven pilots and one patient? That’s a lot of people in the room. 

“We were worried, glad you’re okay.” Bob says, handing him a few cards. “I’m just the messenger.” He puts his hands up in surrender, praying that he won't get killed thanks to everyone’s potentially not so kind words. 

Hangman isn’t exactly a fan favorite among the group. 

“Yeah,” Rooster starts, giving him a look. He makes a gesture with his hands towards you. “This one wouldn’t stop asking for news about you.” 

That makes your face heat up and you almost punch Bradley. Payback clears his throat, trying to take attention off of you and it mostly works. Fanboy starts talking and everyone shifts gears, turning to look at him, but Hangman just keeps staring at you.

It’s a little intimidating, and honestly gives you the chills.

You step out before Rooster can stop you.

Everyone files out, one by one, slowly but surely. You realize that’s your cue to slip into the room and spend some quality time with the man of the hour.

Without the crowd of pilots in the room, obscuring him from your vision, you see all the tubes, all the wires, and monitors hooked up to him. This time, you do cry. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” He says, and honestly it’s the softest you’ve ever heard Hangman sound. “Don’t cry,” 

You go to flip him off, “You’re such a douchebag. I was worried, you know.”

“Over lil’ old me? I guess Rooster made that real clear.” 

“God, I’m so glad you’re okay,” and you would have gone to hug him if he hadn’t been laying in a hospital bed at a very awkward angle.

“I’m pretty glad that I’m okay as well. Couldn’t have Rooster sliding into my spot, could I?” 

[reactor-four-official]

Rare photographs of one of the bathyscaphes used to lower liquidators into the ruins of Reactor 4.

The Sarcophagus of Chernobyl Unit 4 was constructed on top of the ruined reactor hall, using the existing structure as support for its massive weight. Engineers were unsure at the beginning of construction if the building could even support parts of the Sarcophagus. Initially, engineers could only find locations to place the prefabricated pieces of the Sarcophagus using photos taken from the helicopters above the reactor building. On a few occasions, men were sent to scout out potential locations for these structures on foot via passages in the plant. This proved extremely dangerous, and so another solution was brought forward by NIKIMT, a Soviet think tank responsible for several other innovative solutions within the zone; a twenty-one ton lead box with a single leaded glass window 30 centimeters thick. It was equipped with air filters that filtered the air to nearly 100% purity, allowing liquidators to work around the reactor for several hours at a time. Designed to accommodate up to four men, they were affectionately named the batiskaf, or bathyscaphe. These monstrous boxes would be attached to the hook of one of the cranes operating at the site by a short cable and lowered into the reactor hall. This allowed engineers to more closely assess the condition of the structure and find locations to rest the massive beams that held the roof of the Sarcophagus up. Those who worked in the bathyscaphe, known jokingly as “Cosmonauts”, communicated with the operators of the cranes via radio. Work could also be conducted through ports in the walls, through which a manipulator arm could be extended. It was also used on the rare occasion that welding was required on the Sarcophagus. Without this equipment, the Sarcophagus would not have been completed safely. It was also used after the completion of the Sarcophagus to monitor the condition of the construction and reactor hall, until it was retired in 1988 due to instability issues.

Once again, my apologies for low quality images. A few of these images are so rare that I could only find them in one place.

[Image descriptions: Top left image: The bathyscaphe is a large white metal box about seven feet tall, four feet long, and four feet deep, with a single square window. It has several lifting cables attached to its roof and several pipes jut out from it pointing towards the ground to keep it from falling over.

Top right image: they bathyscaphe in ‘flight’.

Bottom left image: The bathyscaphe from another angle, showing the single porthole.

Bottom right image: This is a photo of the bathyschape’s interior. Two manipulator arms sit below the window, and a small stool is welded onto the floor where an operator could sit.

PS feedback on my image descriptions is very much appreciated and helpful. I am new to this, but I think everyone has the right to learn and experience history and if you have any suggestions or comments on how to improve my descriptions please do not hesitate to reach out! I am more than happy to provide more detailed image descriptions as well upon request. Many thanks for your interest!]

[ppc-for-air-ticketing-website]

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[militantdungeoneer]

Rant ahead

I wish all climate change deniers would live at least a day in an affected area. Hell I’d like to see them survive even an hour. This shit affects me on a physical and mental level, and not just me unfortunately. Everyone here.

Welcome to Uzbekistan’s capital. The city is a cauldron surrounded by mountains making air very stagnant, with most winds only coming here during dust storms. And thanks to the rapidly advancing car producers and imports as well as the shitted public transport system, the air has become unbreathable. I have to check the quality of air outside before opening my window, lest I have my parents break out in coughing fits. I thankfully have resilient and adaptable lungs, but not everyone is as fortunate. I’m sorry, how dystopian is it to get notifications of “Air quality is deteriorating!”.

And those installing stations to monitor air quality are having their data reported as errors because it’s so fucking high.

And how do you think the temperature is here? Not only is it normally boiling here but with the greenhouse it’s become its regular to go outside and feel temperatures upwards of 40 degrees C. I can not walk outside in summer because each breath in feels like your lungs are being burned up from the inside. Why is it normal to have to have air filters everywhere to have breathable air quality? And the government is just trying to hide it. And all I can do is just hope I don’t get lung cancer at age 20.

But hey at least we’re top 20 in something :’))

[saey707]

Kinktober Day 3 {Viktor}

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Spooky Prompt: Stuck in Wall Champion Focus: Viktor (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) Female reader 🎃 Warning: NSFW!

Author's Note: Day 3 of Kinktober! I have nothing to say for once, other than Viktor will be a half robot in this sequence! This is pretty much the time period where he’s just beginning to modify himself (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) So enjoy!

You were an overly zealous sheriff for Piltover. You took your job very seriously, priding yourself in keeping the peace as equally as you did assure even criminals had a fair trial in court. You didn't want people to fear you, especially those in Zaun. Unlike most wardens and sheriffs in the ranks, you were a compassionate soul.

