#BUT ITS SO COOL THAT IT STILL WORKS!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missdynamighttt · 2 days ago

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hehehe sooo.. pro hero, husband! katsuki not being able to spend time with you took a toll on his agency, so someone said... you two needed to bone.

it had been weeks since katsuki had a proper night at home. pro hero work never let up but lately, it felt like it was eating him—late nights at the agency, barely any sleep, reports, patrols, meetings.

you understood. it was his job, his responsibility, but his stress showed in the way he snapped at people more often, his fuse shorter than usual.

and today? he was especially pissed.

the whole office refused to confront dynamight about it, until some dumbass sidekick, probably sick of his rage-fueled outbursts, muttered under his breath, “tch. man just needs to go home and bone his wife.”

the room went silent.

dead silent.

katsuki stopped mid-step, shoulders going rigid. his head turned slowly toward him, eyes burning like he was about to set the entire building on fire.

"the fuck did you just say?"

the sidekick, to his credit, had the audacity to look innocent. "i mean, you’re obviously tense, and i'm sure she’s—"

he lunged at him. it took three other sidekicks to hold him back as he damn near flipped his desk over.

“YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD! BONE?!” katsuki roared, struggling against his coworkers like a wild animal. "say that shit again, i dare you! you think i’m pissed ‘cause i ain’t fucking my wife enough?!”

the whole agency floor collectively held its breath.

the poor sidekick scrambled for an excuse. “n-no! i-i just meant—uh, stress relief! yeah! y’know, intimacy is good for—”

katsuki grabbed a random clipboard and hurled it across him. he missed by a centimeter. “you think i don’t wanna fuckin' go home to her?! huh?!”

“sir—”

“i wanna go home so bad! i wanna see her, i wanna kiss her, i wanna lay on her tits and sleep for the whole fuckin’ day,” he ranted, voice cracking from pure frustration. “BUT NOOO! i’m stuck here writing reports and dealing with dumbasses like you!”

the office was dead silent.

it took a solid ten minutes for him to cool down, grumbling and seething as he rubbed his temples.

but his mind did wander.

to you. to the way he missed your voice. to how fucking long it had been since he held you properly.

to the way he always found you asleep by the time he got home, curled up on his side of the bed, waiting for him.

… fuck. maybe the sidekick did have a point.

katsuki inhaled sharply. then, with wild determination, he grabbed his his stuff, and stormed toward the exit. the agency could handle itself for the night. he had better things to do.

“fuck this. i'm goin' home to my wife."

meanwhile, you had barely settled on the couch, ready to enjoy a quiet evening alone, when the front door slammed open. you jolted, turning toward the entrance just in time to see katsuki storming in—looking like a man on a mission.

“katsu—” you barely got his name out before his mouth crashed onto yours, hot and urgent, like he’d been starving for this. you gripped his shirt as he pulled you impossibly close, practically lifting you off the floor.

you gasped against his lips as his hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss, pressing his body against yours.

strong hands cupped your face, rough but desperate. his lips were everywhere—your cheeks, your nose, your jaw, the corner of your lips—like he was making up for lost time.

and when he finally let you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, panting slightly, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you were breathless, blinking up at him in shock. “what the hell?”

katsuki exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours. “i missed you.”

your brows furrowed. “you left for work this morning.”

“exactly,” his lips brushed against yours again, softer this time. “should’ve come home sooner.”

it was then you realized—he was home way earlier than usual. normally, he'd get caught up in work, buried in reports or dealing with patrols, but tonight…

“wait, why are you home so early?” you asked, still dazed.

katsuki huffed. his fingers slid down to your waist, gripping you tightly. “tch. dumbass sidekick at work said i just needed to fuck my wife to fix my attitude.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

his lips brushed yours again, softer this time. “so i left early to prove ‘em right.”

your face burned. “katsuki!”

but he was already leaning in again, smirking against your lips. “better get comfortable, sweets. i’m makin’ up for lost time.”

and when katsuki stepped into the office that morning, something was… off.

for the first time in weeks, he didn’t stomp in with a permanent scowl, barking at everyone the second he crossed the threshold. his usual sharp glare was dulled, his shoulders weren’t tense as tense.

instead, katsuki looked, dare they say it—relaxed. his jaw wasn’t clenched, his brows weren’t furrowed, and the usual aggressive boom of his steps was noticeably tamer.

hell, the man even had a post-nut glow so obvious. skin clear, posture loose, and zero unnecessary shouting.

no explosions. no immediate death threats. no one getting yelled at for breathing too loud.

everyone noticed.

by the time he made it to his desk, his coworkers were already exchanging looks, whispering amongst themselves like they’d just seen a miracle.

"uh…" one of his sidekicks was the first to cautiously approach. “sir. you good?”

katsuki just grunted, rolling his shoulders before cracking his neck. “feelin’ great, actually.”

and that’s when it clicked. a murmur spread through the office as realization slammed into them.

“you boned last night,” he stated, like it was the discovery of the century.

katsuki just smirked, grabbing some files off his desk. “what’s it to ya?”

the room erupted.

“holy shit, i forgot he could be normal—”

“i haven’t known peace in months.”

“oh my god, mrs bakugo katsuki, if you can hear this—thank you for your service!”

someone started clapping.

then, the entire office cheered.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ i think y'all know where this is inspired from but js in case, its from a sitcom named brooklyn 99 where this girl tells her boss he needs to bone his husband lmao😭 hope yall enjoyed!!

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heliosunny · 2 days ago

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Hi, hi, hi!

I know he's not from Honkai but I saw that a long while ago you did a Neuvillette post. So I was wondering if I could get a Neuvillette Lucky Egg?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader

You had never believed in luck. If you did, your life wouldn’t be what it was now—stuck in a tiny apartment with your childhood friend, Melis, who made sure to remind you of every single bad decision you’d ever made. She wasn’t cruel, exactly, but she had a way of making you feel like an idiot.

So when you saw the Lucky Egg Dispenser at the back of a convenience store, promising "A once-in-a-lifetime blessing!", you almost walked past it.

But something about it made you stop.

It looked old, the paint chipped around the edges, but the golden lettering still shimmered under the fluorescent lights. A sign above it read:

"One egg per person. No refunds. Your fate awaits."

It was probably a scam. A cheap plastic trinket inside, or some useless charm. But before you could talk yourself out of it, you fed a few coins into the slot and turned the crank.

Clunk.

A round capsule tumbled into your waiting hands. The plastic casing snapped open, revealing—

An egg?

It was smooth, cool to the touch, and a pale blue color, almost pearlescent. Strange, but… oddly pretty. You turned it over in your hands, half-expecting a hidden button or compartment, but it was just an egg.

Three Days Later

The egg sat on your nightstand for days, untouched. Melis had scoffed when she saw it.

"Really? You wasted money on that?"

You ignored her.

Something in you didn’t want to throw it away.

Then, on the third night, you woke to a soft crack.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you turned toward the sound and saw the egg trembling, thin fractures spreading across its surface. You barely had time to react before the shell split apart, breaking open like a delicate flower and something small tumbled out, landing in the nest of blankets you’d unknowingly made around it.

A child.

No—a dragon.

He looked human, mostly, but too otherworldly to be mistaken for one. His silver hair curled softly around his face, and from his head sprouted two smooth, curved horns. A long, sinuous tail flicked behind him, twitching as he adjusted to his new surroundings.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head—his purple eyes locking onto yours.

"You" he murmured, his voice like distant thunder.

The little dragon boy—because that’s what he was—blinked up at you, his eyes filled with something… old. Too knowing for a child. And yet, he was small, barely bigger than a toddler, his limbs still weak from hatching.

His tail flicked, curling slightly around your wrist where your hand had instinctively moved forward. His warmth seeped into your skin, gentle but noticeable.

"You’re the one who called me here" he said.

