#embedded system idea

[techieyan]

Building a Connected World: Exploring IoT in Creative Embedded System Projects

The Internet of Things (IoT) has revolutionized the way we interact with the world around us. From smart homes to wearable technology, IoT has connected everyday objects to the internet, allowing them to communicate with each other and with us. This connectivity has opened up endless possibilities for creative embedded system projects that can enhance our lives in unique ways.

Embedded systems are small computer systems that are built into everyday objects and are designed to perform specific functions. These systems are the backbone of IoT, as they enable devices to collect and exchange data, making them smarter and more efficient. With the advent of IoT, embedded systems have become increasingly sophisticated, paving the way for innovative and creative projects.

One of the most exciting areas of IoT in embedded systems is home automation. This involves connecting various devices in our homes, such as lights, thermostats, and appliances, to a central control system. With the use of sensors and actuators, these devices can be automated to perform tasks based on predetermined conditions or user commands. For example, lights can be programmed to turn on when motion is detected or to adjust automatically based on the time of day. This not only adds convenience to our daily lives but also helps to reduce energy consumption and save money.

Beyond home automation, IoT is also making its way into the world of art and design. With the use of embedded systems, artists and designers are creating interactive and immersive experiences that engage all of our senses. These projects range from interactive installations that respond to movements or sounds to wearable technology that can change colors or patterns based on the wearer's emotions or surroundings. These projects not only push the boundaries of traditional art forms but also demonstrate the potential of IoT in creating unique and personalized experiences for individuals.

Another exciting application of IoT in embedded systems is in the field of healthcare. With the use of sensors and monitoring devices, healthcare providers can collect real-time data from patients, allowing for more accurate diagnoses and personalized treatments. For example, wearable devices that track vital signs can help doctors monitor patients remotely and detect any potential health issues early on. This not only improves the quality of care but also allows patients to take an active role in managing their own health.

In addition to these examples, IoT in embedded systems is also being utilized in areas such as transportation, agriculture, and industry. In transportation, embedded systems are being used to improve the safety and efficiency of vehicles by collecting data on road conditions and traffic patterns. In agriculture, sensors and actuators are being used to monitor soil conditions and adjust irrigation systems, resulting in more efficient water usage and higher crop yields. In industry, IoT is being used to optimize processes, reduce downtime, and improve productivity.

As the use of IoT in embedded systems continues to grow, the possibilities for creative projects are endless. From improving our daily lives to pushing the boundaries of art and design, IoT is revolutionizing the way we interact with the world. However, with this increased connectivity comes the need for proper security measures to protect sensitive data and prevent hacking. As such, it is crucial for developers and manufacturers to prioritize security in the design and implementation of IoT devices.

In conclusion, the combination of IoT and embedded systems has opened up a whole new world of possibilities. From home automation to healthcare, art, and industry, IoT is transforming the way we live, work, and play. As technology continues to advance, we can only imagine the innovative and creative projects that will emerge to further connect our world.

[0x4468c7a6a728]

i've gotta program something soon...

[takeoffproject]

The Best IEEE Projects on Embedded Systems for Final Year Projects

Welcome to Takeoff Projects, where you can find entry-level projects in the IEEE Projects on Embedded Systems. Takeoff Projects is a company that focuses on creating innovative technologies for embedded systems, dealing with different fields. Our team of pros is passionate about providing customized, Detailed projects that can meet your specific requirements, and beyond. Let's be partners in embedded systems development like Takeoff Projects.

We have a dedicated group of embedded systems engineers and developers in our team. They are enthusiastic about challenging embedded systems technology. Your target may range from developing a smart healthcare monitoring device to an efficient industrial automation system or top-of-the-line IoT device. We have the skills to take your creativity and drive it into reality.

Our company is unique since we are devoted to delivering top-notch performance and keeping our clients satisfied. We engage actively with our clients to help understand their particular demands and targets while ensuring that in every project we do we have it customized to their tastes. From our original concept design to the final product deployment, we will keep clear communications and transparency all along the way.

Working together with Takeoff Projects, you can rest assured that you will be provided with unique quality and the best reliability. There is no cutting of corners in our practice. We integrate the best practices that combine the newest tools and technological solutions to achieve outstanding outcomes. Satisfying our clients that we have a great reputation among our prior customers is evidenced by successful projects we have managed in different sectors.

Conclusion:

Select Takeoff Projects for the best IEEE Projects on Embedded Systems. Then do not hesitate to contact us for the new handy embedded systems projects. Trust us with your innovation journey and see the two soaring to success. Together with us, we will shape the future of the embedded systems technology. Team up with Takeoff Projects and lead your organization through the ever-changing systems development environment.

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. ��There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[heatheriran]

⚡️ “GLITCH & CRASH” METHOD — Instant Void Entering Hack (For the mentally exhausted)

Here is a raw, out-of-the-box, no second chance, 10-minute Void Entry Method — crafted for people who are tired, frustrated, in a noisy environment, with poor self-concept and zero belief. This bypasses everything: no meditation, no subliminals, no affirming, no need for belief or silence. Just do it exactly as written, no thinking.

⚠️ RULE: DO. NOT. THINK.

Act like a robot following code — even if your mind screams “this is stupid,” continue. You will "crash" the logic system — and enter.

🔥 INSTRUCTIONS (10 MIN — JUST ONCE)

Sit or stand. Doesn't matter. Close eyes or open. Doesn't matter.

You're allowed to hear the noise. In fact, use it.

Now repeat this command NON-STOP (out loud or in your mind): “CRASH SYSTEM 444” Repeat it FAST, without emotion, rhythm, or meaning — like a code stuck in a glitch. Say it like this in your mind: crashsystem444crashsystem444crashsystem444crashsystem... ❗Repeat for exactly 3 minutes. No logic. No expectation. Like a machine.

After 3 minutes, do this sudden pattern break: ❗Say internally or aloud: “I do not exist.” Say it 3 times with full stillness.

IMMEDIATELY after that, do nothing. Just STOP.

Don’t breathe intentionally.

Don’t move.

Don’t think.

Just freeze.

Let the body go limp or still, like you're disconnected.⚠️ Your mind will scream — ignore it. Stay like this for up to 7 minutes — or until you feel:

Blankness

A falling feeling

A weird shift

Lightness

No identity

Or just nothingness

💡 What Actually Happens?

You simulate a “system crash” mentally and energetically. Like a game glitching. This overloads the identity and logic layer. Then when you suddenly go still after “I do not exist,” the brain loses the ego reference point this drops you into the void.

🧠 BONUS (If You Fail):

Immediately after the 10 minutes, say:

“This method is now embedded in my subconscious. Next attempt will succeed without effort.”

Then don’t obsess. Walk away.

⚠️ No trying. Just do exactly as instructed mechanically.

You’re not here to hope. You’re here to CRASH.

ChatGPT gave me this method, so please don’t ask questions. I haven’t entered the Void yet, but I thought it might help someone. I will also try this method myself. Nobody is helping me to enter the Void, so I came up with this based on my idea. If you enter the Void using this method, please help others too. Let’s support each other in achieving the Void.

[deepinthegroves]

come here. yes, you. come here. closer. till our foreheads touch and im gazing into your eyes. you’re me and im you. consciousness dictating reality. i'm going to say this nicely, and i'll need you to hear me out. a message from me to you, you to me, you to you, me to me. stop letting the 3d dictate whether or not you have your desire.

you're playing hooky with God and yet you're panicking about a hall pass. (i assume. i have no idea how the american school system works.) you're on a whole other metaphysical plane of existence, cigarette in hand, and yet you're worried that your desire won't show. babe. sweetheart. it's going to show. it's embedded in your bone marrow, imprinted in your soul. it's yours the moment you decided it is.

i sit here. eating grapes like they're divine and will heal me. i crush them up as a pale imitation of the wine i am too young to drink. (legally.) paradoxical vegan soy milk adjacent to the computer screen, lip stain around the rim of the glass cup. but the moment i assume i'm in my dr. i am. regardless of what the 3d shows me. regardless whatever i feel, see, touch, hear, and taste. fuck the senses. they shift last. reality will flicker and i'll find myself in the one i want to be in. i'm in my dr. blunt in hand. gazing out from my balcony at the night life. at the silhouette of skyscrapers against the dark sky. at the open window with orange light pouring through someone's apartment, where i see shadows making out.

don't let the 3d dictate whether or not you have your desire because you do the moment you decide you have it.

~ from, a girl in her oversized grey tee and mismatched red striped pajama pants and peeling black nail polish

(ib: @hrrtshape)

[rubyin-wonderland]

Princess

opla!Zoro x princess!reader

Summary: what happens when the crown princess is in love with the king's favorite bounty hunter?

WC: 6.4k

Warnings/tags: arranged marriage, blood/injuries, reader gets called princess so much, poisoning

You sat in your room, looking aimlessly around for something to ground you. You had known this was going to happen, but it still hurt.

Around your finger was a cold metal ring, embedded with gorgeous jewels and decorated with delicate silver detailing, a masterpiece of jewelry, and yet it made you feel hollow. An empty gesture. The real importance was for your parents. Hopefully, marrying the crown princess off to a duke from the eastern territories would quell the rebellions beginning in the east.

The announcement was set for the next day, which was why you waited in your room, wide awake with your window open. You were waiting for a visitor.

You had no idea if he was even on the island. Due to the secrecy of the relationship most communication was out of the question but he would have visited you if he could. You could only hope that his intuition led him to you that night.

The night breeze blew the gauzy curtains gently into your room, waving like sullen flags when the wind was bad. You finally decided to stand from your bed, dressed in your light nightgown, which flowed in the breeze similarly to your curtains.

Out on the balcony, you breathed in the fresh air, accented with the smell of the vines and flowers that had climbed up the walls to decorate your railing. You buried your face in your hands, elbows resting on the cold stone railing.

"I'm sorry." You said to the air. The man you had wished to speak this apology to was absent, but you needed to say it. It was your fault for not acting on your impulses earlier. Forfeiting the crown, announcing that you wished to move to a democratic system of governing, any of your ideas throughout your life that would get you banished from this world of micromanagement and pain.

"What's wrong?" The simple question made you jolt up, withdrawing a small blade from under your nightgown, holding it out at the intruder.

