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raguram07-blogger · 1 year ago

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Embedded Systems Demystified: Understanding their components and Uses

Embedded systems, the cornerstone of modern technology, are specialized computer systems designed to perform dedicated functions within a larger mechanical or electrical system. These systems, ranging from simple devices like digital watches to complex ones like the control systems in automobiles, are distinguished by their combination of hardware and software, optimized for specific applications. Unlike general-purpose computers that feature versatile processing units and memory for multiple tasks, embedded systems prioritize efficiency, including low power consumption and cost-effective performance, through the integration of microcontrollers, microprocessors, and real-time operating systems (RTOS).

As the backbone of countless applications across various industries, including telecommunications, automotive, medical devices, and even the Internet of Things (IoT), embedded systems play a pivotal role in the evolution of technology. This article delves into the core components that define these systems, such as microprocessors, application software, and printed circuit boards, while exploring their architecture, design principles, and practical applications. It also addresses the challenges in designing these intricate systems, from debugging to customization, and casts a glance at recent advancements and future directions, highlighting how integrated circuits, the 8051 microcontroller, and embedded C programming continue to shape the landscape of embedded systems.

Core Components of Embedded Systems

Embedded systems are integral to numerous devices, functioning through a complex interplay of hardware, software, and real-time operational protocols. Here we break down the essential components that form the backbone of these systems.

Hardware Components

Processor Types: At the heart of every embedded system is a processor, which can be a microprocessor or a microcontroller. Microcontrollers integrate memory and peripheral interfaces, making them ideal for specific control- oriented applications. Conversely, microprocessors require separate integrated circuits for memory and peripherals, offering more flexibility but at a complexity cost.

Memory: Embedded systems utilize two primary types of memory: RAM (volatile) and ROM (non-volatile). The ROM stores permanent instructions for the system, while RAM facilitates the ongoing operations.

Power Supply: Essential for operation, the power supply can be standalone or integrated into a larger system, depending on the design requirements.

Input/Output Ports: These ports are crucial for the system’s interaction with external devices, enabling data transmission through various communication protocols like UART, SPI, and USB.

Software Components

Real-Time Operating System (RTOS): This software manages the hardware resources of embedded systems, optimized for real-time applications. It ensures tasks are completed within strict timing constraints, crucial for applications like medical systems and automotive controls.

Application Software: Tailored to the specific functionalities of the embedded device, this software directly manages device operations and user interactions.

Device Drivers: These software components allow the operating system to interact with the hardware.

Development Tools

Compilers and Assemblers: These tools translate high-level code into machine language that processors can execute. While compilers handle languages like C and C++, assemblers are used for assembly language.

Debuggers and Emulators: Essential for testing, these tools help developers debug the code and emulate hardware operations, ensuring software reliability before deployment.

Integration Technologies

System on Chip (SoC): Integrating all components onto a single microchip, SoC technology simplifies design and enhances performance while reducing power consumption and cost.

Multicore Processing: Allows parallel processing capabilities, enhancing performance and efficiency, particularly in complex applications.

By understanding these core components and their interactions, developers can design more efficient and effective embedded systems, tailored to specific needs and environments.

Design Principles and Architecture

Embedded systems are engineered with specific design principles and architectural frameworks to meet unique operational demands. This section outlines the essential design principles and architectural styles that govern the development of embedded systems.

Key Design Principles

Single-functioned Operation: Each embedded system is developed to perform a specific function, enhancing its efficiency and reliability.

Reactivity and Real-time Operation: These systems are designed to respond to changes in their environment in real- time, a critical feature for applications such as automotive airbag deployment.

Tight Integration of Hardware and Software: Hardware components and application software are closely integrated to optimize performance and reduce power consumption.

Customizability and Flexibility: The architecture allows customization, making embedded systems adaptable to varied requirements.

Low Power Consumption: Design strategies prioritize energy efficiency to extend the life of the system, especially in battery-operated devices.

Compact Size and Cost-Effectiveness: Systems are designed to be small and cost-effective, without compromising on functionality.

Architectural Styles

Embedded systems architecture can be segmented into two primary types:

Harvard Architecture: Separates data and instruction memory, allowing simultaneous data access that speeds up operations

Von Neumann Architecture: Uses a single memory for data and instructions, simplifying the design but potentially slowing the system due to the shared memory

Design Approaches and Considerations

System on Chip (SoC) and Multicore Processing: These technologies integrate multiple components into a singlechip, reducing size and improving performance

Reconfigurable Computing: Offers the flexibility to alter the configuration of the hardware as per changing requirements without halting the system

Design for Manufacturing (DFM): Focuses on designing products that are easier to manufacture, enhancing scalability and reducing costs

Challenges in Design and Architecture

Component Selection and System Integration: Selecting appropriate components that match the system's requirements and ensuring seamless integration pose significant challenges.

Software-Hardware Interface: Designing an effective interface between the software applications and the hardware components is crucial for the optimal functioning of embedded systems.

Heat Dissipation and Environmental Hazards: Special attention is given to managing heat and protecting the system from environmental damages like electrostatic discharge (ESD) and electromagnetic interference (EMI)

By adhering to these principles and considering the outlined architectural styles, designers can create robust, efficient, and reliable embedded systems tailored to specific applications and environments.

Applications Across Industries

Embedded systems have revolutionized operations across a vast array of industries by performing specialized tasks within numerous devices. These systems are integral to technologies ranging from consumer electronics to advanced industrial machinery. Below is an overview of the diverse applications of embedded systems across various sectors:

Automotive Industry

Safety Mechanisms: Embedded systems enhance vehicle safety through features like airbags and anti-lock braking systems.

Navigation and Infotainment: Manage GPS systems and multimedia functions, improving user experience and vehicle functionality.

Vehicle Performance: Control engine systems, monitor vehicle diagnostics, and optimize fuel efficiency.

Medical Devices

Diagnostic Equipment: Embedded systems are crucial in devices that monitor heart rates, glucose levels, and blood pressure.

Treatment Devices: Regulate and administer treatments through advanced drug delivery systems and therapeutic devices.

Wearable Health Monitors: Track health metrics such as physical activity, heart rate, and sleep patterns, providing insights and alerts.

Consumer Electronics

Smartphones and Tablets: Manage core functions including user interface, connectivity, and multimedia processing.

Home Automation: Control systems for lighting, security, and HVAC, enhancing comfort and energy efficiency.

Wearable Technology: Smartwatches and fitness trackers that monitor physical activities and health metrics.

Industrial Automation

Manufacturing: Automate tasks such as assembly lines, quality control, and inventory management, increasing efficiency and safety.

Process Control: Monitor and control industrial processes like chemical reactions and machine operations to ensure optimal performance.

Robotics: Embedded systems guide robotic mechanisms used in manufacturing, warehousing, and material handling.

Aerospace and Defense

Aircraft Systems: Control navigation, communication, and engine management systems in aircraft.

Surveillance and Reconnaissance: Embedded systems play a key role in unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) for surveillance and data collection.

Mission-Critical Systems: Manage life-support and operational systems in spacecraft and military equipment.

Telecommunications

Network Equipment: Embedded systems are used in routers, switches, and modems to manage data flow and connectivity.

Mobile Communication: Enable smartphones and other portable devices to connect and communicate efficiently.

Satellite Systems: Control satellite operations and data transmission, crucial for global communication networks.

Energy Sector

Smart Grid Technology: Manage the distribution and efficient use of electricity through real-time monitoring and control systems.

Renewable Energy Systems: Control operations in solar panels and wind turbines, optimizing energy production.

Utility Management: Monitor energy consumption, improve system reliability, and facilitate maintenance and repairs.

Embedded systems' adaptability allows them to be customized for specific tasks in these industries, leading to innovations that enhance functionality, safety, and efficiency. Their integration into various devices and machinery has become a cornerstone of technological advancement, influencing how industries evolve and operate.

Challenges in Embedded System Design

Embedded system design faces several challenges that impact the efficiency and security of these technologies. Understanding these challenges is crucial for developers to enhance system performance and reliability.

Debugging and Testing

Debugging Process: Debugging embedded systems typically requires attaching a separate debugging system to the target system via a serial or other port. This setup allows programmers to view and manage the source code from a general-purpose computer, which can be cumbersome and time-consuming.

Testing Protocols: Testing printed circuit boards (PCBs) is conducted at each development phase. Custom testing firmware is created to verify if the PCB functions as expected, demanding meticulous attention to detail and extensive validation procedures.

Security Enhancements

Increasing Security Measures: With the rise of connected devices, security has become a paramount concern. Embedded system designers are now integrating robust security features such as hardware-based security, secure boot procedures, and advanced encryption algorithms to safeguard against breaches.

Cybersecurity Solutions: Developing effective cybersecurity solutions is essential to address vulnerabilities in embedded systems, particularly for Internet of Things (IoT) devices and industries previously lax in security measures.

Software and Hardware Integration

Selection of Programming Language: The choice between C++ and Rust is significant in embedded device programming. Rust offers a memory safety model that enhances security, presenting a compelling alternative to the traditionally used C++ in embedded systems.

Component Selection: The technical proposal phase involves selecting components based on technical characteristics, operating environment, cost, quality, and availability. This balance between cost and performance is critical in determining the overall effectiveness of the embedded system solution.

Project Development Challenges

Requirements Gathering: Conducting thorough interviews with clients to formulate precise requirements for their products is a foundational step in project development.

Offering Alternatives: Providing feasible alternatives during the planning phase ensures that the final product meets the client's needs while adhering to technical and budgetary constraints.

By addressing these challenges through strategic planning and implementation, developers can significantly enhance the performance and security of embedded systems, ensuring they meet the rigorous demands of modern technology applications.

Recent Advances and Future Directions

Embedded systems are continuously evolving, driven by technological advancements and increasing demands across various sectors. This section explores recent innovations and the anticipated future trends in embedded system technology.

Technological Innovations and Trends

AI and Machine Learning: Integration of AI and machine learning in embedded systems has enabled devices to make intelligent decisions and adapt to their environments effectively. This trend is enhancing the capabilities of devices in real-time processing and decision-making.

Edge Computing: By processing data closer to the source of data generation, edge computing minimizes latency and reduces the reliance on constant internet connectivity, thereby enhancing the efficiency of embedded systems.

Advanced Connectivity Solutions: Developments in wireless technologies such as 5G, Wi-Fi 6 and 6E, and Bluetooth LE Audio are revolutionizing how embedded systems communicate and interact, enabling faster and more reliable connections.

Focus on Sustainability and Efficiency

Energy-Efficient Design: With sustainability as a priority, there is a significant shift towards developing low-power embedded systems using advanced power management technologies and energy harvesting techniques

Green Technology: The integration of environmentally friendly practices in the design and deployment of embedded systems is becoming increasingly important

Security and Quality Enhancements

Software Quality: Strengthening the software quality through rigorous testing and adherence to high standards is essential to ensure the reliability and performance of embedded systems

Cybersecurity Measures: As embedded systems become more interconnected, the implementation of robust cybersecurity measures to protect against potential threats and vulnerabilities is crucial

Market Growth and Economic Impact

Market Expansion: The embedded systems market is projected to grow significantly, driven by its applications in AI, mobile computing, and sophisticated processing technologies.

Economic Contributions: As a pivotal element of modern technological solutions, embedded systems are contributing substantially to economic growth and innovation across industries

Future Directions

Quantum Computing: Looking ahead, quantum computing holds the potential to exponentially increase the processing power of embedded systems, opening new avenues for data analysis and decision-making

Open-Source Collaboration: The trend towards open-source hardware and software is fostering greater innovation and collaboration within the embedded systems community

Embedded systems are set to become even more integral to technological progress, with advancements in AI, security, and sustainable practices leading the way. The continuous evolution in this field promises to bring more sophisticated, efficient, and secure embedded solutions to the forefront of technology.

Conclusion

Throughout this exploration of embedded systems, we have journeyed through the intricate balance of hardware and software components, design principles, and the architectural frameworks that underpin these fundamental technology elements.

The discussion highlighted not only the core components and their critical roles but also the current challenges in design and security, underscoring the continuous innovation required to advance in this fast-paced domain. By delving into the varied applications across multiple industries—from automotive to telecommunications and beyond—we've seen how embedded systems function as the linchpins of modern technological infrastructure, driving progress and efficiency at an unprecedented scale.

Looking forward, the future of embedded systems appears boundless, fueled by advancements in AI, machine learning, and edge computing, alongside a growing emphasis on sustainability and cybersecurity. These evolving trends not only promise to expand the capabilities of embedded systems but also underscore the significant economic and societal impact these technologies continue to wield. As we anticipate further breakthroughs, the dialogue around embedded systems will undoubtedly advance, highlighting the imperative for ongoing research, development, and collaboration to harness these powerful tools in the push towards a more innovative and interconnected world.

#embedded systems #embedded systems basics #embedded system architecture

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cybereliasacademy · 1 year ago

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HyperTransformer: G Additional Tables and Figures

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#conventional-machine-learning #convolutional-neural-network #few-shot-learning #hypertransformer #parametric-model #small-target-cnn-architectures #supervised-model-generation #task-independent-embedding

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solspina · 4 months ago

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Hope in Small Places

malum caedo ⋆˙⟡

a short story that's not my proudest work. i just want to get this posted i am so sorry its not proofread and probably horribly written amen.

a poor chaos sacrifice, bent to be perfect and compliant, meets a very questionable space marine with unclear intentions and an even more unclear identity. taken to a safe space and left to ponder her thoughts, she remembers she has more faith than anticipated.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: blood, mentions/implications of sexual assault, religious guilt probably, malum fucking caedo

Her body had sat folded in on itself since the moment she had last been placed down, the only two things that prevented her knees from resting flush against her chest were the sharp, knife-like pain of her broken leg bones poking into her muscles as they threatened to break skin the moment she put pressure upon them, and the presence of a quietly vibrating servo-skull that was being held within her clammy hands, clutched close to her body in a feeble attempt to muffle the almost ambient noise coming from it.

The technology embedded in the skull had made it warm. At the very least, she could feel and somewhat move her fingers, and that alone had been a small but welcome mercy against the freezing cold floors of whatever ship or building her heretical and deformed captors had dragged her into. Regardless of the type of architecture, what mattered was their intention - their screaming voices and bloodied knuckles as they spent day by day and night by night molding her to be the perfect little sacrifice to an unknown chaos god. One who was, without a doubt, not the emperor.

Her pounding head remained bowed, and her breath only came from her lips in sharp, trembling gasps. Whether her labored intake of air came from a punctured lung or from raw fear, she could no longer discern. Her forehead had long stayed against the servo-skull in her arms as she waited for hours at a time. She occasionally took a moment to try and quell her boredom by messaging at the rope burns that lined nearly every limb that clung onto her fragile body. Arms, neck, legs - any inch of exposed skin that had not been covered by the filthy and tattered fabric an eerily bloodstained and unfamiliar looking astartes had torn from the loincloth around his waist.

