JOSEPH QUINN as LEONARD BAST | HOWARDS END (2017) Can we all have this?

Turmoil and Tenderness

Masterlist

Imagine pt.5

This morning, chaos reigned in the school. Nanami mentioned that you had fainted, yet the most frantic individual here was Gojo. Of course, who else? He has always been a drama queen. 

After a long conversation with Yaga and fooling Gakuganji at the entrance, he hurried to the hospital with Shoko, leaving Geto behind without a word. Poor that man; now he had a consequence if Yaga asked about Shoko and Gojo's absence. 

Gojo even left his phone in class and forgot to put on his shoes—what a scatterbrain!

Everything that unfolded was a consequence of your decision to run through the rain with Gojo to buy snacks and ice cream, ignoring Geto's warnings. Geto has probably had enough with you two.

But how could you tell? You can't change everything; you can't walk back to the past and fix anything. Because it was too late.

After locating your room, Gojo's booming voice rattled the door, drawing annoyed glances from the nurse and doctor due to its volume.

As he checked your condition, his hands roamed over every inch of your body, causing a little embarrassment as he grazed sensitive areas. His obliviousness to this fact highlighted his occasional stupidity, leaving you pondering whether he was truly innocent or simply dense.

"You're warm," he murmured, pressing his cheek against yours and then caressing them.

You can observe the worry etched on his face, despite his efforts to conceal it with a smile and loud chatter. Yet a hint of concern still lingers in his eyes.

"Naturally, I am, Gojo-kun."

"If Nanami hadn't found you in time, you might have drowned."

Indeed, you would nearly fall into the fish pond if Nanami hadn't found you. Fortunately, you were light enough to be carried, not as hefty as a sack of wheat.

"Gojo-kun," a chilly whisper cut through the silence.

"Yes?"

"You're... heavy. You're so heavy."

"Ah, my apologies."

Clearly, isn't it obvious? He leaned against your chest casually, like a newborn baby in a mother's embrace, seeking comfort from your sweet body while checking your heartbeat.

Could he feel the warmth emanating from your chest? Maybe. Did he find it comforting? No need to ask.

As Gojo shifted slightly, his gaze fell upon your disheveled visage, flushed like a crab, eyes watery with distress. In his eyes, you appeared vulnerable, so fragile like flowers—beautiful indeed.

"I find you endearing when you're like this, so fragile, like a flower," he remarked, his fingers grazing your cheeks as he chuckled.

"How amusing, Mr. Gojo."

Both of you chuckled, though you struggled to breathe. Yet, witnessing Gojo's concern for you left you engulfed in an odd sense of awkwardness, a feeling you couldn't quite shake off.

Remaining in his position, Gojo whispered, "They say, when we're this close, we might have been soulmates in a past life."

You laughed. "Soulmates in foolishness, perhaps. But what do you mean by 'close'?" You teased him, which left him flustered.

Amidst his laughter, Gojo turned away, hiding his shyness momentarily. "Speaking of faces, aren't we somewhat similar? Both of us are rather attractive; wouldn't you agree?"

"Are you stupid? Shut up. I don't want to hear you boast about your looks."

Gojo snapped his fingers, his laughter echoing. "How cruel. These lips of mine could make you melt with my kiss, you know."

"Oh, really?"

Silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the patter of raindrops and Shoko's laughter in the background.

"Hey..."

"What is it now, Gojo-kun?"

He leaned in closer, his forehead touching yours and his hand caressing your shoulder, before planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. "The medicine hasn't taken effect yet."

A mischievous smirk played on his lips; he loved teasing you, finding joy in making you blush or flustered with his prank. Strangely, you found yourself enjoying his playful demeanor, willingly becoming his target.

"Do you think medicine works like WiFi? Get off my face!"

"But you seem to enjoy my kisses, don't you? How about I try your lips next?"

"I'm not enjoying your kisses; I just—I can do nothing this time."

Hey, I love your writing could you please do a Azriel x reader where it is inspired by house of the dragon like maybe the reader comes from a family that is similar to the Targaryens

I have to apologise, I did not watch House of Dragons, so I don't really know if that story is too far-fetched. Hope you like it though. Thank you so much for requesting <33

Azriel x Reader | A Court of Shadows and Dragons

warnings: none word count: 1.5k

*all rights reserved*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A vision had revealed it—Elain had seen where the sword was hidden. A kingdom on the continent was their target, the place where they would find Narben. And also where Azriel –at that point still unknown– would find his forever soul mate. 

It was the northernmost realm, in the midsts of snow and endless winter, hidden behind mountains and forests larger than the Night Court itself. 

Dragons had greeted them upon their arrival, their size threatening yet impressive. 

The Prythians’ thick winter boots and warm coats shielded them from the icy cold when they waded through the fluffy white that covered the ground, past the dragons that welcomed them with a bow of their heads. Soldiers, warriors, protectors stood guard at the large metal doors that lead inside the gigantic palace towering over the two Illyrian males and the Valkyrie female. 

“Ever seen a palace that huge?” the Illyrian general asked in a low voice when the trio took their last steps towards the gates. With the shake of her head, Nesta exhaled a breath of astonishment and looked at her mate. “It is ginormous,” she remarked.

Azriel nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving the castle. Never had they ever seen such greatness, such demonstration of power.

They hadn’t even known about that kingdom until Elain had revealed that not only the royal family ruling over Valyria would be of great importance in the war against Koschei but also that the powerful sword called Narben would be hidden there.

In a vision everything had become clear to her and consequently to them, she had revealed it all, put the cards on the table and a plan had been made. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, had decided to send his two best warriors alongside Nesta Archeron to the continent to find the sword and make discussions about their support in the war. Azriel, Cassian and Nesta had taken on that mission, feeling honoured that the High Lord sent them on that journey. 

It was Nesta who knocked on the large metal door. The guards stepped to the side, assessing the visitors and preparing to attack at any moment if the court etiquette wouldn’t be fulfilled or the foreign strangesr brought along danger. No one could be trusted those days.

“Name and concern,” a deep rumble sounded through the door. Nesta’s breath halted for a moment, her heartbeat speeding up. But she braced her feet on the ground, inhaled deeply and in a steady voice she said, “Nesta Archeron. Cassian, Azriel. We are from the Night Court. We have requested a visit with the king and queen of Valyria. We are here for discussions.” At least twenty times the Valkyrie female had repeated those words on their way to the palace. She had not wanted to make a mistake and she did not. It had all gone well. 

There was a loud crack—the door. Only that it wasn’t the door. The two large gates, which one of them the door was built into, opened loudly, scraping over the ice-covered ground.

“Enter,” the male from earlier, now finally being revealed to the three of them, said. Half his face was marked with scars, an eyepatch covering his right eye. He was tall, taller than the Illyrian males, his demeanor cold and on the edge of scary.

The three of them did not let their angst show, rather veiled their faces in cool indifference, acting all comfortable and powerful.

They followed the male, through rows bowing guards, towards another set of large doors that opened the moment they appeared in front of them.

“Your majesties, our guests from Prythian have arrived.” It was announced from somewhere above the trio. Neither of them had chance to make out where it came from when the marvelous scenery of the throne room was revealed to them. Sculptored of white marble the thrones stood upon a dais at the opposite site of the large room. Everything seemed to be made of white marble with decorations of gold. It was the most beautiful display of power the three of them had ever seen.

But not only was the throne room marvelous.

Azriel knew in the very moment his eyes landed on the princess of the kingdom, sitting right next to her father, that he had never ever seen such beauty before.

The breath got knocked from his lungs when his heart skipped one too many beats.

You were the most stunning female to ever cross his path. His breath came in quick pants when his heart halted once again. It quickened yet again when his eyes trailed your body, dressed in gown made of expensive, satin fabric. You skin glowed where it wasn’t covered by the dress, your braided hair neatly and hanging over your shoulder. Your face, though, was as cold and ignorant as the winter raging outside. But still the shadowsinger found himself unable to look away. He was mesmerised by your beauty, by what was going on inside of him, by the sudden tug on his chest. The tug—

The tug that meant something. Azriel had never known what it would feel like, but in that very moment it became pretty clear to him. 

The spymaster had to avert his gaze. He looked back at the king who looked so young. So young to have a daughter your age.