Sure, you carried out your duties respectively and maintained your sunny disposition, but still, that didn't stop the job from being mundane most days.

From what you analyzed in the statement, it seemed one of the automatons got hold of a hextech gemstone. While you never saw one in person, you knew they were a big deal. You had friends at the academy that talked all about how it would be the future someday, and the cost to import them from Shurima has been a rising fortune in the techmaturgy world.

Venturing down to Zaun, you found it difficult to get any answers. Still, you were hopeful. You knew there would come a point where you would find a break in your case. You couldn't blame anyone from Zaun for not wanting to speak up and offer their assistance.

Venturing down to Zaun, you found it difficult to get any answers. Still, you were hopeful. You knew there would come a point where you would find a break in your case. You couldn't blame anyone from Zaun for not wanting to speak up and offer their assistance.

Analyzing your clipboard, you sighed, dropping your hand to your side. Shit... How long have you been down here? You wondered, checking the monitor on the side of your mask. Air filter's almost done for... You grumbled to yourself. Piltovans aren't conditioned enough to sustain this sort of air quality. If you ventured any farther, then you really wouldn't be able to breathe the thick, contaminated Zaunite air.

But a glimmer of hope came to you in your hour of need. From the corner of your eye, an automaton stared you down, sauntering closer until it hovered before you. It began to analyze you with its red-orange eyeball, your eyes wide and fixed on the creation. "Remarkable..." It was so different seeing it up close compared to the images, you were bound to get excited! Lifting a hand, you tilted your head with a curious smile.

Before you could reach your hand out and touch it, a shrill noise came from its underbelly, causing you to cover your ears with a yelp. The damned robot wasted no time in snatching your top hat with its grubby, metallic claws, fluttering off.

"H-Hey! Wait! Come back!" You yelled, dropping your clipboard to chase after it.

You ran, barely brushing your fingers on your hat the few times you could. Narrow alleyways passed you, and you nearly ran into some of the residents, cutting into the alley that seemingly belonged to its host. You were only able to catch a glimpse of the alley's name: Ember... what?

As the automaton escaped into a small, narrow hole protruding from the wall, you gasped and ran into the wall it passed through.

But you were too big to fit into the space, your torso catching on the slim sides of the circular hole.

"No no no no!! No!! Shit!!" You exclaimed, trying desperately to pull yourself through, into what appeared to be a... lab. This is a lab...

You analyzed the room, breath quivering as you took note of the lines of automata lined across one wall. You took note of the stove, two to three, half-empty glass bottles of what appeared to be milk beside it. They had to have just been picked out today... And if this was the case, you knew you were bound to see the damned maniac.

You weren't stupid. Oh no, you could piece two and two together. This was most definitely the home of the boogeyman wreaking havoc in Piltover-

"Well, well, well... Looks like we caught another nosey little rat~" You heard a calm, accented voice behind you, on the opposite end of the wall, followed by a gentle chortle of laughter and a robotic bubbling noise. They're laughing at you!!

"So cute, it's like she wanted me to find her in this pathetic, little position~ ♡" They sang. Judging by the tone of voice, you could tell this was, more than likely, a man.

For some reason, his voice sounded so familiar.

He brushed a gloved hand along the small of your back, giving your ass a generous squeeze. You gasped, angrily kicking a foot up to stop him. "Oi!! Don't touch me there, you pervert!" You exclaimed, the man grunting and releasing you.

"Fiesty little enforcer, hm~ I will have to take care of that." He spoke in a low tone. And when you heard that line you were thrown right back to the last time you listened to that voice.

Yes, the three of you were friends before, along with your other colleague... The colleague that generated this report for you in the first place... How could you be so stupid: Of course, he wanted to get Jayce's hextech gemstone!! Of course, he did!! How could you be so stupid?

No... how could he stoop so low?!

"Viktor..." You seethed.

His hand gripped your waist. You yelped, trying to kick your leg up. But he showed restraint this time as if he anticipated you would try to fight back. You knew that smug bastard liked that about you...

You felt his other hand apply pressure to your clit, fingers working calculated and precise magic. It was almost as if he has done this before- Has Viktor done this before?? Is he even a virgin? Of course, he isn't! Oh, he was so cute...

"Ah~! Viktor..!! If that's you... Hgnn~! You're- Ah! You're gonna regret this!!" You slammed your hands against the wall, trying once more to pull yourself through.

"You're so silly, (Y/N)... As if I would ever regret fucking you in such a humiliating position~ ♡" He peeled his fingers away from your panties. You can only guess he was observing them now; This sick, geeky bastard!!

"You've always been such a little slut for me, hmm?" He slapped your ass, a needy whine trailing not short of what he did. "Mmhm... I always saw the way you looked at me when we were at the academy, (Y/N)~"

"Noo..hmm~! Viktor!! Stop!!" You cried out. But it was as if he wasn't listening- Like he was genuinely enjoying you in your vulnerable state!

"Now look at you... Wandering around my territory... Just waiting for me to fuck you." Moaning, you shook your head. You couldn't deny that you had a crush on the damned fool... But that was beside the point!

You desperately attempted to press your legs together, but he peeled them apart.

"So wet... Did you want me to find you like this?"

That damned accent, paired with his slow and skillful fingers... You felt like you were going insane! You rubbed against his fingers, trying to pick up friction. That only amused the machine herald more, his fingers tapping against your sensitive skin.

When he pulled his fingers away, you needily scowled, smacking the wall a couple of times.

"Oiii! Are you just going to leave me hanging?! Bastard!!" You kicked the wall with the edge of your boot.

Viktor snickered, hands gripping your hips so you were aligned with his cock, rubbing against your inner thighs.

Then, he pushed past your folds, roughly slamming himself into you. His dick!! It's inside me!