Some of the heretics had been kinder than others, of course. She had decided that she much preferred the company of the Slaaneshi over the Khornites, for at least the bruises caused by their hands were from the violence of desire and not that of hatred.

Tucked behind a small cargo barrel, she waited for a sign of safety - either from the servo-skull in her hands or from the lack of gunshots and raging of chainswords that came from the next rooms over. A mere few minutes, maybe even hours earlier, they had been right outside the door, but now they had moved to directly above her head. She did not move a muscle as incredibly apparent slaughter circled the rooms around her, never once entering the room she had been placed in with more care than she had experienced in months of captivity. She had simply been placed down in a utility closet-like room and told to stay put, not to move. She was incredibly good at following orders by now, especially the ones that entailed sitting still and letting whatever was going to happen to her body simply happen. She could do nothing to stop her daemon captors from doing what they desired, whether that be to her mind, body, or soul.

This time, it had to have been one of Tzeentch’s men, she was halfway certain. Bright blue armor and the bird-like helmet he wore would not have been out of character for someone like the changer of ways, but she had encountered rubric marines before and not a single one of them had the look or presence of a soul that this one had. Many wouldn’t have even had the vocal cords to tell her to stay put in place.

The possibility of one of the emperor’s angels had crossed her mind, but that hope faded near immediately. Greater daemons and champions of chaos wandered this building, constantly taunting her with their strengths and feats. They mutilated her flesh and made it whole again. They violated her fragile body time and time again. They preached the power of their gods and smiled when she teared up in fear of what she was doomed to become part of. She was reminded day in and day out, through endless nights of sleep deprivation only sated when she fainted from exhaustion or pain, that a single angel of the emperor stood no chance alone. And so, she had swallowed the prayer of the man in blue armor coming to save her as soon as it rose to the front of her prayers.

She had become so lost in her thoughts, in her doubts, that she had failed to realize that prayers had started falling from her lips. Her words, still accompanied by her shallow and shaking breaths, were barely coherent whispers - aside from the occasional "emperor" and "protect me" that came audibly from within her chest. She knew her cries for help would go unanswered. If they had not been answered by now, it was clear to both her and the chaos that surrounded her that the emperor was not listening. Her unwavering faith meant absolutely nothing.

She only managed to break away from those thoughts as the closet door hissed in response to being opened and revealed the white helmet peeking from behind it. She lifted her forehead from the servo-skull and allowed herself to stare into the glowing red eyes of the bloodied astartes that stepped into the room and closed the door tightly behind him as he approached, either to trap her or prevent being ambushed. She felt the tension in the air rise as he walked toward her, his boots pounding against the metal floor in perfect sync with her head before they stopped mere inches from her legs. One slight kick from him would mean immediate death. Quick and painless, at least.

Alas, the kick never came.

Instead, he knelt, tilting his bird-like helm left and right slightly and repetitively. He seemed to be assessing her closely, checking for any further signs of injury or chaos-taint before bowing his head, leveling it with hers and allowing her to place her hand upon the top of the beak.

"Are you hurt?" He asked through his still-bowed head, watching her shake her own head as she stared into his eyes through the distortion of his helmet.

"Where are... they..." She asked in return. Her voice trembled almost as much as her irises did, and trailed off all the same. She was exhausted, truthfully, and he seemed to realize it far more than even she did. Her gaze, however, even against her voice, was suffocatingly afraid. He backed away, careful not to move too quickly as to not scare her any further, even despite the blood and vitae covering his armor in absolutely every area it could reach.

"The heretics?" He said, looking for assurance he had read her question correctly. "Dead. Every last one of them."

He was incredibly careful to read the baseline's body language, wanting to ensure he had done the right thing leaving her alive. Would she attack him for killing her people? Smile at the death of heretics? The sigh of relief that fell from her lips and the slack of her tense shoulders told him all he needed to know.

She would cry, jump into his arms in joy if she had the energy to. That, he did not need to know. What he did know was that he needed to leave, and he needed to do so urgently if the baseline he had rescued would have absolutely any chance of survival.

"You need not walk." He replied to her obvious dilemma, his tone leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he had already moved to cradle her with practiced ease that made the blood and carnage on his armor seem to be a hallucination. She winced as her shattered bones in her legs shifted, but her pain faded just as quickly as it had began now that they were off the ground and away from any applied pressure.

The servo-skull she once had seemed to attach itself to the air around the astartes without hesitation. Perhaps it was his all along, and she had just stumbled across it by chance. Regardless, she hoped that it's good intentions had matched his, and that he would prove to be just as comforting in the end.

"Stay with me," The marine murmured, repeating the phrase as he opened the door and carried her into the corridors that smelled putrid of fresh blood. She was used to the scent, desensitized, and yet she inhaled its lack of comfort one last time. "Stay with me."

"The emperor protects." She whispered, pressing her face against his bloodied chestplate, no longer caring if a little heretic blood covered her skin.

They had bathed in her blood for months, she deserved a turn with theirs.

"Indeed he does, little one."

Solspina's Scribellum✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

@astrohymn @moodymisty @undeaddream

@kit-williams @lemon-russ @egrets-not-regrets

(please comment to be added/removed from my taglist !!)

#malum caedo x reader #astartes x reader #adeptus astartes #space marine x reader

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brights-place · 3 months ago

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【⋆˚࿔ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝜗𝜚˚⋆】

Read The full book on my wattpad

[Name] stared at the people below her as she bit her lip as she headed over to the platform of the quartz stage as she took a sharp breath in as she stood in front of a podium. The scene takes place under a dusky, gradient sky that transitions from deep purple at the top to lighter pink hues near the horizon as lightning stroke behind her as she held her hands close to herself as a form of comfort.

Framing the center of the large stage were ornate picture frame liked mirrors floating mid-air. These golden gilded frames are elaborately detailed with swirls and flourishes, housing portraits of [Name] in their outfit. Each portrait is identical showing [Name] standing their on the stage in front of the podium.

The central architectural feature is a large, open book structure, its curved pages forming a bridge-like stage. The book features intricate crest-like symbols and patterns along its spine and cover further enhancing its magical appearance. Flanking the book like stage are delicate arches covered with vines wrapped around the arch way. Silhouettes of figures below in the seats were staring up at the stage.

"I am [Name] Queen... Daughter of the Evil Queen" She looked around before diverting her attention to the side speaking with a solemn voice "And I pledge-" a silence rang out for a moment before she spoke once more "I uhm" A girl with snow white skin and blonde curled hair smiled with a happy expression gesturing the girl to go on "come on! do it" she said cheering the girl as y/n felt her dress to feel more uncomfortable as if the weight of the accessories held her down with the dress is fabrics clung to her skin tighter as if she couldn't breathe.

[Name] glanced over to her other side to headmaster grim a male dressed in a blue coat and light greyish blue vest with a light blue ascot with a golden decoration with a red stone on it. He has a dark grey mustache, green eyes and dark grey hair with lighter stripes. He also wears a golden ring in the shape of a mirror. He's also rather stout, at least in the stomach area, from the side who let out a huff with furrowed rows staring at her.

She stared at a floating key that summoned as she opened her hand letting it drop onto her palm as she stared at it's black and purple swirl as she looked towards the book on the podium. The Storybook of Legends laid there a hardcover book with pages containing the stories and the students taking up the roles of the characters in the fairy tale.

On it's front cover was a shiny mirror-like compartment in the center front cover of the book, along with a keyhole with a magical key required to open the book for signing. The crest of Ever After is embedded on the top, above the mirror. The magical key appears once a student pledges, and the Storybook flips itself to the page of the signer.

She paused as she twisted the key into the book as pages flipped showing her story on how she will be the next evil queen with how her life will end up as each page flipped and turned her shoulders tightened and her grip on her palms turned sweaty nails digging into her skin as she stared at the small signature box that was left on the bottom right corner of each page, for the specific student to sign. Some pages from major fairy tales are displayed by the headmaster's office, taken from the Storybook of Legends. Physically, the book is maroon-colored with golden embellishments on each corner.

[Name]'s eyes widened to see the last page of her homeless and in struggle as her face dropped biting her lip distress on her face as she shakily looked up to the mirror in front of her that showed herself. The ornate's swirling golden frame encloses a vivid and almost ethereal depiction of a character in distress.

[Name]'s appearance hued with magenta and swirls of colors of purple as she was bounded, exudes a sense of urgency and confinement. Appearing shackled with glowing magical chains encircling her wrists and neck.

Her expression is one of shock or fear, with wide pleading eyes and a slightly open mouth that conveys a sense of desperation. Wearing gothic clothing with feathery, jagged edges along with The glowing chains with purple energy that bounded her down as a small gasp came from her lips as her eyes widened as a quill also appears for the stage of signing.

Her e/c eyes diverted around the page gripping onto the podium with a feeling of angst as her eyes stared back to the book and the quill hovering before she reached out and pulling back her eyebrows furrowed as she went back to facing forward as her body loosened up as she spoke "I am [Name] Queen and I'm going to write my own destiny" she exclaimed as the mirrors that were floating shined brighter as they shook slightly as she grabbed the Story book of legends is front cover "My happily ever after starts Now" in a quick motioned her hand slammed the book shut as the bright pink mirror on the front cover glinted for a moment as the mirrors that surrounded the area vibrated before shattering.

Fragments of glass dropped to the floor below and onto the stage as she heaved gasps of shock and cheers were heard from the crowd below. [Name]'s eyes widened before she heaved and relaxed her body feeling lighter as her lips twitched up eyes widening checking her hands "I- I did it I'm still here" she quickly snapped her focused to headmaster Grim "I didn't disappear" headmaster grim eyebrows furrowed with his emerald eyes stared down at her with edge as she glared back harshly.

She couldn't help but flinch for a moment at a voice calling out "How could you be- so- So selfish" A girl with bright blue eyes with skin as pale as snow her lips coated with a red lipstick that was suppose to support her smile yet it was twisted to a harsh frown her curls blonde curls bouncing as her eyes were tearing up. A loud booing was heard from a half of the crowd below as another part was cheering at [Name].

[Name] spoke quickly "I'm sorry apple but I-" she took a sharp breath in yet the noise was too loud for her to think as if they continued to swarm around her making pressure getting added to the back of her throat as if not having the choice to speak out was withholding her back.

[Name] snapped her head to the crowd gripping her fists angrily as she let out a noise of annoyance turning around as she spoke loudly as her hands started to glow a violaceous flame "Hold everything" The purple hued flame shot out of her hands growing in size as it shot down to the crowd and people around her as she froze seeing everything freeze around her, [Name] couldn't help but be stunned staring at her palms and the flames that vanished "I didn't know I could do that..." her e/c eyes filled with sorrow as she looked back over her shoulder to Apple with a look of sadness.

She sighed raising her hands facing forward to apple as the familiar coloured hue of her magic shot to the girl from her finger tips Apple is frozen stature went back to normal as she blinked her sky blue eyes at the h/cnette with various purple highlights "I'm sorry apple" [Name] uttered staring at the girl.

Her eyes diverted to the ground and back up to the girl "but I don't want anyone to tell me who I want to be. I wanna figure that out on my own" [Name] stated hands going to her chest staring at the blonde with eyes filled with determination and honesty "and don't you understand?" she muttered gesturing to the girl in front of her who was staring at her with sadness "I'm not the only one who can choose their own destiny now we all do" she gestured to everybody who was frozen and stared back to the girl hoping she'd understand her view of the situation "even you" she stated.

Apple stared at [Name] with wide eyes before speaking "I don't want to choose a new destiny" Apple rebutted as she teared up more as her eyebrows furrowed "I liked what I had and because of you" she pointed her finger towards [Name] who flinched back slightly her eyes widening "It might not happen" "It might" [Name] suggested hand to her chest as she went to reach her hand to comfort apple but pulled it back as apple sobbed quietly "I don't know... I just don't know" apple walked off as [Name] stared at her retreating figure with sadness before taking a sharp inhale and looking at the crowd her lips slightly lifting up from seeing maddie cheering her on frozen as she undid the spell on her bff.

A noise came from Maddie as she got unfrozen from the crowd before [name] grinned at her petite shorter friend who popped up right beside her "wahh! your here no poof Poof POOF! YAY!" the girl cheered hand sin the air being ecstatic and hyper as always as [name] laughed "I know! it feels good" she smiled eyes closed as she let out a sigh of relief talking to Maddie.

⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝

Head master grim stood in front of a window as lightning struck with rain hitting the cold glass as his hands were behind his back eyebrows furrowed "[Name] does not know the forces she has released" he spoke to himself with furrowed brows letting in a sharp inhale as he watched the rain leave it's marks on his window.

"It must be contained before the dangerous idea spreads" he shook his fist before flinching when a laugh came from a mirror to his right side as a woman's malicious laugh echoed the mirror shining and glittering with a white glow slightly with each noise of the laughter head master grim flinching back as lightning struck.

Yet it wasn't only was a Womans laugh a crow like laugh was also heard too on par with a males behind the female laugh. Headmaster Grim's eyebrows furrowed at the voice as he looked back out at the window gulping.

⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝

๋࣭ ⭑ ❝ 【Time Skip after E.A.H events】❞𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[Name] sighed as she finished the whole ordeal with throne coming, going into wonderland, stopping her mother and reconnecting with her and the events after all that she finally could catch a break to have fresh air after all the destruction, chaos and problems.

The h/cnette was walking up the stairs of the stone tower to visit her mother to have their once a week talks with eachother that she'd give her mother yet when walking up to the top of the attic she paused "Mum?" She called put stepping up the final step boot hitting the wooden floor boards staring towards a part of the room.

A mirror that stood tall and oval-shaped, exuding an air of elegance and mystery. Its frame is a deep rich purple with a highly intricate and ornate design. The frame is adorned with swirling, vine-like patterns that intertwine gracefully, creating a sense of movement and fluidity patterns extended outwards in curling tendrils.

At the very top of the mirror the design culminates in a decorative crest, resembling a crown with two raven feathers around. The legs of the mirror are equally ornate, curving outward and continuing the flowing theme of the frame.

A sigh past her lips a puff of cold air shown as she walked over to it yet something felt off with the mirror her mother would usually be doing something in their last time she came by she was on a cycle but due to the dire weather and raining everything felt a-bit more tense the lightning on the glass didn't help either.

[ Name ] walked over hand placing onto the mirror is curves to check to see her mother who would usually greet her inside the glass yet nothing was there. A sigh past her lips as she stepped back staring at her own appearance.

The mirrors glass itself is smooth and reflective framed beautifully by the vivid patterns that seem to almost cradle it as if it were a precious artifact.

[Name] couldn't help but repeat herself while staring at her mirror "Mum? This isn't really funny" she said hand on her hip before smiling softly yet she couldn't see anything her mother didn't appear, no comments, no pampering and praises not anything.

A look of awkwardness reached her face as she looked around and back "I'll come back later" she muttered as she turned around before feeling a gust of wind hit her from the open window in the tower as she held to cover her face as the sound flames erupted from behind her.