“Welcome to Valyria. My wife, the queen, and my sister, princess Y/N of Valyria,” —the king motioned to you when you rose and made a curtsey— “feel honoured to have you as our guests.”

You weren’t the kings daughter, you were his sister—that made sense, Azriel thought to himself. Bowing at the waist, both Azriel and Cassian greeted the royal family. Nesta also made a small curtsey. “It is our honour to be here,” she formerly said.

The following introductions were rather quick before it was decided to head to the adjacent study room, to go over the reason why the three Prythian inhabitants had come here. Only a dozen of people were present, highly discussing the up-coming war and the sword. The king and queen of Valyria had already been filled in before hand via a letter from Rhysand—they knew about the sword and the war.

And so further and more detailed discussions took place, taking hours and hours in which Azriel sometimes stole shy glances at you. None of them were returned directly. You obviously found the beautiful stranger with the shadows swirling around him interesting. You also noticed him looking at you, but what would you do with a male like him? You could not allow any further thought towards the tug in your chest and what it would mean. The male was no nobel lord, so he was out of question as a husband. Yet still you found yourself glancing at him from time to time, assessing the male veiled in darkness. You wondered what lurked behind this wall of shadows, behind his cold demeanor. The cold fitted you, fitted this place, it was oddly familiar and you liked it. 

When you called it a night, when the three Prythian visitors were lead to their chambers for the night, you fell a sleep with an uneasy feeling in your gut. The last thought before you drifted off into a restless sleep was the male with the shadows swirling around him.

Your eyes burned and your head pounded when you were woken in morning by a maid knocking on your door. You sleep had’t been deep neither restful. Too many thoughts had been occupying your mind—the foremost one being the tug on your chest and the male surrounded by shadows. The other thoughts were directed at what would happen that day. A plan had been made the previous evening.

“My sister and a few of our huntsmen and guards will ride up to the Valyrian Highland. You will join them, Lord Cassian, Lady Nesta, Lord Azriel. From the Highlands on you can travel then travel to the Veela Mountains.” You had obviously agreed, feeling honoured that your brother had so much trust in you.

You had donned your warmest breeches and coat, your feet shielded by warm winter boots and a hat covering your head. 

You were patting your beloved horses head when the three visitors from Prythian appeared, strutting towards you. Once again you found yourself in complete awe—the male who made your heart beat faster and your knees wobble was stunning, cruel beauty. He momentarily locked his gaze with you before looking at the commander of your group who would lead you up to the High Lands.

“You lot, can you ride?”

The female called Nesta was the only one out of the three who said she could and so another plan was needed. A strong horse was brought out that would carry both her and her mate, the general called Cassian. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you looked at Azriel. You knew your horse was strong and big, it could carry the two of you. You looked at the commander, pondering if you should really bring forward your suggestion.

“He can ride with me,” you suggested loudly, one hand placed on Seti, your trusted horse, the other braced on your hip.

“Sure,” the commanded said. He did were a weary look on his face though, but nevertheless motioned for Azriel to go over to you.

It was the first time that the otherwise so stern and cool male looked scared, almost terrified. Could it be that this tall male with the large wings was afraid of horses?

feedback, criticism, everything is always welcome 💛

tags: @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbitxh @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @azrielsbitxh @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia

(I just reused an old tag list, if you no longer want to be tagged, just tell me)

On a lighter note, I’m curious why you think Dipper is similar to Stan and Mabel is similar to Ford

LONG POST INCOMING

Man, great question, but this is a difficult one to articulate in words, without using way too many. So here you go.

I wouldn't say they're more or less similair, I'd rather say: There are similarities between them that run a little deeper than "nerds" and "their less nerdy siblings" and I feel they're under-acknowledged.

Also I do like Stan and Mabel and Ford and Dipper moments, they're usually very cute. ^^

Keep in mind I'm probably gonna get things wrong and I don't consider myself particularly savy with characterisation and identifying it's nuances.

[Dipper and Stan]

Dipper and Stan are both presented as the "straight men" to their "eccentric siblings".

They have their own quirks and general odness but they're both more "socially aware" than their siblings. That doesn't mean socially capable or good with people. But they seem to have an easier time using sarcasm or "getting the joke" especially when they disagree with it.

They both have a somewhat prickly demeanor when they interact with someone they don't like, they make it more than obvious.

Dipper jabbing Pacifica springs to mind, far more sarcastic and quick witted than dip tends to be characterised.

And Stan is just that way with most people he isn't trying to haggle.

They're both quick to reassure their siblings, and help them "get out of their heads" about something that's bugging them, by offering advice or a potential fix. (Stan more when he and ford where little) Hence why they're considered so "selfless" by the fandom. And their sibs are considered.... not that.... for failing to meet certain social expectations while under intense narrative pressure-*cough*

[Ford and Mabel]

Ford and Mabel both are more bright and polite than their siblings, at first glance. They seem more eager to please during first impressions, wich also leads to both or them having trouble saying when something is bugging them. They seem to fear rejection just a smidge more. They're aware people think they're wierd and may subconsciously struggle with it.

(Ford obviously outgrew this, but, he barely talked when he was a teenager especially. I know that's probably because they didn't have a seperate voice actor for teen Ford so they tried to limit his dialogue. But still.)

First things Mabel does is acknowledge his difference and complements him on it, and he complements her back. Very good first impressions.

It makes me so confused when people portray Ford as dismissive of her overall, instead of within the specific context of "understanding being different or invested in paranormal discovery".

They're both still very outgoing on the surface compared to their siblings who come across as a bit more grumbly at times.

They both aren't as overall cynical as Dipper or Stan, but when they are upset it's usually quite significant. It's usually about something more significant than a passive jab or remark, often it's something more serious that they struggle to communicate and have very emotional outbursts.

[Overall]

All of the Pines communicate poorly for the sake of the narrative but I feel the specific way both Ford and Mabel handle those situations to be similair.

Backed up by people's ableist reactions to them when comparing them to their brothers- *cough*

Also this:

While functionally Dipper and Ford are in a similar boat [missing a great opportunity] and Stan and Mabel are both upset for similair reasons [being left behind by their siblings] the way these scenes play out reverses things somewhat. It shows two versions of the same problem, it demonstrates two versions of a similar falling out.

No one in these arguments is technically wrong [except Stanley if you wanna nitpick] aka:

ITS NO ONE'S FAULT.

It's also all of their faults.

It's complicated.

But the fandom-wide "blame game" is juvenile.

I think people don't acknowledge this, instead focusing on poor stanny and his falling out with his brother and sweep ford and mabel under the "selfish" rug for convenience. Even though Mabel was in Stan's position technically [without the guilt of actually ruining anything].

But I guess Mabel doesn't have "failman" charm so she's selfish and dipper's the hero because he has "failboy" charm.

But god forbid Mabel and Ford feel good about themselves, that's so self centered and arrogant!

Just look at these selfish monsters!

In the case of Dipper and Stan:

INSECURITY IS NOT HUMBLE.

In the case of Ford and Mabel:

Self confidence is not arrogance.

This could just be me being neurodivergent but I didn't get the impression Ford thought he and Dipper where "better" only that they where "different".

I was always annoyed by their portion of "Dipper and Mabel VS the future" and I think it's because it rushes a connection that isn't earned.

Plus framing Ford as an almost sinister presence through the lighting and dialogue, as if he's leading Dipper astray. But in the next scene Dipper is declaring his loyalty in a life or death situation.

Like- Dipper, honey, you've known him for a week at most- and you've spent most of that time preventing the apocalyps or worried he's possesed-

Of course Dipper doesn't want Ford to get hurt or die but this moment feels like it's compensating rather than culminating.

It feels rushed and somewhat confusing. Are we supposed to be on board with their connection or not? Is Ford being supportive or misguided?

Is the narrative agreeing that some form of "the suspension bridge effect" is happening and the characters are rushing a connection that may need some second thought?

Tangent aside, the similarities between Dipper and Ford always seemed... a little surface level? More a means to a somewhat rushed end rather than a natural progression. Unsurprising considering they had three episodes to set it up.

However Mabel and Stan at least had a whole show at that point to back it up and make it feel more natural. So I don't really have any tangents to write about it. It's good. :)

OK I think that's all I got. Hope this is half-way coherent, hope I didn't just embarrass myself by stating the obvious.