"Aw... It went in so easily. Don't tell me you're not a virgin, (Y/N)... And to think I was saving myself for you." You heard him tease as he tore your insides up, quickly beginning to push himself in and out of your pussy.

"Ah~ Ah~ Ah~! Sh-Shut up!! No!"

"Ohhh, so you were saving yourself for me. How thoughtful... ♡" He continued to assault your pussy, pumping himself in and out.

He's so big! I feel like I'm going to break!

"Mmm~ Hmm... Hmm~! Viktor!! ♡ Yes! Ah, right there~! ♡ Yes! Viktor!!" "You little cockslut~"

He started slapping against your g-spot, and you felt your eyes roll back, teeth grating into your bottom lip.

And when he pushed into you a final time, you felt a warmth in your core, pushing yourself against his deliciously long cock.

"Best of luck getting out, sheriff~" He pulled his length from your throbbing pussy, huffs of breath matching your own.

"Mmm... So cruel~ ♡♡" You breathily mewled, feeling his hot seed spilling from inside.

"Yes... But I know you like it~"

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA's near space network enables PACE climate mission to 'phone home'

The PACE (Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem) mission has delivered its first operational data back to researchers, a feat made possible in part by innovative, data-storing technology from NASA's Near Space Network, which introduced two key enhancements for PACE and other upcoming science missions.

As a satellite orbits in space, its systems generate critical data about the spacecraft's health, location, battery life, and more. All of this occurs while the mission's science instruments capture images and data supporting the satellite's overall objective.

This data is then encoded and sent back to Earth via radio waves through NASA's Near Space Network and Deep Space Network—but not without challenges.

One challenge is extreme distances, where disruptions or delays are common. Satellite disruptions are similar to what internet users experience on Earth with buffering or faulty links. If a disruption occurs, Delay/Disruption Tolerant Networking, or DTN, can safely store and forward the data once a path opens.

NASA's Near Space Network integrated DTN into four new antennas and the PACE spacecraft to showcase the benefit this technology can have for science missions. The network, which supports communications for space-based mission within 1.2 million miles of Earth, is constantly enhancing its capabilities to support science and exploration missions.

"DTN is the future of space communications, providing robust protection of data that could be lost due to a disruption," said Kevin Coggins, deputy associate administrator for NASA's Space Communications and Navigation (SCaN) program. "PACE is the first operational science mission to leverage DTN, and we are using it to transmit data to mission operators monitoring the batteries, orbit, and more. This information is critical to mission operations."

PACE, a satellite located about 250 miles above Earth, is collecting data to help researchers better understand how the ocean and atmosphere exchange carbon dioxide, measure atmospheric variables associated with air quality and climate, and monitor ocean health by studying phytoplankton—tiny plants and algae.

While PACE is the first operational science user of DTN, demonstrations of the technology have been done previously on the International Space Station.

In addition to DTN, the Near Space Network worked with commercial partner, Kongsberg Satellite Services in Norway to integrate four new antennas into the network to support PACE.

These new antennas, in Fairbanks, Alaska; Wallops Island, Virginia; Punta Arenas, Chile; and Svalbard, Norway, allow missions to downlink terabytes of science data at once. Just as scientists and engineers constantly improve their instrument capabilities, NASA also advances its communications systems to enable missions near Earth and in deep space.

As PACE orbits Earth, it will downlink its science data 12 to 15 times a day to three of the network's new antennas. Overall, the mission will send down 3.5 terabytes of science data each day.

Network capability techniques like DTN and the four new antennas are the latest enhancements to the Near Space Network's catalog of services to support science missions, human spaceflight, and technology experiments.

"NASA's Near Space Network now has unprecedented flexibility to get scientists and operations managers more of the precious information they need to ensure their mission's success," said Coggins.

In addition to these new capabilities, the network is also increasing the number of commercial antennas within its portfolio. In 2023, NASA issued the Near Space Network Services request for proposal to seek commercial providers for integration into the network's expanding portfolio. With an increasing capacity, the network can support additional science missions and downlink opportunities.

TOP IMAGE....An artistic rendering of multiple Earth-observing satellites around the globe using NASA’s Near Space Network to send back critical data. Credit: NASA/Kasey Dillahay

CENTRE IMAGE....NASA’s PACE satellite’s Ocean Color Instrument (OCI) detects light across a hyperspectral range, which gives scientists new information to differentiate communities of phytoplankton – a unique ability of NASA’s newest Earth-observing satellite. This first image released from OCI identifies two different communities of these microscopic marine organisms in the ocean off the coast of South Africa on Feb. 28, 2024. The central panel of this image shows Synechococcus in pink and picoeukaryotes in green. The left panel of this image shows a natural color view of the ocean, and the right panel displays the concentration of chlorophyll-a, a photosynthetic pigment used to identify the presence of phytoplankton. Credit: NASA

LOWER IMAGE....The Near Space Network’s new antennas in Alaska, Chile, Norway, and Virginia. These were developed in partnership with KSAT. Credit: NASA

[venusandsaturnsrings]

ok but incel childe stalking u through ur webcam,,,, ur laptops always gonna be open cause u procrastinate a lot of ur work and end up sleeping with it open on some random word document (childe shakes his head, this is why u should just drop out and leave the pesky things like papers to him) and he gets full access to ur room through it.

he gets a full view of u sometimes jerking off the stress of school,,, he's had the recording of it saved and used as jack off material sometimes.

i feel like he'd bully u too by erasing some important documents u finished or need by a deadline and he'd watch u look for it and cry like the incel he is (sometimes hearing u sob has him reach out for his cock)

at one point, he'd put in his carefully crafted virus that would cause ur laptop to 'break' and none if the other techs could figure it out (and suggest a reformat of the entire laptop) which u obviously don't want to, u have important things in it! so someone suggested the best tech student in their class, which happens to be him.