"I… I just got an egg from a machine. I didn’t—"

Your heart pounded. This was insane. But the weight of him, the warmth of his tiny body, the way his delicate claws curled into the fabric of your shirt—

He was real. And cute? Extremely cute.

And now he was your responsibility.

The First Day

By morning, you had accepted two things:

You had somehow acquired a baby dragon.

Melis could never find out.

So far, you were lucky. She had left early for work, grumbling about her awful manager, and you had time to figure things out.

Your new… companion had been surprisingly quiet. He sat on your bed, watching you with eerie patience as you gathered whatever food you had—some bread, a few leftover scraps from last night’s dinner.

"Do you eat?" you asked awkwardly, holding out a piece of toast.

He stared at it, then at you. Then, very deliberately, he leaned forward and bit your wrist.

"Ow—!" You yanked your hand back, but he barely broke the skin. It wasn’t an attack, more like… an experiment. His small fangs left the faintest indentations before he pulled away, licking his lips.

"Strange" he murmured. "Your energy tastes different than before."

Your what? You stared at him, but he only blinked, as if you were the one being weird.

"I require no food," he finally said. "I only need you."

The Second Day

By the next morning, he was taller.

Noticeably so.

The clothes you had scrounged together for him—a too-big hoodie and some old shorts—fit better now. His limbs were longer, more proportional. His horns had grown slightly, and his tail swayed behind him with more control.

"You… grew."

"Yes." He looked at you, unbothered. "I told you. I only need you."

What did that mean?

The Third Day

You had a problem.

Not just because your mysterious dragon child was now nearly a teenager overnight, his voice deepening slightly, his presence too much for your small apartment—

But because Melis was starting to notice.

"You’ve been acting weird," she said over dinner, narrowing her eyes. "And why is the place so damn warm? Are you messing with the thermostat again?"

"I haven’t touched it" you lied smoothly, forcing a smile.

Neuvillette—he had given you his name the night before—was hidden in your room. But even then, you swore you could feel him listening.

Melis huffed. "And where’s all the food going? I just bought groceries, and half of it’s gone! I swear, if you’re sneaking in some loser boyfriend—"

"I’m not."

She leaned forward, glaring. "Then what the hell are you hiding?"

Before you could answer, a faint sound came from your bedroom.

Melis’s eyes snapped toward the door.

And then—she stood up.

Your heart stopped.

"What was that?"

She took a step forward.

"Nothing," you blurted out, moving to block her. "Just the wind. Or—"

Melis reached for the doorknob and it swung open on its own.

Neuvillette stood there.

Not as a child. Not even as a teenager.

But taller now. Older.

His horns had grown sharper. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his pupils slit like a predator’s. He tilted his head, looking at Melis like she was something insignificant.

Something inhuman curled in his voice when he spoke:

"You should not be here."

Melis froze.

And for the first time since you had known her—

She looked afraid.

The morning felt strange.

You had woken up groggy, expecting to hear Melis grumbling about the bills, the temperature, or whatever new complaint she had for the day. But instead—silence.

It wasn’t until you shuffled into the kitchen that you noticed the note on the counter.

I’m leaving. Don’t bother looking for me.

The handwriting was hers.

It wasn’t that you’d miss her exactly. She had been exhausting, always watching you like you were one bad decision away from ruining your life. But… leaving without even saying anything? Without fighting first? That wasn’t like her.

You stared at the note a little longer. Something felt off.

But you had work. You didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The moment you left, Neuvillette stirred from where he had been lounging on the couch.

You had grown more comfortable with him—enough that you no longer questioned how much he had changed, or rather, how fast he had changed.

Your strange little friend was gone. It had been easy to remove them, even easier to mimic their writing. You hadn’t suspected a thing.

But… there was something missing.

Even as he sat there, waiting for your return, he felt restless. Hunger, but not for food.

For strength.

Something called to him beyond the walls of your home, something old and brimming with power. He followed it.

He hadn’t expected to find a dungeon.

The entrance was tucked away in the city, hidden beneath the ruins of an abandoned building. The air shimmered with faint, magical energy—ancient, untouched.

The moment he stepped inside, something stirred in the darkness.

A goblin—small, filthy, and sneering.

It laughed when it saw him.

"Hah! A lost little human?" It bared its crooked teeth. "You won’t last a second, boy—"

His claws tore through the creature’s throat before it could finish its sentence.

Warmth flooded his body, like a surge of raw energy. The moment the goblin died, something deep within him awakened. His strength sharpened, his magic expanded, and for the first time—

He understood.

This place was meant to be his.

One by one, the creatures fell.

They thought him weak. Human-like.

They were wrong.

Each battle only made him stronger. Magic pulsed beneath his skin, ancient and limitless. The dungeon itself seemed to acknowledge his strength, bending to his will as he carved his way to the top.

And when he reached the end, when the last beast knelt before him, trembling—

Neuvillette smiled.

He was no longer just an intruder here.

He was the ruler.

And when he returned to you, stepping through your front door like nothing had changed, he was stronger than you could ever imagine.

Dinner felt… strange.

You weren’t sure when it had started, but something about Neuvillette was different now.

It wasn’t just his appearance—though that was the most obvious. He looked fully grown, his body lean and strong, his movements refined. His silver hair was longer now, and his once-uncontrolled tail was nowhere to be seen, no horns, either.

If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he was entirely human.

You swallowed another bite of food, trying not to stare. He wasn’t looking at you anyway—just calmly sipping his drink, completely at ease.

"You work every day" he said suddenly.

"Yeah? That’s normal."

"And what do you do?"

That was an odd question. You had talked about work before, but maybe he was just curious.

"Nothing exciting. Just a regular office job." You shrugged. "It pays the bills."

"I see." His gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. "And the machine? Where did you find it?"

"Machine?"

"The one that brought me to you."

Oh. That machine.

You leaned back in your chair, thinking. "It was at a small convenience store near my office. It looked kind of old, like no one had used it in years. Why?"

"No reason."

You were deep asleep when he left.

The world outside was quiet, the streets bathed in the dim glow of streetlights.

Neuvillette moved silently, his presence blending seamlessly with the shadows as he arrived at the convenience store. The Lucky Egg Dispenser sat in the corner, just as you described.

From a glance, it seemed ordinary.

But when he raised a hand to feel its power, he felt nothing.

No energy. No magic. Just cold, lifeless metal.

His brows furrowed. But then-

A system board flickered to life in front of him, glowing with strange, shifting symbols.

[NAME: NEUVILLETTE] [RANK: ???] [LEVEL: 62] [TITLES: DUNGEON RULER, ???, ???]

So this was the truth behind his existence.

This machine wasn’t just luck. It was something more—something that had brought him to you for a reason.

But what was that reason?

The board flickered again, shifting—

And then, a new line of text appeared.

[NO ADDITIONAL EGGS AVAILABLE]

So… there wouldn’t be another.

There wouldn’t be another like him.

That meant one thing.

You were his.

And there would be no one else.

----

The whispers echoed.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry."

The voice was distant, layered with something ancient, something aching. It wasn’t just words—it was a feeling. A pull deep within his very being, like something forgotten was trying to resurface.

The darkness in his dream twisted—

He woke up. His body jolted upright, breath uneven, sweat clinging to his skin. His heart pounded, the lingering sensation of the voice still curling around his mind.

"Neuvillette?"

His head snapped toward you. You were sitting beside him, your brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?"

You were here. That was all that mattered.

Forcing a smile, he wiped the sweat from his brow. "It was just a dream."

But deep down—he knew it was more than that.

----

Neuvillette had grown stronger, but it still wasn’t enough.

The moment you left for work, he sought more. More power, more understanding—more of what he was meant to become. He followed instinct, the same strange pull that had led him to the dungeon before.

But this time, it led him to water.

A large, secluded lake, untouched by the city's influence. The air here was heavier, richer with something old.