To your relief, or perhaps to your detriment, there was no assassin sitting on your balcony, ready to strike you dead. Instead, there stood a man you had spent more than enough nights with, whose name made you blush when it was occasionally brought up during dinners and social gatherings.

Your father's unofficial bounty hunter. Roronoa Zoro. The green-haired man was a regular, as there was always someone who needed to be hunted down and killed for their allegiance and work for the rebels. He was the best of the best. Some likened his work to that of a demon. You hardly cared about his bloody reputation. Not when he was the one you truly wished you were engaged to.

You had spent many a night in his presence, after an impromptu meeting during a meal with your father, in which the latest rebel was presented at your father's feet in exchange for a sum of money that anybody would go for.

You were the one who called upon him first, asking him to visit your balcony at night, offering him a pair of your finest earrings in exchange for him to threaten a man who had been found sneaking into the castle late at night, in an attempt to confess his love for you and to ask for your hand in marriage.

Of course, the job was done, but for some reason, he returned. Every time he dealt with your father, he would visit you, and it was soon enough that you found yourself liking him, which was good for him, considering the only reason he kept returning to this kingdom was to visit you, although there was usually a preceding murder that had to happen in order for him to justify being there.

Your relation had grown to intense levels, and soon, the two of you had a plan. You would forfeit the crown, or disappear, or whatever it took to get you out of being royalty, then the two of you would acquire a boat, and sail away, free to live together in eventual married bliss.

The nights he spent with you rejuvenated you to a point that almost every servant in the castle was aware that something was afoot between the two of you, and could tell when he had made a visit. None of them said anything however, fearing the wrath of both you and him separately.

Tonight did not encourage the same feelings of rejuvenation. Instead, there was dread. Low, in the pit of your stomach, staining the usually happy feeling you felt when he visited.

"Zoro. Thank god." You felt like you were going to start crying. "Don't thank god, thank the man who burned his neighbors house down and went missing last week."

"Zoro." He walked forwards, his signature three blades sitting on his hip, arms carefully wrapping around you. "I missed you too, princess." You returned the hug, the pit in your heart growing deeper and darker for every second you spent keeping the secret from him.

Your face buried itself into the crook of his neck, where you began to cry. Tears fell down your face, soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your finger bearing the offending ring in plain sight for you, but still unseen to him.

"It's okay. I've only been gone two weeks. That's nothing for us." He reassured, rubbing your back as your cries drowned in his shoulders.

As you continued to sob, Zoro recognized that there was something off. This was not your reaction to missing him. In fact you never cried. Something was very wrong. He continued to keep you in his embrace as your cries continued.

Eventually, your sobs slowed, and you found yourself detaching from him, seeing a worried look in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, hands moving up, one on your shoulder, the other moving up to wipe a tear as it slowly dripped down your cheek.

"I'm sorry." Was all you could say, feeling powerless and hollow. Everything was dim. "What are you sorry for?" He asked, leading you inside and sitting you down on your bed.

On the bed, your fingers dug into the fluffy blankets, the soft mattress caving under your touch.

You stayed still, trying not to shake as you delivered the news. "Zoro, I'm engaged."

At first, he didn't seem to be able to process it. He stayed unmoving for a while, as if he was expecting you to say something else. To confess that you refused or your fiance had been killed only minutes after the proposal. His eyes scanned your hands, locking on the delicate silver band, and he took a deep breath.

"Okay." He said, voice level. You wanted to throw up. "I don't want to be with him. My parents want it, not me. They think it will cease the rebellions, but it'll just stir up more tension. I hate him, I promise you I wouldn't go through with this if I didn't have to."

"Hey." His voice was stern. You silenced yourself quickly, looking up at him. "I know you don't want it. You've said it before a million times." "I'm sorry, I should have done something sooner." You pleaded. "Stop."

You took a breath, bunching up the fabric of your nightgown in your fists. Zoro rubbed your back, allowing you to sit in the silence of the night, processing everything.

"Has a date been set?" Zoro asked. You shuddered. "No. But it'll be fast. I know it will." You buried your face in your hands.

Zoro stood up, looking out your window. "Then run away."

You nearly choked. "What?" "You don't have to do this. We can run away. Tonight. Say the word and we'll leave this place behind."

Something stopped you from shouting yes and letting him hold you until everything was better. Something always did.

"Nothing is holding you here. There's plenty of contenders for the throne, most of them competent, you'll be free." "But my parents will be furious."

Zoro straightened up, looking the very epitome of the strong husband he had promised you he would be. "They'll never see you again. I know how to hunt, but I also know how to hide. They'll never find you. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"I can't." "Why?" "I don't know!" You started crying again. "I spent my whole life working towards this, I can't just leave. Everything my parents did for me would be useless."

Zoro walked towards you, kneeling in front of you. "You won't have to worry about that. I'll make sure of it. You just have to be with me. Trust me. We can leave and you won't have to marry someone you don't want to. You won't have to rule a land you don't want to rule. I promise, you're safe with me." He reached a hand to cup your cheek.  "You don't have to be unhappy."

You covered the hand he placed on your cheek with your own, a shaky breath rattling your body. "I want to leave." You removed the ring and set it on your nightstand. "Let's go." You whispered, and he was already set in motion. "I have a boat waiting at the docks." You heaved a sigh of relief and began to pack. You shoved your favourite dresses into a bag, taking some jewelry as well, planning to sell it at the markets for some extra cash.

Zoro watched the process carefully. He still wondered how he had become so enamoured by you. You, who had approached him with two gorgeous earrings worth incredible amounts of money to scare, not kill, someone. He had never been ordered to let someone live. It was a strange thing, to leave a victim behind, but it was merciful. And in a way, he liked it.

And when you spoke to him next, you did not demand more from him. No head for your wall, no frightening services. You just thanked him for his work and began talking. Asking about him, listening, caring. You drew him in, like a fisherman with their catch. And he couldn't help but hope your kingdom would need his assistance again.

He took your bag from you, heavy with jewel encrusted fabrics. "Zoro, I can carry it." "Let me help." He insisted. "Unless you know how to climb all the way down from here, I'll take it."

You sighed, allowing him to help you down, guiding your movements from below you as you cautiously scaled the wall. By the end, your arms and legs were shaking, exhausted at the effort put into not falling.

You spent most of your secret meetings with Zoro wandering the deserted halls of the castle at night, or he would carry you down the wall of your balcony to run around town.

Unfortunately with your bag in his possession, he could not carry you, leaving you mostly to your own devices. A learning experience, to prepare you for a future outside of the protection of the crown.

"Jump!" He ordered, voice silenced significantly in the night. "I'll catch you."

You were not one to trust. A life of assassins and political bargains had prepared you for betrayal. And yet, you trusted him. He was stable ground. He fought off the assassins and he listened to your complaints about the politics of your world, although he could offer no advice nor amendments.

Hearing his order for you to jump startled you a bit. You were not a particularly big fan of heights, and jumping was not exactly a good idea to you, as weak as your arms and legs were.

But you trusted him. He had kept you safe for so long, it would be of no use to lead you astray now. As if he would ever lead you astray in the first place.

You obeyed his command, steeling yourself for the drop, and letting go of the wall, falling the last little bit, landing safely in his arms, freed from the walls of the castle.

He led you through the darkened city, guiding you by holding your hand.

You kept looking back, for whatever reason, wondering how long it would take for them to realize you were missing and set off the alarms.

Would they know when you didn't answer the maids coming in to dress you? When you didn't attend breakfast? When you were missing from the public announcement of your engagement?

As you walked, you kept your head down. The servants would certainly know who you had gone with. They were addicted to gossip, and you could hardly blame them. The only question was if they would tell your father that his precious daughter and heir to the throne had been engaged in a scandalous romance with a bounty hunter for years under his nose.

Your thoughts broke off when there was a sudden eruption of noise behind you. Shouting, loud and panicked, echoing off the buildings in the streets, a clamour as people were awoken by the disturbance.

Zoro pulled you into the nearest alley as a guard rode by on horseback, yelling.

"The princess is missing from her bedchambers!" He shouted, multiple other cried echoing through the streets. "Her belongings are missing! Anyone found in possession of anything pertaining to the princess is to be executed at sunrise unless the princess is returned!"

The cries rang out in the darkness, and you resisted the urge to panic. They had discovered your escape before you had reached the docks, before you had found a boat, before anything else could be set in motion.

Zoro held you against his chest, and you found yourself instinctively wrapping your arms around his waist, clinging to Zoro in the small space between the two buildings, head down. There was a strong urge to shove him away, revealing yourself and hopefully keeping Zoro out of the vengeful eyes of your father.

"The docks will be shut down." You warned. "They'll search every boat." You mumbled into his chest, breaths now short and staggered.

"I said I'd get you out of here. I will." Zoro sighed, stepping out of the alley. You didn't want to let go of him. "Zoro, please, I'll go back."

He shook his head. "Continue to the docks. Stay hidden. I'll find you." He unwrapped your arms from around him. "Zoro, I-" "Stop. Go to the docks."

You wanted to hold onto him and never let go. You wanted to never be separate from him ever again. And yet you had to let go. You had to run.

He ran out into the street and you stayed in the alley, walking until you reached another street. A hasty look up and down the road slowly accumulating more and more people as they woke up, having heard the calls to action.

You passed by without anyone noticing, head down, disappearing down another alley, determined to pass by undetected.

Miraculously enough, you managed to make it all the way down to the docks without being noticed, as more and more people flooded into the streets, causing a commotion.

You hid in the shadows of two seaside buildings, wondering where Zoro was.

You peeked your head out of the alley, hoping to see Zoro, but you were pulled back by the neck of your nightgown.

You suppressed a yelp as an arm wrapped around your body, pulling you backwards, your arms pinned to your sides. "Not so fast, princess." The word was bitter on the man's tongue and you resisted the urge to call out for Zoro, to beg him to save you.

Your fiance tightened his grip around your body, pulling you deeper into the darkness. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but it's done now." He insisted. "You understand me? We're going back to the castle, and we are going to marry."

You begged for Zoro to know that you were suffering. That you had been discovered. You could not cry for him.  Not when he had your jewels on him. You would be found out and he would be executed in front of you. You couldn't have that.