Her head snapped to see her mothers mirror floating and shaking swirling in colours before it changed as [Name] jaw dropped stepping back with wide eyes to see the familiar mirror that was suppose to be in her legend originally her mothers.

The once purple mirror changed to a larger oval frame that was gold that curled around the mirror like tendrils the mirror your mother was trapped in was now changed and was in front of her now floating in the air.

Where your reflection should have been, was instead a large wall of green flames that engulfed half of it as her face paled staring at the Mirror confused how could her mothers mirror prison change into the one her mother had talked to before it was shattered long ago.

"Ahh..."

A deep voice began, coming straight from the mirror. [Name]'s e/c eyes widened staring at the mirror that continued speaking the flames flickering

"My cherished benefactor."

"A lovely, wicked bloom that doth nobly enthral."

The mirror moved closer to her causing her to scramble back landing on the floor as she panicked but was frozen staring at the mirror that hovered more closer.

"Truly, thou art the fairest one of all." It continued, slowly floating closer still.

The mirror kept coming closer until it stopped a few inches away from [Name]'s face where it proceeded to hover.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall."

[Name] was stuck frozen as it spoke more before pausing in its speech, almost as if it were aware that it wasn't on a wall.

"Who is the fairest one of all"

Noise was blocked in [Name] is ear as her palms shook she despised the familiar phrase that she heard too many times from Apple in their shared dorm one she hated to listen to especially when she accidentally hexed Apples mirror once and it became mean so she had to pretend to be the mirror to compliment the girls ego. This though? This was different

Out of sheer stress the girl summoned purple flames in her hands staring at the Mirror raising her hands as if she was going to shatter the mirror before freezing when she was met with the sound of the mirror speaking again

"Those who art guided by the Dark Mirror."

The green flames flicking and gripping at the glass from the other side slowly began to fade out as it continued.

"Follow the wish of thine heart, and take the hand thou seest reflected in the looking glass."

At that, the flames fully out and her breath caught in her throat as a hand came into view. It looked as if it was reaching out towards her, but it was waiting for someone to take it. There was something all too familiar about the hand as it waited, something that she just couldn't place as she bit her lip the flames in her hand died down.

She stared at the mirror eyes staring at the glint of a small ring on its finger that caught her attention and it made her bite her lip looking over her shoulder to the stairs she could just go but for some reason the hand was reaching out as if ushering her.

[Name] turned back to the mirror that floated to her still beckoning her forth as she spoke "Mum if this is a prank to get me to let you out I'm going to punch you" [Name] said pausing yet the atmosphere was still tense this was real and she couldn't help but be swayed.

She began to reach out for the hand the one shown in the glass mere centimetres away from you. The words the mirror uttered next feel deaf upon [Name] is ears as her fingertips brushed against the glass pausing before it went through as her eyes widened before shouting in shock when the hand was quick to reach out and grab onto her's, pulling her body through the glass.

The mirror broke with a large shatter and fell to the ground, glass shards scattered all over the ground and curtain the words that were left deaf upon [Name] is ears echoed a warning that was spoken around in the broken glass, never to be heard.

"For I.....And for them.....And for thee.....Little time doth remain. No matter what, take care to never let go of that hand..."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 / 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭��

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month ago

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Very unusual home. Apparently, the 1947 home was redesigned, inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright, but it's hard to say. Located in Houston, TX, it has 3bds, 4ba, 3,714 sq ft, $2.475m.

Very large entrance foyer with slightly angled walls.

Very interesting ceiling and columns. I like the bright colors, though.

The dining room has a very narrow shelving inset in the wall. I wonder if the large piece of art conveys.

The kitchen is very large. The island is double sized and has a decorative metal piece embedded in it.

The kitchen kind of reminds me of a diner. I think it's the windows.

Here's one of two counters. There's exposed ductwork above the beams in the ceiling.

The formal open concept living/dining room. Can you imagine how much gray paint it took to paint this ceiling and beams?

Here's a guest powder room.

The primary bedroom is quite fancy, but it's just decor, not architecture.

This is an extension of the primary bedroom, a very large sitting area.

The bath has some fascinating tile design.

This secondary bedroom is quite large.

Smaller, yet fashionable, standard 3pc. bath.

This space is used as a home gym, but it doesn't have to be. I think it's actually the 3rd bd.

This shower room has an exotic theme.

A large space used as a game room.

This is nice, it's a potting area that has greenhouse glass.

And, here's a guest suite. It has a separate entrance, and is one big room with sleeping and sitting areas, with a full kitchen.

This is very nice- the window and floor are attractive.

Lovely guest bath, too.

Covered patio outside.

They put a cover over the pergola and this is the barbecue/picnic area. I like the columns.

The gardens are very pretty.

0.45 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/57-Carolane-Trl-Houston-TX-77024/27797079_zpid/

#houses #house tours #home tour

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the-most-humble-blog · 13 days ago

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You Are Being Haunted — and Science Can’t Save You.

You are being haunted. And you don’t even know it.

Not by ghosts. Not by demons. But by something far worse.

Something that follows you. From inside you. From before you were conscious — and long after you think you’re dead.

I. What Follows You Without Footsteps?

In quantum physics, there’s a term:

Superposition — the idea that particles can exist in multiple states at once, until observed.

Observation collapses the wave. But what collapses you?

Answer: Your shadow.

You think it’s a trick of the light. But in quantum terms, it’s something else:

A probability field. A projection. A permanently entangled copy of your presence in spacetime.

Not metaphor. Not poetry. Physics.

II. It Comes Back. Every Time.

You can try to change.

Move cities.

Get therapy.

Shave your head and call it rebirth.

But the shadow doesn’t care.

Because the shadow isn't a symptom. It’s a recording.

A data echo of everything you’ve been. And everything you're capable of being again.

If you’ve ever tried to escape yourself — Only to circle back into old habits, old wounds, old lusts — That wasn’t weakness. It was recursion.

And recursion is physics. Not failure.

III. Quantum Haunting Is Real. Here's the Data.

Not allegory.

Literal evidence exists.

Hiroshima, 1945.

When the atomic bomb dropped, thousands vaporized in microseconds. But their shadows did not.

人影の石 (Hitokage no Ishi) — The Human Shadow Etched in Stone.

A woman sitting near the Sumitomo Bank. Vaporized by thermal radiation.

But the stone steps behind her were bleached — except where her body shielded them.

Her final shape. Frozen into reality. A dark imprint of her last moment of life.

They call it: The Human Shadow of Death. The Blast Shadow.

But let’s be precise:

It wasn’t just a stain. It was a recording. Of presence. Of heat. Of witness.

And here’s what’s worse:

You’re leaving them, too. Right now.

IV. What Science Still Won’t Admit

There is no unified theory explaining consciousness.

We can split atoms. We can map genomes. But we can’t explain:

Why you dream of your ex.

Why trauma shows up as smell.

Why some memories scream without sound.

Why the past lives in your body.

There is no consensus on how the mind locates itself inside the body.

But evidence suggests:

There’s something watching you from within the field of you. Something that records every shame, lust, betrayal, fear — not emotionally, but energetically.

Your trauma? Not stored in the body. Encoded.

In the wavelength of your biofield. In the negative space of your choices. In your shadow print.

V. The Observer Effect (and Why You’re Fucked)

Quantum mechanics says:

Observation changes the outcome.

If that’s true…

What happens when you observe yourself?

Guilt. Self-hatred. Shame. Depression.

Those aren’t emotions. They’re echoes. They're your own wave function collapsing on itself.

And the more aware you become of who you’ve been — The darker the shadow that stands behind you.

VI. No One Escapes. Not Even The Enlightened.

Go meditate. Go fast. Go run barefoot through forests chanting mantras.

It won’t matter.

Even monks report psychological possession during shadow integration.

Carl Jung, the man who coined the term “the shadow self,” wrote:

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life — and you will call it fate.”

But Jung didn’t know quantum field theory.

If he did, he would’ve known:

You’re not just fighting patterns. You’re resisting a mirrored field embedded into the architecture of time.

And here's the kicker: You destroy it — you destroy yourself.

VII. The Human Shadow is Not Just Metaphor — It's Mechanism

Remember Hiroshima.

The shadow was left behind. Because the body absorbed the light.

That’s not poetic. That’s radiological fact.

Let me rephrase it for clarity:

The body was erased. The shadow stayed.

And still we ask:

Is the soul what survives death?

What if it’s not the soul?

What if it’s the shadow?

What if what stays behind isn’t divine — but undeniable?

What if you die… And what remains is everything you couldn’t face?

VIII. Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Your Quantum Stalker

You call it:

Guilt

Anxiety

The past

A bad habit

But science has a term for it too:

Quantum entanglement.

The particles that make you… you Are never alone.

And if they once interacted with trauma? They are forever linked to the energy of that event.

Even when you leave the place. Even when the person dies. Even when you heal.

The field doesn’t forget.

And neither does your shadow.

IX. Why You Should Be Scared

Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer told the story of the bomb.

But not the blast shadows.

Hollywood won't show you the real horror:

People permanently burned into stone — by light.

That’s not science fiction. That’s what’s left when energy remembers.

And energy always remembers.

You? You think you’re safe.

But the field has you documented.

Every word. Every orgasm. Every betrayal.

There is no deleting your shadow.

X. Final Revelation

You're haunted.

By what you've done. By what you've denied. By the part of you that watched you sin — and never blinked.

This is not metaphor. This is physics.

You are not being followed. You are being mirrored.

And the only way to kill your shadow?

Is to never cast one again. But to stop casting one…

You must destroy all light.

Including yourself.

And so it comes back.

Every time.

🧠 Call to Action

You are being watched. By a part of you that remembers what you’d rather forget.

Reblog if the idea of your own shadow now makes your skin crawl. Reblog if the physics of guilt suddenly makes sense. Reblog because maybe you’re haunted too — and you didn’t even know it.

⚠️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is psychological horror, quantum theory satire, trauma field exploration, and sociocultural commentary. It is protected under the laws of literature, symbolic science, and emotionally accurate terror. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s your shadow blinking back.

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novlr · 3 months ago

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“Your article on how to write and describe indoor spaces was pretty awesome. You found a few notes I sometimes forget to hit like: scent, inherent sounds and ,especially, inherent activity; staff and so forth. Can you do the same outside?ie. facades, architectural features, presence of, or lack of, things like cupolas, balusters, keystone arches, roman vs. ogive-arches. Also distinguish between styles like Neo-Baroque, Neo-classical, Neo-Gothic, etc.?“

Buildings are a really unique way to set the scene. In fact, I’ve read plenty of books where the buildings felt like characters in their own right, rather than just spaces where a story was set. There is so much to gain from being able to capture a building or the architectural style of a region really well, and that goes for both those writing about the same world we inhabit, or if you’re writing genre fiction that requires a completely custom-built world.

Understanding basic architectural elements

Every building is made up of unique details and component parts that come together to give a building its unique, architectural style. When describing a building, or an architectural style, it’s important to have the vocabulary to properly describe what you’re seeing. So here’s a quick primer. The list is by no means exhaustive, but hopefully covers some of the more common architectural elements:

Facade: The main exterior face of a building.

Foundation: The base that supports the structure.

Architrave: This most often refers to the decorative, moulded frame of a door or window.

Cornices: Horizontal decorative moulding at the top of walls.

Skirting: Horizontal decorative moulding at the bottom of walls.

Columns or Pillars: Vertical supporting elements that transmit the force of the elements above to what is below. If these take the form of a female figure, then they are known as caryatids.

Corbel: A bracket-like structural feature designed to hold the weight of what is above it. These are often decorative.

Buttress: A structure built against a wall to prop up or reinforce the wall. Usually these look like flat ramps on the outside of a building, but a flying buttress looks visually like an arch and are used when a building has a vaulted ceiling.

Pilasters: Decorative columns that appear to be embedded in walls that can either be decorative or load-bearing.

Gable: A triangular section of a wall between the sides of a sloped roof.

Pediment: In classical architecture, a triangular gable is called a pediment.

Finial: An object that marks the top, or end, of an architectural element, often used to decorate domes, towers, or gables.

Dormer: A structural element that protrudes vertically from a roof. These offer additional headroom or light into the roof space and can be added to a building post-construction.

Coping: The capping or covering of a wall to give it a finished look.

Cupolas: Small dome-like structures placed on roofs.

Baluster: A small moulded shaft that supports a handrail of a staircase, balcony, or parapet. A series of balusters are called a balustrade.

Arches: Curved structures spanning openings that can support weight.

Moulding: A decorative finishing strip (architrave, cornices, and skirting are all a type of moulding).

Common architectural styles

Architectural styles are incredibly varied, but we tend to talk about only a select few that have been influential internationally, which are often quite Euro-centric. There are lots of incredible styles that are worth your time and research, however I’ve outlined some of the most common styles you may have heard about below so you have an idea of what to look out for:

Baroque: Characterised by highly decorative and theatrical features, the Baroque architectural style originated in Italy during the late 16th century and expanded throughout Europe. Designed to amaze, it used visual and theatrical effects, including domes, painted ceilings, grand staircases, mirrors, sculptures, columns, and oval rooms.

Romanesque: There have been several Romanesque movements, but the first took hold in Europe from the 10th century and the beginning of the 11th century. Characterised by thick walls and bare facades, its interiors were richly decorated with frescoes.

Gothic: Gothic architecture was a popular style in Europe from the late 12th to the 16th century, lasting even longer in some places. The term “Gothic” was first used as an insult during the Renaissance by people who preferred classical designs. Gothic architecture is known for its pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses. It also includes detailed stonework and colourful stained glass windows, making Gothic buildings both elegant and imposing.

Neoclassical: Neoclassical architecture, as the name implies, is a revival of Classical architectural styles, drawing inspiration from Greek and Roman designs. Buildings from the 18th century often resembled Greek and Roman temples. This style is characterised by clean, elegant lines, a simple and uncluttered look, free-standing columns, and large, imposing structures.

Brutalist: Brutalist architecture emerged in the 1950s in the United Kingdom as part of post-war reconstruction efforts. This style is defined by its minimalist approach, emphasising raw building materials and structural elements rather than decorative designs. Brutalist buildings often feature exposed, unpainted concrete or brick, sharp geometric shapes, and a mostly monochromatic colour palette. Steel, timber, and glass are also commonly used in these constructions.

So how do you write it?

Focus on distinctive features

Identify unique architectural elements.

Highlight unusual materials or colours.

Are there any historical modifications that change the look and feel?

Has the building sustained any damage, or is there any wear and tear?

Emphasise scale. Which parts of the building are meant to look large and imposing, and which are more designed to be small and invisible?

Consider the building’s relationship with its surroundings. Does it complement or contrast with neighbouring structures?

What is the building’s function and how does its design serve that purpose?

What is the overall impression or emotional response the building evokes?

Pay attention to lighting, both natural and artificial, and how it interacts with the structure.

Highlight any significant architectural patterns or repetitive elements.

Examine how people interact with and move through the space.