One last night..

So this is my part 1 of 2 in a little romantic ecounter with Gortash and my Tiefling woman. The setting is at the time where Raphael took Gortash under his watch. Enjoy it! Part 2 gets much more spicier or smutty. MY requests are always open :)!

In the House of Hope, where the forsaken souls were left to rot, Samaria and Enver found themselves under the watchful eye of Raphael. Both bore the scars of rejection and betrayal, their stories different yet tragically similar.

Samaria, with her striking half-tiefling features, had been cast out by the hells, due to her impure lineage. Her human blood, mingled with that of her Tiefling ancestors, had made her an outcast in her homeland. Enver's story was no less painful. His parents, drowning in debt, had sold him to the highest bidder. Though they existed side by side within the House of Hope, their paths briefly crossed with each other.

Enver, his dark eyes weary from the trials of his past, often sought solace in the flickering flames of the grand fireplace in the common area. It was there that Samaria first laid eyes on him.

She moved silently through the dimly lit hallways, her curiosity piqued by the young man with the brooding presence. Enver's gaze was fixated on the crackling fire, lost in a world of his own making. He sensed her approach but did not acknowledge her, his face plastered with a stern expression.

Samaria stood in the doorframe, her heart filled with empathy, and noticed a fresh wound on Enver's chin. It was a mark of pain, inflicted by Raphael. She couldn't help but wonder, and in a soft, caring voice, she spoke, "Another discipline?"

Enver's jaw clenched his expression a mixture of exhaustion and simmering anger. He didn't look at her, but the question lingered in the air, unanswered.

Undeterred by his guarded demeanor, Samaria silently took a seat beside him. She knew that words weren't always necessary to convey understanding and support. Enver remained distant, his gaze locked onto the dancing flames.

After a moment of silence, she decided to break the quiet once more. "Enver, right?" Her voice remained gentle and patient, a soothing sound mixed with the crackling fire.

Enver finally turned his head slightly, his dark, unruly hair framing his face like a shadow. The flames from the fire danced in his eyes, a storm of emotions held within their depths. "Correct," he responded, his voice softening just a fraction.

Samaria's body slightly shifted, her curiosity and concern for the wound on his chin got the better of her. With a gentle touch, she caressed his shoulder and softly said, "Let me see."

Enver hesitated for a moment, annoyance clear in the click of his tongue. Despite his dislike, he shifted his head slightly to the side, allowing her a better view of the injury. Samaria's eyes were fixed on the wound, her fingers carefully approaching the damaged skin.

He tried to ignore the touch, but a sudden, unexpected flinch betrayed him. His expression shifted for just a brief moment, a sharp pain surging through his body. Samaria quickly pulled her hand back, her worry etched across her features.

With a caring tone, she remarked, "Well, this is going to be a scar…"

Enver's gaze remained focused once again on the fire, his thoughts briefly interrupted by the sensation of her touch and her words. He felt a strange mix of vulnerability and appreciation for her concern, emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time.

"Does it matter?" he replied quietly, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "A scar is just a reminder of what's past. It doesn't change anything."

Samaria studied him for a moment, her empathetic eyes searching his face. She understood the weight of his words. "Perhaps," she said softly, "but scars can also be a testament to our strength, to the fact that we've survived and endured."

Enver turned to look at her, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was something in her gaze that spoke of hope, a hope he long has lost.

Samaria raised her voice again, not loud, it was like a mere whisper. Enver's curiosity was piqued as she spoke, "I recognize you, you know why?"

He turned his full attention to her, genuinely curious about her answer. Her words hinted at a familiarity he hadn't expected.

"You are the one who always gets in trouble, gets punishment," she explained in a simple and plain manner.

With a quick, purposeful movement, she got up and walked to a nearby table, her black braided hair moving along, retrieving a clean piece of fabric.

Returning to his side, she took a seat again and began to gently clean and treat his wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, a strong contrast to the harshness he experienced so far.

Enver was momentarily taken aback by the tenderness of her actions. It had been a long time since he had experienced such kindness. He watched her work in silence, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

"Why are you doing this?" he finally asked, his tone laced with a hint of arrogance, a defense mechanism he had developed.

Samaria chuckled softly as she continued to clean his wound, her mismatched eyes, one blue and one purple, glowing with a gentle spark. "Why not?" she replied, her voice holding a trace of amusement. "You look like you could need this right now."

Enver didn't quite know how to respond to her simple yet profound answer. He was used to a world where kindness came with strings attached, where people had strange motives. But here, in the presence of this half-tiefling woman, he found himself allowing the walls around his heart to weaken, even if just a little.

Samaria finished treating Enver's wound with a soft touch and a pleased expression. "All done now," she said, her eyes radiant.

Enver's hand instinctively moved toward his freshly treated wound, feeling the raptured skin. His gaze locked on the dancing flames in the fiery pit, a reflection of the emotions raging within him. The woman had glimpsed the depth of his hatred, his pain, and the internal conflict that consumed him.

Silence settled between them once more, but it was a different kind of silence. After a few minutes, Samaria decided to leave him be, respecting his need for solitude.

Time in the House of Hope flowed differently, a river of moments and memories that seemed to stretch and bend. Weeks or maybe even months had passed since Samaria had tended to Enver's wound by the fireplace, and in that time, something had changed within him.

When they saw each other again at the very same location, Enver appeared different. There was a newfound confidence in his posture, and his attire exuded elegance and a hint of intimidation. He no longer sat as he had in their previous encounter but stood tall, one arm steadying himself against the frame as he gazed into the flickering flames.

A small smile graced Samaria's lips as she observed the transformation in him. She walked towards him, her voice as soothing as before, "Told you, it will leave a scar."

Enver's smile grew, not just in response to her comment, but because he had missed her presence and her gentle voice. He tore his gaze away from the fire and took in the features of the woman before him. "And you, my little devil, were right," he replied, his voice brimming with confidence and charm.

As Samaria stood in silence, her eyes locked with Enver's, the air around them seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension. Enver's head briefly shifted downward, a momentary distraction as if he were lost in his thoughts. But then, he took a few deliberate steps closer to her, closing the distance between them.

Samaria felt a strange sensation run through her body, her heart quickening as he closed in. Enver was a tall and robust man, and at that moment, she felt small and vulnerable in front of him. His gaze remained fixed on her, still carrying the remnants of the hatred she had glimpsed back then, but now tinged with a mixture of something else—passion, perhaps?

Enver didn't hesitate for long. With a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his earlier demeanor, he reached out and gently touched her chin, his fingers tracing the soft skin there, much like he had done with his own scar.

Samaria's breath caught in her throat, her mismatched eyes widening with surprise. She didn't know what to make of this unexpected gesture, but there was an undeniable intimacy in the way he touched her.

Enver's dark eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away.

Enver leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering as he studied the woman standing before him. His voice, dark and commanding, carried a hint of softness that sent shivers down Samaria's spine. "Submit to me," he whispered, the words hanging in the air like a promise of something profound.

Samaria's heart raced within her chest, a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside her. She didn't know what to say or how to respond to the unexpected request. The room seemed to grow warmer, and a tingling sensation spread through her entire body. She found herself drawing closer to him, almost as if it were an instinctual response.

"Submit…?" she repeated, her voice barely more than a breathless whisper. Her mismatched eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of curiosity, uncertainty, and a growing desire to explore this new connection between them.

Enver stood tall and proud, his dark eyes unwavering as he held out one hand, offering it to Samaria. His voice carried a weight of conviction as he spoke, "Become my equal, we are equal."

Samaria hesitated for a moment, her mind racing as she tried to grasp the meaning behind his words. She gently took both of her hands and placed them in his outstretched hand, her gaze deep and searching as she looked into his dark eyes, seeking answers.

Enver had missed her gentle touch more than he cared to admit. It was a reminder of the light that had shone in his darkest times. For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent exchange, their eyes speaking a language of their own.

And then, in a swift and unexpected motion, Enver tightened his grip on her hands and pushed her toward him. Samaria's hands were unable to break free from his stronghold, and she fell, her body colliding with his chest.