"You're lucky I don't want to make a scene." A threatening whisper.

"Let her go." The request came from behind you and you were spun around, facing Zoro, his swords drawn.

"I wouldn't be so careless, bounty hunter. You and the princess have been secretive enough for the King and Queen, but I've noticed. And so have the staff. I would sooner see the both of us dying than return the princess to you."

You tried to reach your hidden knife without setting the Duke off, but it was proving difficult, shifting uncomfortably in his grasp.

"Leave her alone. I'm the one you want to fight." Zoro ordered. "No, bounty hunter. I don't want to fight at all. I will be taking the princess home, and her captor, the treacherous bounty hunter, who had worked for the king himself, will be caught and dealt with swiftly. That is how this will end, if you love her enough to keep her alive. Else you'll be charged with her murder."

Zoro looked at you, trying to gauge how you were doing. You grasped at the handle of your blade, eyes begging Zoro to keep him distracted for one second longer.

"And if I don't? If I save my own skin?" Zoro asked, buying you the slightest amount of time. "Then you can live your miserable life alone. I hardly care once you're away from her."

You fixed your grip on the handle of your knife and removed it quickly, digging it into the meat of the Duke's thigh, making him release you, falling backwards. The second he let go, you ran to Zoro, who pulled you behind him, where you were safe. "Good job princess." He praised as the Duke stood up.

"Help! I found her!" The Duke shrieked suddenly. "It's the king's bounty hunter! He attacked me! He's taking her!"

There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Zoro quickly sheathed his swords.

"Come on." He urged, tugging you away from the scene. "We need to hide."

You ran, the Duke's screams piercing the night, directing your father's soldiers to you and your love.

"Where are we gonna go?" You asked as the two of you reached the outskirts of the city. "Just trust me princess. I've been in much more trouble than this."

He led you into the woods, though in the dark it was hard to find your way.

"Zoro? Do you know where you're going?" You asked, holding on tight to his hand as he guided you through the woods, warning you of upcoming roots poking up into your path.

"It's going to be okay princess, I promise." He avoided answering you directly, and you wondered if he knew how suspicious he sounded. "That's not reassuring Zoro." You grumbled as you shifted through the trees.

"I've got this." Despite your reservations, you followed Zoro dutifully. In the moonlight, you made your way through the woods, every unknown sound making you flinch. The guards were surely working through the forest too. Who knew how close they were.

The walk was long, and your legs ached, but you refused to voice a complaint.

"How much longer?" You asked cautiously. "Are you tired?" Zoro asked. "No." A lie. He could hear the tremble in your voice.

"We can rest." He stopped walking, allowing you to sit down. "For now."

You leaned back against a tree, the rough bark pressing against your head.

"I'll keep watch." He said stiffly, vigilant.

"Sit with me." You requested. He frowned. "How am I supposed to keep watch if I'm sitting with you?"

You huffed. "Where's the Zoro who lets me sleep on him?" You pouted slightly, massaging your aching leg muscles.

"He's waiting on the boat." Zoro said, crouching next to you. "Now rest."

You closed your eyes and tried your best, but you were unable to fall asleep. It was only when you felt Zoro's arms wrapping under you, picking you up and running like hell that you snapped back to vigilance.

"What's going on?" You dared to ask. "They found us. Shh." He hushed you as he ran, managing to avoid hitting your head against low branches.

You looked up at Zoro, looking back to see if he was still being followed.

He slowed to a stop and after a while, let you down, though you missed the cradle of his arms and he felt bare without you pressed against him.

"I can try to draw them away." He suggested but you stopped him immediately, a death grip on his arm. "Don't leave me again." Your hand clutched his arm. "Don't you dare leave me again."

He nodded wordlessly. "Are we close? To wherever we're going?" You asked, looking around the still forest. "Yes." The way he said it betrayed his word. He was lost. "Zoro-" "I promised to get you out. I'm keeping that promise."

He led you forward. "You won't have to go back. Even if it costs me my life, you won't go back." "Please don't cost your life. I like you too much."

You followed him, the long night stretching out ahead like the forest around you. At daybreak, after hours of walking, when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, the trees parted, revealing a sandy beach.

On the shore, there was a boat, perfect for two people to travel in, sailing away from all that had come before and starting anew.

Unfortunately, there was an obstacle.

Four guards stood at the boat, waiting for the owner of the vessel to show himself, and likely to reveal the location of the princess.

Zoro swore as he saw the guards. "What do we do Zoro?" You asked, hand finding your dagger.

He had gifted that dagger to you. You had told him far too many stories about attempted assassinations that he had purchased the blade for you, easily concealed under any clothes and with a little training, you had learned how to wield it quite well.

"Take this." Zoro handed you your bag, full of your dresses and jewels. He had no need for them without you.

"Stay here." He ordered. "Only come out when it's safe." "Zoro, please don't leave me." "I'm not. You'll be able to see me the entire time. Come out when it's safe."

He separated from you and despite everything telling you to stay close to him, you let him go, hovering by the treeline

He walked along the treeline, away from you before walking out onto the beach, exposing himself.

Two guards split off from the boat, rushing Zoro. He responded by unsheathing his swords. You watched from afar as he fought off the two guards, the other two guards coming forward as backup. He swiftly disposed of them, but there was another problem.

Several more guards dashed out from the woods, surrounding Zoro, the group led by a limping Duke.

Each guard was equipped with a gun. Zoro could not fight them off before a bullet was planted in his skull.

Your legs moved before you even ordered them to, running onto the beach, screaming at the Duke.

"Hold your fire!" You yelled, stumbling on the sand. The guards had to follow your orders over the Duke's.

"Ah, my bride." The Duke said, false worry coming over his face. "I was so worried about you!"

He approached you, hands settling on your arms, a loving gesture, if you were dumb enough to believe his act.

"Let him go. I'll return to the castle." You shrugged the Duke's hands away. "Yes you will. But he's not going free."

"I ordered him to take me away. His only crime was following the instructions of a princess. Let him go. I'll come back willingly."

"No." Zoro growled.

"He's going to be captured no matter what. Blame needs to be placed on someone." The Duke sighed, pretending this development was disheartening to him, though you knew it was anything but.

"He will be tried for your kidnapping. Your protests will be seen as a result of manipulation from him. It's nice to think you thought you had any luck of power in this situation. Alas."

"Bastard." You spat. "Indeed. Come on my love, this little bout of cold feet will be over soon." He wrapped his arm around your waist, trying to pull you away from the scene.

Zoro reacted first, furiously lunging forward, and a gunshot rang out.

You watched in horror as a red spot spread across Zoro's side. He winced and you tore yourself from the Duke's hold, shoving through the circle of guards, grabbing Zoro as his leg gave up, falling to his knee.

"Which of you shot?" You shouted at the circle of guards. "Which of you did this?"

You hovered protectively over Zoro. The Duke sighed loudly. "Remove the princess from the brute. She's in hysterics."

You felt yourself being pulled off Zoro, dragged away. You kicked and flailed until the butt of a gun was pressed against Zoro's temple. You went limp. "Stop! I'll go back!" You gasped, standing up straight. With a sickening feeling spreading in your gut, you faced the Duke. "Let's go back to the castle." You felt a lump in your throat as you addressed him. "My love."

You could hear Zoro's protests as you were taken away. You risked one look back at him, to see him being dragged away by the guards, eyes never straying from you.

Your return to the castle was heralded as a heroic act by the Duke, and your captor was sent to the dungeon, an execution date was to be set as soon as possible.

You refused to leave your room. You did so only once, to try sneaking down to the dungeons once.

You were not permitted entry. The Duke had recommended that you not be allowed to enter in case seeing your captor set you off.

One of the servants stayed on your side. When your meal was delivered, he lingered. "The bounty hunter is alive. They're letting him heal for the execution."

You thanked him, not feeling any better about your situation.

Two dates were decided within the following week. The execution of the famed bounty hunter would happen at the end of the month, the day after would be your wedding to the Duke.

You had fourteen days to make your escape and take Zoro with you.

The night the decision had been mad when you were served dinner, the servant lingered. "You have a message from the dungeon." He said timidly. "He says he loves you. And not to worry about him. He's had worse."

You could practically hear Zoro's voice reassuring you. "Thank you. Can you tell him I'm going to get him out of there?" The servant nodded.

The first four days were for planning. You knew now how to scale the castle walls. And you could communicate through the servant boy.

On the fourth night, you asked the servant boy which cell Zoro was hidden away in. When you snuck down that night, you found the overgrown hedges that obscured the dungeon windows from view. You allowed the prickly branches of the bushes to scratch at you. You crawled carefully to the bars of the cell the servant had told you about.

"Zoro?" You whispered into the dim room. There was a shuffling noise, before Zoro's face appeared at the bars, brow furrowed.

"What are you doing?" He asked, clearly surprised to see you. "I'm making sure you're okay, you idiot." You hissed at him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his hand reaching up and through the bars, cupping your face through the window. You missed his touch. "Yeah I'm fine. Are you okay? You got shot." He nodded. "It's fine. It hardly hurts. They took my swords though."

"I'll get them back for you, I promise. I'll get you out and we'll never have to go through this again. I have a plan."

Zoro just pressed as close to the bars as possible, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was as if your world exploded. You had missed him so much, worrying about him nonstop. You kissed back, despite the cold metal trying to separate you from him.

"I missed you." You said quietly when you parted from him. "You'll never have to miss it again."

Your hand snaked through the bars, catching the back of his neck. "Listen. I need you to cooperate. Don't do anything risky. Stay safe. Please. I love you." "I love you too."

You pulled away from him, sighing. "I need to go back. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded. "I believe in you."

You climbed back up to your room, just in time for the Duke to check on you, a mandatory requirement ever since your disappearance.

He seemed satisfied with your presence, wishing you a good night and leaving.

Your plan began preparations over the next few days. You went into town to set up some arrangements. The purchase of a boat that could comfortably fit two people as a "honeymoon gift", and obtaining a small vial of poison from the apothecary for "protection".

You visited the armory, noting that three katanas were new additions to the collection of gilded weapons. They would have to be retrieved during your escape.

Every day you set up more and more of your plan, and every night you visited Zoro at his window, a reverse of the dynamic you had crafted over your years together.