How does it look?

How does the light interact with the building’s surfaces at different times of day and in different weather?

What kind of shadows does it cast, and do these change?

What kind of colour variation is there in the construction?

Are there any distinctive weathering or age marks?

How does the surrounding environment reflect in its windows?

Is there any plant life growing on or around it?

What distinctive architectural patterns stand out?

How does it feel?

What texture does it have? Is it made of stone, brick, wood, or some other more material?

What is the temperature of the surface? Is this in keeping with its surroundings or is this unusual? If so, why?

You can show the passage of time with how smooth certain elements are. Handrails, walls, and steps can all be worn down. Are these elements worn, or crisp and angular?

Are walls smooth or rough to the touch? What does this say about what happens to the building? This could be through the passage of time, exposure to the elements, or the social lives of those who exist in or around it.

Is there any moisture on the walls? Is this expected? What does it say about the general state of repair?

How does the wind and the air move around the building? Are the wind tunnels, or is the air surprisingly still?

How does it sound?

Does sound echo when it bounces off the walls or is it dulled?

What sound does the air make when it interacts with different surfaces?

Does it have any distinctive sounds, like creaking floors or banging pipes?

How do footsteps sound on different surfaces?

Are there any building-specific sounds like the ringing of bell towers or chimes?

Are there natural sounds associated with the building, like the scurrying of insects and small animals on a garden roof?

Research and worldbuilding

Whether you’re writing a fantasy building or describing one in the real world, you’ll probably need to have at least a passing understanding of architectural terms. Your readers have a specific frame of reference, so you need to ensure you use descriptions they can understand. A hobbit hole may be a fictional building, but it is still constructed and described in a way that readers can engage with. With that in mind, these research and worldbuilding techniques will help you on the way:

Research appropriate architectural terms. Don’t get bogged down in details, but make sure you’re using the right word to describe the right thing.

Understand basic construction methods. If you’re writing about real-world buildings, then understanding how they’re built is essential. You don’t want to describe a timber frame in a building that is traditionally constructed with the steel frame. If you’re describing a fantasy building, then you need to have an idea of how these are constructed within the constraints of your story world, and stay consistent. It’s also important to determine if different buildings have different construction. After all, a hobbit hole requires a very different construction from Elrond’s house in Rivendell.

Learn about (or invent) local building materials and determine if they’re used in construction, or if materials are imported.

Consider historical context and regional influences for the buildings you’re describing.

Make sure your building has a function. There’s a difference between describing a specific building, or just using a general description for the style of an area. If you’re being specific, then make sure there’s a reason for that specificity.

Common mistakes to avoid.

Don’t overuse technical terms. When you’ve done the research, it’s natural to want to show off that knowledge, but it’s usually not going to be interesting to readers. It’s important information for you to know so that you can use the right words and means to describe something, but if it’s not plot-relevant, technical jargon isn’t all that useful.

Don’t ignore the human scale. A building is only as useful as the purpose it serves. Never lose sight of the fact that the characters will need to interact with it.

Make sure you remember the environmental context. No building exists in a microcosm, so be sure to fit it into its surroundings.

Don’t overlook a building’s cultural significance. In the grand scale of your narrative, it means something. This could be anything from historical to social. But if the building is important enough to describe, then there are important reasons why it is the way it is.

Remember that buildings are more than just structures; they’re repositories of history, culture, and experience. Your descriptions should capture not just their physical appearance, but their role in the story and their impact on characters and plot.

#writeblr #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #creative writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writerblr #writer #ask novlr

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luxlightly · 28 days ago

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Fragile

A fanfic of @personostient's OC Dr.Arachne in their recent comic

I said I desperately wanted to read more about him and they said "then write it yourself, scrub" (more or less) so here's this. I have now a multiple chapter story in my head for this but at least here's a very small (as of yet unnamed) Arachne trying to understand complex ideas like sympathy and compassion when he's only big enough to fit 2 brain cells in him and one is fully occupied with having OCD.

---

In retrospect, gnawing on the already weak supports of a load bearing cross beam was a bad idea vis-a-vis the structural integrity of the floor above but, in its defense, its grasp of architecture was somewhat lacking.

Also, it had only done so to get at the termites within, who'd already done some pretty extensive damage to the whole area.

Really, it had been inevitable.

Only a matter of time before someone or something fell straight through to the dark and dusty basement.

Into the spider’s web.

Well, straight through its web, tearing up hours of work and crushing a very delicious looking moth that the spider had been saving for later and sending the spider frantically scrambling away, dodging bits of debris.

It wasn't exactly a spider, but it wasn't exactly not a spider, either. Something closer to “the elements of spiders that instill fear”. All fangs, legs, eyes, and jittery movement.

Not that it was instilling much fear at this size, though the exact nature of the size was nebulous at best. Somewhere between a rat, a golf ball, and a human heart, the shifting mass of jet black limbs and glowing red eyes would lose in a fight with the average house cat or particularly determined mouse.

So a dead, fully grown human, delivered to its metaphorical doorstep, was a fortuitous turn of events, indeed.

It could put so much of that mass to use, finally having enough to form some more complex systems, maybe even to venture out beyond the basement!

The spider scurried out from its hiding place in the dark, excited but still cautious, and onto the chest of the human. The smell of blood was thick in the air.

The spider had been trying to determine the best way of beginning to consume such a feast when some of its eyes made unexpected contact with another pair.

The human blinked and the spider froze.

Oh fuck. That rising and falling of the chest was breathing! That thing vertebrates did when they were alive!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

For a long moment, the two just stared at each other.

Then, the human raised a hand, reaching towards it, and the spider braced to be crushed. It squeezed all its eyes closed, but the pain didn't come.

The hand instead ran two fingers softly over its body in a gentle, repetitive motion.

“Hey…little buddy…” the human wheezed. “It's okay…I'm not--” the human paused to cough, specks of blood dotting his lips. “--not gonna hurt you. ‘M a doctor…Do…’do no harm’...”

The human’s eyes were glassy and its breathing seemed labored.

The spider didn't know a whole lot about human anatomy, but it was pretty sure they needed their blood to stay almost entirely inside of them or it was detrimental to their health. The amount that surrounded the human and was currently leaking from a gash across his side was probably more than was supposed to be outside of him at any given time.

The various pieces of wood and glass embedded in his flesh were probably also probably bad.

The spider stayed frozen in terror, tiny body trembling as the hand that was nearly as big as it was continued to run along its carapace.

“Shhh…” the human hushed, though the spider had made no sound. “ ‘s okay. Okay to be scared. I'm…heh…I'm a little scared myself…”

The spider’s venom was laughably weak at this size, barely enough to put a human under for a few minutes, but that would likely be all it took for his injuries to finish him off.

It would be easy enough to strike out and bite him as he continued his odd pattern of stroking his hand across its body but, strangely…the spider found it didn't really want the motions to stop.

It felt…nice.

Centimeter by centimeter, the spider's body relaxed, leaning into the touch, eventually pressing back into the human’s fingers.

The human let out a wet sounding chuckle.

“You’re a weird little thing, huh? I think…I think I may have lost a bit too much blood…”

His hand went still, settling against his chest and his eyes closed. His breathing continued, but it was growing weaker by the moment.

Well, that problem solved itself, it seemed. Now the only problem the spider faced was again trying to find a way to best consume a creature so much larger than itself.

Perhaps…perhaps it should wait until he was dead before trying to eat him. After all, he had not killed it, though it was easily within his power. Perhaps it was only fair that it not kill him, in return.

Though, technically it was sort of its fault for gnawing through the support beams, which would mean it had killed him. No more so than the termites had, though, certainly!

Fine. It would eat him then finish eating the termites as recompense and all would be good and balanced and correct.

The spider let out a frustrated chittering noise, pacing tiny circles around the human’s chest.

It was not all good and balanced and correct! It was bad and wobbly and wrong like rotten, termite eaten wood and it felt Bad! But why?

The human was full of holes now, too. The spider had gnawed holes in the wood. Maybe it could close these holes in the human and it would not be Bad anymore. Yes, then it would be balanced. Then this feeling of Wrong would settle.

And…maybe the human would continue his gentle repetitive touches again.

The spider crawled up to the human's face, where a small gash weeped blood. Trying to get the blood to go back inside seemed like it was likely a lost cause. Liquids hated going where they were supposed to and the spider hated it about them. The human would just have to find new blood on his own, once his stopped leaking.

Long appendages tipped with spinnerets extended up from the spider's mass, stretching fine silken stands between them.

Pressing against the human's skin, it tethered a strand above and below the very end of cut, then crossed the limbs, pulling the stands taut before anchoring the strands to the skin again, a fraction of a centimeter down the length of the cut, forming a tiny ‘x’.

It repeated the motion. The silk’s adhesive held strong. It repeated the motion. Then repeated it again.

And again and again and again.

Bit by bit, the skin pulled together over the wound in a surprisingly satisfying way and the spider’s limbs became a blur of movement, crossing over each other a dozen times a second.

The repetitive nature of the movement scratched some itch in it's mind oh so nicely. All balanced and mirrored and equal and Good.

It was almost disappointed when the wound was fully closed, the seam of tiny, gossamer stitches nearly invisible, as if the wound had never been.

Luckily, there were many more holes left to close.

It moved to another on his collar, stitching it up in only a few seconds, then pulled a shard of glass from his shoulder and sealed the wound there just as quickly.

Before the spider could move on to the next wound, the thrumming in the human’s chest, his heart’s pulsing movement, stuttered. It's rhythm grew ever weaker.

The spider didn't know all that much about how creatures of flesh and blood worked, but it knew that, when that pulse stopped, they did too, and that they needed blood to keep it going.

The gash across the human's side was leaking a lot of blood. It had to be closed soon or the human would almost certainly die.

The spider moved to the wound and started the same pattern of criss-crossed silk that it had closed the other's with. It got an inch or so down the length of the gash when the silk's glue gave way, the wound splitting back open.

The spider chittered, pensively.

The wound was too big and the blood flow from it too strong for the silk to stick to the skin tightly enough. It needed something more substantial.

Holding up a leg, it stretched the tip out to a nearly hair-thin strand.

It could spare just enough of its own body to hold the wound closed enough for the silk to seal it. It wouldn't take much.

But…sealing a wound held together by a piece of itself would mean sealing a piece of its body in the human's. What effect might that have on such a creature?

After all, its body didn't have to exist in one single piece. So what was really the difference between making a part of its body a part of the human's and making the human's body a part of its own?

But, without action, the human would die either way.

…

Surely, such a tiny piece of itself would do no harm…

The spider used another limb to pull the thin, jet black strand taut. Using the sharp tip of the strand, it pierced the flesh on one side of the wound, then the other, weaving itself back and forth through the human's skin, pulling the torn edges back together.

Once the gap was closed, the spider sealed it with silk, the same as the others.

Good and Balanced and Correct.

#other's ocs #my writing #I love this little guy #he's 50% legs 50% eyes and somehow another 100% neurosis #Dr.Arachne

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silvernightabyss · 7 months ago

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“Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” - Chapter 1

Yandere Hero x gn!Reader

Isekai, who among us hasn't dreamed of it? Well, get it signed. Try not to throw yourself into the arms of the protagonist as soon as you see him. Remember, you may know everything about him, but he's seeing you for the first time. The thoughts of the protagonist come as a gift.

How many references do you want? Yes.

word count: 2.9k Prologue/Chapter 1

It's been two weeks since you've been in the fantasy world of the novel. Adapting has been difficult, even though you've inherited fragmentary memories of the original owner of the body. The unfamiliar people, surroundings, etiquette, and architecture were very disconcerting. To your shame, you spent your first night sobbing quietly in your room in the temple. The only thing you were probably lucky about was that you weren't a member of the church, just a hired sewist. Given the fact that the high priest was the one who raped Evan, you had no desire to see the man, whose name was Donavan. Make sure you memorize that shithead's name and if you ever summon a demon, sell his soul.

In fact, you hadn't seen him or Evan since you'd been in this world. And while the first pleased you, the second disappointed you. As you learned by asking the servants, Evan and his team were on a quest to destroy one of the demon lords living in a poisonous swamp. This happened at the beginning of the first volume, as you may recall. And what the author thought to add the location of the poison swamp, in all games it was always the most annoying part. Probably because the author was an insufferable evil bastard who drew inspiration from the most annoying things created by human hands. A sudden wave of anger almost ripped the thin fabric in your hands in half. Then you stroked it quickly, as if to comfort it, removing the creases that had formed.

Poor Evan was going to get poisoned by some nasty animal and come back to the temple with a fever for a week. Sad, of course, but nothing that with your level of power you could change. The day after the isekai, you tried a little magic. Find some chakra, mana core, nen or something. But no. All you got was to feel like an idiot for half an hour, huffing and puffing like a pissed-off hedgehog. No transmigrator buffs. No annoying system or divine companion. Nothing. That made you completely powerless to help Evan. It was frustrating, angry, and made you want to bang your head against the wall. Your modern upbringing couldn't allow you to ignore someone else's misfortune. If you worked in the kitchen, you would surely spit in the soups and drinks that are made especially for the High Priest. Unfortunately, those are the only petty thoughts of revenge you could afford.

Part of you just wanted to leave, good thing sewing skills were embedded in your subcortex, and you could find work somewhere else, not in a place where you knew one hero suffered every day. You wince. Thinking about it like that made you feel bad about yourself. It was vile to think of leaving. As the only person with knowledge of the situation, you had to stay and try to help in any way you could. Even if your attempts would be fruitless in the end.

You spent the next two hours diligently embroidering new robes and fixing old ones where the fabric was too worn. Unpleasant thoughts of varying degrees of intrusiveness kept popping into your head, but you studiously ignored them. Their content was something like “To be or not to be”, only your option was “To stay or not to stay”.

After you finished your work, you picked up a pile of robes and went to turn them in to the storekeeper. The temple was beautiful, even to your unassuming eye. The entire continent worshiped the Creator who made the world and the gods they created to help look after the people. In fact, you remembered from the book that the mythology of Evan's world was very interesting. Incredibly written and detailed lore describing events from ancient times to the present day. Some of the knowledge you had already forgotten, but for example you remembered that the Irin continent, where the main story took place, was named after the god's favorite angel.

The central temple of the capital was dedicated to the Creator. Numerous frescoes on the ceiling depicted the creation of the world and the races that inhabited it. For the first week, you walked with your head up, and more than once you were on the verge of falling. The tall, graceful steles also drew attention to the care with which the flowers and leaves were molded, as if they were real and the spell had just turned them to stone a moment ago. The garden wasn't to be forgotten, you'd only been there once, but it was already completely engraved in your heart. Score one for staying. Overall to summarize the temple was beautiful, the priests friendly. So why the hell is this place of paradise run by this goddamn pervert! The Creator's eyes are blown out of their heads to let a man like that in charge of their temple? Unbearable.