A creature surfaced. A strange otter, sleek and dark-eyed, watching him intently. The creature did not flee. It did not fear him. Instead, it gave a small chuff and turned, swimming toward the center of the lake.

Then—it dived and vanished.

Neuvillette stepped forward, the water lapping at his ankles. Then his knees. Then his waist—

Then, with a final step, he let himself sink.

The water welcomed him.

He found the ruins at the lake’s bottom, hidden beneath the shifting currents. Stone pillars jutted from the depths, covered in carvings that glowed faintly when his fingers traced them.

The moment he touched them, something awakened.

A pulse—deep, rushing power.

And then the water moved. It bent at his will, swirling around his arms, surging through his veins. He lifted a hand, and the currents obeyed. He pushed outward, and the lake trembled.

The sheer force of his ability sent a wave rolling across the surface—too large, too noticeable.

Figures stood on the shore now. He had revealed too much.

It was time to leave.

The house was quiet. Neuvillette sat, fresh from his bath, dressed in a loose white shirt and dark slacks. His hair was still damp, strands falling over his shoulders as he leaned back against the couch.

He was waiting. But the night stretched on, and you did not return.

Not until much later, the door creaked open.

You stumbled inside, your movements slow and unsteady, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to you. Your pupils were blown, your gaze unfocused. Behind you, a man lingered in the doorway.

"Who—"

The man’s smile faltered. "Oh, uh—hey, didn’t know you had a roommate."

His hand was still on your waist.

"I’ll take them now."

The man hesitated, then forced a chuckle. "Come on, I was just—"

Neuvillette moved. Faster than the man could react, he wrenched you from his grasp, pulling you into his arms.

The man stepped back, startled. "Whoa—relax, man. I was just making sure they got home safe—"

"Leave."

"Tch. Whatever, dude." He turned, muttering under his breath as he left.

Neuvillette watched him go.

Then, once you were settled, breathing softly against his chest—

He followed.

The man was still muttering when Neuvillette found him.

He hadn’t gone far—only to the lake’s edge, kicking at the dirt, grumbling about “weird possessive freaks” and “wasted effort.”

He didn’t notice the water stirring.

Didn’t see the way the waves rose.

A sudden wave surging forward. The man barely had time to scream before it dragged him under.

Neuvillette stood at the shore, watching, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

The man thrashed.

Neuvillette lifted a hand.

The water tightened.

Bubbles surfaced, erratic at first—then fewer. Slower. Until, finally—

Nothing.

With a flick of his wrist, the water carried the body further—deep into the lake’s heart, where no one would find it.

At least, not until it was too late.

Three Days Later

"Did you hear?"

You paused mid-sip, blinking. "Hear what?"

Your coworker leaned in, lowering her voice. "They found a body. In the lake. Some guy—totally eaten up. They think he drowned a few days ago."

You set your cup down carefully. "That’s… awful."

"Yeah." She made a face. "I mean, what kind of freaking fish do we have in there?"

----

The weekend arrived with an unbearable heatwave. You had spent the afternoon outside, running errands beneath the scorching sun. By the time you got home, you were practically melting.

"Neuvillette, I’m back!" You called out as you kicked off your shoes, holding up the bag in your hands.

He emerged from the other room, his expression unreadable as always, but his gaze immediately flicked to what you were holding.

"Ice cream?"

You grinned, pulling out one of the containers. "Figured you'd like something cold. Want to try?"

Neuvillette took it carefully, staring at it as if it were something foreign. But after a small, experimental bite—his pupils dilated slightly.

"…It’s pleasant."

"That’s it? Just ‘pleasant’?"

He hummed, taking another bite, letting it melt slowly on his tongue. His expression remained composed, but you noticed the way he leaned ever so slightly into the sensation, as if savoring it more than he let on.

A rare sight.

You chuckled, opening your own and sitting beside him.

"Guess I’ll take that as a win."

It was later in the day when it happened.

You were standing. Walking. Moving through the house with no real thought, no resistance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

There was something you needed to do.

Something important.

The bathroom door was open. Steam curled from within, the scent of fresh water pulling at you.

You stepped inside.

The moment your foot hit the tile— The trance broke.

You blinked, the haze lifting from your mind. Your breath hitched slightly as you realized you were standing in the doorway, fully clothed, about to step into a warm bath—with Neuvillette sitting in the tub.

His sleeves were rolled up, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders. He was waiting.

And he looked surprisingly unfazed.

"…What am I doing?" you muttered, shaking your head.

Neuvillette tilted his head slightly. "You wanted to shampoo my hair."

What?

"I… wanted to—" You stopped yourself.

That didn’t sound right. That didn’t even feel like something you had decided. But there was no sign of deception in his gaze, no indication that he was lying.

It was weird.

The heat had left you sluggish, and thinking too hard about it made your head hurt.

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. "…Whatever. Just—move over."

Neuvillette did, watching in quiet satisfaction as you stepped forward, kneeling beside the tub.

Your fingers combed through his hair, lathering the shampoo, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. His lashes fluttered at the sensation.

You didn’t see the slight curve of his lips. Didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched—resisting the urge to pull you in completely.

----

Your office was always a mess of rushed deadlines and overworked employees. The company thrived on exploitation, squeezing everything it could from its workforce before discarding them like broken tools.

Today was no different.

"Did you see the latest report?" One of your coworkers, Kael, whispered as he slid into the seat beside you. His hands trembled slightly, holding a file.

You sighed, not even bothering to look up from your screen. "Which one? They dump a new crisis on us every hour."

"The dungeon." His voice lowered further. "The one that just appeared."

That caught your attention. You finally glanced at the report in his hands.

A massive fluctuation had been recorded at a previously empty lot on the outskirts of the city. A dungeon had emerged overnight, far more dangerous than expected. The first wave of hunters and warriors sent to clear it had suffered heavy casualties. The survivors reported unusual conditions—monsters that grew stronger after each battle, as if they were learning.

But the company didn't care. They just sent in more people.

"How many deaths so far?" you asked quietly.

Kael hesitated. "Too many."

You stared at the screen, unease curling in your stomach.

Something about this didn’t feel right.

Far beneath the dungeon’s surface, Neuvillette stood in the heart of his domain.

His gaze swept over the carnage left behind—the remnants of another failed attempt. Weapons lay shattered, armor broken, bodies scattered across the cold stone.

He stepped forward.

The air hummed around him, the essence of the fallen swirling into his being.

Another level gained.

"Foolish," he murmured. "They send their people to die… yet they do not realize they are only feeding me."

He exhaled slowly, his body adjusting to the newfound strength.

He was still growing.

And soon—

He would be unstoppable.

----

You barely made it through the front door.

Every muscle in your body ached, exhaustion settling into your bones like lead. You dropped your bag, kicking off your shoes with little care as you stumbled further inside.

The damn company had kept you overnight. Again.

Piling up more work, more pressure, more demands—until you were left wrung out and barely functioning. You were too tired to even be angry. All you wanted was sleep.

"You're late."

You managed a weak chuckle. "Tell that to my boss."

He stood near the couch, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. You could feel his displeasure—palpable, simmering. But before you could say anything, he stepped forward, placing a hand on your forehead.

Warmth—no, energy—seeped into you, flowing through every aching limb, easing the tension in your body. It was like stepping into cool water after burning under the sun.

You barely had time to register what he’d done before sleep pulled you under.

Neuvillette watched as you finally rested. Your breathing was slow, steady, free of the exhaustion that had plagued you moments ago.

How many times had they done this to you?

How many times had you come home like this—drained, miserable, struggling just to stay upright?

"This world does not deserve you"

If it was unworthy of your existence—if it continued to break you down—

Then he would rebuild it.

Piece by piece.

A second dungeon appeared—then a third, then dozens more, blooming across the city like festering wounds. What was once a rare phenomenon became unstoppable, warping the landscape into a nightmarish battleground.

From the depths of each dungeon, Neuvillette’s forces emerged.