As the woman lay pressed against Enver's chest, she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a calm and reassuring presence amidst the storm of emotions raging within her. Her own heart, in contrast, raced with excitement and uncertainty. She wasn't quite sure what she was feeling at that moment, but there was an undeniable connection between them that she couldn't ignore.

Enver lowered his head, placing it gently on top of hers, his free hand moving to caress her back in a soothing motion. His whispered words reached her ears, and she listened, her senses heightened by the closeness of their embrace.

"This might be the last time we will see each other," he spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of hoarseness, the vibration of his words resonating through her.

Samaria tilted her head slightly, her mismatched eyes locking onto his. There was a mixture of emotions present on her face—uncertainty, perhaps a hint of sadness, and a deep longing to understand the meaning behind his words.

Enver released Samaria's hands, their gazes still locked in a powerful manner. He took a few deliberate steps back, creating a small distance between them, his eyes never leaving her.

Slowly, he began to circle around the woman, taking in her entire appearance as if committing it to memory. His steps were measured and elegant, he eventually stopped at her back, his dark eyes now fixated on the carefully braided strands of her long hair.

With a gentle touch, he reached for the band that held her hair together and began to loosen it. Samaria's hair flowed like a cascade of black silk, and in a swift, demanding motion, Enver's hands glided through the waterfall of darkness.

As Enver tugged gently on Samaria's hair, guiding her body closer to his, the intimacy between them deepened. Her back was now pressed against his front, and a rush of desire coursed through both of them. Enver lowered his mouth to her shoulder, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft and gentle kiss.

Samaria's breath hitched, and her heart raced once more as his lips met her skin. The sensation of his kiss sent a shiver down her spine, and she leaned into his touch, her body responding to the undeniable desire, she felt at this very moment.

Enver's voice, like a commanding whisper against her shoulder, sent more waves of vibrations through her body. His words were laced with desire and urgency, and they hung in the air like an irresistible invitation.

"Let's savor this moment," he spoke, his words resonating through her. "Devote yourself to me, just for this one night"

Hannigram – Post-Fall (15)

Setting aside the string of heart-pounding incidents and near-death experiences, Will felt remarkably intact as he awoke from the abyss, discovering himself on a solitary bed.

The absence of the creature sent shivers down his spine, leaving an unsettling void in the room. He knew it would return, that was inevitable. It bore the demeanor of a creature unwilling to abandon a task half-done. However, in its place, the cat lay beside him, nestled peacefully, casting a drowsy, watchful gaze upon him. As Will started to sit up, the cat stretched luxuriously, and its eyes casually grazed over his freshly bandaged hand.

In an instant, Graham's gaze shot upwards, the memory of the mirror shattering returning in a rush. He had swung at the monstrous apparition but struck a solid wall concealed beneath the fractured mirror, garnering a collection of glass shards in the process. The pain was barely a bother. Hannibal. Will could have sworn he still felt the lingering touch of his lips against his own. He cast his gaze about, desperately scouring his surroundings for any trace of Dr. Lecter, but all that met his searching eyes was an all-encompassing darkness. Ensnared within the confines of that bizarre fortress, his initial entry had been eerily uncomplicated. Yet, the elusive path to exit eluded him entirely. His sense of orientation was lost, and time itself seemed to dance to a discordant tune, with the familiar cadence of night and day utterly erased. Clocks were conspicuously absent, leaving him adrift in a temporal void. The passage of time remained an enigma, an unsolvable puzzle with no measure or reference.

Alright.

Following the rules of his analytical autistic mind, when denial ceased to be an option, acceptance became the inevitable path.

Will felt an inexplicable surge of motivation, propelling him forward into the next looming confrontation. Normally inclined toward avoidance by nature, he now found himself driven by an uncharacteristic curiosity, an urge to uncover the mysteries that enshrouded this eerie ordeal. Heaving himself off the bed, he took a few deliberate strides forward.

This surreal environment, as genuine as it seemed, could no longer be the tangible reality he once knew before that fateful plunge off the cliff with Hannibal. While it possessed an unsettling realness, and the looming threat of genuine mortality hung in the air, it was not his reality. He had to be trapped deep within his own consciousness. If the island and the house represented the surface level of his psyche, and he needed to dive into the depths to reach the core, then what precisely was this enigmatic liminal space?

His eyes darted, surveying his perplexing surroundings.

His own subconscious?

He had stepped into the fortress of his mind.

And the looming question remained: What, precisely, was the nature of the malevolent entity? Evidently, it was a facet of himself, a twisted reflection. Despite the undeniable similarities, he had never laid eyes on it before. It possessed a cat-like grace and an unsettling reservoir of power. The sudden shift in the environment had spared him. Had it not been ensnared behind the shattered mirror, he had no doubt that even the slightest contact with its icy skin would have been akin to a corrosive liquid nitrogen, devouring its way through him.

The lingering apprehension remained—it had to be nearby. Yet, despite his meticulous scanning, no trace of its presence was revealed. His lips parted, and he attempted speech.

"H—," he began, but as sound emerged, his voice faltered into an uncertain silence. "Hello?" Will questioned slowly, almost reluctantly. His voice felt raspy and fractured, but it was a voice nonetheless.

What should he call it? Monster seemed a bit too harsh.

He pondered on possible names. Cat person? Big-Ears? Golden-Eyes? Walking Frostbite?

His brows furrowed.

It bore a semblance to a sphinx cat, bereft of fur, if he were to draw a comparison.

Egyptian.

As if a connection clicked, his lips moved instinctively.

"Miu."

The word flowed from his tongue, the ancient Egyptian term for a cat: 'he or she who mews.' While he pondered, a nagging uncertainty lingered: Was it truly wise to christen a monstrous entity with a 'meow' in a tongue foreign to his own?

A duo of golden eyes, like gleaming coins amidst the darkness, materialized at knee level, their eerie ascent unceasing until they hovered nearly half a meter above Will. Graham's throat constricted instantaneously, gripped by an instinctual terror.

Realization washed over him—it had been here all along. His knees trembled, and his entire body longed to sprint for safety, a visceral reaction triggered by the sheer sight of this monstrous entity. Every follicle on the nape of his neck seemed determined to emancipate itself from his skin, yearning for refuge in the safety of escape. A voice, faint but insistent, urged him to flee, while his limbs burned with an incandescent urge to sprint, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a wildfire. The painful awareness of his body, priming itself for either confrontation or flight, was palpable.

Yet, an opposing force, as if his very soul was attempting to pull him in the opposite direction, ensnared his will, a relentless tug-of-war that demanded a formidable struggle to resist. The entity pressed forward, its very presence resonating through the trembling floor beneath Will's feet. Every footfall transmitted its ominous weight, sending ripples through the ground beneath, akin to miniature earthquakes. Shadows gave way, enveloping its obsidian form as the light around it intensified. Though it had not assumed an overtly hostile stance, an undercurrent of menace lingered in the air. No longer did it teleport or engage in the eerie act of unfolding and collapsing; its presence had solidified within the frame. Paradoxically, this newfound tangibility only heightened its terror, as if the solidity of its existence made it all the more malevolent. Its aura bore down upon him with an oppressive weight, as though it were greedily siphoning the very air from the room, leaving each breath he drew in feeble and strained. As Will's gaze honed in on additional details, he discerned the big chain veiling an amulet, presumably the coveted Horus Eye, while more chains adorned its wrists. Each feline countenance exuded a regal air, but this particular specimen radiated a divine aura.

Exercising caution, Will slowly lifted his hands and retreated with deliberate, measured steps. A conscious effort to avoid triggering its predatory instincts. As the weight of his foot bore down, a disconcerting sensation engulfed him, as though he trod upon ground that dissolved beneath his very weight. An overwhelming dread coursed through him, a cry to succumb to unconsciousness and escape the paralyzing fear that gripped his every fiber. Yet now, he possessed an unexpected weapon, a formidable tool to wield against an open intelligence, perhaps the mightiest weapon within his entire arsenal: his voice. Words. Communication. "I want to talk, Miu. Can we do that?" His voice remained hushed, a tremor of anxiety akin to that of a timid child, yet it clung to him, steadfast in its bravery, refusing to desert him.