Your boots thudded loudly and angrily on the marble floor, and you continued on your way. The servants and priests you encountered preferred to avoid you in a wide arc, sensing in their gut the dark and heavy aura you gave off. With the power you put into opening the door, you could shred a mountain to pieces with a single blow. Yeah, like that bald guy, that's how powerful you were at that moment. The storekeeper didn't even lift his head from the paper he was looking at. Inwardly, you marveled a little at his restraint; you yourself would have jumped on the spot if you had been rushed in with such a bang. More calmly you approached the not-young man whose most prominent feature was his giant-hooked nose.

“I brought the robes, where should I put them?” Your voice rumbles through the room.

The man nodded vaguely toward a neighboring room filled with baskets full of robes. The servants had to wash and dry the robes before handing them back to the priests. Why the freshly sewn robes had to be washed was a big question, but not of your mind. You were about to leave when you were stopped by the storekeeper.

“Go to the infirmary and get the medicine for the hero. His chambers are in the east wing of the temple on the third floor.”

During your entire stay in the room, the storekeeper didn't even look at you, and after he gave you the order, he started acting as if you weren't even here. Well, the main thing is that he didn't yell. You shrugged your shoulders and left the room.

The stone-face test was successfully passed, the die rolled on a twenty! In fact, your heart was racing, and your palms were unpleasantly sweaty. Did all this mean you would be able to see Evan? You didn't even know he'd returned. With an effort of will, you suppressed the joyful scream that burst from your mouth. You're going to see the protagonist of this damn novel. Almost dancing, you hurried toward the infirmary.

The nurse, whose name was Ellen, gave you your medication as soon as she heard that you had come from the storekeeper. The girl explained that because of the upcoming festival dedicated to the Creator, all the servants were busy preparing for the sacred rituals. Mentally, you tsked. That no servant could spare time for the precious hero of the Church? Nonsense, of course, but nonsense that plays right into your hands. Having memorized what to give and in what dosage, you headed for the eastern wing.

The corridors became more and more empty with every turn, as if you were entering a forbidden zone. The atmosphere was oppressive and growing colder with each step. A creak sounded very close to you, made you jump on the spot and freeze. It was scary to turn around. You didn't want to see the ghost behind you. On bending legs, you turned around and ….Mmm No, that's just your overactive imagination working for the bread. There was nothing behind you. Nothing in the front, either. Cussing under your breath, you continued walking. Isekai had definitely taken a toll on your nerves. Shame they hadn't invented valerian here yet.

The doors to Evan's chambers were carved, decorated with ornaments of flowers. You knocked hesitantly, and when there was no answer, you knocked again, but louder. Maybe he was asleep? What was to be done? The nurse had said the medication had to be timed to avoid making him feel worse. The doorknob in your hand felt like a ticket to heaven or hell. Praying in your mind to who you didn't know, you pushed it down. With a quiet click, the door opened. Like a mouse about to steal cheese, you quietly slipped through the gap and closed the door behind you. You hoped Evan wasn't a cat that would eat you for entering without permission.

The main hero's chambers were green, very green, not because the walls and furniture were that color, but because of the dozens or even hundreds of pots with various plants. As a half-elf, Evan had the ability to understand and talk to plants. For a long time in the novel, they were his only friends, listening to all his sorrows. Sighing sadly, you headed for the door behind, which was presumably the bedroom.

Evan lay on the bed, resting peacefully, deep in sleep. The blanket lay in a bunched pile at the half elf's feet. His complexion was very pale with blue veins clearly visible, there were deep bruises under his eyes, and his breathing was intermittent and heavy. Despite this, he was still more handsome than the sleeping beauty herself. If you thought the comparison was inappropriate, just never mind. On tiptoe, you moved closer and leaned over the sleeping hero. Handsome. You especially liked the way his leafy green hair curled around his pointy ears. You wanted to catch one strand between your fingers and then watch it curl back. You weren't weird. Not at all.

You put the tray of medicine on the bedside table with a little more clatter than you'd like, but Evan didn't wake up, thankfully. The half elf's forehead was scalding hot, and you jerked your hand away quickly. Looking around, you spotted a basin of water on the other side of the room and quickly soaked the rag you'd grabbed from the tray before placing it on Evan's forehead. That's better. Satisfied, you smiled to yourself.

The question of how to medicate the unconscious hero was still open. You frankly didn't want to wake him up. You remembered from the book that Evan's condition was extremely serious, and he didn't come to his senses at all. Rest is the best medicine. It's better if you quietly do your business and leave, and he won't even know you're in his chambers. Shit, that sounded like some kind of thief.

Pass the cure with a kiss? You shook your head frantically as soon as the thought crossed your mind. God, you'd read too many romance novels. Conscience and morality would never allow you to violate Evan's personal boundaries like that, considering how they'd already been violated by the high priest. Besides, it would be despicable to do that to any person.

But then what were you supposed to do? You'd just have to pour the drugs into Evan's mouth and hope he didn't choke. That's about what you did, luckily without becoming a hero killer. Now comes the most difficult and embarrassing part. Ellen gave you an ointment to rub into the half elf's chest. The medical reasons behind this you almost completely missed, and you only had to take on faith the necessity of this action. Evan wouldn't like it if someone he didn't know undressed him and started performing medical procedures on him. Right? So something had to be done about it.

One of the scraps of fabric Ellen put on the tray caught your eye. It's perfect. You'll pretend to be a butler, covering your eyes with a strip of fabric so as not to embarrass your mistress. Master. You mean Evan. Quickly and tightly tying the band, you found yourself in darkness. With suddenly trembling hands you fumbled for the collar of the half elf's shirt and from it, you easily reached the buttons. Normally you would have easily done it in less than a minute, but now deprived of sight and incredibly embarrassed; each of your actions was stretched to the point of impossibility. After an eternity according to your internal clock, you finally managed this undeniably difficult task.

So it was time for the ointment, which was as green as you remembered and smelled like bumps or something else freshly herbal. Incredibly embarrassed by your own actions, you rubbed the ointment in as fast as you could without lingering on any part of Evan's skin. What's a stupid trail? A relieved exhale escaped you when this torture finally stopped. Ellen had said the ointment should absorb very quickly, literally in less than a minute, and in your head you drummed your fingers on your thigh, ticking off the seconds. When the time was up, you hoped for it towards the end you began to speed up the count, with all care you covered Evan with the blanket. The nurse had said the fever would go down very quickly, which meant the half elf could get cold.

And so it was done! Now you could leave with a clear conscience. You pulled the bandage off your eyes, blinked in the light, and hurriedly picked up the tray, leaving the room. Before you passed through the doorway, you took one last look at Evan, still sleeping peacefully. Handsome even when he's sick. Nodding affirmatively at that thought, you headed back to the infirmary to return the medication to the nurse.

***

Evan woke up when someone started undoing the buttons of his sleeping shirt. His first thought was that it was Donavan, so the only thing he could do was lie there and not fight back. Was he sick of his powerlessness? So sick that he wanted to open his chest with his hands and rip out his damn heart, which sometimes allowed itself to hope for the best. The half elf left his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the high priest's ugly face, twisted with desire. He could still visualize it all too well, anyway. A convulsion shot through his arm and he clawed his fingers into the sheets, his nails almost tearing the fabric.

Halfway through the unbuttoning, Evan suddenly realized that the fingers that sometimes grazed his skin were different from Donovan's skinny, knotted fingers, the pads of which were covered with calluses. In addition, a strange chill spread from his forehead down his body. Was it the damp cloth? It was only because of the two factors above that he actually opened his eyes and saw you. The snort that almost came out of his mouth, he held back with an incredible effort of will. A blindfold? It was ridiculous, even more ridiculous than the mix of slime deer and owl he'd met in the swamp. Ridiculous but oddly cute. The mere thought that he might be uncomfortable being stared at half-naked had never occurred to anyone. With already great interest and friendliness, he began to consider your appearance.

When you reached for the green jar, he recognized it as an antipyretic. A spark of realization lit him up, and Evan bit his lip. He was ready for the feeling of a thousand little insects crawling under his skin, but your touch didn't disgust him. Evan blinked perplexedly when he realized this. Short and medically detached, your touch was devoid of any lust. Noticing your fingers trembling, Evan concluded that at the very least you were awkward. Later his guess was confirmed by your tapping on your thigh, too uneven and often out of rhythm to be a sign of boredom or impatience. The blanket you covered him with forced him to smile slightly. A display of simple human caring that he had always been deprived of. The thought made him feel unpleasantly empty inside.

When your fingers reached for the bandage, Evan closed his eyes as quickly as possible, not even knowing why. He didn't have an answer to that question. Listening to the quiet rustling of the fabric of your clothes and the tinkling of the medicine on the tray made his heart feel lighter for some reason. It was as if you were not a randomly sent servant, but someone close to him who genuinely cared about him.

The creak of the door alerted him to your departure, but with his keen hearing, he could still hear your footsteps outside his chambers. As soon as they were gone, Evan sat up on the bed, causing the cloth on his forehead to fall down. Silently, he twirled it in his hands. His head felt strangely empty. Perhaps the only question that bothered him now was; who are you? Meeting you had irrevocably changed something in him, as if he had been a broken clock just now starting to run.

Evan rolled back over, sinking into the soft mattress, and returned the cloth to his forehead. The next time you two meet, once he's recovered enough to walk, he'll be sure to ask your name. With that thought, his exhausted mind took to its realm of Morpheus.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

#silwernight writes #my oc evan #yandere elf #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere hero #yandere x you #yandere x darling

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cybereliasacademy · 1 year ago

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HyperTransformer: A Example of a Self-Attention Mechanism For Supervised Learning

Subscribe .t9ce7d96b-e3c9-448d-b1fd-97f643ade4ab { color: #fff; background: #222; border: 1px solid transparent; border-radius: undefinedpx; padding: 8px 21px; } .t9ce7d96b-e3c9-448d-b1fd-97f643ade4ab.place-top { margin-top: -10px; } .t9ce7d96b-e3c9-448d-b1fd-97f643ade4ab.place-top::before { content: “”; background-color: inherit; position: absolute; z-index: 2; width: 20px; height: 12px; }…

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matthew2641 · 2 months ago

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"They know."

The entanglement between Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter is one fraught with manipulation, empathy, and a gradual dissolution of moral boundaries. Among the many manifestations of this dynamic, few are as structurally and thematically potent as the phone calls between Hannibal and Garret Jacob Hobbs in Aperitif, and Will to Hannibal in Mizumono. Although temporally and circumstantially disparate, these moments are deliberately interwoven, functioning as temporal markers in the evolving narrative of their mutual ensnarement. By examining the layered substrata embedded within these interactions, we discern the cyclical nature of influence and manipulation that constitutes the linchpin of Hannibal’s ontology: wherein power is neither imposed nor seized, but transacted—an unspoken recognition of each other’s latent capacities for violence, empathy, and control.

In order to grasp the profundity of both circumstances, there must be an understanding of the motivations that precipitated them. Hannibal’s call to Garret Jacob Hobbs, though executed with pragmatic brevity, belies a far more intricate set of intentions than initially suggested. At this stage in the narrative, the dynamic between Hannibal and Will is embryonic, subsisting on clinical curiosity—a regimen of dispassion Hannibal had grown accustomed to maintaining within the structure of his professional life. However, Will’s exceptional capacity for empathy was an anomalous force disrupting the measured architecture of Hannibal’s world, compelling him to consider avenues of a far more intimate nature. He saw in Will not merely a mind of peculiar brilliance, but a mirror—a potential companion. A conception potent enough to stir the abyssal ache of loneliness lurking beneath his polished exterior. This metaphysical hunger did not seek communion through the banalities of camaraderie, but the language with which he is most conversant: brutality. Crucially, this longing is filtered through Hannibal’s inability to engage with intimacy in any customary sense. Those loved by Hannibal are transformed, Abigail, Will, and even Alana endured respective reshapings under his hand. Love, as he conceives it, is not an act of gentle affection, but of sacramental violence—of devouring, refining, and rebirthing.

The phrase, "They know," offered under the pretense of courtesy, serves not Garret Jacob Hobbs, but Hannibal’s design. Affording Hobbs all the information necessary to ensure that his reckoning would be one of ferity, Hannibal sets the stage for the inciting act of Will’s initiation. Merely witnessing atrocity was insufficient—Will, no stranger to bloodshed, had to be implicated in its logic for the grimmer recesses of his psyche to resurface. The murder committed in the wake of the call is not merely an act of violence but a rite of passage—a trial by blood marking Will’s induction into the realm of existential violence Hannibal inhabits.

By the second season, the perilous symbiosis between Will and Hannibal has undergone an irrevocable shift, with Will now occupying a position of greater understanding and, to some extent, complicity. No longer a nescient pawn in Hannibal’s artifice, Will found himself reshaped by betrayal, incarceration, and the slow insidious seep of Hannibal’s influence—beholding his former confidant with tragic appreciation. What was once a relationship predicated on deception and power now throbs with an unsettling intimacy, of knowing and being known in a way that strips pretense to the bone, heedless of the ruin it invites. And so, as the loom of Hannibal’s retribution tightens its threads, Will acts in yet another betrayal of his espoused ethics, warning Hannibal with the very words that heralded his undoing: “They know.”

These mirrored phone calls do more than establish a warped parity; they elevate betrayal into an act of profane devotion. Superficially, the phone call suggests mutual recognition, a begrudging respect of each other’s prowess, their intellects so utterly interwoven that opposition and alignment have become indistinguishable. Yet, beneath this veneer of mutual acknowledgment roils an emotional undercurrent of unbearable complexity. Will’s call is not a simple warning—it is a moment of existential confirmation. Betrayal, in its conventional sense, implies a sundering. Though, in the case of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, betrayal is the mechanism that binds them. The call provides more than just a warning, it’s a gesture of terrible, inexorable recognition. Granting Hannibal something far more ruinous than treachery: understanding.

There is an aching irony in Will’s final call, a cruel paradox woven into the fabric of their bond. He, who has been both victim and agent of Hannibal’s machinations, now mirrors his adversary so exactly that the distinction between captor and captive collapses into irrelevance. In this fleeting moment, Will is not simply playing a part in the narrative Hannibal has orchestrated; he becomes its co-author. His warning is an unspoken confession, a testament to their enmeshment. Whatever semblance of love remains between them has been flayed to its barest form, pulsing with raw, excruciating knowing. Similar to the ouroboros, they are both devourer and devoured, their betrayals spiraling into one another in an endless recursion of destruction and genesis. There is no resolution, no terminus to their dance—only the certainty that in wounding one another, they are made whole, bound ever tighter in the embrace of ruin.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #garret jacob hobbs

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color-beyond-lines · 11 months ago

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I love that even as the romantic relationships progress in We Are, the friendships remain a focal point as well.

When Toey was telling Q about how he made it through the end of high school, he mentioned that Matt helped him a lot. Matt wasn’t physically present, but the value of his and Toey’s friendship was still highlighted.

And beyond the close circle of friends that the story revolves around, Toey has his skateboarding friends and Fang has his fellow architecture friends.