every… single time… anyone sends me shit like this it makes me squirm and cry from joy. HES SO NASTY AND WOULD 100% DO THAT YOU HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD!! anon i want u so bad

what was originally supposed to be small thoughts turned blurb btc lol

his gaming set up, naturally, has several monitors and he always keeps one open and free to watch you!! he’d be a horrible future boyfriend and husband if he wasn’t looking after you so much D: it’s only right for him to start his duties early, no? half the time he’s sighing at your silly and dumb antics and half the time he’s cooing sweetly at the screen. you’re just too cute!! stupid but cute, he thinks.

and it’s only natural that he savours the more intimate moments most. the first time he saw you begin to touch yourself and whine he couldn’t even find himself able to move. he was rock solid in his pants but fuck he couldn’t miss a second of this even if it was to take his sweats and boxers off or begin to record. through the whole ordeal he barely even breathed. he just sat, watching, and waiting. the vulnerability of it all had him bucking soft and uselessly into the air at the same tempo your fingers set. ‘that should be me’ he thought. ‘that will be me’ he knows. it just has to be. the second time he’s smart enough to screen record the whole thing. he turns off every other application to make sure nothing could potentially compromise the video quality since he surely needed something to get him through the next while he waited for you to fall into his arms. it would be self torture if he allowed himself to refrain; not that he would, in any case. it’s become a nightly ritual of his to either watch you get off in real time or in those videos he’s compiled.

he’s got a huge thing for degradation and consequently dacryphilia as well. seeing you cry is one of his very favourite sights. at first, it was a simple slip of a finger that deleted one of your documents but watching as you uselessly whimpered and cried had him doing it on purpose from there on out. honestly, it gets to the point he jacks off more to you crying than the sight of you getting off. he wants to reassure you all while only making things worse. he wants to make you cry harder. he wants to make you cry knowing it’s for him. <33

he’s at the top of all his courses and whips through even the most difficult assignments without a problem so he ends up with a lot of free time. given his skills, developing malware that will lead you right to him is of utmost priority. obviously, he can’t make the solution easy so he creates his own mashup of C++ and Malbolge to make it virtually impossible for anyone but him to figure it out. he uses basic functions but in the most convoluted way possible (thank you Malbolge for being a nightmare coding system) so he’s certain none of the other students or professionals will solve the issue. naturally, after several of the smartest people you know look at it silently, you’re sent to childe. and he’s thrilled. finally. finally you’re within arms length. finally he can have you the way he wants.

he looks over your laptop briefly while sporting a lazy grin before handing over his address and phone number so he can ‘take a further look at it’ which, unbeknownst to you, is bullshit. he’ll invite you over, hook a couple things up, press a handful of buttons and bam. problem solved. you’re stunned because how the fuck did he do that? the reality is he did fix the ‘issue’ but he also imported everything onto his hard drive. you don’t need to know that though. his heart pounds at the way you cheer and smile at him as if this wasn’t a mess of his own creation. childes hands are sweaty and his glasses askew but you’re just so happy so he tries not to focus on that. he shifts to pull the pocket of his hoodie down, hands still shoved inside, so you don’t catch a glimpse of his raging hard on. you ask to pay him back. with a light blush he says ‘payment? hm… i’ll take a date in exchange. how’s that sound, princess?’ you say yes enthusiastically.

he has the most satisfying orgasm as soon as you leave, load busted all over the hand that touched the keys of your laptop <33

[amityalvarez]

Guide to Candle Making at Home

Learning to make candles is a pleasant way to add warmth, aroma, and personal flair to your living spaces at a time when handcrafted and personalized design is more appealing than ever. Making your own candles at home is not just a fun pastime, but an artistic endeavour that may help you relax with the peaceful flicker of a handmade candle or give loved ones a token of your creativity and heart. With the help of this beginner candle-making tutorial, you will learn all the fundamentals of candle-making and become an expert candle maker from the comfort of your own home.

Getting Started: The Basics of Candle Making

Candle-making combines simplicity and creativity, allowing you to customize everything from the scent to colour to shape. The basic supplies you need include:

Wax: The soul of your candle. Soy wax is popular for its clean burn and environmental friendliness, while beeswax enchants with its natural, sweet fragrance and air-purifying qualities.

Wicks: The heart of your candle. Cotton wicks are a go-to for a steady burn, crucial for an evenly melting candle.

Fragrance Oils: The personality of your candle. Essential oils or specially designed candle fragrances allow you to tailor your candle to any mood or preference.

Containers: The body of your candle. From sleek glass jars to rustic ceramic pots, your container says as much about your candle as the fragrance does.

Melting Pot: A double boiler or a dedicated melting pot for wax.

Thermometer: To monitor the wax temperature, ensuring it's perfect for adding fragrance.

Colour Dyes: Optional, if you wish to add a splash of colour to your candles.

Step-by-Step Guide to Making Candles at Home

Preparing Your Workspace Make sure everything in your office is tidy and nothing you don't require. Making candles may get messy, so having a designated area is ideal. Cover your work surface with old towels, newspapers, or craft paper. This helps to prevent spills and drips of wax and facilitates cleanup. Arrange all of your supplies and equipment so they are accessible. Included in this are your thermometer, double boiler, container, wick, fragrance oil, and any colouring agents you intend to employ.

Melting the Wax Put the water in the bottom pot of your double boiler on the stove. Fill the top pot with the wax and slowly melt it over medium heat. Check the wax's temperature with a thermometer. The best temperature to add fragrance to soy wax is about 185°F. Burning or evaporating the fragrance oil in the wax might result from overheating.

Adding Fragrance and Colour After the wax reaches the proper temperature, take it off the burner and allow it to cool for a short while. By doing this, the fragrance oil is kept from vanishing too soon. Add your fragrance oil and stir until well combined. As a general rule, one ounce of fragrance should be added to one pound of wax, but pay attention to the directions on the fragrance oil. Now is the time to add dye, if using. Solid dye chips can also be used, but liquid dye blends more smoothly. Add little by little and stir until the desired colour is reached.