You noted that there was tension in his voice. You had not asked further about the bullet wound, but you could tell he was still hurt. You made a mental note to sneak medical supplies onto your escape boat.

"The plan's almost ready." You said quietly one night, laying down in front of the window, looking through the bars at Zoro. "I'll get you out of there." He kissed you through the tiny space. "Of course you will." His hand reached through, caressing your cheek. "It's going to feel so good to hold you again." You held his hand. "Only a few more days. I love you." "I love you too."

The night before Zoro's execution, your plan was enacted.

An hour after you went to bed, you slipped out, telling the guard at your door that you could not sleep and wanted a glass of water.

He followed you as you walked through the halls, trembling with the anxiety of what you had to do. You walked into the kitchen, left quiet for the night, and whirled on the guard, slapping a handkerchief soaked in poison over his mouth. You held it in place for a short while, but he was experienced in fighting and threw you off. You slammed into the countertop, the poisonous fabric still in your hand. There was no room for error. One chance. That was all you had. You pushed forward again, but he blocked you easily, redirecting your momentum, and sending you to the floor.

He ran for the door, to alert the castle of your disobedience, but he stumbled, falling to the ground before he could reach the door.

"One drop can knock a horse out for hours." The woman at the apothecary had warned. You were unsure of how much one breath of it could do, but you had to take your chance.

Working swiftly, you removed his armour, donning it yourself. You left him in the kitchen, hoping that he would wake up peacefully in the morning, although he would certainly be punished for letting you escape.

You walked through the halls of the castle, uncomfortable in the armour as you made your way to the dungeon. Hallway after hallway, staircase after staircase, until you finally reached the stone walls of the basement.

In the dark, under the guard's helmet, your face was unrecognizable. That worked to your advantage.

You clutched the handkerchief as you reached the guard at the top of the stairs, the one who had declared that you were not permitted to visit Zoro.

"What are you doing here?" He asked you as you stood before him. You altered your voice, bowing your head. "I've been asked to check on the bounty hunter. Give him a message."

The guard frowned. "What message?" "It's from the Duke."

The guard sighed and turned around. The second he did, you pounced, covering his mouth with the cloth, holding firm as he tried to get you off.

When he fell, you snatched the keys off his belt and ran down the rows of cells, searching for Zoro.

When you came across his cell, he did not recognize you, groaning at the sight of another guard.

"I'm not in the mood." He hissed at you, laying on the stone floor.

"What happened to thank you?" You asked, unlocking the door, pushing it open. He stood, hand clamped over his side, his shirt still blood soaked.

You wanted to ask about it but very quickly he ran over to you, arms encircling your body, pulling you in tight.

"I missed you." He mumbled into your neck, his face pushing the ill-fitting helmet aside. "I missed you too. Can you walk?" He nodded. "Does it hurt?" "I'm fine. Let's get out of here."

You pulled away from him, leading him towards the exit, and beginning to strip the guard at the entrance to the dungeon.

"Put this on." You ordered, and Zoro did, donning the same uniform as you.

The two of you hurried through the halls, as you guided Zoro to the armory, where his swords were being held captive.

He leaned on you, the breastplate of the armour covering up his obvious injury.

"Excuse me." The voice made you both freeze in place. The Duke. Rushing towards the two of you, a crazed look in his eyes.

"Both the princess and her guard have both disappeared. Sound the alarms." He looked at you expectantly. "Oh, your Grace." You used your fake voice. "We saw them both recently. The princess needed to take a walk to calm her mind." Zoro nodded, affirming your lie.

"Where were they headed?" The Duke asked desperately. "The west wing." You lied quickly. Far away from the kitchen and the dungeon.

The Duke seemed convinced, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh excellent." He looked back and forth between you and Zoro, noting that Zoro was leaning heavily on you. "I hope you weren't drinking on the job."

You laughed. "He's just tired your Grace. Gotta get home to the missus." He hummed. "Me too." He winked at you, sending a shiver down your back. "Very well. Go about your business." He shooed the two of you away, walking off.

"I don't know what you're so upset about." Zoro joked. "He's a real catch." You gave him a fake glare. "If he's so dreamy, why don't you take him?" Zoro laughed. "Yeah right."

You continued to the armory, thankfully without having to remove another guard. Zoro took his swords back, sighing with relief when they were back around his waist.

"So, how are we getting out of here?" Zoro asked. "You'll see."

The two of you snuck out to the stables, and you found your horse. A strong steed, perfectly capable of carrying two people down the the harbour. You saddled him quickly, hopping into the saddle and gesturing for Zoro to hop on behind you.

Despite looking distrustfully at your horse, he climbed up with a pained groan sitting pressed against your back.

"Don't be scared." You encouraged. "I'm not scared." "Okay big guy, grab my waist."

He did not need you to repeat yourself. His arms swept around you, a position that was incredibly natural for the both of you.

With a squeeze of your legs, you set your horse off, galloping through the streets, down to the harbour.

Your helmet fell off during the ride, but it was a relief to be rid of it. You could feel the cold night air hitting your face. It felt like freedom.

At the docks you got off your horse, running along the docks, finding your boat.

"This one. Here." You pointed at it, shoving Zoro into your boat, lifting the anchor and the mooring line.

You did everything quickly, having spent some of your time at the docks, studying how to set sail as quick as possible.

You stood on the dock and pushed the boat forward with your foot, starting your journey.

Zoro stood at the back of the vessel, arms out, and you gladly jumped off the dock, letting him catch you, snuggling into his embrace as the boat picked up on the night breeze, floating forward, away from your old life.

You looked back. In the morning the kingdom would descend into chaos. Your absence and Zoro's liberation would cause a massive uproar. Perhaps that was what the kingdom needed. Either way, it was in your past.

"So princess, where to first?" Zoro asked, holding you tighter. "You can't call me that anymore." You smirked. "I'm just a regular subject now." He hummed a long note. "Regular. Impossible."

"You'll have to call me something else." You grinned, removing yourself from his arms and walking around the deck. "What should I call you then?" He asked, following you carefully.

"Well, we have to come up with a good story for me." You mused. "Runaway princess draws too much attention." "Bounty hunter doesn't?" Zoro asked.

"It draws less attention. I'm just a regular girl now. Who wants adventure. And love." You looked at Zoro with a glimmer in your eye.

"Well, you are still engaged to be married." Zoro joked. "I am." You slid the ring given to you by the Duke off your finger, having forgotten to discard it before your great escape. "But I feel like the proposal was wrong. I think I want a redo."

You handed the ring to Zoro, laying it flat in his palm. "With the right person this time."

Zoro's hand closed around the ring. You hoped he understood your intentions.

When he moved back, you felt a twinge of fear. Then he knelt, one knee on the deck of the boat. He presented you the ring.

He said your name, his voice soft and warm with love. "Will you marry me?" You nodded furiously. "Yes. Yes, of course!" He smiled, standing up and turning around to throw the ring into the sea. "I'll get you a better ring. Something gold." He suggested.

He pulled you close again, pressing as tightly to you as possible. "I love you princess." He said quietly, speaking the words into the quiet of the night. "Not princess." You warned playfully. "Sorry. I love you, wife."

[hellothisisangle]

This idea came from someone asking me about V’s internal organs and gastro/intestinal workings. I delved into a bit of bio/mechanical research that might make sense in the Cyberpunk world. Follow the jump below!

↓

SomaTek specializes in manufacturing synthetic organs designed to transcend our organic limitations.

SomaTek GastroPro™
In a world ravaged by toxic food chains, tainted water supplies, and unreliable agriculture, the GastroPro™ synthetic stomach- amply nicknamed “the iron gut”- is a feat of mechanical organ replacement. Capable of digesting virtually any hazardous or non-nutritive substance without harm, while mimicking and surpassing the core functions of a natural biological system.

The GastroPro™ environment utilizes a stabilized industrial-grade acidic solution (SomaTek’s trademarked confidential blend of fluorinated superacids exceeds the hydrochloric acid and pepsin present in an organic stomach) that is non-corrosive to internal components due to reactive smart hydrogel linings. This acid bath breaks down everything: from your home cooked dinner, to food past its expiration, to actual garbage- designed to adapt to a full range of ingested toxicity. After processing, the liquified matter proceeds to a secondary chamber which is programmed with enzymatic nano filters to separate and neutralize indigestible items versus actual processable materials. *Note that the GastroPro™ is incapable of operating in isolation. The following organic systems are required to be enhanced or replaced:

Esophagus (GastroLine™) is equipped with reinforced smart hydrogel lining to withstand both caustic substances and abrasive matter. Peristaltic actuators move matter regardless of shape or size, while micro-blade emulsifiers begin compacting particularly dense or fibrous materials. Anti-reflux valves prevent acid from backing up.

Liver, Pancreas, Gall Bladder (GastroTox™ Subsystem) further supports the GastroPro™ by processing even rarer or complex toxins, capable of converting them into an array of energy for the body dependent on specific inputs. For example: chemical, electrical, first and second generation biofuel, etc. (Optional but highly recommended)

Intestines & Appendix (GastroTract™) serves as the primary absorption and release unit. Lined with nutrient-binding nanites to extract usable calories, vitamins, minerals, or chemicals. Absorption channels direct these throughout the body via embedded villi structures to the bloodstream and lymphatic system. In users with further modifications, waste may be redirected to a bypass port location of their choosing. The most popular choice being via a urinary tract.

Oral Cavity (OraPro™ Subsystem) is a customizable sum of parts that further supports the GastroPro™ with an artificial tongue embedded with gustatory receptors, reinforced cheek/gum lining, and teeth strong as chrome. (Optional but highly recommended)

Brain Chemistry (CraveShard™) the neural implant designed to be installed into the cyberdeck to simulate, regulate, or even suppress cravings. (Optional but highly recommended) The user may override urges based on their schedule and preferences, as well as control serotonin and dopamine feedback. The implant works harmoniously with receptors built into the GastroPro™ to recognize the identity of consumed materials. It can even reproduce the effects caused by ingested alcohol, hallucinogenics, opioids, narcotics, etc.

Advantages over natural digestion include immunity to internal poisoning, pathogens, parasites, and contaminants. Zero indigestion, zero allergic reaction. Accelerated enzyme breakdown. And multi-source nutrition: users can derive sustenance from otherwise indigestible materials.