Creatures of the abyss—twisted beasts, eldritch horrors, dragons that roared with primordial fury. They poured into the streets, overwhelming police, military, and the so-called “heroes” who thought they could reclaim what had already been lost.

The city fell apart within days.

And through it all—Neuvillette watched from above, his eyes as cold and endless as the ocean’s depths.

The world had tried to break you.

Now it was his turn to break the world.

---

You woke up in a different place.

The suffocating weight of exhaustion was gone, but something felt off. The air smelled of rain, fresh and crisp, yet there was an eerie silence outside.

You sat up.

The room was luxurious, but unfamiliar. You swung your legs over the bed—only for the door to open before you could take a step.

"You're awake."

"Where… are we?"

"The outside world is no longer of concern to you. This is our home."

No longer of concern?

You moved toward the window—only to feel an invisible force halt you mid-step.

"There’s no need to leave," Neuvillette murmured. "Everything out there is beneath you now. You only need me."

His fingers brushed against your cheek.

"And I will never let them take you from me again."

"Neuvillette, stop this."

Your voice was firm, but your hands trembled as you pushed against his chest.

"I don’t need protection. I don’t need you to tear everything apart for me. I’m okay."

"Okay?" he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. His hands trailed up your arms, "You were never okay. They drained you. Used you. You just didn’t realize it."

You shook your head, frustration building. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean you get to decide for me!"

He sighed.

"You don’t have to decide anymore."

Before you could react, his hand cupped the side of your neck—then he bit down.

A sharp sting bloomed where his teeth sank into your skin. You gasped out of pain, but he didn’t let go—not until he was certain his mark was there to stay.

When he pulled back, his lips were tinted red.

"Now, even if you run…" He brushed a thumb over the wound, smearing the blood. "I will always find you."

Your vision swam, the pain dulling into something hazy, sluggish. He was doing something.

"Sleep" he whispered. "It’ll hurt less that way."

Your body betrayed you before your mind could protest, the exhaustion swallowing you whole.

Even in sleep, you weren’t safe.

Soft lips traced the curve of your throat, pressing lingering kisses against your skin. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers through your unconscious body, his breath hot against each fresh mark he left.

His hands moved with deliberate reverence, tracing the shape of your collarbone, your shoulders, the delicate lines of your pulse.

"Mine" he murmured between each press of his lips.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #heliosluckyegg

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ostolero · 13 hours ago

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Mirroring Sheev's Plan by Sullivan Performed by Austin Walker on AMCA (original post on Cohost)

https://bsky.app/profile/dimosar.bsky.social

https://bsky.app/profile/austinwalker.bsky.social

https://x.com/more_civilized

Sheev's Plan:

get elected to senate for naboo

start new sith order

work republic and separatists against each other. recruit evil guy to lead separatists.

(this jedi kid is wicked strong!)

get jedi in deep with clone army. (save some clone jars for later? just in case...)

PIVOT: Make the jedi kid evil. dont need separatist guy anymore. got a new evil guy.

make my evil guy kill his jedi pals when they come to arrest me. ill finish em off with my lightning attack

(fucking guy used his sword to bounce my lightning back at me! honestly my fault. takes a minute for the lightning to wind down and he got my ass on the bounce. fair play. now i look like a leather couch but its fine. can blame jedi for THAT too)

Use the clones to kill the jedi, have my evil guy kill the seperatists, keep the army, spin into empire

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

chill as emperor for a while. humiliate Vader for a laugh. make death star.

Endgame achieved.

(Vader's kid blows up my death star)

PIVOT: get new young apprentice by turning him evil once he kills his dad, or maybe make Vader cooler by making him kill his gay son. either way its a win-win for me.

(thrown down hole and killed.)

PIVOT: good thing i kept those clone jars!! make new clone body to inhabit. takes time to get right. need something to do until then

build enormous fleet of big spaceships, each with their own super death star laser. keep em on the down low... why use em? they lose half the value as soon as you fly them off the lot

(clone son betrays me but its no biggie. its fine. have loads of clones at this point. whats one clone son?)

create a DECOY fascist empire. put one of my weirder clones in charge. Not giving them any of my ships though. can build his own shit. dont look at me. get a bank loan

let failed clone recruit vaders grandson (will explain why later) let those guys take over the galaxy with a different super death star. assume they built this one themselves. very cute!

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(only via proxy tho. not done yet)

let(??) vaders grandson ("ben"?? ok) usurp failed clone and rule galaxy. wants to “kill the past” but whatever. can still make this work. NEED to keep this kid in the mix (will make sense when we get there)

drop the big news. Im not dead! Fortnite. awesome moment.

lead kylo ren to my base using complex scavenger hunt. puzzle knife.

tell him he’s always actually worked for me. big reveal. big moment. He's my lackey now. a little traitorous and unreliable, but this will pay off later trust me

use death star ships to take over galaxy even more

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(awesome... but not enough. something missing)

let kylo ren lead clone granddaughter to home base using complex scavenger hunt. Puzzle Knife cool enough idea to do twice i think

taunt granddaughter into killing me so i can possess her un-janked body. All part of my grand scheme...

Endgame achieved. (??)

(kylo ren betrays me)

PIVOT: Possession stupid plan anyway. Instead, use ben and reys Horny Essence to make my nasty old body normal again.

throw ben in hole (grandson purpose revealed)

destroy resistance with lightning powers. shooting spaceships down with magic lightning basically a solved problem at this point.

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

kill the granddaughter actually. dont need her anymore. lightning powers classic for a reason.

ive got this thing in the bag as long as she doesn't bounce the lightning back at me off her fucking laser sword.

Endgame achieved.

You know, all three times Palpatine took an L it was because he couldn't just couldn't stop jizzing lightning. In fact, with the exception of the bit where he tries a little burst and Yoda just catches it, every time he does it it breaks bad for him in some way cause he's just to much of a sicko to stop electro-jaculating in time. Compare this to the dignified, almost regal, force lightning emanations of Count Dooku.

Don't really have a point, but sometimes you just gotta post about Sheev Palpatine.

#star wars #sheevs plan #amca

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mostlysignssomeportents · 21 hours ago

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We bullied HP into a minor act of disenshittification

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TORONTO TOMORROW (Feb 23) at Another Story Books, and in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN. More tour dates here.

Here in the darkest days of the enshittocene, enshittification is low quality and plentiful, but even in this target-rich environment, one company stands out as pioneering champions of enshittification: HP.

Every page in the enshittification playbook was printed in farcically expensive HP ink, and if you try to run a copy off for yourself, the printer will stop five times and force you to print a "calibration page" that is solid color from top to bottom, consuming about $10 worth of ink. Don't like it? Die mad.

HP drips with contempt for its customers. They make printer-scanners that won't scan unless all four ink cartridges are installed and haven't reached their best-before dates. They make printers that won't print black and white if your $50 magenta cartridge is low. They sell you printers with special half-full cartridges that need to be replaced pretty much as soon as the printer has run off its mandatory "calibration" pages. The full-serving ink you buy to replace those special demitasse cartridges is also booby-trapped – HP reports them as empty when they're still 20% full.

HP tricks customers into signing up for irrevocable subscriptions where you have to pay every month, whether or not you print, and if you exceed your subscription cap, the printer refuses to work, no matter how much ink is left. Now, about those HP ink subscriptions. When the company launched them, they offered a pot-sweetener meant to tempt in the wary: a one-price "lifetime subscription" that would let you print 15 pages every month, for so long as you owned the printer. But a couple years later, all those "free ink for life" customers got an email telling them that they were being migrated to a monthly payment plan, and if they didn't like it, they could eat shit and throw away their printers:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/06/horrible-products/#inkwars

HP pioneered the use of copyright law to prevent third parties from refilling ink cartridges or making their own compatible cartridges. Section 1201 of Bill Clinton's Digital Millennium Copyright Act makes it a felony to distribute a "circumvention device" to bypass access controls on a copyrighted work. By designing its cartridges do undertake a little cryptographic handshake with the printer to verify their "authenticity," HP ensures that anyone who markets a bypass device to let you choose which ink you use in your own damn printer is a felon, liable to five years in prison and a $500 fine under DMCA 1201.