There is an authenticity in the way university life is portrayed in We Are (besides the fact they’re rarely ever in class), with friendships formed from shared courses of study, people already known from high school, with the friends of a s/o, and so on. There’s teasing and banter and heartfelt conversations. They argue and have awkward moments, but at the end of the day they support each other and encourage each other. They notice when someone isn’t behaving like themselves and ask what’s wrong. They notice when someone is in a better mood and tease about the reasons why.

The end of episode 11 had Phum admitting his feelings for Peem in front of all their friends. There’s so much trust and comfort embedded into these relationships, I can relax knowing that they all have someone to lean on. These friends know how to communicate, have fun, and be flirty to get their man. Watching their stories unfold is a highlight of my week.

#friendship is the heart of this series #I am loving it #we are the series #supportive friends #it’s the little things #phumpeem #tanfang #qtoey #thai bl

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nanamineedstherapy · 5 months ago

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Velvet Sin & Clandestine Vows - Getting *ahem ahemed* by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party!

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Minors DNI/Implied Cheating but not really/Shameless Smut/My First Smut

Summary: Nanami X F!Reader Porn with plot if you squint Nanami at a bougie party? Weird. Nanami getting dragged into a bathroom with a woman who isn't his wife? Even weirder. What’s hotter than luxury, mystery, and terrible decision-making? Spoiler: nothing. Let the chaos (and a closet with better taste than Gojo) ensue. Or Getting Railed by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party! This fic started as a joke & spiraled into a mix of billionaire aesthetics, deadpan sass, & unhinged party vibes. Buckle up—it’s classy, messy, & totally Nanami-approved. 💅 #Rewritten since I hated the first draft. TW: Maybe Cheating

A/N: This is my first time writing smut of any kind so let me know if it hits the spot ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖) Y’all, I swear, Nanami is loyal as hell, but who doesn’t love a little tension and mystery? If you’re living for the luxury or just here for the smut, drop a comment or a kudos—your chaos feeds mine. Cheers, besties! 🍸

The road twisted like a serpent through a dense forest, the towering pines stretching skyward, their shadows merging into a dark canvas under the fading sun. As Nanami’s Aston Martin DBS Superleggera glided past the last cluster of trees, the view opened into a scene pulled from the pages of an expensive dream.

The estate stood by a tranquil lake , its surface a sheet of liquid sapphire, mirroring the golden hues of the evening. The mansion, impossibly grand, didn’t merely rise—it commanded the horizon, almost otherworldly.

Towering walls of smooth stone enclosed the property, their minimalist design interrupted by intricate wrought-iron gates that whispered exclusivity rather than screamed it. AI-quipped security cameras, seamlessly embedded into the structure, blinking like mechanical sentinels, their presence a silent testament to caution wrapped in discretion. Guards in impeccably tailored suits patrolled the perimeter, some with guns, some with drones, some with androids, some with canines, their demeanor more akin to that of secret service agents than traditional staff.

The driveway stretched before him, a sleek ribbon of obsidian stone that gleamed like polished onyx under strategically placed lighting. The circular courtyard at the end was a gallery of excess : a Koenigsegg Jesko , a Bugatti Chiron , a Maserati Folgore , a Mercedes-Maybach S-Class , a Cadillac Celestiq , and a Rolls-Royce Phantom sat gleaming among other cars, their black, forest green or electric blue flawless exteriors reflecting the golden glow of vintage lampposts.

The lawns rolled outward like an emerald sea, interrupted by marble fountains with sculptures so detailed they seemed to breathe. At the edge of the estate, a private dock cradled a yacht —a floating palace that promised indulgence on the water. Above, the faint hum of helicopter rotors signaled rooftop landings, where multiple sleek, futuristic aircrafts waited in perfect formation.

The mansion itself was a contradiction brought to life. Its towering facade bore sharp lines and elegant curves, an architectural ballet where glass and steel met aged stone and brushed brass, each material woven into a seamless tapestry of power and refinement. High ceilings soared above, the kind that made you feel small without making you feel insignificant. The structure breathed genius—an intellect so vast it had turned ambition into reality.

As Nanami pulled up, the double doors opened before he even stepped out, as though the house had been expecting him. Inside, the ambiance shifted into a warm, inviting opulence. The grand hall shimmered under crystal chandeliers that fractured light into golden rain. Polished marble floors reflected the glow, amplifying the sense of space, while floor-to-ceiling windows turned the lake into a living painting framed by midnight silk drapes.

Walking in, he adjusted his Tateossian 18K gold cufflinks out of habit, the gold gleaming briefly in the chandelier light. The fabric of his Tom Ford silk Charmeuse shirt cooled against his skin as he rolled up his sleeves neatly, a testament to effort without indulgence. His tailored Mohair trousers—his entire outfit, his wife’s suggestion—fit him perfectly, a fact he acknowledged with a silent nod to her exquisite taste.

He knew she had spent more time selecting them than he ever would. She had an eye for these things, a maddening precision that made him trust her implicitly. He'd let her spend a good amount on tonight's party outfit to blend in with his office crowd, even though price tags were the least of his concerns. His wife, however, was a different story. Her taste was so particular that she rarely found anything worth buying at a store. But once she did, if it was casual, it would likely be inexpensive. However, if it was anything work- or party-related, it would undoubtedly carry a hefty price tag

The party coursed through the mansion like a heartbeat. In one ballroom , laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses as soft jazz played from hidden speakers. A smaller, more intimate space pulsed with energy, decked out like a private nightclub , where a few couples swayed to Spanish music under the prismatic glow of lights. Staff moved seamlessly among the crowd; their movements choreographed perfection, while their uniforms—a balance of practicality and haute couture—highlighted the wealth that surrounded them.

Each corner of the estate exuded thought and precision. From the soft, ambient lighting casting shadows on minimalistic art pieces to the way every surface seemed untouched yet lived in, the house wasn’t just a home; it was a living entity—one that whispered of brilliance, extravagance, and untold secrets.

Soon, before he knew it, corporate small talk had already grated on him; he’d barely resisted the urge to check his watch. Conversations about ‘exciting’ fiscal projections felt like sandpaper on his nerves, but years of navigating boardrooms had honed his stoic armor to perfection. He tilted his head just enough to feign interest in a junior analyst’s enthusiastic recounting of how they saved 0.5% on operational costs last quarter.

“Impressive,” he muttered, his voice so flat it was unclear whether he meant it or not. The analyst beamed anyway, oblivious.

His whiskey remained mostly untouched, a mere prop for these tedious rituals. He glanced down at the gold trim of the glass and thought fleetingly about hurling it through one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows—not out of anger, but for something more stimulating than listening to Steve from Compliance recount his golf trip.

“Nanami-san!” Steve called out, loud enough to turn heads. “What’s your handicap? Bet you’re deadly on the green.”

Nanami turned slowly, blinking once as if the words needed extra time to register. “I don’t play golf, Steve,” he replied, deadpan. “I have a job.”

Steve’s laugh was loud and awkward, his ego crumpling in on itself. Nanami allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction before turning back to the entrance, silently daring someone interesting to walk in and save him.

A marketing executive drifted over, a glass of champagne precariously balanced in one hand, their other already extended for a handshake. “Nanami, old sport!” the exec crowed, as though they’d survived war trenches together instead of working in adjacent departments.

“Hardly,” Nanami said, shaking their hand briefly before folding his arms, an unmistakable signal that the conversation was over before it began.

Then the intern appeared like a fly buzzing near a fresh wound, her enthusiasm bordering on suffocation. “Nanami-san, you look great tonight,” she gushed. “Is that Tom Ford? I could tell from a mile away!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes the moment he saw her making her way towards him from the other corner of the room. Her extremely short gold dress barely covered anything, highly inappropriate for co-worker parties. Where was HR when you needed them?

He regarded her with the kind of cool detachment that made people second-guess speaking to him in the first place. His response was little more than a nod, a gesture so dismissive it might as well have been punctuation. “Yes,” he replied curtly, sipping his whiskey for the first time just to end the interaction. The burn of alcohol was preferable to enduring another comment.

“I’ve never seen you in anything so... relaxed ,” she added, eyes wide as though he’d arrived in a Hawaiian shirt instead of a $25,000 ensemble.

Nanami considered a sarcastic remark— yes, I’m positively unhinged tonight with my gold cufflinks and tailored trousers —but decided against it. “Enjoy the party,” he said instead, his tone as warm as a January morning.

Her persistence, however, was unwavering, her enthusiasm grating on his last nerve. She was the type who delivered coffee he never asked for, lunches he didn’t need, flushed cheeks, and doe-eyed stares he couldn’t unsee. What he had initially dismissed as professional eagerness was now so obviously a crush that even the office ficus had likely noticed. He didn’t mind admirers so long as they kept their distance, but this one was suffocating. Tonight, he had a plan: feed her to his wife .

He let her ramble, tuning her out while his colleagues began their usual background drone: glowing self-praise about the last quarter’s financial performance. Occasionally, Nanami nodded, just enough to seem engaged while maintaining an expression that screamed, I’d rather be anywhere else .

Then a peer from Finance leaned in, his smirk as oily as his hair gel. “You’re quite the magnet tonight, Nanami. What’s your secret?”

“Competence,” Nanami replied, without missing a beat.

The peer’s laugh faltered into a cough as he quickly excused himself. Events like this always managed to sap what little energy he had left after work. First, they stole every waking moment with deadlines and deliverables, then they expected polite socializing in his so-called free time. It was, in his opinion, borderline sadistic. He took another sip of his whiskey, wishing—not for the first time—that he hadn’t shown up. He didn’t much care to mingle, despite appearances. These events were breeding grounds for insincerity, where pleasantries masked ulterior motives. His colleagues jumped him, juniors seeking advice on everything from office politics to investment strategies, while his peers probed for weaknesses under the guise of camaraderie.

Then, previously flanked by armed bodyguards, she walked in.

He felt it before he saw it—the slight shift in the room’s energy, the way conversations seemed to falter for half a second. When his eyes finally found her, it was like everything else dimmed in comparison.

Time didn’t stop—not in some romanticized way, but it slowed just enough to emphasize her entrance. Classy, confident, and untouchable. The sound of her heels on marble cut through the hum of conversation, subtle but commanding. The red rubies on her dress flowed like molten lava, catching the chandeliers’ light with every step. The slit revealed long, toned legs that seemed almost deliberately designed to catch the attention of every person in the room. Her movements were languid but purposeful, as though she were fully aware that the entire party had turned their focus toward her and didn’t mind in the slightest. The siren-like glint in her eyes warned anyone brave enough to approach.

Nanami’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the whiskey glass, his chest rising and falling in a controlled breath. His gaze locked on her instantly, though he couldn’t pinpoint what drew him first—the way her dress hugged her or the quiet authority in her stride. One moment, he was half-listening to his coworkers drone about quotas; the next, he was captivated .

“Who is she?” The intern whispered, her tone laced with poorly concealed jelousy.

Nanami didn’t look away, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Trouble,” he murmured, his voice low and even.

She didn’t need to seek attention—it sought her. Women flocked to her, showering her with warm greetings and effusive compliments. She reciprocated their affection with gracious smiles and her charm disarming even the iciest socialites. The men weren’t as brave, unsure whether to admire her or cower under her gaze—her siren-like aura daring any man to try their luck.

Except for one idiot.

Fucking Gojo.

Nanami’s jaw tightened as his white-haired colleague made a spectacle of himself, wrapping his arms around her from behind like an old friend reunited. Her face scrunched in irritation, a flash of disdain that Nanami couldn’t help but savor. But then she turned, her expression softening as she saw who it was. To his dismay, she hugged him back.

Nanami’s fingers curled harder around the glass of whiskey, the gold trim biting into his palm. Jealousy wasn’t his style— not like he wasn’t already married . But Gojo was a different story. The man had a knack for testing limits, his arrogance as boundless as his charm.

She, on the other hand, was the embodiment of contradictions: sharp yet soft, fun yet untouchable, her elegant demeanor veiling something far more dangerous. As if on cue, her eyes scanned the room lazily, not in search of anyone but allowing people to search for her.

And then their gazes locked. Her lips quirked into a knowing smirk, a silent dare.

Nanami’s breath hitched. Her smile—a challenge, a tease, a warning. His pulse quickened, a subtle betrayal against his otherwise calm exterior.

The intern beside him shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling the weight of the unspoken connection between the two. Nanami almost pitied her. Almost. Definitely not.

His focus remained on the woman; she approached the bar with the kind of confidence that made the world rearrange itself around her. Even the bartender seemed to straighten his posture, offering her a champagne flute without so much as a question. Her long fingers, adorned with a curious glove-like jewelry piece , brushed the glass as she murmured her thanks, her tone effortlessly polite but laced with disinterest.

He didn’t notice the minutes slipping by; time blurred under the soft hum of chandeliers and the muted conversations he was no longer part of. Her every movement consumed his attention, the sway of her hips in that red silk dress a calculated provocation.

When she slipped through the gilded archway leading toward the bathrooms, his decision was already made.

Keeping his drink down, Nanami barely registered the figure stepping into his path until he heard the familiar sing-song voice that grated worse than nails on glass. “Nanami! Where’s your wife? Haven’t seen her yet tonight,” his rival cooed, wearing his trademark smug grin that Nanami fantasized about erasing.

“Still at work,” Nanami replied smoothly, his tone devoid of emotion but cutting enough to silence further prying. He didn’t slow, leaving behind muttered speculations about his sudden interest in someone other than his wife .

The hallways had the richness of the place amplified. The further he moved from the party, the quieter it became, the noise receding into a distant hum. The mansion’s grandeur became starker in the silence. High ceilings arched above, their ornate crown moldings gilded with gold that caught the soft light of sconces. The black marble floors shimmered under his polished shoes, stretching endlessly toward the private quarters. Staff passed like shadows flitting through the ethereal glow of this labyrinthine estate.

He paused in front of the bathroom door, glossy black with intricate gold fixtures, left slightly ajar as though inviting him in. The faintest sliver of light spilled out against the marble.

Knock. Knock. Two taps. Firm. Purposeful.

The response was immediate. The door cracked open, and before he could utter a word, her hand shot out, grabbing his shirt and yanking him inside with a force that surprised him.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud as he was shoved against it, followed by the decisive click of the lock. Her scent lingered in the air, both grounding and intoxicating, cutting through the bathroom . Then her mouth was on his, hot and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Not even a hello?” He murmured against her lips, his tone low, strained, yet laced with wry humor.

“Hello,” she whispered mockingly, her voice syrupy sweet, before pulling him back down. Her nails grazed the nape of his neck, sending an electric jolt through him.

Oh, she was definitely a siren. He thought as she drew him in with effortless ease, leaving him half-convinced she could drag him into the ocean and he’d thank her for it.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, deft yet impatient. When one refused to cooperate, she let out a soft growl, yanking hard enough to send buttons scattering across the tiled floor.

“They’re custom,” Nanami deadpanned, his voice thick with effort. “My wife chose them.”