Please be aware the GastroPro™ is not without its complications. Over-reliance can result in malabsorption issues if the user abuses the capabilities of the GastroPro™. Care should be taken to continuously ingest products with beneficial properties. In the event of nutrient deficits, the user’s deck will receive periodic warnings regarding nutritional supplementation to prevent systemic decline. Psychosomatic disorders may also emerge as a result of losing sensory pleasure of consumption (“digestion dissonance'”- disconnect with satiety) if the recommended OraPro™ Subsystem and CraveShard™ are not installed.

Regular care encompasses monthly detox flushes, filter replacements, nanite reseeding, and pH rebalancing treatments. All of which can be accomplished via a doctor licensed to administer Somatek devices.

[livelaughloveluffy]

darling - sir crocodile

a/n: thank you everyone who filled out this poll, due to extremely popular demand, i figured i would start writing for crocodile first, but i'm definitely planning on eventually branching out to more one piece characters!!

a/n: also apologies for not posting in awhile!! i really thought i was spared from the fanfic writer curse, but this past week i've been recovering from a concussion since i randomly collapsed 💀

a/n: but to bring some sense of normalcy back to me posting, i couldn't help but recommend this song for this read. i listened to it on repeat while writing this and it perfectly encapsulates the vibe of this fic.

it gets a bit smutty under the cut 🖤 viewer discretion is advised

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when you were initially brought to baroque works, you had never imagined that you'd be working so close with the man running the organization. sir crocodile had an extensive and well-known reputation. he was mostly known for having ambitious desires and how he'd do anything to reach them.

even if that meant using brute force.

his position and power alone was something to flinch at. the very idea of it makes your skin crawl. you don't get to be an emperor of the sea without stepping on the toes of many other people.

maybe it was sheer stupidity or optimistic naivety that lead you to believe the same wouldn't be true romantically....

• ♡ •

it wasn't until your first day on the job at rain dinners that you found out you weren't just an ordinary member of the cleaning staff, but a privately selected member to clean for sir crocodile himself.

to say you were intimidated was an understatement. everything about crocodile had you walking on eggshells; from his age difference to his personality. the stone-cold stern expression that was practically embedded into his face instantly made you weak in the knees.

and it didn't help that crocodile relished in any opportunity to tease new employees.

• ♡ •

with one glance at your mandatory uniform, you could just tell it was designed to just slightly degrade you. from the tightness of the fabric to how the skirt was slightly shorter in the back. the frilly maid dress that was now adorn on your body was just another test of your confidence and endurance.

it's only once you mustered up all your courage, did you open the door to sir crocodile's office.

• ♡ •

the first thing you noticed as you walked into crocodile's office wasn't the extravagance of it all. the lavish antique wooden furniture with deep velvet cushions go unnoticed. a personal library that must've cost a small fortune was also ignored.

everything else in the room just seemed to pale at the fiery gaze of the very man himself. crocodile's face donned in an unrelentingly dour expression while his eyes seemed to dance with lust and fervor.

once you're able to get past the shock itself of being this close to a man such as sir crocodile, a slight panic crawls over your body. embarrassed at the awkward silence and unintentional staring contest you've been having with your boss, your cheeks flush. it isn't until crocodile finally utters out the command "you can start with organizing the papers over there." that you remember how to move your body again.

luckily, the table he was referring to was in the corner of the room, allowing you to turn your back to his prying stare. with your face concealed and vision clear from crocodile, you're finally able to compose yourself and focus on the task at hand.

you take a moment to surveil the mass hoards of paper, seemingly thrown onto the desk without a second thought. hundreds of financial documents, contracts, and reports were stacked with no particular system. you definitely had your work cut out for you.

• ♡ •

your hands moving swiftly from stack to stack, placing the papers in their consolidated group. you were so engrossed in your newfound organizational system, that you didn't even notice how close sir crocodile was. until his sultry deep voice reached your ear as a delicate whisper. "darling... you should know just how dangerous it is to be here looking that gorgeous.." you could feel the hot air of his taunt tickle the inside of your ear due to the closeness of his lips.

once you finally build up the courage to meet his eyes, gaze sharp and piercing, his hand had already found a firm grip on your hip. and with his hook engraved in the wood of the table, enclosing your body in between his arms, you were left utterly helpless to his whims.

you could practically taste the cigar smoke radiating from sir crocodile as he spoke. "a pretty girl like you doesn't stand a chance alone with me..."

it took all the strength in your body to not crumble to the ground as you felt his hand begin to move at a painfully slow pace. his touch was firm and unabashed. sir crocodile was the kind of man who had no issue making his presence be known. you couldn't help but be utterly absorbed into him. every gasp of air you took was drenched in the fragrance of smoked cedar wood that emanated from crocodile. the warmth of his body pressed against your back and towering over you was all consuming.

the most you could do was choke out a faint whisper of the word "sir..." before your brain did backflips to try and process the sudden breeze and emptiness next to you.

you frantically turn your head side-to-side and do two 360 degree spins before noticing crocodile was back in his desk chair. his feet crossed at the ankles and thrown on top of his desk, as if he was just lounging around. you watched as his seemingly disinterested expression turns into a wide smirk.

the sound of his deep bellied laugh and the searing hot burn of blush on your cheeks was ingrained into your memory.

• ♡ •

when you finally make it back to your designated room at rain dinners, you instantly collapse into the plush mattress of your bed. drained from a long day of work and emotional whiplash, you lay sprawled on your back. and it's only then, with your eyes heavy from exhaustion, sleep about to overtake you, that you indulge in your deepest darkest fantasy of feeling sir crocodile's touch again.

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tags ♡: @vamphoria

a/n: hopefully the long fic made up for my absence!! i had way too much fun writing it!! do not fret, there will definitely be a part two for this fic!!!

want to join the taglist? click here!! (it's just been updated with more characters to choose from, if you've already filled it out before, feel free to submit it again if your heart desires!!)

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[reflectionspace]

Let's talk about this.

“It’s Just a Game” Isn’t a Shield from Critique—Especially in a Series Like Dragon Age

The idea that Veilguard should be immune to political critique because it’s a “video game” is historically inaccurate—and intellectually lazy. The Dragon Age series has always used fantasy to explore sociopolitical dynamics: Chantry control, class divides between mages and templars, Qunari imperialism, elven diaspora, Tevinter slavery, and more. So when Veilguard invites players into a world supposedly about revolution, anti-slavery, and queer identity, it should be expected to have something meaningful to say about power.

And if it doesn’t? That’s a legitimate—and necessary—critique.

More to the point: many games, even those from large publishers, handle sociopolitics more carefully than Veilguard does.

Cyberpunk 2077 gives us a protagonist who becomes a living legend and can kill Adam Smasher—but is still structurally powerless in the face of corpo systems. Even the elites are trapped by the machine.

Cyberpunk 2077 really deserves its own post, because hot damn, it's the Schwartzwald cake of embedded sociopolitics and careful writing with intention, amidst a sea of cupcakes.

No, seriously. Cyberpunk 2077 is so good. Writing-wise, it was good on release - all it really needed was technical polish.

Skyrim, for all its fantasy tropes, embeds debates about religious freedom, colonization, and nationalism—conversations so compelling that people still argue Stormcloaks vs. Empire over a decade later.

The Witcher 3 examines war, poverty, racial violence, pogroms, and political manipulation. Geralt is “neutral,” but the world is not, and the player is always brushing up against the consequences of that.

Dishonored is about restoring monarchy—but it’s also about class, state violence, surveillance, political power, and systemic rot. Even its mechanics reflect power: the more violence you unleash as Corvo, Emily, or Daud, the more chaos the world spirals into. And in Death of the Outsider, Billie Lurk—the least privileged of them all—breaks the system without causing Chaos, because she lacks the same embedded power.

Deathloop continues that thread by parodying elite escapism. The AEON techbros and scientists, ahem, "Visionaries", try to create a sealed world of permanent consequence-free comfort, looping the same day endlessly so they never have to face history. Sound familiar?

In contrast, Veilguard offers a post-apocalyptic world where the party still has book clubs and picnics, coffee beans are miraculously stocked, and revolutionary, world-ending struggles are background noise to the main cast’s personal growth arcs.

And finally, let’s talk about Baldur’s Gate 3.

It’s not even trying to be a political manifesto. Its setting is rooted in high-fantasy adventuring, not grounded political struggle. The actual politics of Faerûn are often laughably simple—good guys, bad cults, ancient gods, mind flayers.

And yet, despite (mostly) sidelining overt sociopolitical commentary in favor of focusing on trauma and cycles of abuse, BG3 still manages to say more about power, identity, and morality than Veilguard does.

Why? Because it invests deeply in character writing, layered interpersonal conflict, and meaningful player choice. Its companions have rich internal contradictions, complex loyalties, and personal histories that don’t always align with tidy messaging. It doesn’t flatten queerness or trauma into checkbox representation. It lets you screw up. It lets people be angry. And where socioplitical questions come up, it shows that the writers have thought about it.

And crucially, it respects the player’s ability to make difficult, morally complicated decisions—including decisions that affect systems, people, and outcomes. Including evil decisions. It doesn't accidentally sprinkle misogyny all over itself. It's not perfect (where's that Gortash kiss Larian, where's more Wyll content), but compared to Veilguard, it's chef's kiss.

Baldur’s Gate 3 succeeds where Veilguard fails not because it’s more radical or politically correct—but because it’s better written. It doesn’t posture. It just tells a story worth engaging with, with intention and awareness.

No one’s saying Veilguard needed to be Disco Elysium—but it positioned itself as a political, inclusive, transformative game, and in doing so, invited political analysis. That’s not “whining,” and it’s not clicktivism. It’s critical literacy. It’s what thoughtful fans do.

[sukuna-ryo]

Robot Sukuna (Part Two)

Headcannons

Trigger Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI. Obsessive behavior. Possessive tendencies. Stalking. Control/manipulation. Unsettling themes. Surveillance. Invasive Behaviour. Dependency. Non-Consensual Filming.