The entity came to a sudden stop, its radiant, gilded orbs narrowing ever so imperceptibly. That ultimate step, though devoid of sound, reverberated within him like a thunderous declaration. A subtle cant of its head communicated to Will that he possessed but a fleeting moment to sway its disposition. His eyelids trembled, his very soul waging a battle to remain anchored within his body. A fleeting surge of relief coursed through him, nearly toppling his senses. It understood him. This meant he had a slender opportunity for negotiation. An astonishingly unconventional gambit, yet one brimming with intrigue. Engaging in a precarious negotiation with a deadly monster, the words he would choose next would seal his fate. Much like when an officer confronted a potential bomber, the sole strategy lay in persuading them to abandon the path of detonation. In those critical moments, the first ten words held the power to shape the outcome. Empathy, the bridge to understanding, was the chosen path — a means to connect with one's adversary, to resonate with their suffering. Empathy forged a bond, and that bond wielded influence. Empathy wielded as a conscious tool could be a potent weapon in the realm of offense. And now, the moment had arrived to employ it, to allow that connection to unfurl and reach its full potential, to wrench the pendulum that had been swinging passively and transform it into a spear for a decisive strike. In the face of this formidable predator, he grappled with the uncertainty of how to forge a connection. Yet, as he locked eyes with it, penetrating the veneer of calculated lethality, he began to discern something. Beyond the calculating gaze of a predator, there lay an unexpected depth, a raw intensity akin to the fiery determination of an aggrieved housewife. It was the gaze of a woman who had known pain and channeled that anguish into an unrelenting fury. It was a gaze he had once seen in his mother's eyes—a complex mixture of emotions, a veritable cocktail of disappointment, sadness, and frustration, all intertwined with an undercurrent of helplessness. These feelings were veiled by a seething, simmering fury, much like an untreated wound left to fester, burn, and ooze with pus. When a woman reached the point of losing her composure, it usually meant she had endured numerous hurts, with all that external observers witnessed being her unbridled wrath. Wrath, in its essence, served as our protective armor, a final line of defense. Frequently, heeded too late, it came to our rescue when the weight of accumulating pressures finally threatened to consume us.

Men, in their anger, often exhibited a different hue. But this, this was the singular fury of a woman, ablaze with its full, unyielding intensity—an inferno born of maternal instinct. This fury transcended banality, its complexity woven from the threads of deeply personal grievances, its edges sharp with spite. The wrath of an enraged woman, he knew all too well, ranked among the most chilling spectacles to witness, which explained the primal sense of terror that gripped him. In the depths of one's inner child, few terrors surpassed the dread of an angered mother – a fear deeply personal and uniquely unsettling. Utterly terrifying to behold, undeniably lethal in its potential, yet strangely beautiful in its own right, for it was a fury born from the deepest wellspring of love. Whether that love is directed toward the child or oneself.

Isn't it ironic that the most perilous fury often finds its genesis in love?

He recognized that expression, and in that moment of insight, he grasped the slender thread that might just save his life.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Will spoke, his words flowing instinctively. Even to himself, what he said came as a surprise, but just there, it all clicked into place. Miu, it seemed, had quietly taken residence within his soul for a considerable span, embodying the shadowed recesses he had struggled to repress and purge from his being.

It was attentive. He had effectively secured another ten words to wield. "I see you now. And … I want to fix it," Will persisted, advancing with a wary tread toward Miu. The entity held its ground, neither retreating nor progressing, its unblinking eyes locked onto Graham. Its searing gaze, akin to relentless yet probing suns, tracked his every move. "I want to understand you," Will added, his trembling hands extending towards the feline's neck. The darkness crept at the corners of his vision, as if his own mind stood ready to sever the lifeline, recognizing the perilousness of his impending, potentially fatal blunder. The collar was positioned too high to reach without its cooperation. Though the towering entity seemed to pause briefly, it elegantly bent its lofty form into a sinuous arc, placing the fractured chain within Will's grasp. All the while, its unwavering and intense gaze remained fixed upon him. In this close proximity, he couldn't help but notice the enormity of its eyes, akin to peering into newly formed pools of molten magma. He could almost swear he sensed a subtle heat radiating from their depths. There was no mistaking its readiness to strike with lethal precision at the merest hint of a misstep from Will.

Graham found himself at a loss on how to remove the chain. He lacked the key, and it proved far too robust to break with his bare hands. While Miu had managed to break free from the chain earlier, the collar was doubly thick, and it was clear that it had frozen onto the feline's neck. Frozen. Intriguingly, the creature's frigid aura had retreated. It remained cold and emitted a chill, yet it was no longer an aggressive, painful force when Will approached it.

The collar, where it melded with the creature's skin, emitted an eerie glacial glow as if it were more than just a physical restraint; it seemed to radiate the same icy aura that surrounded it. Perhaps, Will pondered, it served to curtail the creature's abilities, despite the fact that it had managed to break free from the chain. Frozen. Much like its movements, constrained to only a few frames before it had to resort to teleportation. Will couldn't shake the thought that perhaps the pervasive chill was affecting it as well, restricting its mobility. It left him pondering what other limitations it might face. If the cold was truly gnawing at the creature's very being, Will could only imagine the excruciating pain it must have endured. And yet, it maintained such composure. No wonder it was filled with anger.

"I want to … set you free, but I don't know how," Graham's voice lowered, his realization of his inability to open the collar weighing upon him. The golden eyes loudly shifted toward the smaller cat perched on the bed, which was gazing at them with an air of curiosity. Then, they clearly descended upon the key dangling from its neck. Will followed Miu's gaze, and in response, it turned in the opposite direction. Lights began to flicker to life, revealing the path through the darkness, guiding him toward the solution. Under the unyielding gaze now fixed upon him, Will nodded slowly. "I believe I'm starting to understand?" he said, his voice steady as he attempted to regain control over his trembling body and ease the tension in his jaw. "Please, have patience with me. I'm–I’m incredibly confused, but I'm making an effort."

The intensity of the gaze remained fixed on him as Will shifted his focus toward the smaller cat. It appeared to grasp the situation and made a swift decision, darting away along the newly illuminated path. "No, no, no, wait, I won't harm you. I just want the—" Will called after it, but it vanished from sight. "...key," he added with a resigned sigh.

"Nothing is ever … easy, is it?" Graham posed the question to Miu. Though the creature's expression remained unchanged, he couldn't shake the feeling that the energy around it had shifted into what felt like a reproachful eye roll. "I'll find a way," Will reassured, hands raised defensively, his confidence stronger than he had initially intended. He reluctantly tore his gaze away and began to follow the illuminated path, with Miu closely trailing behind him. It was only at that moment that he truly grasped the creature's immense size. Even in its hunched posture, it loomed large enough to cast a shadow over him, despite moving on all fours, reminiscent of a gorilla. It appeared to be crouching, or maybe it was adjusting its steps to match his own as if it had the capacity to cover ground much more swiftly. In this deliberate act, it was evident that it was consciously restraining its movements, granting Will the space to walk at a more comfortable pace. Its hind legs, remarkably elongated, bore a semblance of a humanoid trait rather than a feline one. In contrast, its arms exceeded the proportions of typical human anatomy, further accentuating its uncanny physiology. Miu exhibited remarkable intelligence, undoubtedly comprehending every word Will spoke. However, it appeared either mute or disinclined to speak. Nevertheless, its body language, those expressive eyes, and the subtle shifts in muscle tension, posture, and demeanor conveyed a silent eloquence that made it feel as though Will could read its thoughts. It didn't rely on words to communicate; every signal it emitted was calculated and purposeful. It was a form of communication that utterly fascinated him, reminiscent of Hannibal, but magnified to an even greater degree. "I can only speculate that you represent my darker impulses," Will looked up, his gaze locking onto the piercing stare above him. "No offense. I'm just trying to understand," he said gently, his voice carrying a hint of trepidation. His gaze lingered on Miu, searching for the right word to describe the inexplicable, "You're strangely," he hesitated, "... mesmerizing." Graham almost regretted uttering that comment, but he couldn't help himself. He studied the creature's reaction, a subtle retraction in its expression—perhaps a flicker of surprise or a hint of confusion in its inscrutable eyes.