Of course, nature finds a way. Hardware hackers have come up with some insanely cool bypass devices for HP printer cartridges, like these paper-thin, flexible, adhesive-backed circuit boards that wrap around third party cartridges, intercepting communications between the printer and a salvaged HP security chip:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/30/life-finds-a-way/#ink-stained-wretches

But HP fights back, and they fight dirty. For example, they periodically push out "security updates" for their printers that break compatibility with third party cartridges. To prevent HP customers from discovering and blocking these fake security updates, HP designs them to lie dormant for months after installation, until everyone has clicked "OK," and then all those Manchurian Printers wake up and betray their owners by refusing to use their ink:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

All of this has allowed HP to monotonically raise – and raise – and raise – the price of printer ink to the point where it is now the most expensive fluid a civilian can purchase without a permit. Printer ink now runs over $10,000/gallon, meaning that you print out your grocery lists with colored water that costs more than the semen of a Kentucky Derby winner.

HP is truly the poster child for enshittification, and also, patient zero in the enshittification pandemic:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/18/ink-stained-wretches/#hache-pe

HP's enshittificatory impulses run wild. They hunt relentlessly for ways to make things worse for their customers in order to make things better for themselves. Last week, they came up with a humdinger, even by their own standards. They announced that people who called their customer service line would be subject to mandatory 15-minute waits, even if there was a rep who was free to talk with them:

https://www.theregister.com/2025/02/20/hp_deliberately_adds_15_minutes/

During this mandatory 15-minute wait, customers would be bombarded with a recorded voice demanding that they solve their problems by consulting HP's website and its awful chatbots. In a competitive market, businesses can contain their customer service costs by making better products. In a monopolistic market like the printer racket, companies can deliberately introduce maddening antifeatures to their products, and then fob off the customers who reach such a peak of frustrated rage that they resort to calling a customer support number on chatbot that will use its spicy autocomplete to hallucinate nonexistent drivers and imaginary troubleshooting steps.

When I saw this, I thought, whelp, that's HP all right. Shameless.

But they're not entirely shameless. Within a day of Paul Kunert breaking the story in The Register, HP had reversed its policy, citing "feedback" (a corporate euphemism that means "fury"):

https://www.theregister.com/2025/02/21/hp_ditches_15_minute_wait_time_call_centers/

This is a rare win for the forces of disenhittification and it deserves recognition. It turns out that in these Mangionean times, companies can actually be bullied into comporting themselves with marginally less sleaze and cruelty. It's especially noteworthy that this took place in the UK, where Prime Minister Kier Starmer has invited tech companies to pick Britons' pockets without fear of consequence, by firing the top competition regulator and replacing him with the former head of Amazon UK:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/22/autocrats-of-trade/#dingo-babysitter

Even in these degraded times, we can get these fuckers. When Sonos enshittifies its smart speakers, we can get its CEO fired:

https://www.theverge.com/2025/1/13/24342179/sonos-ceo-patrick-spence-resignation-reason-app

When Unity sticks its hand in the pockets of every game dev in the world, we can get its entire executive team shitcanned:

https://venturebeat.com/games/john-riccitiello-steps-down-as-ceo-of-unity-after-pricing-battle/

It doesn't always work. Enshittifiers rack up some Ws, and make bank even as they immiserate 500 million users (looking at you, Steve Huffman – the people have long memories):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2023_Reddit_API_controversy

But if we can bully the psychotic monsters who populate HP's Executive Row out of their enshittificatory plans, then it's worth trying it every time.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/22/ink-spattered-pitchforks/#racehorse-semen

#pluralistic #hp #enshittification #ai #chatbots #customer service #angry mobs #pitchforks #sonos #reddit #ripoffs #disenshittification #counting coup

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slut4celebs · 3 days ago

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Like Real People Do

Billie Eilish x Australian!Reader

Word Count: 1,524

Trigger Warnings: teeth rotting fluff. billie being scared to get in a relationship with reader?

Request / Synopsis: "billie x fem!reader fic where they meet because finneas produces readers first album? And reader grew up somewhere outside of the USA near the sea and nature and is like completely out of tune with the whole typical Hollywood character? And Billie is just happy to talk to a normal person for once" In which Billie falls for someone who isn't like every other fame hungry Hollywood wannabe.

Los Angeles was full of people, but only about five percent of the population were authentic, real people. She didn't understand how out of all those people, she was able to be introduced to (Y/n), one of the five percenters. She was kind, confident, and out of tune with the Hollywood-esque nature of the people who lived there. She wasn't fighting for the fame she deserved with her singing voice, instead, she showed up and wrote and sang. Her voice was outstanding and natural, and when she first heard it, she was genuinely shocked and amazed. "She's great," she had remarked to her brother, who was working to produce her music.

Finneas smiled, spinning his chair to look at Billie. "I'm telling you, she's going to be the next big thing. She's so natural in there, She's not like everyone else I've met out here. You're going to love her." He promised as he gave the girl a thumbs up as she finished singing. "She's from Australia, I found her on TikTok. She has only like sixteen followers, but I saw so much potential in her." He pulled up her account for her to look through. Billie did, seeing various videos of her singing original songs and covers, going on nature hikes, and Bondi Beach.

She didn't know how much she believed Finneas until she got to know (Y/n) while she and Finneas were working on the album. "I think you'd like it out there." She hummed, sitting on a rock. (Y/n) had convinced Billie to go on a morning hike with her, and the two of them were looking out at the view in front of them, a beautiful sunset shown behind the hills around them. "It's more peaceful. Unless you're in the city. I do… go to the city often, Bondi Beach is one of the prettiest beaches." (Y/n) rambled about her home, chin resting on the knee that she had pulled up to her chest.

That was the moment that Billie realized she was falling for her. When they talked, it was seldom ever about Hollywood, albums, celebrity parties, or Instagram followers. It was about genuine things like nature, a cool bug she saw on her hike, or the deer she saw on her evening runs. Billie appreciated seeing this side of humanity. (Y/n) gave her hope in people. Most people wanted to befriend Billie because of who she was. (Y/n) just liked to be around her. At first, Billie had been apprehensive when (Y/n) wanted to hang out. That was until (Y/n) suggested her apartment. Secluded, no one needed to see them. No paparazzi to get their pictures. (Y/n) just wanted to be around her.

Billie sighed when she realized she was falling for (Y/n) to the fullest as she sat by Finneas. They were almost finished with the album, and then (Y/n) would be headed back home until its release. Billie felt sad about this, but she was nervous to tell (Y/n). However, Finneas could see how this was affecting his sister as she watched (Y/n) with the hint of a small but sad smile on her lips. "You should tell her." He had said, looking up to (Y/n) as she sang. It was a song about heartbreak, of all things. It was absolutely squeezing Billie's heart as she stared up at her.

Blinking at her brother's words, she glanced over to Finneas. "I can't do that. She doesn't like me that way." She argued, returning her gaze to (Y/n). The air was still for a moment as they made eye contact with (Y/n) when she finished singing. Finneas clicked on the microphone, telling (Y/n) she was doing amazing, and asked if she'd like to sing their next song. (Y/n) agreed, giving two thumbs up. Finneas set up the instrumentals for the song they wrote, telling (Y/n) to start when she was ready.

Once the microphone was off, Finneas watched (Y/n) for a long moment before turning to Billie. "So what? She's going back home this Friday. If she doesn't like you, you two can still be friends. You know how easygoing she is. This could be your last chance though. This album does have a chance for not picking up." Finneas said, turning his full attention back to (Y/n). He wanted to give Billie a chance to think about what he had just said. He knew that she needed space and time, that she couldn't just be forced into understanding that this really could be her last chance.