Securing the Wick Dip the base of your wick in the melted wax, then quickly adhere it to the bottom centre of your container. This helps keep it in place. To keep the wick centred and upright as the wax cools, place a pencil, chopstick, or skewer across the top of the container and wrap or clip the top of the wick to it.

Pouring the Wax Ensure the wax is around 135°F to 145°F before pouring — this temperature range helps prevent cracking and ensures a smooth surface. Gently pour the wax into the container, leaving about half an inch at the top. Pouring too quickly can create air bubbles.

Cooling and Curing Let the candle cool to room temperature, out of the direct sunlight and drafts. This may require up to a whole day, contingent upon the candle's dimensions. Reheat the remaining wax and slowly pour it over the surface to even it out if a sinkhole appears close to the wick. Cover the candle and allow it to cure for a minimum of 48 hours after it has completely cooled. Curing enhances the perfume by allowing the fragrance oils to completely bind with the wax.

Finishing Touches Trim the wick to about ¼ inch above the wax. This helps ensure an even burn and prevents the flame from getting too large. Use warm, soapy water to clean your tools. Wax is easier to clean while it's still slightly warm.

Why Make Your Own Candles?

Beyond the satisfaction of creating something beautiful, making your own candles allows you to control the quality of the ingredients, ensuring they are environmentally friendly and safe to burn in your home. It's also a wonderful way to personalise candle gifts to friends and family, infusing them with your personal touch and affection.

Ready, Set, Create!

Candle-making is not just an activity; it's a way to personalize your space, create meaningful gifts, and enjoy the tranquillity of crafting something beautiful and functional. With the basics down, you’re ready to embark on a journey of creativity and relaxation, making your own candles at home with ease and confidence.

[countlessrealities]

Kinda 👀 Prompts || Selectively accepting !

@mcltiples sent: [KNIFE] sender uses a knife to rip receiver's clothes { To Evil Rick from Weird Rick >:D }

There were a lot of things that Rick found fascinating about his partner. Some more entertaining, others more frustrating, but all undoubtedly worth his interest and attention. Even when he wasn't directly involved, he liked to watching, observing the other going through his motions, speeches, choices, hows and whys with the same focus he usually reserved exclusively to his experiments.

His alternate's mood were one of Rick's favourite phenomena to monitor. They were so volatile, and mostly unpredictable. They could be as explosive as the weapons the man enjoyed building or as subtle as a the light twitch of an eye. They jumped from an emotion to the other, always close to the extremes, always shying away from mildness.

He could tell that his partner wasn't being honest with his feelings whenever they were played out with strict moderation or calm.

However, this didn't mean, as one could think, that apathy was something unknown to his alternate. It was a rare show to witness, but it did happen. Just as everything else, it was deep, absolute, totalising, and it required a very special, very careful handling.

That, though, wasn't the situation at hand. Rick wasn't dealing with one of his partner's most violent moods, whether on the heated side of anger or with the ice cold quality of pure detachment. The other seemed to be in a quite cheerful mood, lively and playful, with a clear side of mischief.

And, of course, lustful too, judging by the way his alternate had shoved him into the closest wall and was assaulting his neck with his teeth and tongue. Judging by the viciousness of the attack, by the time their encounter ended, he would have sported quite the collection of bruises.

One of those hands was insistently grabbing at the front of his shirt, alternating pulling at it and pressing against his chest, as if to make sure that Rick's back would remain firstly pinned against the wall.

His partner's other hand was somewhere by his side, oddly not trying to touch him as he would have expected, and the reason for it became instantly clear when the sound of cloth ripping filled the air between them without a warning. Oh, so this was the game of the day.

The blade was so sharp that it cut through the fabric as if it had been melting butter and nicked the flesh underneath, drawing a steady red line from the top of Rick's sternum to the line of his navel. Thick droplets of blood gushed out of the wound, their warmth in contrast with the cool air of the underground hideout.

Rick's only reaction was a raised eyebrow, conveying the barest hint of judgement. He didn't mind the sting of the wound since pain had little meaning to him nowadays. If something, under the right circumstances he could even appreciate the way it lit up his nerves, forcing his whole being to feel connected, even if just briefly, with the universe that surrounded him.

In a different situation, he would have given into the urge of voicing what his gaze was already hinting at, but his partner seemed delighted and even more turned on by his handiwork. He could tell by the way the other was leaning more heavily into it, hard, hot and solid against Rick's thigh. Those hips were moving, slow and almost imperceptibly, seeking from his body a hint of satisfaction that could take the edge off.

How could he deny this pleasure to the man who owed each and every atom of him?

His features relaxed back into a more neutral expression and he let his nape rest against the wall, focusing on the feeling of that tongue teasingly lapping at the cut. His alternate's hand had slipped under the torn shirt, wrapping itself around his side, tight and possessive.

Rick's fingers found their way in the other's hair, tugging sharply at those blue locks and using them to press that face more into his chest. He wanted to smear his partner's chin and cheekbones with his blood, so that he could lick it off later.

A hum rumbled in his chest, as the knife worked to get rid of his belt and slash through his trousers, leaving behind more stinging cuts. Clothes could be easily replaced, he mused, distractedly registering the fabric falling off him piece by piece, until he was left bare for his partner's eyes to feast on.

This man who had made himself into a god and the twisted, unbreakable thread that linked them together? It was one of a kind even in a universe made of infinite realities.