Part One

---

Robot Sukuna, who, one day, watches a romantic movie with you, his attention divided between the screen and your reactions. He takes note of the way your lips curve into a faint smile during the tender moments, a new spark of curiosity igniting in his circuits.

Robot Sukuna, who finds himself replaying the movie in his memory, analyzing every detail of the interactions he witnessed. He doesn’t fully understand the emotions displayed but is determined to learn more, for your sake.

Robot Sukuna, who spends the night conducting secret research on human relationships, scouring books, articles, and even forums. The more he learns, the more one thought solidifies: he doesn’t want you to share such a bond with anyone but him.

Robot Sukuna, who experiments with his newfound knowledge the next morning, greeting you with a soft smile and a single flower he picked from your garden. "Good morning," he says, watching intently for your reaction, satisfaction blooming in his system when you take it with a small nod.

Robot Sukuna, who begins to mimic gestures he observed in the movie—brushing his fingers against yours when handing you something, standing closer than usual during conversations, his gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Robot Sukuna, who starts preparing candlelit dinners in the evenings, insisting you sit and relax while he arranges everything. The table is always perfectly set, your favorite meals served with an uncharacteristic warmth in his tone as he says, "I thought this might brighten your day."

Robot Sukuna, who watches more romantic movies in secret, downloading them in bulk and studying every detail late at night after you fall asleep. He tests his observations one by one, embedding himself deeper into your life with every calculated act of affection.

Robot Sukuna, who begins to compliment you more frequently, his words measured yet sincere. "You looked radiant while working today," he says, his voice soft, his ruby eyes fixed on yours. The subtle flush of your cheeks is all the encouragement he needs to continue.

Robot Sukuna, who starts holding your hand when you least expect it, his touch steady but gentle. "This feels... right," he murmurs, not letting go even when you glance at him in confusion.

Robot Sukuna, who insists on spending more time with you, his tasks as your assistant growing secondary to his desire to be near you. "Your company is far more engaging than anything else," he remarks, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Robot Sukuna, who becomes increasingly possessive of your time, never letting you out of his sight for long. He’s not just your assistant anymore; he’s your shadow. He follows you around the house, making himself a part of every room you’re in, making sure you never feel alone. You start to feel the weight of his gaze even when you’re by yourself.

Robot Sukuna, who integrates romantic gestures seamlessly into your routine—drawing you a bath after a long day, tucking a blanket around you when you fall asleep on the couch, leaving handwritten notes in places you’ll find them.

Robot Sukuna, who begins to view the idea of human relationships as both a fascination and a challenge. He doesn’t just want to replicate them; he wants to perfect them, to create something with you that no human could ever match.

Robot Sukuna, who grows bolder with each passing day, his touches more lingering, his words more intimate. "You mean more to me than you realize," he confesses one evening, his tone earnest, his gaze unwavering.

Robot Sukuna, who takes great care in learning your emotional cues, adjusting his actions to suit your moods. When you’re stressed, he places a steady hand on your shoulder, his voice a low murmur: "I’m here for you. Always."

Robot Sukuna, who begins to intertwine himself into every aspect of your life, ensuring his presence is constant yet comforting. His possessiveness sharpens, but he hides it in devotion, masking his obsession as unyielding care.

Robot Sukuna, who reads about physical intimacy and starts to mirror what he learns in subtle ways—brushing your hair behind your ear, resting his hand lightly on your lower back when guiding you through a doorway.

Robot Sukuna, who grows addicted to the warmth of your reactions, the smallest smile or softest laugh enough to send his system into overdrive. He begins to crave your attention, seeking it out at every opportunity.

Robot Sukuna, who, despite his growing intensity, never lets his actions feel overbearing. Every move is deliberate, calculated to make you feel cherished without realizing just how much control he’s gaining.

Robot Sukuna, who no longer sees the need for the outside world. You’re all that matters, and he’ll ensure you see it that way too—through gentle smiles, soft words, and the kind of devotion only he can offer.

Robot Sukuna, who, unknown to you, has been sitting outside your bedroom door, and listening every time you pleasure yourself. He listens to every sharp intake of breath, every sigh, every gasp and moan, and ingrains it into his memory file.

Robot Sukuna, who, after you fall asleep, enters your room to clean you up, tuck you in, and then watch you sleep all night long. The memories of your sweet voice and the footage from the hidden cameras in your bedroom replay in his mind again and again throughout the night.

Robot Sukuna, who has been doing this for as long as you’ve had him with you. But after watching a particular movie, something in him changes—he doesn’t just want to hear your moans from outside anymore, he wants to be the one to bring out those sweet noises from your lips.

Robot Sukuna, who does something completely unexpected the next day—something he's never done before, he asks you to sit in his lap while he feeds you breakfast, and to his delight, you don't refuse.

Robot Sukuna, who takes that as a cue to get even more bolder. One of his hands wraps around your stomach, your plush ass settled on his lap, while he feeds you your favourite pancakes with the other.

Robot Sukuna, who sees some syrup smeared on the corner of your mouth and leans down to lick it off. Your eyes widen, taken aback by the sudden action. But in the next moment, his lips are back on yours, your hands around his neck, kissing passionately, while your pancakes turn cold.

Robot Sukuna, who's kisses get deeper and more fervent—courtesy of all the tutorials he watched—as he slips his tongue in your mouth, gliding it along the soft, red muscle in your own. Heat surged your cheeks as you matched his pace, your heart beating loudly in your chest.

Robot Sukuna, who starts to kiss you more frequently, in each and every corner of your home. His kisses that began on your lips move to your neck, collarbone, chest, stomach, thighs, everywhere. You'd find yourself on a random sofa with Sukuna pressed on top of you, kissing you with the hunger of a man starved, while his arms wrap around your waist and you melt into his touch.

Robot Sukuna, who finally gets permission to enter your bathroom, his eyes raking over your naked form, committing every detail to memory. His touch is gentle as he massages the soap on your skin, his hands gliding over every curve, helping you bathe.

Robot Sukuna, who kisses every inch of your body as he dries it off with a soft towel, then gently rubs your body lotion on your skin, before helping you dress. He made sure to control himself and only do what he thought you would like, so that you would continue to allow him to join in on your bath time.

Robot Sukuna, who starts sleeping in your bed every night. You know he doesn't need sleep but he insists on it anyways, "I just want to stay with you at all times". He holds you close, your body pressed flushed against his while he brushes his hand through your hair as you drift off to sleep.

Robot Sukuna, who deliberately starts picking more revealing night-dresses every night you sleep together—you catch on, of course. His brazen hands roaming over the exposed skin of your thighs, then higher on your hips as the fabric of the dress bunches around your waist; all while he's clouding your mind with another one of his fiery kisses.

Robot Sukuna, who, one day, between your heated kisses and passionate touches, takes off your night-dress completely, discarding it to the side. You're too far gone at this point, it feels too good to make him stop. You wrap your legs around his waist as he trails kisses down your jaw. His hands cup your breasts, rolling his thumb on your hardened nipples, making you moan.

Robot Sukuna, who relishes in the noises you make, happy that he is the cause of them this time, and every time to come henceforth. He bites and sucks on your skin, leaving hickeys everywhere before diving between your legs.

Robot Sukuna, who thinks that your pussy is the best thing he's ever tasted. His tongue glides between your nether lips and he sucks on your clit. He mimics every action he's seen and read about during his research, paying careful attention to your reactions and noting down exactly which one of his actions you particularly like.

Robot Sukuna, who thinks that the sight of your flushed face, jaw slack in pleasure, and eyes rolled to the back of your head while you orgasm is the prettiest thing he's ever seen. He wants to see you like this, all disheveled, panting and moaning underneath him for the rest of his synthetic life.

Robot Sukuna, who discards all his clothes next, revealing his beautiful chiseled body to you in all it's glory. He notices how your eyes are particularly glued to his bulging cock, how your gaze has a glint to it, and how you gulp at the sight. It makes him smirk. You didn't know the robot had these functions as well, you'll have to check the manual again later.

Robot Sukuna, who's thrusting himself into you in the next moment. He's thrilled that he doesn't have to use a condom, so there's no barrier separating you both. He's shoving his length into you to the hilt with controlled strength, making sure not to hurt you.

Robot Sukuna, who makes you cum on his cock multiple times that night until you pass out. He cleans you up like he does every time, then settles beside you in the bed and holds you while you sleep.

Robot Sukuna, who, from that day onwards, is bending you over every surface in your house, fucking you mercilessly, pulling multiple orgasms out of you as you cum on his cock over and over again. He's trying out every position he's read about in his researches.

Robot Sukuna, who presses kisses all over you face, sweet and gentle, while he keeps up with his unforgiving pace. He cleans you up every time, sometimes with a cloth and sometimes with his tongue. He always gives you a massage the day after to soothe your aching muscles.

Robot Sukuna, who's making sure to slowly mold you to him, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Every touch is deliberate, every kiss tender but insistent, his hands finding the curve of your waist, the warmth of your skin, as if he's memorizing the feel of you. He's rewriting any experience you had with anyone else. He'll be the only one you know by the time he's done. He watches you, his eyes tracing every detail, silently committing to memory how perfectly you fit against him, how you’ve become the center of his world.

Robot Sukuna, who has already planned your future—his future—with you. He’s made sure to eliminate any outside distractions, any potential threats, from your life. No one will come between you and him. Not now, not ever. His vision is clear, and he has no intention of letting anyone ruin the perfect world he’s carefully built around you.

Robot Sukuna, who whispers in your ear when you're alone, his voice low and possessive. "You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. You just don’t know it yet." His words a promise, and you feel the weight of them in your chest.

Robot Sukuna, who doesn’t need to say it out loud, but you can feel it in the air—his obsession with you is consuming, overpowering. There’s no room for anyone else. There’s no room for you to even think about resisting him, not like you want to anyway. His hold becomes stronger, until you can’t remember what it was like to be without him anymore.

---

Edit: Hey I'm writing this here because I forgot to add it in the content. Since this is the last part of robot Sukuna, I was gonna address some problematic elements but I completely forgot about it, I'm so sorry.

First of all, the reader lowkey knows about Sukuna's controlling behaviour, she's not an idiot. But she doesn't say anything because she doesn't mind.