“No wonder they’re ugly,” she shot back, her smirk as sharp as a blade. “Send me the bill.”

Her sass drew a low chuckle from him, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. She was cutting through his composure so easily, leaving him disarmed in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

In a swift motion, he flipped their positions, pinning her against the full-length mirror. Her front hit the glass with a muted thud, the chill drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. For a moment, he held her there, his gaze sweeping over her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, pupils blown wide with a mix of defiance and desire.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror—a man undone, his hair disheveled, his usually sharp expression softened by raw hunger. He barely recognized himself, and for some reason, that didn’t bother him.

“Temptress. You’ve already got me obsessed,” his voice dark as he leaned down to press his lips to the curve of her ear.

“Stop talking,” she countered, her tone dripping with impatience. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him groan softly.

He obliged.

The kiss turned feral, finesse abandoned in favor of raw, unfiltered need. His hands roamed, the fabric slipping against her skin like water.

Once she turned in his arms, more of his buttons clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space as she ran her fingers on his chest then abs. The room filled with their gasps and whispered curses, the sterile luxury of the bathroom a backdrop to the pandemonium unfolding. She took off her handpiece, chucking it on the counter just to feel his skin against her fingertips unhindered.

Her scent was everywhere now, filling his lungs, embedding itself in his memory. It was familiar in a way, like déjà vu dancing on the edge of recognition. Unsettling, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Careful,” she murmured against his lips, her voice teasing. “You might just fall for me.”

Nanami pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “Highly unlikely,” he replied, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest smirk.

“Your loss,” she quipped, her voice light, but her hands circled around his shoulders, pulling him back toward her.

Whatever this was—whatever dangerous game they were playing—Nanami knew one thing: he didn’t want it to end.

The bathroom’s air carried a subtle mix of sandalwood, bergamot and cedarwood, understated yet lingering—a scent that seemed designed to make every breath feel curated, the kind of understated opulence that whispered money rather than screamed it

Yet for all its grandeur, it wasn't the decor that took center stage. It was the mess unfolding next to the countertop, where passion replaced polish.

Nanami now had her pressed against the large, mirror-backed counter, its polished surface now marred with the aftermath of their urgency—smudged fingerprints, scattered toiletries, and the faint condensation of their mingled heat. The cool marble against her back seemed to amplify the fire between them.

His grip was firm yet restrained, one hand steadying her thigh while the other trailed upward, tracing the daring slit of her dress with deliberate slowness. His fingers paused at the neckline, the silk sliding under his touch like water. His hold spoke of possession, but his eyes, half-lidded and burning, betrayed something deeper—curiosity, defiance, and a hunger he rarely let surface.

She kissed him again, her lips a demand he had no intention of denying. Teeth scraped against his lower lip, the sting pulling a soft groan from him that melted into a low chuckle. His hands roamed with precision, finding her waist, her hips, her breasts—each touch firm, unapologetic, and met with a sharp inhale or muffled moan. Every touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and disarray.

He lifted her with ease onto the countertop in one fluid motion. The chilled mirror behind her elicited a gasp as her dress slid higher at her thighs. Her legs tightened instinctively around him, pulling him closer.

“Not bad,” she teased breathlessly, her voice a mix of amusement and provocation.

Nanami’s lips quirked into a rare smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “I aim to impress.”

Her laugh was soft, intoxicating, and far too knowing. “You’re getting there.”

Her scent enveloped him now—a crisp, briny ocean breeze tinged with something wild and woody, a sharp contrast to the muted, earthy warmth of the bathroom. It was a siren’s scent, designed to disarm, to enthrall, and it worked far too well.

The sounds of their frenzy filled the room, chaotic yet rhythmic. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving faint crescent imprints as if marking her territory.

Then, with a devilish smirk, he dropped to his knees, his large hands splaying across the backs of her thighs.

“On your knees already?” She started, her voice faltering as he pushed the fabric of her dress higher. His lips ghosted over her inner thigh, his breath warm and teasing.

“You talk too much,” he murmured, his tone flat but edged with mischief.

Her laugh turned into a gasp as he tore through the delicate lace of her underwear with his teeth, the sound of ripping fabric punctuated by her sharp intake of breath.

His mouth found her core, hot and demanding; his tongue moved with deliberate precision, drawing broken whispers from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, long nails digging into his scalp as she arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation.

Each touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and chaos. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as she raised her head, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

When his fingers joined the fray—one, then two, then three—she let out a muffled cry, her hands trembling as they gripped his hair tighter. The rhythm turned torturous, each stroke a ploy to keep her teetering on the edge.

“Quiet,” he murmured against her, though the command was half-hearted at best.

Her laugh, shaky and breathless, cut through the haze. “Make me.”

He obliged, taking off his shirt & shoving it into her mouth to muffle her moans.

The room, a masterpiece of design and decadence, bore silent witness to their undoing. The perfection of its lines, the care in its curation—all of it had melted away, leaving only raw, unbridled chaos in its place.

Her body trembled, hips bucking against his mouth. His tongue and fingers were moving in perfect harmony. Her mewles grew higher in pitch, her body arching further as the tension began to pool in her belly.

Nanami’s grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady as her body trembled beneath him. Her moans, muffled by his discarded shirt, vibrated against his chest as he felt the waves of her release pulse through her. She clawed his scalp, a claim he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t enjoy.

When she finally collapsed against the mirror, her breath came in uneven bursts, fogging the glass behind her. Her flushed face, her dress still bunched at her waist, chest rising and falling as aftershocks wracked her frame left her looking like Mayhem personified. Still, he didn’t stop, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release like she was the finest wine.

Few moments passed, & Nanami stood, brushing the back of his hand against his lips, catching the faint taste of her. He was the picture of disheveled restraint—his hair tousled, his chest bare, and his trousers hanging low on his hips. The hunger in his eyes, however, was anything but restrained.

His gaze lingered on her as he reached for the straps of her dress. Tugging them down, he exposed her bare chest, the fabric sliding away like water until it pooled uselessly at her waist. Her breasts bounced with the movement, drawing a low growl from him that rumbled deep in his chest.

“Perfect,” he muttered, his voice gravelly as he leaned down. His lips closed over one breast, flicking her nipple with his toung, while his hand found the other, his touch alternating between firm and teasing. She gasped, her back arching off the mirror as he bit gently before soothing with his tongue, leaving her gasping & mumbling incoherently, her voice ragged but threaded with laughter—the kind that would have thrown a lesser man off balance. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” She spoke against the fabric in her mouth.

He paused, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You started it.”

She smirked, sharper than the edge of the counter, biting into her legs. “And I’ll finish it.” She gestured.

Her hands fumbled with his waistband, still trembling but determined. The flicker of impatience in her eyes was oddly endearing, though he’d never admit it. Nanami stepped back slightly, watching as she struggled with his belt, her fingers clumsy but relentless, then the same belt clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space.

When she finally freed his cock, her hand paused holding it, her eyes widening as her lips parted slightly.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased, his voice dropping into that smooth, sardonic tone.

“Shut up,” she muttered, voice muffled by the shirt.

He bit down lightly on her neck, one hand busy kneading her breast, while the other left faint crescent moons in the flesh of her ass.

Despite her reservations, her hand moved, slow at first, tentative strokes exploring him with a curiosity that bordered on reverence. The low "fuck" that escaped his lips emboldened her, and her fingers became bolder—squeezing at the tip, letting her thumb tease the slit, earning sharp hisses from him.

His control, usually ironclad, wavered, catching himself before her touch unraveled him entirely.

“Enough,” he growled, his hand wrapping around hers as he guided his cock to her.

She braced herself, her legs parted further instinctively as Nanami growled, guiding his cock toward her slick entrance. She mewled softly as he deliberately didn’t push in, instead teasing her, the thick head of his cock gliding against her swollen folds. The wet slide was maddening, the tension building as he refused to give her what she wanted. Her breath coming in shallow bursts as the tension coiled between them like a spring wound too tightly. Her eyes flashed with impatience, and the look of anger made him smirk through his own restraint. Then she hissed something, muffled, her voice low and threaded with irritation.

Nanami’s smirk was infuriating. “Patience.”

That patience didn’t last long. With a sharp thrust, he pushed inside her, his jaw clenching as she clenched around him, her walls tight and pulling him deeper. He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust; the intensity of the moment mirrored in their matched gasps and muffled curses.

Once he was fully sheathed, the restraint snapped. He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in, forcing a loud, uncontrollable moan from her.

His pace turned brutal, his hips slamming against hers with a force that made the marble countertop tremble beneath them. Her cries morphed into curses, each one sharp and biting, and directed at him with a venom that only fueled his hunger.

“You—oh my God—” she let out a muffled gasp, head falling back against the mirror as he drove her higher.

Nanami leaned down, yanking the shirt from her mouth as he captured her lips in a messy, heated kiss. Her teeth immediately bite his lower lip, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. Their tongues clashed, the kiss more battle than affection, each one pushing and pulling, neither willing to yield.

Breaking away to catch his breath, Nanami's thrusts didn’t falter.

“Still talking?” he muttered against her lips.

“Shut up,” she replied, biting him again, the taste of him & herself lingering on her tongue.

His hips slammed against hers, forcing cries from her throat. Her nails raked down his back, desperate, as though she needed them to fuse on a molecular level.

Despite his relentless pace, his lips softened, trailing kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and finally to her breasts. He nipped and sucked at the delicate skin; his attention split between breaking her apart with his cock and worshipping the parts of her he loved most.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room—a brutal rhythm that matched the pounding of her heartbeat. His hands roamed over her body, his nails leaving faint crescent moons in her thighs, her back, wherever he could reach.

Her body arched into him, trembling & walls tightening as another wave of pleasure threatened to overtake her. He knew she was close; his hand slid between them, his fingers finding her clit and circling it with a precision that left her gasping.

Her reaction was instant as she came with a sharp, keening cry, muffled when he cupped a hand over her mouth, entire body clenching around him as her nails dug into his shoulders.

“She’s sucking me in... so tight,” he murmured, voice hoarse, as his control finally broke. Movements turning erratic as he buried himself deep, his groan muffled against her neck. His eyes fluttered shut as his own climax surged through him, leaving him breathless and trembling. He barely managed to catch himself before collapsing onto her as the aftershocks rolled through him.

Two forces of chaos colliding. Neither of them moved, just staying for a bit; she rubbed his back as they caught their breaths, the occasional tremor running through her as she adjusted to the lingering sensitivity.

The bathroom was a battlefield of indulgence and chaos. Perfume bottles lay toppled on the black marble counter, the delicate crystal shimmering under the ambient lighting. A faint mist lingered in the air, clouding the oversized mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling, capturing distorted reflections of disheveled hair, flushed skin, and heat that had yet to fully dissipate. The mingling scents of bergamot, cedar, and salt—the sharp tang of the ocean—clung to the air, layered with the undeniable intimacy of their aftermath. Despite the mess around them, the silence between them felt clean, untouched by the outside world.

Soon her fingers were idly tracing patterns on his back, grazing over faint red marks she’d left moments before. When she finally broke the silence, her voice was teasing but warm, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Your technique hasn’t changed.”

Nanami froze, the words cutting through the lingering haze like a cold blade. He pulled back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” she replied, her tone deliberate and light as she brushed her fingers along his jaw. Her touch was deceptively soft, almost disarming.

Before he could spiral into overthinking, she laughed—a sound both melodic and cutting, slicing through his composure with surgical precision. “Relax, Mr. Nanami,” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’m just grateful for the first million you invested in my company when no one else would even hear me out.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as realization dawned, corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. “Mrs. L/N,” he said dryly, his voice laced with equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Should I prepare my chequebook again?”

“Always,” she quipped, her smirk softening as she leaned up to kiss him. Her lips brushed against his with a familiarity that belied the game they’d been playing all evening.

“You’re still mine, Kento,” she murmured against his ear—almost biting them, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Straightening himself, hand lingering at her waist, he pulled her closer to hold as the reality of her presence grounded him. When they finally pulled apart, her tone shifted. “Nice house, by the way.”

“Thank you, Mrs. L/N,” he replied, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The simple gesture felt intimate, grounding, a contrast to the disarray they’d left in their wake. He arched a brow, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Though I do have to ask—what was the dress for?”

Her smirk deepened, her silence deliberate.

“Y/N,” he pressed, his voice carrying a mix of affection and exasperation. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“I was informed that you looked miserable out there,” she said simply, shrugging with nonchalance that only made her look more self-assured. “Your coworkers are vultures. I couldn’t just stand by and watch you suffer.”

His exhale was slow, measured, but his forehead dropped against hers, his voice softening. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me plenty,” she countered, her hands sliding over his chest with a teasing confidence. “But I’m not done yet. My company just hit a billion-dollar valuation, which means—"she smirked, her tone mock-serious—"you can finally quit working for those corporate overlords. Effective immediately.”

Nanami blinked, her words settling in slowly. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a single raised finger.

“And don’t start with the ‘backup plan’ speech,” she added, rolling her eyes in dramatic exasperation. “I’ve secured enough for the next fifteen generations to sit around and squander. You’re free, Ken. ”

He let out a long exhale, relief washing over him like a tide pulling him out to calmer seas. His hands tightened gently at her waist as he pulled her closer, his forehead brushing hers again.

“I can finally retire,” he mused, a rare chuckle breaking the steady timbre of his voice. “What a dream.”

Her grin was wicked and teasing. “Don’t worry, I’ll deck you out with butlers, drivers, private pilots—the works.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” she said, her voice lighter now, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before stepping down. She fixed her dress, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting as if it had never been touched. After quickly rinsing & drying her hands, she shuffled for something in the drawer below the sink counter, then gestured Nanami to turn around, who obliged and then winced as she sprayed antiseptic healing spray on her nail scratches on his back. Then, putting it back with one hand while she rubbed his shoulder with the other, soon she adorned her handpiece again.

“Now, pack your bags. We’re going on a month-long vacation. We’ve barely seen each other this quarter.” Her tone practical, though the playful glint in her eyes was still sparkling while Nanami, who knelt on one knee to zip up her askew heels with a gentle touch. This was a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor; he radiated a quiet eagerness to serve her, even if she had never asked for it—or even forbade him from kneeling—for anyone, including herself. His care for her was unwavering, as he found joy in these small devotions.

Raising up to his full height, Nanami tilted his head, arching a brow. “When do we leave?”

“An hour.” Her smirk was maddeningly smug, the kind that always made him want to both kiss her and roll his eyes. “Don’t worry about clothes—we’ll buy what we need when we get there.”

His frown deepened slightly, his gaze flicking toward the door. “The house is still full of people.”

She waved a hand dismissively, her confidence unshakable. “The white-haired menace can handle it.”

As if summoned, a sharp knock echoed against the ornate black and gold bathroom door.

“Nanami,” Gojo’s unmistakable voice called out, muffled yet infuriatingly cheerful. “I know you told me not to disturb you, but if you want to leave on time, you should probably come out now.”