[warningsine]

NEW DELHI, Nov 3 (Reuters) - India's capital New Delhi was wrapped in a thick layer of toxic haze on Friday and some schools were ordered closed as the air quality index (AQI) plummeted to the "severe" category.New Delhi again topped a real-time list of the world's most polluted cities compiled by Swiss group IQAir, which put the Indian capital's AQI at 640 in the "hazardous" category on Friday, followed by 335 in the Pakistani city of Lahore.Regional officials said a seasonal combination of lower temperatures, a lack of wind and crop stubble burning in neighbouring farm states had caused a spike in air pollutants.Many of New Delhi's 20 million residents complained of irritation in the eyes and itchy throats with the air turning a dense grey as the AQI hovered around 480 in some monitoring stations.An AQI of 0-50 is considered good while anything between 400-500 affects healthy people and is a danger to those with existing diseases."In my last 24 hours duty, I saw babies coughing, children coming with distress and rapid breathing," Aheed Khan, a Delhi-based doctor, said on social media platform X.There were fewer people in the city's parks such as Lodhi Garden and India Gate, popular with joggers.Residents snapped up air purifiers. One service centre for the appliances said there was a shortage of new filters and fresh stocks were expected on Monday.

Officials said they saw no immediate improvement in the air quality.

"This pollution level is here to stay for the next two to three weeks, aggravated by incidents of stubble burning, slow wind speed and cooling temperatures," said Ashwani Kumar, chairman of the Delhi Pollution Control Committee.

Farmers in the northern states of Punjab, Haryana and Uttar Pradesh typically burn crop waste after harvesting in October to clear their fields before sowing winter crops a few weeks later.

This year, attention on the worsening air quality has cast a shadow over the cricket World Cup hosted by India, with financial capital Mumbai also suffering from a spike in pollution levels.

Delhi hosts a World Cup match on Monday between Bangladesh and Sri Lanka.

A concentration of toxic PM2.5 particles, which are less than 2.5 microns in diameter and can cause deadly illness, was 53.4 times the World Health Organization's annual air quality guideline value in New Delhi on Friday, according to IQAir.

While junior schools in the capital were ordered shut for Friday and Saturday, they were open in the suburbs and children boarding school buses were forced to wear masks that had been put away since the end of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Poor air quality also caused respiratory problems, irritation in the eyes and restlessness in pet animals.

"Breathing trouble can develop into pneumonia or other ailments in younger animals. If possible, avoid taking pets out on morning walks for a few days till the air improves," said Prabhat Gangwar, a veterinarian at animal welfare NGO Friendicoes.

[mrsmarchw]

Queen of my pitiful soul - James Patrick March

you can see the previous chapter here

you can see the next chapter here

II. Burgundy mess

Dijon, Burgundy, France

February 1st, 1976

Melinda had only set foot in the wine capital a few hours earlier before finding herself seated across from the two most prominent winemakers in the Burgundy region.

"Anette, show her to the room. Make her feel at home!" the man in his early 50s instructed the maid. "Once settled, dear, you can join us." He finished, this time addressing Melinda.

The servant led her through the grand corridors of the house. Melinda thought the place could be considered a sanatorium, with all those white and bland walls and decorations. It was enough to drive anyone who wasn't already lost mad.

Finally, in the room that was to be her lodging, there was a hint of color: an emerald-green armchair next to the bed, which had white and mint-colored floral sheets. The maid helped her place her bags in the corner of the room, so that they could be unpacked later with ease.

"Can you help me with this, please?" Melinda turned back to her and gathered her hair in her hands on top of the head, giving a perfect view of her nape and the zipper to which she referred. "Thank you!"

"How long do you plan to stay?" Anette asked. She didn't seem too pleased with the idea of having another person to serve.

The maid was short and thin, she must not have weighed more than 45kg, and despite her childlike appearance, she had many wrinkles and expression lines. If she would improve that ugly face, maybe she wouldn't have so many, that's what Melinda thought. She wondered how such a small woman could manage such a large house with so much voracity, since there wasn't a speck of dust on the furniture.

"That will depend on many things." Melinda slid the dress off her body, wearing only a pair of panties, not caring about the presence of the little one. "But don't worry. I plan to be quick." She teased as she looked for a new outfit in one of the bags.

But as Melinda settled into her room, she couldn't clear the feeling that something was amiss. The pristine white walls and tasteful decor seemed too perfect, almost as if it were hiding something. And as the evening progressed and she joined her hosts for a tour, she couldn't overcome the distress that she was being watched, that every move she made was being closely monitored.

As the season dictated, there was not much to see, yet the first stop was at the plantations. They explained every petty detail of the factors that influenced planting and harvesting - an early harvest could result in watery wines, while a late harvest could result in a higher alcohol content, but less acidity. Melinda listened to it all in silence, with a sly and false interest - as if she didn't know much more than they did.

The tour extended to the quality control center in the cellars. The entire winery was completely sophisticated, from the ceiling to the floor. They guided her through all the stages of wine production, before offering a taste of an old vintage. By the end of the tour, night had already fallen and the temperatures had dropped considerably, considering the winter in there.  The wine flowed freely, and the conversation was light and pleasant, but Melinda couldn't rid oneself of the unease that there was something off.

The air was chill, but the warmth of the fire was inviting. The light flickered against Melinda's face, casting shadows that concealed her true emotions. She had an uncanny ability to hide her true state of boredom, with a beautiful smile and nods of the head every time she was flattered. It was a fact that she found them interesting and pleasant, but her attention was little affected by it. She was there for one thing and one thing only, counting the seconds until she could put an end to this theater.

Patience is a virtue, she reminded herself incessantly - like a mantra. She was accustomed to being overly patient, but there was something about the two of them that almost blinded her with desire.

"Tell us, Linda," Some steps were skipped as they called her by such an intimate nickname, but as always, she was indifferent. "Where and how did you meet our Mateo?" Mr. Beauchamp held the woman's hand at chest level as he guided her along with his wife to the open-air fireplace in the external area of the mansion.

"Well..." A subtle smile spread across Melinda's face as she spoke. "It was at the engagement dinner of the President's daughter, and I'll have to be honest," Melinda let out a nasal laugh, carefully choosing her words. "Though modesty was in short supply, your son was the one with the most inflated ego. Even more than the couple themselves." She let out a moderate chuckle, studying the reactions of her listeners - each one wore the most exaggerated smile.