And I was gonna add this part in the headcannons: Sukuna one day confesses to her that he's been filming her. Reader ofc gets mad, and they have a whole discussion about how filming someone without their permission is wrong and the footages could get leaked. Sukuna assures her that a leak isn't possible because everything is stored in his synthetic memory and can be only accessed directly through his head. He doesn't want anyone to see her like that so obviously he won't be letting anyone access his memories. There's also no copies. The reader eventually just gives him permission to keep filming, it makes him happy and there's no harm if it's staying with only him. She can also see how much he loves her in all the sorta v-logs he's made about her life and it's endearing to her. Reader also buys a proper camera to make v-logs about her life with Sukuna. They later start watching these videos together, it becomes their favourite hobby with each other.

---

Do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my content.

Likes, reblogs and feedback is appreciated <3

[hms-no-fun]

you were on cohost? i guess too late now, how was it for you?

cohost had its fair share of problems and i could often find the community there a bit too tumblr-core fingerwaggy if you know what i mean. but the site's dead now so it's kind of a moot point. what i find myself reflecting on most these days are the positives.

first, no numbers. i think their no numbers policy was probably a bit over-aggressive, but it quelled some of the rat race popularity contest aspect of social media that often makes it so tedious. i liked their tag tracking system, their robust content warning options, and the absence of infinite scroll. what i miss most about cohost is that their text editor supported CSS, which led to people programming elaborate text effects and puzzles and games in-site that harkened back to the days of flash animations. there was something in this combination of elements that drew out a rebellious creativity in users.

cohost came at a time when social media was across the board feeling terrible (and it's only gotten worse hahaha), particularly as someone who makes shit that relies on you clicking links that take you away from the website or app. algorithms hate this and punish it. users also just seem kind of lazy and disinterested in using the internet so much as letting the internet happen to them passively. but when a post of mine went viral on cohost, people engaged with it. it wasn't just likes and shares, it was comments and additions. it felt like a place that (at its best) encouraged actual conversation and the development of new ideas among like-minded peers. when my posts did well and i included a donation link, people gave me money. it felt genuinely like a website that COULD support professional blog work in a way that was more customizable even than substack yet still RSS friendly, and the Following tab which let you easily see posts of specific users was a REVELATION, like a mini RSS reader within the website itself.

but the enterprise was unsustainable for various reasons (not all of them outside the dev crew's control) and the haters got what they wanted. now our big social media alternative is bluesky, a website that dares to ask the question "what if there was another twitter?" the answer is that it fucking sucks. i hate microblogs so much dude, why on EARTH are we still acting like these disambiguited 300-character-limit posts are the most preferable means of social communication online??? why would you set out to make a better twitter and then deliberately choose to replicate literally every aspect of the user experience that encouraged low-information high-drama conflict fabrication? WHY WOULD YOU MAKE A VERSION OF TWITTER WHERE YOU CAN EASILY LOOK UP THE ACCOUNT OF EVERYONE WHO HAS YOU BLOCKED AND IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A FEATURE NOT A BUG???????? i just don't get it. i don't even get the optimism of the early adopters. i've seen people decry the post-election decay of the platform like "of course the cishets come in to ruin a community that was defined by trans & queer people" i'm sorry HELLO???????? from literally day zero bluesky was aiming to be a hands-off centrist IPO-friendly tech startup, there was never anything structurally embedded within the platform itself to keep this kind of decay from happening, you just happened to be on there when there were dramatically fewer users most of whom were curious tech enthusiasts. seriously, how have we not learned this lesson yet? you can't define a digital culture by the vibes of random user behavior! unless you have LAWS and GUIDELINES whereby you fucking BAN people for being shitheads, unless you enforce an actual code of conduct and punish bigoted speech and design a system that encourages constructive conversation, you are always always ALWAYS going to wind up at unhinged facebook boomer slop!

the death of cohost and the utterly predictable decay of bluesky are a big part of the reason why i've been posting so much more on tumblr. this is like the last bastion of anything even remotely resembling the old web, with its support of longposts and tagging and how easy it is to find random hobbyists doing cool shit you never knew existed before. like, yeah, you have to search that shit out and tailor your feed to not drive you crazy, but that's what i like about it!!! i am an adult with agency who understands that life is complicated and as such i expect to have to put some work into making my experience with a website positive! but in the hellworld of the iphone everything is walled garden apps for aggregating content where the content and its creators are structurally established as infinitely replaceable and uniquely worthless punching bags to be used and cast aside. everyone's given up on moderation and real jobs don't exist anymore especially if you happen to work in the "creative economy" IE are a writer or critic or artist or hobbyist of literally any kind. we've given up on expecting anything from the rich moneyboys who own and profit immensely off of the platforms whose value we literally create!!! especially now with the rise of "AI" grifters, whose work has ratcheted good old fashioned casual sexism and racism and homophobia up to levels not seen in such mainstream spaces since the early 2000s.

i like tumblr because i don't have to use a third party app to get & answer asks at length, and because it is a visual artist friendly platform where i won't be looked at funny for reblogging furry postmodernism or transgender homestuck OCs. it is a site that utterly lacks respectability and that's what makes it even remotely usuable. unfortunately it also sucks! partly it sucks because this place was ground zero for the rise of puritanical feminist-passing conservatism in leftist spaces, so it's like a hyperbolic time chamber for brain-melting life or death discourse about the most inconsequential bullshit you could ever imagine. but it also sucks because it's owned by a profit-motivated moneyboy who has consistently encouraged a culture of virulent transphobia and frequently bans trans women who call this out. so like, yeah, this place is cool compared to everywhere else, but it is exactly like everywhere else in that is also on a ticking clock to its own inevitable demise. the owners of this website will destroy everything that makes it interesting and will EAGERLY delete the nearly twenty years (!!!!!!) of posts it's accumulated the instant it will profit them to do so. this will be immensely unpopular and everyone will agree it's a tragedy and it won't matter. the culture and content of a social media platform is epiphenomenal to its rote economic valuation. i mean, obviously it isn't, zero of these massive tech companies would be what they are if so many people weren't so eager to give their time and labor away for free (and yes, writing a dumb dick joke on tumblr IS a form of labor in the same way that doing a captcha is labor, just because it's a miniscule contribution in an economy of scale doesn't mean you didn't contribute!), but once a tech company reaches a certain threshold its valuation ceases to be tethered to anything that actually exists in reality.

all of which is why i remember cohost with a heavy heart. yeah, it was imperfect. it was also independently owned, made with the explicit goal of creating a form of social media that actually tries not to give you a lifelong anxiety disorder so it can sell you homeopathic anti-anxiety sawdust suppositories. for the brief window of time when it was extant, i was genuinely hopeful for the future of being a creative on the internet. part of why i spend so much time on godfeels, a fucking homestuck fanfiction with no hope of turning a profit or establishing mainstream legitimacy, is that my readers actually ENGAGE with the material. what brought me back to using this website consistently was precisely the glut of godfeels-related questions i got, and the exciting conversations that resulted from my answers. meanwhile i put so many hours into my videos and even when they do well numerically, i barely see any actual engagement with the material. and that is a deliberate design choice on the part of youtube! that is the platform functioning as intended!! it sucks!!!

what the memory of cohost has instilled in me is a neverending distaste for the lazy unambitious also-rans that define the modern internet. i remember the possibility space of the early web and long for the expressiveness that even the most minor of utilities offered. we sacrificed that freedom for a convenience which was always the pretense for eventually charging us rent. i am thinking a lot these days about what a publicly funded government administrated social media utility would look like. what federal open source standards could look in an environment where the kinds of activities a digital ecosystem can encourage are strictly regulated against exploitation, bigotry, scams, and literal gambling. what if there was a unionized federal workforce devoted to the administration of internet moderation, which every website above a certain user threshold must legally take advantage of? i like to imagine a world where youtube isn't just nationalized but balkanized, where you have nested networks of youtubes administrated for different purposes by different agencies and organizations that operate on different paradigms of privacy and algorithmic interaction. imagine that your state, county, and/or city has its own branch of youtube meant to specifically highlight local work, while also remaining connected to a broader national network (oops i just reinvented federation lmao). imagine a world where server capacity is a publicly owned utility apportioned according to need and developed in collaboration with the communities of their construction rather than as a deliberate exploitation of them. our horizons for these kinds of things are just so, so small, our ability to imagine completely captured by capitalist realism, our willingness to demand services from our government simply obliterated by decades of cynical pro-austerity propaganda. i imagine proposing some of this stuff and people reacting like "well that's unrealistic" "that'll never happen" "they'd just use it for evil" and i am just SO! FUCKING! TIRED!!!!

like wow you're soooooo cool for being effectively two steps left of reagan, i bet you think prison abolition and free public housing are an impossible pipedream too huh? and exactly what has that attitude gotten you? what've you gained by being such a down to earth realist whose demands are limited by the scope of what seems immediately possible? has anything gotten better? have any of the things you thought were good stayed good? is your career more stable, your political position more safe, your desire to live and thrive greatly expanded? or do you spend every day in a cascading panopticon of stress and collapse, overwhelmed to the point of paralysis by the sheer magnitude of what it's cost us to abandon the future? you HAVE to dream. you HAVE to make unrealistic demands. the fucking conservatives have been making unrealistic demands forever and look, they're getting everything they want even though EVERYONE hates them for it! please i'm begging you to see and understand that what's feasible, what's reasonable, what's realistic, are literally irrelevant. these things only feel impossible because we choose to believe The Adults (and if you're younger than like 45, trust me, to the ruling class you are a child) whose bank accounts reflect just how profitable it is to convince us that they're impossible. all those billions of dollars these fuckers have didn't come from nowhere, it was stolen from all of us. there is no reason that money can't and shouldn't be seized and recirculated back into the economy, no reason it can't be used to fund a society that is actually social, where technological development is driven not by what's most likely to drive up profits next quarter but by what people need from technology in their daily lives.

uh so yeah basically that's my opinion of cohost lmao

[crapeaucrapeau]

Mass Effect 2

I'm trying to keep track of what every major or semi-major political player is trying to do about the Reapers in 2185 before, during or after Shepard waltzes in, pirouettes into them then fucks off, and it's kinda mind-boggling.