Once (Y/n) finished, Billie stood up giving her two thumbs up. "That was really good. I have to head out, but I couldn't just couldn't help myself from listening to you sing. Bye, Finneas." She waved to (Y/n) and her brother softly. She just needed to give herself a second to think about what Finneas had said to her.

Of course, Billie knew what her feelings for (Y/n) were. She just didn't know if (Y/n) felt the same way. She was typically a very confident person, but with (Y/n), she found herself confused. She didn't want to mess this up. She wanted to be with (Y/n) but she didn't know if this could ever work. After all, once Friday hit, they were going to be in two separate time zones. (Y/n) was going to be nineteen hours ahead of Billie. However, if she could convince (Y/n) to stay, maybe help hype the album so it gets picked up. She knew that (Y/n) wouldn't go for that though. After all, she made it clear that if she was going to make it, she wanted to do it on her own.

"I thought you'd be here," (Y/n) found Billie where they first hiked together, a bit away from LA. Her accent sounded like a song to Billie. She closed her eyes for a moment to soak it in before she turned to (Y/n) with a smile on her face. "Hiking is the best way to clear one's mind, huh? Plus, you can't help but just… take in that view. It's beautiful here." She stated, taking a breath. Despite the air being thicker than where she would usually hike Los Angeles was just more populated. "So. what did bring you out here exactly, Billie?"

Billie patted the spot next to her and (Y/n) sat beside her. She took the girl across from her in before taking her hand. "I'm hoping this doesn't mess up our friendship, but… I like you. I just needed to tell you that before you left. I don't want you to leave. I know that this place isn't your home. I wish I could help make it a home for you though. You are one of the most natural, calm, and caring people I know. You're authentic, and I have grown to love that so much over the couple of months you've been here. I'm not ready to lose that." She admitted with a gentle smile. She was glad that she listened to Finneas, the feeling of telling her lifting from her chest.

(Y/n) had smiled at her words. "I feel the same, Billie. That's why… I extended my stay at my apartment and signed the lease. I even found a way to transfer my job here just in case the album didn't take off like your brother and I hope. I have been wanting to tell you this for a while, but I didn't know how." She said softly. She took in a breath before continuing. "I really like you, Billie. You're fun, kind, and so compassionate." She said softly, squeezing Billie's hand. Her smile widened when she saw Billie leaning in and allowed for them to connect their lips. When they pulled away, it felt like all of the stars had aligned for them.

"So, you extended your stay..?" Billie leaned away slightly but moved to gently cup (Y/n)'s cheeks as she talked. "I'm glad because it would be a tragedy of epic proportions if I couldn't kiss you every single day." She stated with a playful look in her icy, grey-blue eyes. (Y/n) let out a soft chuckle, nodding a bit at her words. "As for the album… It's going to take off. You're amazing. You deserve all the love."

"Thank you, Billie." (Y/n) said softly, kissing Billie again. "I can't help but agree though. It would be an absolute tragedy if I couldn't do that every day." She said softly, as the two turned, watching as the sun began to set. "We should head back down while there is still some daylight." She held out a hand, to which Billie took it and allowed her to lead them down to the car. (Y/n) let go of Billie's hand, just in case of the paparazzi being around them, but Billie quickly took hold of it again because she didn't care. She only cared about being with (Y/n).

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #anne's pop girlies

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just-a-space-duck · 24 hours ago

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So About That Armor…

I regret to inform myself that I like it.

If you haven't seen it:

I'll give you time to take it in. This is a static, (hopefully) eternal text post, so take your time.

Ok so before I go further, you are allowed to have any and all opinions about the armor. Do not listen to me; I am a stranger on the internet who attaches himself to fictional murder cyborgs and treats them like kitty cats.

So first of all, it's weird. And I like it for that. Even if I found it to be the most infuriating piece of costume design ever, I still wouldn't be able to help but respect it for how strange it is.

When it comes to fanworks, adaptations, new installments in a franchise, or even just different takes on the same trope, I love it when creators take things in an unconventional or even seemingly unrelated direction that upon closer inspection still relates to the base or original concept. To get what I mean, think goth interpretations of Rarity or Cosmopoliturtle's Pokémon redesigns. The TV series armor sits alongside these for me, because this was the thought process of the designer, Tommy Arnold:

First of all, it is so funny that The Company would just brand their armor and by extension their secunits, their combat/security products, like Louis Vuitton bags. Also, the logo of The Company strikes a nice balance between being simple enough to be easily reproducible and recognizable, but complex enough to read as a logo and not just a simple shape or pattern. Plus, The Company logo being mostly just concentric Cs, clever there.

But there's also some worldbuilding and character expression in this design.

The Corporation Rim is just capitalism but more. A company slathering everything and everyone they create and own in mountains of logos, even when it's potentially impractical, showcases just how extensive corporatism is in this setting. Additionally, this design could be something of a status marker. Secunits are high end additions and/or alternatives to other security measures. Much like how logos on purses, tennis shoes, and cars serve to tell observers, "I have the fancy, expensive version of [insert category of thing here] ergo I am a very wealthy/powerful/cool person", a secunit covered in corporate logos communicates the high status and access of the client(s).

Now what was one of the first things we learned about Murderbot in the books? It disabled its governor module, the thing preventing it from defying orders and having any level of freedom, but instead of doing what it could to leave The Company, Murderbot just stayed with it and kept doing its intended function. For over four years. What else do we learn in the first book? That it feels most comfortable in the armor because this prevents humans from seeing its face, from treating it more like a person or human rather than a tool or bot. This makes the armor being composed of the logo of the group that both created and hurt Murderbot very symbolic.

Murderbot has internalized the message that it is a dangerous weapon and not a person deserving of care to the point that, at least at the beginning of the series, it shies away from anything that insists that it deserves the same kindness that humans do. It's only ever been taught what the company built it to do, so it doesn't know what to do next once it's obtained some semblance of freedom for itself by disabling its mental shock collar and so keeps doing what it's always done, even though it very much would rather not be in such a situation. Even by the most recent book, System Collapse, Murderbot is still wrestling with the idea that it matters beyond how it can assist others. Murderbot finding comfort hiding behind the very thing that will not let you forget the company that enslaves it, is just juicy theming.

Also, the helmet looking so weird works well with how many humans don't know what secunits look like, with some not even thinking they have human-like faces. If you had no context for this image, you might very well assume this is a fully robot character or even a statue.

I have my own gripes and worries and hopes concerning the upcoming show, but I just couldn’t get this fun bit of character design analysis out of my head. Shouldn’t have watched so much TB Skyen.

#Tmbd #the murderbot diaries #Murderbot tv show #Murderbot #Murderbot diaries #my rambles #Beautiful beasties

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ibraesil · 9 hours ago

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Thanks for the tag!

I commend the curiosity, but I do have some criticism.

The results would almost certainly be improved by a collage of each option, rather than the subject having to do their own research.

Obviously, the premise that linguistic taxonomy has anything to do with zoological taxonomy is false. That possibility is acknowledged in the 'aquatic-exclusive' option, but there is no option that includes centipedes but not crabs, for instance. Nor is there any option that includes, e.g. pea crabs and woodlice but not tasmanian giant crabs.

Also notably absent, in my opinion, are germs. I think it's a realistic enough possibility to be worth including, even if it's likely that for most people bug1 (that could refer to a beetle) and bug2 (that could refer to a flu-causing virus) are probably separate senses.

Speaking of separate senses, the inclusion of the "baby kittens and puppies, for example" option frankly baffles me. I have no evidence; only my intuition, but it's so obviously a different sense of the word that I can't help but feel its presence spoils the data. Not to mention that figuring out 'what feels to the subject like a bug' is the point of the poll.