Nanami groaned audibly, burying his face in her hair. “I hate that he knows us so well. Or worse, that he was probably hovering outside.”

Her laugh bubbled up, light and unrestrained, as she turned to press a soft kiss to his nose. “Good thing no one will know,” she teased, her tone laced with mischief as she nodded toward the party still raging beyond the door.

“Small mercies,” he muttered. His hand reached down, scooping up her ripped panties. He shoved them into his pocket—a gesture equal parts practical and ridiculous. Housekeeping didn’t need to discover that.

He reached for his ruined shirt & still-ok belt while his cufflinks were probably lost to the similarly colored lines in the bathroom floor’s marble. Sighing, he shrugged the shirt on. With most of the buttons broken, the fabric barely clung to him, but he managed enough to appear vaguely presentable, then did his belt & washed his hands. Before stepping out, he winked at her, his rare smirk making her laugh again as she leaned on the counter, ogling him.

Walking out of the bathroom, Nanami was immediately engulfed by the sheer scale of the mansion. The vaulted ceilings soared above him, an intricate lattice of brass and black lines reminiscent of sharp geometry. Recessed lighting cast a warm, almost ethereal glow over the polished marble floors, their obsidian surface streaked with veins of gold that seemed to shimmer with every step.

Security was seamlessly integrated into the decor—discreet cameras nestled within decorative sconces, motion sensors hidden within the intricate carvings of doorframes, and biometric panels that blended effortlessly with the black lacquered walls.

Gojo leaned casually against the wall near the bathroom door, his smirk as sharp as the lapels on his bespoke electric blue suit. “Well, well,” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “Looks like someone had a productive break.”

Nanami cast him a withering glare, brushing past him without a word.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo called after him, clearly undeterred. “Your secret’s safe with me. Well Mostly .”

Nanami strode into his bedroom, its absurd luxury understated yet undeniable once he unlocked it’s door with his thumb. Warm recessed lighting bathed the space in a golden hue, highlighting the polished marble floors and the California king bed draped in silk sheets that whispered decadence with every subtle fold. The walls were a study in contrasts—one side a sweeping expanse of black glass overlooking the estate, the other adorned with minimalist art deco patterns in gold and dark maroon.

A walk-in closet occupied one corner of the room, its glossy black doors sliding open with a faint hum. Rows of designer suits, pressed shirts, and tailored trousers moved along tracks, neatly organized by color, fabric, and season. It wasn’t just a closet—it was an AI-driven sartorial fortress.

Gojo trailed behind Nanami, Martini glass in hand, his ever-present grin practically glowing under the warm light of the bedroom.

Nanami shrugged off his ruined shirt, revealing faint nail marks trailing down his back.

Gojo’s exaggerated gasp was immediate. “Knew you were freaks,” he declared, grinning like a cat who’d just discovered a fresh bowl of cream.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nanami replied, his tone dry as he waited for the first shirt the AI closet presented.

The automated system whirred softly, its sleek black panels sliding open to reveal a neatly arranged selection of tailored clothing. The closet’s AI chimed in, its voice smooth and masculine: “Good evening, Mr. Nanami. May I suggest the Maurizio Miri blue Sam Arold , double-breasted blazer for optimal sophistication?”

“No, a white shirt will be enough for now. Thank you.” Nanami replied smoothly as the closet handed him the shirt.

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “Hold up, your closet talks?”

Nanami buttoned up the crisp white shirt, the fabric molding to him like it had been made yesterday, which it probably had been. A subtle reminder of how far he—and this house—stood from anything resembling average. “Of course it talks. Everything here does. Wife is particular about it,” he muttered, casually pulling out a certain incriminating piece of fabric from his pocket & tossing it into the hidden incinerator bin while Gojo eyed the AI.

Then Gojo leaned closer to the closet; his curiosity piqued. “Hey, Mr. Closet—do you take orders? I need something that makes me look like a billionaire without actually trying. Extra points if it comes with a holographic logo of the Gojo Clan.” Gojo didn’t have such bad likes; he just enjoyed being a menace.

The AI responded without missing a beat. “My name is Winston, & I’m sorry, sir. My services are exclusive to Mr. Nanami. While I assure you, no attire could enhance perfection.”

Nanami’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. “Even the closet knows you’re insufferable.”

“Hey, I like this guy!” Gojo shot back, pointing at the sleek black panel like it was a long-lost friend. “At least he has taste.”

The AI, apparently more than willing to engage, added, “Taste, sir, is precisely what you lack.”

Nanami turned away, struggling to suppress his laughter, as Gojo gawked. “Traitor! I’m officially boycotting this brand,” Gojo declared, though his curiosity kept him glued to the closet. “Btw what brand are you.”

Nanami smacked his arm. “Do you forget my wife invents AIs for a living, among other things?”

Gojo shrugged, “I didn’t know it was one of hers.”

As Nanami folded his sleeves up again, Gojo shot one last look at the closet. “You’re lucky I’m a forgiving man, Mr. Closet-Winston. Once I babysit this house, bet you’ll miss me when I leave.”

“I highly doubt that,” the AI replied, its tone impossibly smooth.

Gojo huffed, muttering something about finding an AI closet with better taste, while Nanami finally allowed a small smirk to surface.

Once out of the closet, Gojo chirped, “Aren’t you going to thank me for organizing this amazing party?”

Nanami took the whisky glass Gojo handed him, savoring a slow sip. “Thank you, Gojo, for organizing this party,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not like we paid for it or anything.”

“Fair,” Gojo replied, recovering quickly with a shrug. “But I still expect to cash in the favor someday.”

Nanami nodded, flooding his sleeves with practiced precision before striding back toward the party.

Gojo followed on his heels like an overenthusiastic puppy, Martini in hand. Then looking back at the sentinel closet, he mused. “I need one of these. Think the wife will help me place an order?”

“She’s not your wife,” Nanami deadpanned, savouring the whisky burn as he sipped.

Once they had stepped into the grand ballroom, Nanami’s gaze swept over the room. Gojo, meanwhile, leaned in conspiratorially.

“So,” he began, his grin as infuriating as ever, “how was she?”

His gaze immediately found her. She stood along the far wall; an expansive bar carved from obsidian and gold stood like a centerpiece, its surface laden with bottles of rare vintages.

He didn’t falter in his reply, expression flat. “She’s a woman, Gojo. Not a secret.”

Gojo smirked as Nanami ignored the conspiratorial knowing smirks and whispers that seemed to surround him.

His gaze lingered as she laughed warmly, her head tilted slightly, the sound unguarded and genuine. She was speaking to two women he vaguely recognized as the CTO and CFO of her company, their expressions a mix of respect and admiration. For a moment, he simply watched. Despite himself, Nanami felt a rare sense of pride.

Just as he was about to make his way to her, a voice sliced through the moment.

“Nanami-san! There you are!”

The same intern with an unfortunate crush on him had caught sight of him again, waving over one of her equally annoying cohorts, a smug backstabbing bitch of a coworker Nanami didn’t even bother to remember the name of. They approached like vultures, the intern’s over-the-top enthusiasm clashing painfully with the coworker’s grimey smirk.

“Nanami-san!” she chirped, clasping her hands together. “This house is incredible! You must feel so inspired here.”

“I feel inspired to have another drink,” Nanami deadpanned, raising his glass slightly before taking a sip.

The coworker, clearly fishing for gossip, leaned in. “Yeah, no kidding. So, where’s your wife we’ve all heard so much about?” He practically sang the last part, his tone dripping with mockery. “Must be so busy to miss an event like this.”

Listening to this, Gojo moved closer to Nanami’s side like chaos incarnate, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, you haven’t met her yet?” he asked, his grin practically weaponized. “Tsk, tsk, Nanami, keeping secrets from your best friends .”

The coworker scowled at the jab.

The intern blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Nanami bit back a smirk, swirling his whisky lazily in his glass.

When the intern finally recovered, her tone turned defensive. “Well, he’s never mentioned her to me!”

Nanami’s expression darkened, his patience stretching to its breaking point. One thing he wasn’t—had never been—was unfaithful. And this implication, no matter how cluelessly delivered, crossed a line.

Yet Gojo wasn’t finished. He turned his full attention to the intern, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “You know, he does talk about her all the time. But I guess you two must not hang out much, huh? Just acquaintances, then.”

“Excuse me?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, each syllable cutting.

The intern, oblivious to the shift in tone, pressed on. “You never mentioned you were married—”

“Please,” arching a brow, he interrupted, his expression one of detached amusement. “Do not imply that I’ve hidden my marriage. I’ve been married for years and have never avoided speaking about my wife when asked. If you’re unaware, perhaps that says more about you than it does about me.” Each word measured and sharp. It’s not like he cared to keep his job anymore anyway.

The intern blinked, stunned into silence.

Gojo erupted into laughter, clapping him on the back. “Kento, you’re killing it tonight. Who’s next on the chopping block?”

Without waiting for a response, Nanami brushed past them, his focus already shifting back to her. Gojo, naturally, wasn’t done yet. Turning back with a smirk, he delivered one final dig.

“He talks about her all the time with his friends. Trust me, I’d know since I’m his best friend. I know all his secrets ,” he said lightly. “Guess you’re just colleagues.” Nanami could hear the mockery directed at his coworkers, with a hint of possessiveness over their friendship in Gojo’s voice, along with the intern’s sputtering, behind him.

Once he approached, his hand slid around her waist, the gesture subtle yet unmistakable. It wasn’t a public claim so much as a quiet reassurance, a tether grounding him in the chaos of the room.

She turned to him, her smirk softening into something more intimate as she acknowledged the unspoken exchange.

“Hello,” he murmured, inclining his head with a faint smile toward the women she’d been speaking with. They were better than his coworkers; hence they were hired.

As Gojo approached them behind Nanami, she introduced him smoothly, her tone warm yet commanding. “Ladies, my closest friend, Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo’s professional smirk slipped into place with practiced ease. “A pleasure,” he said simply, his arm resting on Nanami’s shoulder again.

The conversation progressed for a bit before the sound of glass clinking drew their attention.

“Everyone!” Gojo’s voice rang out, cheerful and uncontainable. He was sitting atop the bar, manspreading, grin wide enough to rival the chandelier’s glow. “A toast to the lovely couple!”

Heads turned toward them, though many had already been stealing glances at her all evening while others were glaring daggers at Nanami.

Nanami cleared his throat, voice steady, effortlessly commanding the room. “Thank you all for coming to our housewarming party,” he began, his tone formal but with a warmth that felt uncharacteristic. His hand rested securely on her waist. “For those of you who don’t know, this is Y/N L/N. She’s my wife. She’s the one who bought us this house.”

A ripple of polite claps followed, though Nanami wasn’t finished.

“She hasn’t visited my office because she’s been working tirelessly on her company, Curse Cop, which, as of today, has officially reached a billion-dollar valuation.” He paused, his voice softening as he glanced at her, unguarded admiration flickering across his face. “Please, drink to your heart’s content, because starting tomorrow, I’ll be on vacation with her—and I’ll also be stepping down as Finance Director to spend more time with my wife, as I promised her.”

The room erupted in applause and a few ‘awws’ from mostly female guests, though Nanami barely noticed. His focus remained on her as she looked up at him, her expression a blend of amusement and affection.

From somewhere behind them, he heard whispers, envy poorly concealed.

“How’d he even get with her?” one muttered.

“It makes sense,” another replied begrudgingly. “He’s the kind of man every woman wants.”

But none of it mattered. Nanami leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, as if the room around them didn’t exist.

For him, in that moment, it didn’t.

Soon the evening had progressed—Nanami was comfortably leaning against the bar, whisky in hand, Gojo, still on top of the bar, flanking him as usual, when the intern caught sight of Y/N between them.

She stumbled her way toward her, clearly drunk, with newfound boldness, her barely-there dress doing little to enhance her sense of professionalism. Nanami’s lips twitched as he watched the scene unfold, hiding his amusement behind his glass. He wasn’t much for unnecessary public fights, but he was waiting for this one since she had really become a nuisance for him over the months, hence the reason she was invited today.

“Y/N,” Gojo whispered, sidling closer to her as she inquired about the launch of their latest multiplayer game with the COO of her company. “See that girl over there?”

Pausing, she glanced over, her brow arching slightly as she clocked the intern making a beeline toward her.

“That one’s been after Kento for months,” Gojo murmured, his grin wicked. “Unrequited coffee deliveries, surprise lunches... the works. You’re about to have front-row seats to her grand finale.” He had noticed it all while visiting Nanami’s office, along with Nanami’s look of frustration when she wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, her expression remaining poised as she turned fully to face the intern. The air around her seemed to shift, her unapproachable aura sharpening to something razor-edged.

The intern, blissfully unaware, extended a hand, her confidence teetering on arrogance. “Hi! I’m Nat. I work closely with Nanami-san in finance. It’s so great to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s gaze flicked briefly to the outstretched hand before returning to the intern’s face, her expression neutral but distinctly unimpressed. “Oh?” she said coolly. “And what are you to him?”

The intern faltered, her hand dropping slightly. “I... like I said, I work with Nanami-san! He’s been so helpful to me in the office. Such a great mentor.”

Turning his head from his vantage point, Nanami’s smirk widened as he took another slow sip of whisky. He had actively avoided helping her since he discovered her hidden agenda.

“Is that so?” Y/N replied, tilting her head slightly. “And what exactly have you learned from him?”

The intern brightened, eager to elaborate. “Oh, just... everything, really! He’s so dedicated and focused. I can see why you married him.”

There was a pause—a beat of silence that stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable. Then Y/N smiled, and it wasn’t kind.

“I see,” she said, her tone dripping with polite venom. “And yet, here you are, at a party in our house, introducing yourself to me like you’re a stranger. How odd for someone who claims to work so ‘closely’ with my husband.”

The intern’s expression wavered, a flicker of panic breaking through her confident facade. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Y/N interrupted smoothly, her smile widening. “To sound presumptuous? To overstep? Or to assume familiarity where there is none?”

Gojo, now openly laughing, gestured to Nanami, “Remind me never to piss your wife off.”

The intern stammered something unintelligible before finally scoffing & retreating, her confidence crumbling as she melted back into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to the COO, now flanked by CTO and CFO without so much as a backward glance as they dragged her off to introduce a potential investor, the conversation resuming as if nothing had happened.

Turning straight, Nanami finally let his smirk show, raising his glass toward Y/N in a silent toast.

She caught his eye, the faintest curve of her lips betraying her amusement, before she returned her attention to her companions.

“Worth every penny,” Gojo muttered under his breath, clinking his glass against Nanami’s.

“Agreed,” Nanami replied, his tone calm but his eyes glinting with mirth.

A/N: You thought Kento would cheat huh ☜(ˆ▿ˆc) Thanks for diving into this tangled mess of lust & love. If you caught the twist & liked it (or even hated it), drop a comment. I live for your chaos & crave your feedback like Nanami craves his wife. 🖤

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