"It's probably odd to compliment the part of myself that wants to … murder everything," he continued, a touch of self-deprecation in his tone, "but... yeah, you are  strangely  beautiful, and I have no idea  why  I'm saying that. It just came to mind, … along with everything else that's … happening here. I don't have explanations for any of it," he gestured vaguely to the surreal surroundings, shrugging helplessly. "Or, really, anything that's unfolding in this place. But you're the first thing that feels... safe."

Once more, he fell silent, his gaze locking onto the creature's inquisitive, nearly smug countenance. "I know it's utterly insane to say this to something that was moments away from ending my life, but maybe that's why it feels so... familiar , even natural to me." Another pause. "I'm... I'm sorry if I'm rambling. You seem like a good listener," he admitted, his voice trailing off with a nervous chuckle. Realizing the audacity of his words, he quickly stifled the humor. "Sorry, I... I'm just really nervous. Talking helps me … process." Miu seemed to find amusement in Will's efforts to salvage the situation, and for a fleeting moment, Graham glimpsed a reflection of his own nature in that reaction. "You...," he hesitated, gauging the wisdom of his next words, "possess sadistic inclinations. You derive pleasure from witnessing the suffering of others." He carefully observed the creature above, noting how its gaze seemed to sharpen, cutting into him with an inquisitive hostility rather than an immediate threat. "But it's a specific brand of sadism, isn't it? You're curious, and you only revel in the torment of those who, in your eyes, deserve it. Am I correct?" He posed the question directly to Miu and received a subtle tilting of its head in response. Not outright denying, yet not fully acknowledging either. In essence, it amounted to a 'maybe.'

"I can relate," Will continued, his words measured. "I assume that's why you take on the form of a cat, not a dog. You enjoy toying with your prey." He noticed a flicker of offense in Miu's eyes and hastened to clarify, "I'm–I’m not suggesting dogs are better than cats or vice versa. They're simply … different. Cats are solitary hunters, more methodical and strategic." As he spoke, he found himself contemplating his own penchant for murder, recognizing that it aligned more with the feline disposition than the canine. "True, dogs usually kill for survival, for sustenance, out of necessity. But cats... they kill for sport, for the sheer thrill of the hunt."

At its core, he embodied the essence of a cat, not a dog, when it came to his mannerisms. They walked for quite a distance, and apart from the illuminated path on the floor, Will couldn't discern anything in their surroundings. It was a vast expanse of emptiness. Oddly enough, Miu's presence had a calming effect on him, which was quite perplexing given that it should have instilled fear. This paradoxical reaction only fueled his curiosity. Now that the creature had ceased its attacks, or at least postponed their confrontation, the aura of calm it exuded was otherworldly. It was a self-assuredness, a precision in its rhythmic strides, that could cause even a deity to question their standing in its presence. It felt like a primordial principle, a force as mighty as time itself, something that even surpassed the deities. Will couldn't precisely define what Miu was, but it embodied a concept older than the gods themselves. It exuded an aura of utter primality, akin to a living law of nature. Gazing upon it was a humbling experience, and it became even more humbling to realize that it was not only aware of his presence but also actively listening and cooperating. Undoubtedly, it did so by choice, driven by its own self-interest. Will couldn't forget that it still possessed the power to liquefy him with a mere flick of its finger. Referring to it as a god would likely be an understatement, even an insult. It wielded an authority far beyond the capacity of words to fully capture. "I wonder how long you've been here," Will mused, abruptly halting his stride and turning to cast a questioning glance at Miu.  The wisdom of countless years, perhaps even millennia, shimmered in its vibrant eyes. It undeniably bore the weight of great antiquity.

The presence of the Horus Eye, which he had glimpsed earlier, lingered in his thoughts. Could it be a clue? The Egyptian undertones puzzled him. While he found mythology of all kinds intriguing, he had never delved deeply into Egyptian lore. His interests were diverse, but Egyptian mythology had never been a particular focus. That's what made Miu's connection to it all the more fascinating, reminiscent of the Wendigo form Hannibal's shadow had taken in his psyche.

It undeniably held a connection to the Gods, particularly that Horus Eye, a symbol with multifaceted meanings. Some conjectured its mathematical significance, linking it to the sacred unit fractions that ancient Egyptians associated with the six components of the eye: The complete Eye of Horus represented the number one. The top part of the eye, which is shaped like an eyebrow, represented one-sixth (1/6). The darkened central part of the eye, resembling a pupil, represented one-sixty-fourth (1/64). The curving section below the pupil, often shaped like an ‘S,’ represented one-fourth (1/4). The teardrop-shaped section beneath the S-shaped swirl represented one-eighth (1/8). The straight line or inverted ‘T’ shape at the bottom of the eye represented one-sixteenth (1/16). The tail-like extension at the very bottom of the eye represented one-thirty-second (1/32). These fractions, all with powers of two in their denominators, served to represent portions of the hekat, the standard measure of grain capacity. A binary framework, founded on base two. These values function as exponents for the conversion of binary to decimal. Considering that 2^6 equals 64, it requires 6 bits for the representation of the fraction 1/64 in binary notation. Consequently, a total of 65 bits is needed to represent 2^64 in binary.

Numbers could be quite intriguing at times.

Furthermore, the Eye symbolized the reinstatement of order and the victory of good over evil. In certain interpretations, it is regarded as an emblem of spiritual insight and enlightenment, signifying the eye that gazes beyond the material realm and into the domain of the divine. A suggestion of introspection, perhaps? The inner eye, observing itself?

"Miu, I—," Will inhaled deeply, gathering the courage to confront the creature fully. His eyes sparkled with newfound determination, a change that seemed to please the large feline. "I need your help to … unravel all of this. I'll find your key. But I also need you to be my key to understanding." He could have sworn it was smiling, even though its visage remained devoid of expression. Yet, the eyes emitted a distinct energy, undeniably smug. Pride filled those golden orbs, but there was also a hint of contentment. Within that fierce and deadly countenance, there lingered a subtle softness, sending a ripple of energy through Will's stomach. Rising to its full height, Will estimated it was roughly three meters tall. In that moment, its appearance seemed more human than feline, with no visible tail. As it diverted its gaze from Will, its heavy ears pricked forward, adding another half meter to its imposing stature. It surveyed its surroundings with an intensity that made Graham suspect it perceived more than he ever could. Its eyes held an expression of recognition, as if it were identifying something specific and definable, rather than merely staring into an abyss of emptiness.

He felt inconceivably minuscule next to this towering juggernaut of lethality. It was meticulously crafted for annihilation, every aspect of its being a weapon honed to perfection. And yet, despite its alien, mythological essence, it exuded an uncanny humanity, a strange relatability that was both unsettling and oddly comforting. Amidst its icy frigidity, he found warmth and understanding. Although it seemed as sharp as the edge of a surgeon's scalpel, he couldn't shake the feeling that it possessed a hint of empathy. It was shrouded in darkness, brimming with deadly potential, but it was not inherently evil. In a moment of strange impulse, Will felt compelled to reach out and touch it while it remained engrossed in its surroundings. His hand barely reached its thigh, but as his warm palm made contact with the firm, icy muscle, he sensed the cold rapidly eating his skin. Miu recoiled from the touch like a coiled spring suddenly released. It was the first time he truly heard its reaction—a noise that didn't quite qualify as a hiss or a growl, akin to a potent, piercing surge of air vibrations that gripped him in near-paralyzing terror. It seemed as if the sound had the potential to be lethal, had it been honed with greater purpose. He could see the creases on its visage and the momentary parting of lips that revealed an array of razor-sharp teeth glistening in the harsh light. There was no audible hiss, yet he could sense it coursing through his entire body. Will's breath came in rapid, uncontrollable gasps as his trembling hand remained outstretched, his eyes wide with a mix of astonishment and trepidation. It had demonstrated the capacity to produce sound, and it felt as frigid as if it had been frozen solid. In a brief moment, he sensed its anguish, a fleeting sensation that had almost overwhelmed Graham when it had brushed against his senses. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he fought to maintain his composure, refusing to succumb to the torrent of information assaulting his mind. "You're in agony, immense agony," he stammered, struggling to regain his breath and see through the tears that clouded his vision. "Such excruciating pain. How do you even cope?" Miu's response was one of seething anger, its usually serene countenance now twisted into a mask of pure fury. Its upper lip quivered as it pulled back, baring its menacing row of teeth like an unspoken warning. While it refrained from launching an attack, there was no ambiguity in its message: should Will misstep, he'd be torn apart and reduced to mere confetti without a moment's hesitation.