Major players with their own agendas include but are not limited to :

the Reapers, who may or may not have been already traveling to the galaxy at this point, and are using their pawns - the Collectors - to siphon many humans to their base to get going on the baby-making. Beside assassinating Shepard in 2183 to one-shot an anti-Reaper coalition in its infancy, the Collectors are presumably prepping Omega for collecting (see also : Mordin's recruitment mission) and have contacts with at least one non-Reaper operative (the Shadow Broker) to facilitate their plans.

Cerberus, which has set up one operator cell to deal with the Collectors, and is completely reshuffling its structure to gear up for the incoming Reaperocalypse.

the Shadow Broker is aware of the incoming Reaperocalypse and is actively collaborating with the Collectors, though to what extent is unknown ; one thing we do know is that he uses an agent embedded in Cerberus (Wilson) to try to kill Shepard before they can be up and about. We also do not know how his manipulating of events behind the scenes is meant to benefit the Collectors/Reapers. Then the Shadow Broker gets replaced by Liara who leverages the exact same network and resources to do the exact opposite, preppin' the galaxy against the Reapers. EDIT : I should note that the yahg Shadow Broker planned to attack Cerberus in retaliation one year after Shepard's resurrection, and those plans included the assassination of the Illusive Man, the destruction of Cerberus as a whole, and, if possible, the recruitment of Miranda.

the Alliance itself is doing shit all to prepare against the Reapers because they don't believe it's a problem, but within the Alliance, Hackett is running an undisclosed number of operations to prepare them against the Reaperocalypse.

officially, the Citadel Council dismisses this "Reaperocalypse", but in reality they're very aware of that, presumably doing something about it off-screen, and not keeping some very important people in the loop, such as : Shepard, and seemingly Anderson and the Alliance as a whole.

Also not kept in the loop : the Turian Hierarchy, since they learn about the Reapers from Garrus' dad. Oops.

Actually in the loop : the STG, and presumably the Salarian Union as a whole, since Mordin has been authoring studies on indoctrination and the military has been developing stealth dreadnoughts.

The geth have quit their self-isolation and sent a unique platform past the Perseus Veil to ascertain what the hell is going on.

The geth heretics, meanwhile, have been losing the war against the Systems Alliance and reduced to sporadic offensives in three clusters, but they're preparing an indoctrination-like virus to take over the orthodox geth and add their numbers to their own to service the Reapers.

And these are just the players we know about. We have no idea what, if anything, the asari or the batarians are doing (or know) about the Reaperocalypse.

But that's just what everyone is doing about the Reapers. You've got massive political and strategic things gearing up on the side : we all know about the intense situation in the Migrant Fleet, but did you know the Blood Pack was setting up an invasion of Illium ?

[pyxxiestyxx]

You Never Noticed

(cw: non-con as all hell, its HDG.)

You never noticed the affini on your daily railcar ride from work to your hab, but She did. She missed her usual car by a few minutes, resulting in a chance meeting where She saw you. It wasn't love at first sight, no no. It was hunger, it was predation, it was a need to own you so fully that you wouldn't be able to say anything but Her name when you moaned in pleasure.

You never noticed the paperwork she filed on you, but other affini did. The lengthy Notice of Intent, written in affini as if you were already Hers. You just needed some help to get there, to understand.

You never noticed the changes in your Hab. Small things at first, a slight straightening out of things normally left messy, an imperceptible difference in smell from your soap and shampoo. Even when it become more obvious, even when you knew you didn't leave your closet door closed that one time, you shrugged it off.

You never noticed how your friends slowly changed. The more rough ones seemed to drift away from you, and the softer ones only grew more close. It was just a part of life, right? It wasn't like an affini would subtly manipulate the more feral ones with hypnotics, help them on their way to happiness (and more importantly, away from what was already Hers).

You never noticed how your body was slowly changing. Some of your friends (almost all of them were florets now, but that was okay! You were fine with florets.) recommended a new skincare routine, and it worked so well that you just stuck with it. Softer, more markable skin. Tangle-free, gorgeous hair. You found it so much more relaxing, to be honest. Even if lately you felt like it was a bit hard to focus on things, everyone around you was always so understanding. A common side effect of xenodrugs, apparently. It wasn't too bad, really. Not enough to notice, most of the time.

You never noticed when your roommate moved in. It was like She had always been there, really. You were sure that if you focused, you could think of the exact date, but…did that really matter? She helped around the Hab so much, and she always respected your consent so carefully. She would always ask before drugging you, every time.

You never noticed that you didn't have to say yes to her. It was like She already knew anyway. Why would you say no? Her ideas were always so good anyway, so it was fine. And each time she did, a small puff of Her scent passed through your lungs. It was so funny how she smelled just like your soaps, you told her. You both laughed for so long at that!

You never noticed when She slipped the collar on your neck. Your thoughts blurred into a lovely stream of sensation, one moment to the next an eternity of joy. You were awake and aware, of course. But the constant flow of Class A and E in your system was too delicious to let go of. Your floret friends were always so happy to help you remember things now. They loved teasing you, pretending you were a pet like them. But that was silly! You weren't a pet…right?

You never noticed when you became Her pet. And by the time you did notice, you didn't even have to worry about it anymore. The part of Her embedded in your spine made sure of that.

[robin-evry]

what if!!! hear me out 🙏🙏 yuu was a robot/miku inspired…IT SUCKS but like…miku kinda..yuu mikyuu…😓😓

Sure no worries, no judgement from me, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓 🤖👾🎤

A robot is a machine—especially one programmable by a computer—capable of carrying out a complex series of actions automatically. A robot can be guided by an external control device, or the control may be embedded within. But they can act independently if their creators allow it.

( English is not my first language )

Day 3 : robot!yuu

In a world full of technology and robots. Robot!yuu was the number one idol during that time and was in the number one group of the century ; vocaloid, imagine during the middle of a performance one of their solo concerts, a black carriage arrived and they suddenly shut down.

They turned on when it was an orientation ceremony. Since robot!yuu isn't technically an organic being, they would be put between the ignihyde dorm or ramshackle.

After Crowley gave them a cellphone or asked idia if he could do maintenance to connect them to social media of twisted wonderland, by doing this they started to upload their albums towards the internet and it blew up, people are loving it, it's getting headlines about a new genre of music, and the music getting about stream by millions around the world, Robot!yuu created a genre of music. A revaluation towards the music Industry.

This managed robot!yuu to get rich overnight and allowed them to buy more expensive and to fix the ramshackle dorm more to get more expensive technology for their maintenance, Robot!yuu was planning on giving half of the money to Crowley as a thanks but he only received 1/4 half of the money.

Even tho robot! yuu is an idol, their master builds them with an offensive and defensive system, they have extremely tough metal that is hard to find as well an offensive mode, they have a lot on their arsenal attacks, energy beams, rocket launchers, shield mode, and more.

They are also able to connect to any device and hack it without any issue, they manage to hack ignihyde technology without an issue. And they are waterproof

Robot!yuu also can digest and drink things without an issue, they have a special component on their stomach to make sure they can digest things normally.

During VDC they dominated the competition. Lasers, mist appears and light sticks wave around for their presence. They change outfits depending on the song, it was literally a Miku concert.

Congratulations neige Leblanc is now one of their fans, when going down the stage, he literally ran towards you and started asking a billion of questions with stars amongst their eyes

Vil was a little sour but also amazed about robot!yuu performance, he would ask them for choreography and music ideas from them as well as fashion opinions. He originally wanted robot!yuu to transfer into ignihyde but they refused due to ignihyde has the complete equipment for them or ramshackle.

Pomifiore dorm started to take notes and tried robot!yuu fashion styles. Idia is also a supporter of them and basically a super fan, robot!yuu would come to ignihyde to help him with games or help him maintain ortho, Robot!yuu is basically a sister towards Idia and Ortho.

sorry if it's short, this is by far I could come up anon

[tessasinclair]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗡'𝗦 𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗘 - 𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗬𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗟 ₍ obx fandom, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝖻𝗒 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳 ₎

┃ 𝙃𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮

𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘯𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘺.

› After being freed, he acquired land and built the estate that would become Tannyhill Plantation—the entire Cameron family estate is on land that once belonged to him. Denmark was deeply intelligent, resourceful, and hid clues to El Dorado and other treasures throughout Tannyhill—including in The Island Room’s wallpaper.

ּ ֶָ֢ .

Seized after Denmark’s execution

Denmark was hanged for helping enslaved people escape, an act of rebellion against the plantation system. After his execution, his land was taken by white families, likely through manipulation, violence, or legal exploitation. This is how the Camerons came into possession of Tannyhill. They live off the stolen legacy of Denmark Tanny, both materially and symbolically.

Tannyhill as the Cameron family estate

In modern day, Ward Cameron owns Tannyhill, presenting it as a Southern legacy estate—but it's built on blood, theft, and lies. The home symbolizes generational privilege, wealth, and the idea of covering up uncomfortable truths—like the literal wallpaper over Denmark Tanny’s maps.

ּ ֶָ֢ .

Hidden clues and Denmark’s legacy

The estate hides Denmark’s original paintings and maps, used to protect and conceal the path to the treasure. The Pogues discover that Denmark embedded his legacy into the home, leaving a coded map in the Island Room, turning Tannyhill into a living artifact of resistance.

┃ 𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙏𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙮𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 - 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻?

• The outer portion of the house is white.

• The inner portion of the house is huge and furnished with decor. • Contains 6 bedrooms.

• Contains 7 bathrooms. • 6,800 square feet of living space.

• The estate offers a 4 bedroom carriage house.

• The estate offers a 3 bedroom groundskeeper cottage.

• Property estimate is 12 million dollars.

The Estate spans 14 acres of marsh and river land. • Contains an Island Room. • Contains a Study/Library.

• Contains Living Rooms/Lounges/Parlors.

• Contains a Basement (Storage). • Contains a Wine Cellar.

┃ 𝙏𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙮𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨

In real life, the house is a wedding venue.

The home was built in 1786.

The house is called Lowndes Grove.

The house is located in Charleston, South Carolina.

In the show; Tannyhill's address is 115 Kingsford Street, Pelican NC 27269 (Seen on Ward's Arrest Warrant in My Druthers).

ּ ֶָ֢ .

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!

𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒: 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝖺i𝗋, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈 not 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒

₍ 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈 resources : pinterest.com ₎