#Q-bits

[zomb13s]

The Evolution and Impact of Supercomputers and Servers in the Modern World

Introduction Supercomputers represent the pinnacle of computational power, evolving from massive, room-sized machines to sleek, compact devices with immense processing capabilities. These advancements have drastically transformed scientific research, industry, and even daily life. In parallel, server technology has undergone a rapid evolution, supporting the backbone of global networks and data…

[kenchann]

alexa play im not okay by my chemical romance

[ski0k]

can’t believe this week’s invincible episode was basically steven yeun in the booth yelling and arguing with himself for like an hour

[qcoded]

I personally hc Tails as half french, although I think he wouldn't be THAT fluent in the language. BUT, he does know a few phrases, and one of them is "I love you" = "Je t'aime"

for the longest time, he'd randomly say it to Sonic, mostly when they'd say goodbye (albeit casually). Sonic wouldn't think much of it, just another one of his brother's quirks. Until one day he decides to actually translate "Je t'aime" and everything just makes sense to him LMFAOOO (mostly finding it cute)

[thunderbottle]

world cold and eggless husband soft and warm. at least he would be if he was ever around. is anybody else sad or

[pricetagged]

Part 2 of that wifehunter john piece instead of working on my wips 💖

Masterlist l Previous l Next

Warnings: implied stalking and voyeurism. Nothing too bad...yet.

Unedited, typed on my phone during break, abrupt ending (part 3 ig?)

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He thumbs at the book, tracing the swirls of your penmanship until the ink fades off and the paper turns to felt. It leaves his fingertips stained, dark as indian ink, and he can't help the satisfied burr that catches his breath as he presses the sticky whorls of his prints into the pages.

Stained. Blackened.

Imprinted.

It's what he wants to do to you in something more indelible than ink, something that would burrow under your skin and linger. (This parasitic desire, he'll bury it in you, make you feel his presence deep in your guts, squirming and wriggling at the back of your mind-)

Of course he returns the book. Returns it to you marked and dogeared and of course you're grateful for it. Tripping over your words and choking on the thanks that build up and tumble from your delicate throat, feelings and words too big for you. 

He knows that, sees the slight hesitance in your eyes as they flit to the window where he knows your useless Buck is ambling about. Shambling. (This marriage is a sham, his claim on you is a sham, one that John is more than willing to seize upon and squeeze until it all crumbles and all that is left is you malleable and soft in his hands).

"Where...where did you find this? I thought-" He sees how you choke down condemnations, not wanting to crack open that door that leaves your husband exposed.

Is it loyalty? Obedience?

Whatever it is, he wants it. Wants to redirect it his way. It itches at him, sits awkwardly like a broken seam, seeing you waste this fidelity on something still wet behind the ears.

On a man who can't even protect his own home, can't even cherish his own wife and has to call John in to pick up the mantle-

"It's good work. Shouldn't leave it lying around, sweetheart," he raps against the front cover, needs to do something with his hands before the impulses take over and he does something hasty. Something that would send you darting back to your husband's arms instead of in to his. "Would be a real waste if it got lost. Taught me how to transplant herbs, now I've got some parsley on my windowsill that's still alive."

It's a lie. He must have strangled the roots, harvested it too soon, something-

But it makes you happy. He can see the glow that warms your cheeks and brightens your eyes. They way your face plumps up, softens, due to your shy smile.

"You should've tried mint, first. It grows like crazy, basically does its own thing. Basil, too." You're grinning, in your element out here. Surrounded by green and the rich, earthy scent of the soil that you till. Geosmin. Oakmoss.

"I'll have to get you over to show me sometime."

He plays gallant so well, offering to help you with the weeding and trimming. It wouldn't be the first time he got down into the muck and the mire. Wouldn't be the first time he stuck his hands in, got them caked and dirty right up to the elbow in order to get what he wants. In order to do what needs done. It's as familiar to him as the uniform he wears.

And your company makes it so much more pleasant.

You smile at him, glancing up from the flowerbeds each and every time he passes you a tool. Eventually you feel comfortable enough to call for him - John? - to tap at his wrist and redirect his hands around the roots and stems below you both. It's a beautiful symbiosis: you, who are so good at wringing life and he who is so good at taking it.

He catches the way the living room curtains twitch, the shadow of the young buck pacing and pawing just out of sight. Too much energy, not enough courage. Not seasoned enough to come out and plant himself between the challenger and his wife. It's stable vice, sending him spinning, uselessly watching as John sidles in and digs his paws into the very foundations of the house. It makes him smile, big and broad as he tugs at a particularly stubborn weed with a grunt.

And when you can't quite get the rubber of the yard gloves to slide over your wrist, he just has to help you. Has to grip at your soft forearm, cooing as you wince.

"Big pull, that's it sweetheart."

You brace yourself so well, pulling back in a counterweight that just digs his fingers in tighter. Blinking back tears, you laugh a little awkwardly. A little thrilled.

And you thank him for it, shaking your arm out and stretching your fingers. All damp from the soil and your sweat.

Unoticing uncaring of the ring that's no longer on your finger.

He has the urge to shake it out of the glove onto the dirt. To burry it and trample all over it until it's dull and forgotten and dead.

But -

But it's still warm from your hand.

It's so fragile, too small to fit properly over his thick fingers and swollen knuckles.

He thumbs at it on his drive home, plays with the smooth face and angled edges as he thinks.

He won't give it back, the thought draws a scoff as he signals into his driveway. No, the only way you're getting a ring from him is on the same day that the ink dries on your marriage license.

But there's the matter of that ugly possesive thing that lives in his ribcage, so close to the surface that the lines blur and shimmer until he's not sure which skin he's wearing. It has him feeling hot, burning up and itching to watch the fall out.

He settles on the settee, cigar in one hand and your wedding ring in the other.

It sits tight just barely at the first knuckle of his forefinger. The screen in front of him illuminates it, makes it glint cold and sharp as it moves lower and lower, over the slight give of his stomach until it reaches the bulge pressing into his zipper. He palms himself, hisses as he feels the metal dig in a little to the sensitive, aching flesh.

With another slow drag, he flicks open his fly and settles in.

Even the slight pixelation of the monitor can't disguise how pretty you are.

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Someone with a big brain please help me to name this haha 💖

Sorry for the delay. Been super demotivated lately. Still got several k of wips that need attention :/

[overstimulated-autism-creature]

Placebo Meme

[galactic-rhea]

This one was for my partner! He asked this little scene from an AU we have.

Very short context for this particular scene: Anakin survives ROTJ to b come the most bonkers dad and then grandpa ever, which means the whole Sequels timeline gets a bit to the left (or more like a 180° shift), Rose builds what's basically an UFO and, accidentally, it's so dangerous and intuitive that only a force sensitive can fly it.

Luke, like usually, is pretty much amused. Poe and Ben are...confused.

[qoldenskies]

no more birthdays - sophie may

[canary continuity]

[rainscenes]

9-1-1 2.01, "Under Pressure"

[jarateblog]

[badmilkk]

I think whenever the boys get in trouble together he makes them line up so he can scold them n it always results in SOMEONE catching other persons eye n just dissolving into giggles (MUCH to darrys chagrin) (Aldo I ADORE ur art it is SO cute!!!🧡💕)

This is so accurate

{I think I would like to change my art style in terms of fast drawings. Maybe I'll go back to my old style. Those who have known me for a long time will know what I mean...}

[thirtenth]

anilpin + hands (part 1)

[offscot]

you STUPID egg.

[civettictis]

joyous late YTTD 6th!

[wombywoo]

nostalgia...