Graham raised his hands and avoided making eye contact, his breath still quivering. "I– I did this to you, didn’t I? It was me, who put that chain on you, right?" Miu's patience was wearing thin, and its body language signaled an impending, impulsive attack. Its clawed palm extended, poised to strike, and it began to move toward Will. Despite the imminent danger, Will held his ground, refusing to flinch or close his eyes, even as he sensed the strike in his peripheral vision. "I'm... so sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling as he allowed his tears to flow freely. It was this moment of understanding and vulnerability that seemed to save him, halting the sharp claws just before they could slice through him. Will's eyes closed, and he could sense the presence of Miu's palm lingering nearby. "I … I thought I was doing what was right," Will spoke, his entire body quaking uncontrollably. His eyes slowly opened, revealing a torrent of tears. "But now, I'm not sure anymore. I don't know what's right anymore. I can't trust anything I thought I knew. I... I need your help. I need your guidance. I need your wisdom. And, I know... I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your kindness, your understanding, or your tolerance." He paused, still trembling but now lifting his gaze to meet Miu's golden stare, his eyes bloodshot and raw. "Because I didn't give that to you. I hated you. I wanted you gone. I denied your existence. I tried to suppress you, to kill you, to erase you. I starved you. I abused you. I froze you. I gave you nothing but ice and abandonment." His throat tightened, threatening to crush his voice, but his lips parted again, and he refused to succumb to silence under the pressure of his emotions. "You needed me, and I wasn't there to listen to your voice. And still, you gave me a chance." He blinked rapidly, trying to free himself from the tears to see clearly. "And I... I plunged us off a cliff to escape you." Will swallowed hard, his eyelids fluttering under the weight of a profound realization, his gaze slowly descending.

"Your beauty, … it frightened me. … I came to understand how complete I felt when I let you come to the forefront. And I – I panicked."

His eyes traced every nuance etched into the frozen countenance before him, yearning to decipher some elusive meaning.

"I need you, Miu. You are an integral part of me, just as I am an integral part of you. I … humbly see–seek your forgiveness," Will stammered, his words stumbling in their earnestness. His body quivered uncontrollably, a force he struggled to restrain as if the icy chill within had frozen his insides, threatening to convulse him into an involuntary fit. He trembled with fear, while Miu quivered with unbridled wrath. Bowing his head, Graham exposed his vulnerable neck to the creature, anticipating its sharp strike like a guillotine's blade. If death was to be his fate, it would be a fate of his own choosing.

Yet, when he sensed the creature's icy touch on his skin, he couldn't help but flinch. The palm was unexpectedly gentle, causing his composure to crumble like sand yielding to water. Overwhelmed with emotion, he wept bitterly, instinctively reaching out to grasp the creature's large torso as it descended, wrapping around him like a protective cocoon. "I remember you. You... you were always my protector. Whenever they … bullied me, yelled at me, or hurt me, you were there. Your anger was a shield against a world that treated me unfairly. You were furious because I was hurt, and I pushed you away, buried you, froze you, all because other people—people who found it inconvenient if I showed anger—told me not to overreact. But we weren't  overreacting.  Being hurt, being abused, anger is a perfectly natural response. It's the part of us that wants to … protect us. You were there to protect me," whispering softly, Will clutched Miu tightly as if by squeezing it, he could somehow quell his own trembling. "You took in all my pain, held onto my anger, and you never let go. You didn't forget; you didn't bury what was done to me. You wanted to make the world answer for it in my name," he said, his vision clouded with repressed childhood memories. He had always been the new kid in school, perpetually the small one, the outsider, the odd one, the target of their taunts and abuse, with nowhere to escape.

Consistently misconstrued in his intentions, perpetually branded as malevolent, no matter his actions or noble intentions, people twisted his motives into something sinister. Over time, his anxiety grew, as did his fear of reprimand and the prospect of yet another social blunder. Consequently, he withdrew further and further into himself.

Ironically, he mused, the creature most renowned for being misunderstood was a cat. He plummeted back into the abyss of his youth, embracing a coal-black demon in lieu of a once-beloved teddy bear. Those eyes that beheld him, they were veritable portals to the fiery maw of Hell, casting an infernal spell upon his very soul. What dark specter from his youth had he nurtured so fervently that it could swell to such monstrous proportions? What maternal aspect of his being could harbor such an icy rage that it might bring Hell itself to a frigid standstill? What infernal General had he unwittingly cultivated within the depths of his own being over all these years? For an ephemeral moment, the obsidian hue of its skin seemed to pulsate with a crimson tinge, akin to blood rendered dark beneath the moon's pallid glow. Its eyes bore down upon him with a lucidity that left no doubt in his mind.

Al-Jeneral Al-Ahmar. The Red General. A progeny of the Great Red Dragon, birthed from the fleeting splendor of a solitary moment.

It was but a fleeting glimpse, an elusive moment that eluded conscious apprehension. Yet, he could have sworn he beheld it—how it loomed above him, its pallid skin aglow in the moon's tender embrace, bedecked in golden embellishments adorned with azure gemstones that sparkled like stars. Atop its brow, a regal crown of alabaster feathers sparkled like celestial diamonds. Was it a demon or an angel? That question lingered in the recesses of his fading thoughts. Will could sense his strength waning, his fading vision catching glimpses of the heavens ablaze, with fire descending from the skies. In his weakened state, Miu tenderly guided his faltering body to the obsidian ground, curling protectively over him to shield him from harm, ensuring he wasn't crushed. As his eyes began to dim, he heard it—a sound akin to a cosmic vibration, a soothing purr that sent ripples through the darkness. It was like a droplet of water hitting a still surface, and a comforting blackness washed over him. He struggled to find words to capture the essence of the sound, except that it possessed a mending, healing quality—an exquisite balm for all that was amiss. It was a sound that permeated every fiber of his being, so potent that it seemed capable of distorting reality with its ripples as if it could outscream even the stars. Yet, it was not a scream; it was a gentle, tender sound, brimming with love, understanding, and solace. A sound with the power to pierce through any obstacle, even the darkness that lacked light. A sound capable of making the heavens tremble and hushing hell to stillness.

The purr of a merciful cat.

Star Wars: The Bad Batch: "Confined," "Paths Unknown," & "Shadows of Tantiss" - Review

The Bad Batch begins its third and final season with a stellar three part premiere that prioritizes character, atmosphere, and mystery.

(Review contains episode spoilers)

Captured by the Empire, Omega settles into the oppressing tedium of her new life as Nala Se's assistant in the mysterious Imperial laboratory built beneath Mount Tantiss. While she tries her best to seek solace in fellow Bad Batch captive Crosshair and the clone scientist Emerie Karr, it's hard to keep up hope in a space that's almost designed to strip it away. Little does she know that Nala Se is working desperately to cover up a monumental secret about Omega's origins and time might be running out. Meanwhile, Hunter and Wrecker hunt desperately for clues as to where their little sister has been taken.

The conclusion to The Bad Batch's second season was already an emotional roller coaster before its nail-biting cliffhanger of an ending. The team had lost Tech in a mission gone awry and were grieving when Cid pulled the rug out beneath them. The Empire arrived with the intent of collecting the clones that had defied them for so long and, in a moment of selfless sacrifice, Omega gave herself up to protect the lives of her older brothers. We left last spring with a Bad Batch that was broken and scattered to the wind. It did the thing you need a middle chapter to do. Shake up the status quo and leave the viewer at a low that must be climbed out of.

The Bad Batch's three part premiere takes its time in exploring the emotional fallout of these events. Written by showrunner Jennifer Corbett and directed by Steward Lee, "Confined," the first of the three, is one of the most methodical, atmospheric, and character heavy installments the series has ever produced. We follow Omega's routine across multiple remarkably similar and methodical days. We see her wake-up alone, pass dozens of emotionally broken clones while she shuffles off to work with a mysterious Kaminoan scientist, have her blood drawn for some unknown test, care for the bases lurca hound tracking dogs, visit a depressed Crosshair in his cell, fix up a straw toy replica of her favorite toy, and then go to sleep. Then she does it again. And then the show skips forward several hundred days. And the tedium remains unchanged. It's rare that any Star Wars series allows itself to capture banal evil and perseverance in the way The Bad Batch does here. It's a necessary storytelling move for a variety of reasons both in regards to character and the show's overarching narrative about the Empire's new secret cloning program, but a lesser series wouldn't have dedicated this amount of time to generating an emotional atmosphere this well realized. And "Confined" pulls it off in spades.