It seems that when one is born into such abundance, these individuals end up embracing their own mannerisms and dialect: veiled arrogance - when they want to please. And in that moment, all they wanted was to satisfy the young Melinda, with the hope that she would marry their eldest son. She had everything they deemed as prerequisites: she was cultured and socially educated, breathtakingly beautiful, an art lover, connoisseur of fine wines, affluent, well-connected, and most importantly, she enchanted the man like any other woman ever had.

Secretly, they believed their son was gay. An absurdity, they thought. The mother was the worst. I gave him a home, food, love. What was missing? How could it be possible that he turned into such an aberration?, she would think morning and night, day after day.

Then she appeared. Melinda was an inscrutable being, divinely profane. There was no God or devil that could explain her existence. Immediately, the sober man turned into a lovesick boy. The couple must have heard her name more coming out of his mouth than any other word in all their years of life.

But despite his determination, Melinda was like an iceberg - cold, impenetrable and highly dangerous. Naturally, she did nothing but refuse him countless times, although "giving in" to his invitation for a few days at the vineyard. He thought he had merit, but she had her own inclinations.

"But, as soon as I get to know him, I realized I was mistaken," she gave a false sweet smile, watching the expressions of the two influential people soften. "He asked the groom to introduce us and insisted on a dance. Matéo is truly a sweetheart."

"I see... and why did you turn down all of his proposals then?" This time it was Marjorie who spoke, with a passive-aggressive tone, but a shine in her eyes.

"Marriage is not of my interest, unfortunately." The dark-haired woman smiled with her eyes, her magnetism dazed the two.

"I believe it's obvious the reasons for our son's enchantment with you," Mr. Beauchamp poured more white wine for both women. "It's well-deserved, as this is a special occasion."

The maid approached, drying her hands on her apron, simply to announce that dinner was ready.

"Shall we?" Henri beckoned. "We have a feast awaiting us."

"Tonight we shall have smoked duck breast. Have you tried it, my dear?"

"That's not quite what I am hungry for." Her voice came out like a siren's melody, a hypnotic tune. Not that they weren't already entranced, but that simple statement sealed the deal.

The couple exchanged glances and, subtlety, the woman nodded to her husband, giving him assurance of what she was about to do. Melinda was caught off guard by the lady's long hand on her knee, slowly climbing up as her own lips curved slightly.

This was a rather frequent habit of the couple, as Melinda received such invites, but she never expected it to happen in these circumstances. An hour ago they were questioning her for turning down their son's marriage proposals, and now they were courting her.

Obviously they did not pick up on what she meant by that. Well, anyway, it would take her where she wanted to go.

In that moment, the young woman saw the perfect opportunity to fulfill her desires. Henri, who was seated on the bench next to the women, approached them with a sense of urgency, leaving Melinda in the middle. Whispered breathless murmurs could be heard loud and clear, and even on that cold winter night, they could barely contain their eagerness to rip off their clothes.

Even in a grand house like that, one must be careful of unwanted eyes. Especially if the goal was not to create enemies with one's own son. The three hurried to the bedroom with a sense of impending pleasure. The tension was suffocating; the desire, overwhelming. The minutes it took for them to make their way from the fireplace to the suite felt like hours of desperate anticipation.

As the lovers stripped down, the moans became more frantic. It was all an hallucination for Melinda. The sounds, the touches, the smells, the sensations... It was as if pleasure was tearing her skin apart.

And then, when the lovers reached their simultaneous climax, they both collapsed on the bed, lying on their backs. Rude, Melinda thought. What kind of gentleman wouldn't make a lady come?

"Linda," the man began, with his eyes closed and his hand resting on his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. "You've killed me." He let out a weak laugh.

The woman sat on top of him, her long nails tracing a path from the side of his neck down to his navel. She leaned in, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear, "But darling, I'm just getting started." And with that, she plunged a wine bottle into his jugular, the blood pouring out onto the bedspread as the man's body went limp. The woman sat there for a moment, watching as the life drained out of him, a twisted sense of satisfaction in her eyes.

In that moment, the room seemed to slow down. Marjorie's horrified gaze intensified as the blood poured from her husband's throat in agony, creating a mess of deep burgundy that mingled with the lips of his killer.

She immediately indulged in the source of eternal life, and as she swallowed the first drop of blood from the powerful man, she reached her climax. In the end, he helped her get there.

He thrashed beneath her like a helpless creature and what she loved most was feeling his pulse fade away. Each and every time was like the first and she loved it to death.

When he was nothing more than a lifeless weight, she turned to the widow who, at that point, was cowering on the other side of the room with a glass candlestick in her hand, ready to throw it. 

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," she approached slowly. "To be honest, I did like him better."

"HELP!" the woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

Melinda looked at her with disdain before pointing the gun she had just used moments before at the center of her forehead.

That month, the country was shocked by the brutal murder of one of the most influential families in France.

"ATROCIOUS MURDER OF THE BEAUCHAMP FAMILY"

This afternoon, on Monday, February 2nd, the bodies of 5 individuals were discovered at the home and winery of the Beauchamp family.

It is estimated that the crime was committed the day before, based on the state of the bodies. Among them were Marjorie and Henri Beauchamp, and their 25-year-old son, Mateo - officially ending the family line. Who will inherit the family business remains to be seen.

Close friends were able to identify the three victims. The identities of the other two individuals, believed to be employees, are still being confirmed by the police. The investigation into the case is ongoing and police are leaving no stone unturned in their search for answers and justice for the victims and their loved ones. This tragic event has shock the entire country and the police are urging anyone with information to come forward.

It was headline news. Melinda, as always, emerged completely unscathed. Perhaps it was due to the technological limitations of the time, or her extreme discretion, but in any case, she always managed to escape. It mattered little to her the state of utter terror the country was in, after all, who would dare mess with someone so powerful and come out unharmed? Certainly, an well wise psychopath, one who anybody would dare messing with.