It's hard to get good data from online corpora because the sense 'computer bug' is so prevalent these days (and pathogen/illness in the days before computer bugs), but here are some ways I've found the word we're interested in used in online-accessible corpora:

(Talking about a barnacle) "Our squishy bug will spend the rest of its life rooted inside its spacious exoskeleton, employing its feathery legs as a net to collect plankton and other nutrients from the water's current." Note: squishy. Squashing bugs comes up a lot with the 'computer bug' sense.

(talking about 9/11) "the Boeings used by commercial airliners would have gone *splat* against the towers like a bug against a windshield" (The bug-windshield metaphor is by far the use of our word that came up the most) Note: squishy, and an extreme power dynamic/powerlessness compared to the towers/windshield.

(talking about extraterrestrial contact) "I am thinking the bugs will have evolved to the point where they are running the place by then. There are FAR more bugs on the planet than people. I bet their god will look like a bug." Note: lack of specificity

(talking about atheists on the internet) "(That Tumblr blogger posts some good content, but she really has a bug up her ass about non-accommodationist atheism.)" I'm not sure this is the sense we're after, but I couldn't not inlcude it. Note: it's not a good thing

(talking about pesticides) "It doesn't matter much to the bug or the fungus if the pesticide is an extract from the neem tree and thereby legal for organic production, or if the insecticide is dreamed up in the labs of DuPont." Note: lack of specificity & it's not a good thing

(talking about an unfaithful husband, but blaming the other woman) "And then, like a stupid bug entangled in a spider's web, he was snared." Note: not a good thing, and a sense of powerlessness/extreme power dynamic.

(from a poem) "He visited Etna and Vesuvius, and Vesuvius he entered, let down the inner walls by lengths of rope, growing smaller and smaller like a bug on a thread tacked to the sky's vault with tiny pins of adamant." Note: power dynamic, size, unusual method of locomotion.

(from a poem mentioning many animals) "I saw a nibbling bug, like the god of a cool magnolia." Note: lack of specificity, eating, power dynamic converse to those seen previously, but it is poetry so we could argue that's deliberatet and still evidence in support of bugs being powerless.

(local news) "An old play area was uprooted to allow work to begin on the building of a Butterfly World hothouse bug collection and free flying area." Note: lack of specificity.

(book review) "We’ll meet a murderous husband and wife as well as a corrupt sheriff, and a bug eating holy man wannabe with a crippled sidekick." Note: edible, but maybe only in other cultures

(US Politics) "If Trump wins more than 240 electoral votes, I will eat a bug." Note: edible, but only technically

There were also a few metaphorical uses of a bug biting to refer to a new interest/hobby taking hold, but the closest I came to any references to literal bugs' mouths or biting is the 'nibbling bug' above.

So bug seems to be a word that refers to animals with some qualities such as: being squishy, undesirable, maybe being very powerless compared to humans, maybe with salient mouths technically edible It's also not a very specific word*

So it makes a lot of sense sense that crabs, especially large crabs, which aren't squishy, may have dangerous claws, and are very edible in our culture might not be bugs, or might be much worse examples of bugs than worms.

*that's maybe unfair. It may be more fair to say that English has a much more granular taxonomy in some areas than others. It is well known that individual bird species often get their own words in English, while bats are all just bat. So it may be for bug. It's also worth keeping an open mind to the idea that bug may not be a taxonomic superordinate at all, but a collective, i.e. not that they share some observable quality (like birds and feathers) but that they share some relationship to us (like clothes and being worn).

I got annoyed by the polls that ask this question but fuck it up every time by either putting the options out of order or excluding reasonable options for delineating what is and is not a 'bug.' I work in a zoology lab, so this is, to my knowledge, only probably not going to piss off the entomologists too bad. The only thing I'm not confident about is where I placed the (wrong) paraphyletic 'all terrestrial arthropods' option, because it's silly to begin with and anyone who calls a spider a bug but not a shrimp should reconsider their anti-crustacean biases.

If you have some other strange perspective on what should or should not be a bug, put it in the tags. I will only judge you a little

#semantics #taxonomy #in tags because im sure OP wasn't being completely serious #but anyone who would complain about 'anti-crustacean biases' in this topic #should reconsider their anti-descriptive-science biases.#anyway OP this is honestly a decent poll #and like I said I commend the curiosity very much

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libraford · 2 days ago

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Okay!

So plastics! I took a deep dive into recycling HDPE plastics this winter because my seasonal job at the parks ended and because I knew there wasn't going to be much that I could do while I was recovering from surgery.

I'm going to talk about the process a little bit. Its not really a tutorial so much as it is just showing you the thing. The steps are uncomplicated, but they can be time consuming and there are MANY, with a high rate of failure. The good thing about the failure rate is that if you screw something up you can just melt it back down and try again.

I have been jokingly calling the processed material Amirite because once you melt it down enough times it looks like an agate. I made a separate blog about it: @adventures-in-amirite

But this process actually starts WAY back in June. As a parks person, one of our main annoyances is the amount of bottles (water, gatorade, powerade, PRIME, BodyArmor... whatever the Big American Energy Drink is right now) that get left overnight on weekends from people playing sports in our fields. 178 trash public trash cans in the city and they just leave them on the fucking ground.

When something unavoidable annoys me, I make it into a game. I learned that bottle caps are made from HDPE and LDPE plastics, which can be melted over and over again with household heating implements. So I started collecting them!

And I collected well over 300 caps over the summer. When I say it was a PROBLEM.

My seasonal job ended, which freed up a lot of time for me to experiment.

First thing I had to do was clean them.

Soak it in a mix of white vinegar and water or soap and water. Rinse, use a pressure setting on your faucet if you have one. Then let dry.

The next step is to sort all the caps into similar colors. After they're sorted, I melt all the similar colors together into a flat sheet using a panini press and parchment paper. My goal is to get the material thin enough to put it through a guitar pick punch. I like the shape of guitar picks.

I am doing it this way because this means that I can have usable thin blanks of pure color.

Any scraps smaller than the guitar pick are cut up and sorted by color into 'frit,' which is a word I'm stealing from glassworking.

Now here is where it gets fun.

I pick some colors I want to work with in both frit and guitar pick blanks and I throw them on the press to melt them together into a big multicolored slab.

Let it cool.

Here's the high failure rate part.

I put down a silicone mold. I put the colored slab on top. I put parchment paper on top. I put it in the press. I let it melt.

I try to flatten it as much as possible to fit the mold. Use a bottle, a rolling pin, a spatula.

I still get bubbles and voids when I demold. I've decided to embrace that and use rub n buff to make fill the voids with metallic colors. Still working through the kinks in the process, but I think these look cool enough.

All the scraps go back into the bin to be re-processed. It makes a kind of agate texture that's really cool, and that's what I used in that last photo.

Anyways! Applications are limited but I'm having fun experimenting with it. Hoping to approach some shops about it and sell a few, maybe do some shows this summer.

Anyways, that's how my post-op has been going.

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visenyaism · 15 hours ago

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rank the 7 different bastard last names of westeros

9. Waters. It sounds kind of gross and icky. The Crownlands isn’t even really known for its waters? They have the blackwater bay but that’s important because it’s in the capital. We need to do better.

8. Sand. I just really hate this one it sounds wack. think even Sands would work better

7. Stone. I just don’t really feel like it works. It’s too obviously a noun.

6. Hill. I feel perfectly neutral about this one. It’s just a normal last name not really any unique character. kind of like the Westerlands being devoid of personality more than any of the other kingdoms.

5. Flowers. Powerful homoeroticism really enjoyed it. If you are born out of wedlock in the reach, you just get assigned the world most fairy princess last name ever and I think that’s beautiful. I’m very grateful that George wrote gay characters in before a dance with dragons so the first one was not Satin Flowers that would be like a reverse glaad award.

4. Pyke. I like it. However it does not make much sense for if you are born on an Iron Island that is NOT Pyke. Salt would probably work better than Pyke, but Pyke is way more tough.