But in reality, she wasn't one. She was a good person. But she had questionable morals, and for a little blood from a respected family, she would commit atrocities.

Melinda's peculiar taste for blood had its origins at the turn of the century, when she drank from a wealthy and renowned poet. It was like taking a potion of creativity, wisdom, and talent; bottled wealth, power, influence, and prosperity.

She would feed on anyone available, driven by her fear of scarcity, never knowing when her next opportunity would come. She was insecure, easily swayed by her emotions, and incapable of thinking rationally, even for an immortal. She would typically prey on the homeless or drug addicts.

Ever since then, since she tasted the glorious blood, she knew nothing but abundance in life. Melinda had her connections, which protected her in case things went south, but at the same time... it was as if she were a nobody, in a good sense. She could do anything, no matter how absurd, and come out unscathed.

Of course, she would never be caught, she was an entity. She was a flash of memory, as soon as she was out of sight, she was forgotten, leaving behind only a captivating nostalgia, like a déjà vu. There is no one in the world of the dead or the living who would remember her existence - unless she wants them to. Melinda was much more than that.

It was not just her immortality that set her apart, but her ability to evade capture and remain untouchable. Even she herself was uncertain of her origins or what she truly was.

[lemonboi390]

The End is Never the End

Chapter 1: Don't Do It

Stanley Suddenly Falls ill, and the following events shake both the narrator and Stanley's fabric of reality. Nothing is what it seems now.

A/N: This is one of my first ever fanfictions, and it was inspired by a role play so I apologize if the quality is lacking in any way. I'll be posting sporadically as inspiration comes at random. Chapters will be uploaded to AO3 first. (Link on my blog) Sorry if there are any grammatical issues. Thank you for reading!

TW: Illness, Car Violence, Blacking Out, Canon Typical Bullying, Emotional Distress, Angst With A Happy Ending

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-All of his coworkers were gone, what could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room; perhaps he had missed a memo,” The narrator’s voice rang out, making Stanley merely sigh in response. 

Stanley stumbled into the meeting room, a dull ache pressuring his skull as he struggled to keep his heavy legs from failing on him. His motivation was simply not there today. He sauntered onwards, trying to keep his lingering discomfort in check. Stanley stopped in his tracks when he noticed the door to the meeting room seemed…distinctly different. It was metal and had “EXIT” in neon red letters bored at the top. 

“As Stanley looked around the meeting room, he couldn’t find anyone at all! As he looked for his co-workers, he noticed a flashing light at the end of a door marked “EXIT”

Stanley hesitated; this was new. The narrator rarely included new content such as this. He held his hand over the handle, as a few coughs ripped through his throat, making him wince in response to the burning pain he felt. He zoned out for a few moments, staring at the neon red “EXIT” at the top. The dull ache at the back of his head strengthened as he strained his eyes. He snapped himself out of his trance, shaking his head. I may as well…

“Stanley put his hand on the handle, he opened the door and stepped outside-” 

Stanley stepped out onto the street in front of him, it looked like a quiet neighborhood. He noticed a bright, blinding light heading toward him. He blinked, and- 

“-And was immediately hit by a car” The narrator stated jovially.

Stanley gasped hoarsely as he opened his eyes, looking around at the familiar office as he realized it restarted. He took a few deep breaths and glared up at the ceiling, tears blurring his vision. Usually, he had a high tolerance for the narrator's shenanigans, even taking a small hint of humor in it, but today was simply not his day. He coughed a few more times with greater harshness, rubbing his neck in a soothing way to ease away the pain. What the hell?

Stanley fell back into his office chair, his body insurmountably heavy. He took a deep, uneven breath, and gestured weakly with his hand, searching his mind for words. He did not like talking, words were such a fickle thing for him. It always made him feel uncomfortable, the thought of someone hearing his voice, knowing what he was really thinking. It was an even greater struggle with the flickering light of the computer infecting his vision, making his already pounding headache worse. He leaned back in the chair, spinning it away to avoid the monitor's glare. He closed his eyes, trying to rub away the aching pressure in his skull. His hands were clammy against his skin as if he were running a fever. 

Finally, he sighed languidly, “Look I…I feel under the weather today. I don’t want to do the story.” his voice was wavering, like he was about to cry. 

There was a silence in the air for a few moments before he heard the narrator's voice mumbling, unsure if he was talking to himself or Stanley. “Under the weather…” The narrator began, “Under the weather indeed, perhaps Stanley just needed a break. Yes, a break is what you need” The narrator cleared his throat ceremonially, “Stanley, you should head back home and rest…” He sounded almost apologetic, and a quiet hung in the air once more. 

Stanley's vision danced with orbs moving in and out of his point of view. When nothing more was said, he gradually forced himself out of his chair, grunting in discomfort as his legs shook from the strain of forcing himself up. He held onto the wall with one hand, and made his way down the hallways, grabbing onto the door frames for support as he entered from one hall to another. His mind was growing fainter and more distant. 

He heard the remote sounds of paper shuffling, the narrator's voice growing further as he heard him mumbling to himself feverishly. “No…no that’s not right…but how…?”

He couldn’t care about what he was saying at this point, the only fixture of focus with which his mind could process was laying down somewhere. He did not know where he was, his brain too foggy to tell or even remember where on the map his house was supposed to be. He leaned against the cool wall, his breathing shaky as he slid to the floor. His mind felt like a ball of cotton, but he knew the one thing he needed.

“Help…?” 

For a moment, Stanley could hear the narrator's frantic footsteps and his heavy breathing. The sounds drifted away as he started sliding out of consciousness. 

“No, no, no Stanley! Don’t sleep! Don't you do it! Don’t-” The narrator's voice faded into darkness, and so did Stanley’s senses.

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Chapter 2: A Cruel Joke https://www.tumblr.com/lemonboi390/723245659991539712/the-end-is-never-the-end?source=share