3. Snow. My great grandma’s maiden name was Snow and I wake up every morning seething with jealousy that I didn’t end up with that cause I think it’s cool. I don’t know why this works so much better than Sand for me despite being the same idea.

2. Storm. Many people have the gut instinct to rank this one first because it really comes out swinging with the most power. However for me it just really overshoot being cool and ends up firmly in like warrior cat territory.

1. Rivers. Extremely powerful aura while still being normal-passing. I hear its voice in the morning hour it calls me

#rivers just has aura. Maybe it’s cause I like rivers I grew up in a state that has a lot of rivers and no lakes.#asoiaf

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dismalflo · 3 days ago

Text

Chamomile tea and cold feet

Sirius black x reader who enjoy a quiet night ✩ 688 words

cw: just fluff

an: not sure how much i like this one but i think its cute

This february is longer and colder than you remember last year being. It feels like you're at work for longer than you actually are and there's not enough time for the simple pleasures of your little life.

But here, nestled in the warm glow of your bedroom, under the soft weight of the blankets, sipping chamomile tea, you feel almost content. Almost, because Sirius is still in the bathroom, taking far too long, far too hot of a shower.

He’d flashed that mischievous grin of his before he disappeared into the bathroom, a teasing invitation to join him under the steaming water, all smooth seduction. But you had declined, enjoying the comfort of the bed too much, the chill of the outside world still clinging to your skin.

It’s funny how you’ve become used to the feeling of him around you. It’s as if, without him, the warmth of your own little world falters.

As if on cue, the bathroom door swings open, and there he is.

Sirius steps into the room, the steam from the bathroom clinging to his damp skin, his dark hair tousled, no doubt full of all his fancy products. He looks undone in the loveliest way, calm and comfortable.

You take a slow sip of your tea, pretending not to notice how his eyes slide over to you with a quiet amusement. He always has that look, like he’s about to say something he probably shouldn’t, but instead, he just lets the silence settle between you two.

Sirius moves towards the bed, his bare feet silent on the floor. He leans down, brushing his lips softly against the top of your head, ‘Would you like another cup of tea gorgeous?’ he asks.

You glance up at him, unable to hide the small smile that tugs at your lips. There’s something about his presence, so at ease, that makes everything feel just a little bit brighter. Even when it’s February, and everything feels a little bit off-kilter.

You shake your head softly, setting your mug down on the nightstand with a gentle clink. ‘I’m good for now. Thanks, though.’

Sirius grins and drops down beside you, making himself comfortable under the covers. For a few moments, he just watches you, as if you’ve hung the moon, before the two of you drift into mundane conversation about your day. You used to worry that he might find the slow pace of your life boring, but when he looks at you like that, filled with such quiet affection, you wonder how you ever worried about that.

Eventually, you both settle in, ready for sleep to claim you, the weight of the day slipping away. But just as you're adjusting the covers, you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the edges of your lips.

’If you steal the covers like you did last night, I swear I’m putting my cold feet on you,’ you threaten.

Sirius freezes, a mock horror crossing his face. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ he challenges, but you can hear the faintest tremor of laughter in his voice.

‘I absolutely would,’ you reply, curling your toes against the cool sheets as if to prove your point.

Before he can respond, you inch your toes closer to him, just enough to make him twitch. The moment your toes brush against shin, he jumps like he’s been shocked, scrambling to pull the covers up higher and twisting his body away..

You burst into laughter, watching as he twists and contorts, trying to escape your attack.

“That’s it,” he mutters, but there’s no hiding the way his lips twitch upward, even as he huffs in mock frustration.

In retaliation, he shuffles closer to you, caging you in his arms. His attack continues with soft, quick kisses, finding every patch of bare skin he can reach. His lips trail over your neck, your cheek, and the side of your jaw, until you’re nearly breathless from his teasing.

When he finally pulls you closer, his warmth settles against you, the steady beat of his heart a reminder that, despite the coldness of February, you’ve never been warmer.

#flo'sfics #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #sirius black fic

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hrrtshape · 6 hours ago

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Hey emmaaa

I just read the post abt your cultural shock when you shifted back to this reality and it just helped me a lot and i thank you for every piece of information you shared.

I just wanted to ask somethings for curiosity(if i can):

how it felt being a noble person in babylon?

Did you learned somethings that right now arent even spoken or found? Like ancient magic of some sort? or idk any knowledge that our society dont know abt?

WERE THE CLOTHES AS COLORFUL AND PRETTY AS SOMEONE CAN IMAGINE?

Did u have any pets in babylon?

I imagine music to be so cool in ancient times was it?

im so sorry to ask a lot of questions but i cant help my curiosity

here's a total rundown + some more questions i collected from my inbox.

how did it feel being a noble person in babylon?

honestly...kind of god-tier. being a noble meant automatic respect, like people bowed, they averted their eyes if they were not of high enough status. i did not really have to do anything myself, there were servants for literally everything. but also, nobility was not just lounging around eating figs, there were expectations, responsibilities, political marriages. the social structure was rigid as hell, and stepping out of line could ruin you. but the luxury was unparalleled. the oil massages, the silks, the elaborate jewellery that made modern gold look like tin foil.

did you learn something that isn’t spoken about now? like ancient magic or lost knowledge?

yes. actually, i was a witch!! anyways. there were priest-scholars who had knowledge passed down orally, things never written down. astrology was not just a hobby, it dictated everything. they read the stars like a language, predicting wars, famine, even personal destinies. i also learned a lot about incantations, protection spells, herbal medicines that do not exist anymore. some of the knowledge felt.........dangerous. there were things they knew about the human body, the mind, the universe that we just do not anymore. and yes, there were rituals, some of them eerie as hell, but undeniably powerful.

were the clothes as colourful and pretty as someone can imagine?

more. the dyes they had were insanely rich. deep blues, vibrant reds, golden yellows. and embroidery was indeed next level. everything was woven with gold threads, beads, little intricate patterns. the noble outfits were layered. linen undergarments, then richly dyed wool, then embroidered shawls with fringe so soft it felt like clouds. men and women both wore jewellery, a lot of it, and perfumes were so strong they clung to the air around you.

did you have any pets?

yes. a caracal. it was a status thing, having an exotic animal. dogs were more common as working animals, guarding homes, but caracals were just........ elegant. and fast. they were seen as a symbol of power, and mine had gold hoops in its ears (yes, they pierced animals).

was the music good?

haunting. mesmerising. it was mostly lyres, harps, flutes, drums. very rhythmic, very hypnotic. there were actual musicians employed by the elite, and they performed at feasts, rituals, even just for noble entertainment. some melodies felt ancient even back then, like they had been played for centuries before. the chanting was otherworldly. i still hear some of it in my head when i wake up.

now, some extra questions i feel like answering because why not:

what did people eat?

bread, a lot of bread, but not like modern bread. denser, richer, with honey and dates. lamb was a big deal, lots of stews, vegetables like onions, leeks, cucumbers. and beer. beer was safer to drink than water half the time, and it was thick, almost porridge-y-like. also, honey was in everything.

how did people bathe?

public bathhouses for the less wealthy, private baths for nobles. oils and scented scrubs were used instead of soap. there were these clay cones filled with perfume that people would melt onto their skin. i swear i have never smelled so good in my life.

did people write a lot?

yes, but not like we do. everything was on clay tablets in cuneiform, and scribes were highly trained. writing was more for record-keeping, law, and religious texts, not casual journaling. but poetry, oh my god. they loved poetry, especially dramatic, epic tales about gods and kings.

was babylon as grand as history says?

grander. the walls were massive, the temples were imposing, and the hanging gardens (yes, they were real) were beyond anything i can describe. there were actual irrigation systems keeping everything lush, fountains flowing, flowers that don’t even exist anymore. everything was built to impress the gods and neighbouring cities. and it worked.

if you have more questions, send them :)

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