Part of what makes this first half hour so successful (and in turn what makes the payoff in "Shadows of Tantiss" as satisfying as it is) is how Omega's resolve is portrayed. Between Lee's direction and Michelle Ang's stellar voice work, we are able to see how Omega adjusts to the inhumane routine she has been subjected to, but that she still finds ways for her remarkably empathetic and determined spirit to shine through. The horrific sights of Tantiss may no longer shock her, but she still takes time out of her day to care for a wounded hound she names "Batcher" and maintains her daily visits to Crosshair.

Speaking of Crosshair, the series' most interesting clone remains a scene stealer here. Now fully disillusioned with the Empire and lacking in hope for the future, the Crosshair we meet here is lacking the steely demeanor that has always defined his character. It's hard not to see Crosshair viewing his own imprisonment and experimentation at the hands of the Empire as a sort of penance he must undertake for his own actions. His own body has even begun to fail him. His steady hands, one of the skills that he was literally bred for, have begun to twitch and shake. Even still, in his own way, we see Crosshair looking for hope in Omega. He tells her to prioritize her own survival and to avoid risks that will get herself harmed. He may not understand his sister's bountiful good-will and kindness, but he does see hope in her survival. Even if the two have never really been close, Omega is the closest thing Crosshair has to a family and that's what he must cling to. When the two do eventually escape together in "Shadows of Tantiss," the result is not only thrilling but surprisingly touching as we see both siblings rely on one another in ways they've never really had to before.

The wildcards in all of this are Omega's two caretakers, Emery Karr and Nala Se. Karr is an enigma. The only female clone we've met in the series besides Omega, she operates in a scientific and administrative position that seems separated from her dozens of siblings locked away on Tantiss. Her purpose in the Empire's overall plan is hard to place and it's not even clear that Karr knows for herself. Even still, both "Confined" and "Shadows of Tantiss" seed that she still maintains some degree of affection and loyalty to her fellow clones, Omega in particular. I'm curious to see where her story takes us. (Also, are we going to learn why exactly she and Omega are female? Is that just something the Kaminoans figured they'd try out once or twice?)

Nala Se meanwhile operates in even murkier territory. From the series' start it's been clear that the Kaminoan scientist's interest in Omega has always stretched beyond simple affection. Something about Omega is particularly vital to her and we begin to see our first hints here. It's slowly teased out over the course of two episodes that part of Tantiss's goal is to replicate a clone body that is able to carry over or increase its midichlorian count through the cloning process. And apparently, Omega is a clone with an abnormally high amount of midichlorians. It's something that seemed to be hinted at heavily in the early episodes of The Bad Batch but has been less prevalent as the series has evolved, but it's a development that has tied together many of the dangling loose threads surrounding Omega's origins. While I don't exactly expect her to be Force Sensitive (although after Ahsoka who knows that even means anymore), I do think that her potential connection to the Force is going to make her an invaluable asset to the Empire going forward. It's what makes Nala Se's subterfuge and eventual aid in Omega's escape so interesting. Is she simply interested in preserving her own research? Or is she actually interest in protecting Omega's safety? Or maybe it's both? I don't know if I'll ever forgive her for what she did to Fives back in The Clone Wars, but Nala Se is a great deal more complicated than we may have been lead to believe.

The revelations regarding Omega also tie directly into our apparent series big bad Dr. Royce Hemlock. Jimmi Simpson's cold and quiet demeanor made the villain an easy scene stealer when he first appeared last season and that absolutely continues here. With the entirety of Tantis under his oversight, Hemlock's particular style of sadism and violence begins to creep into sight. Even if he's far from being a physical threat, he doesn't need to be. It's part of what makes his humbling at the hands of The Emperor feels so satisfying and terrifying. I will rejoice anytime Ian McDiarmid graces us with his portrayal of Darth Sidious and his presence here is a great reminder of the larger mythological stakes that The Bad Batch is playing with. It's gratifying to begin to receive answers about Tantiss's main mission, which as many suspected seems tied into efforts to maintain Palptine's life after death via Project Necromancer (previously name dropped in The Mandalorian). Hemlock's work is of the utmost importance to the Emperor which makes his need to succeed even more essential and desperate. We have clear stakes for both heroes and villains and a overarching plots that has a dramatic influence on the larger Star Wars narrative.

You may notice that I've written relatively little about "Paths Unknown." Simply put, it's the most forgettable of the three premiere episodes. Sandwiched between a stellar premiere and its satisfying payoff, Hunter and Wrecker's story just doesn't feel as dramatically engaging.

That's not to say that there isn't value in seeing it. We absolutely had to check in on how the two of them are coping, which isn't well! It's undeniably heartbreaking to see these two brothers live out of a ship that used to be so loud and full of life. Their squad feels empty and the absence of Omega, Echo, and especially Tech could not be more pronounced.

It is emotionally engaging to watch the two of them team up with a batch of adolescent clones who are feeling similarly lost and abandoned. It's a tight and well executed standalone story arc, but it's hard not to wish your attention was elsewhere. And yes, the vine creatures were cool, but I'm rather checked out of episodes involving the Batch blasting away at alien monsters.

Also we got to see Roland again? Yay?

Even if "Paths Unknown" feels largely forgettable in comparison to the rest of the premiere, The Bad Batch's third season is off to a phenomenal start. The emotional and narrative stakes are established. The conflicts are set. And the production and creative teams are churning out some of their most sophisticated and well realized work ever. I'm so ready for what's to come.

Confined: A Paths Unknown: B Shadows of Tantiss: A-

hi its me, that aromantic anon back at it again 👋

id like to politely request for yet another platonic x gn!reader, but this time with rise kujikawa. both her and reader jokingly flirt with each other a lot, but its all 100% platonic, no matter what anyone else thinks. (also if you want you can have the reader try to be her wingman, she gotta get that seta/narukami ass somehow /j)

please and thank you

┃Platonic! Rise Kujikawa x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡ wc: 720~

₊˚⊹♡ warnings: not proofread, fluff, silliness

₊˚⊹♡ Pillow Talks: I love your asks aromantic anon! Also the wingman part is so funny to me and simultaneously so real

₊˚⊹♡ Masterlist

“Looking like a snack as usual, Rise!” You wink in her direction, and she jokingly gasps, covering her cheeks in faux embarrassment.

“Y/n, stop iittt! You’re making me all hot and bothered!” Rise returns your wink with a charismatic one of her own, and soon you’re both giggling at the ridiculousness of said interaction.

The others look unamused, quite used to your antics. You and Rise are like two peas in a pod, often flirting with one another, albeit in a joking manner. You both know you’re just joking so it’s all in good fun.

“Geesh Rise, if you really feel that way about Y/N why don’t you make a move already? We all know you have the charm for it.” Yosuke mumbles. Chie voices her agreement beside him. Rise’s eyes light up in what you suspect to be a similar manner to your own.

She moves closer to you, batting her eyelashes playfully as you mockingly swoon over her. You chuckle when she wraps her arms around you in a hug, squealing when you return it. Yukiko starts laughing uncontrollably as Kanji makes a remark that leaves Rise fuming.

You spot Yu up ahead, finally making his way over to the rest of you. You lightly elbow Rise, drawing her attention. You nod your head in Yu’s direction, and her entire demeanor changes. “Senpai! I missed you!” She practically skips over to Yu as she throws her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder as she squeezes him in her notorious tight hugs.

You wiggle your eyebrows when Yu catches your eye, and his cheeks redden.

Oh?

Yu joins the rest of you with Rise clinging to his arm, and you all engage in amicable chatter before you disperse to look for clues on the latest potential Inaba murder victim.

“Oh, Rise, Yu, you two should investigate together.” You mention. “Huh?” Rise perks up at the suggestion, yet her cheeks warm in surprise. Ah, you’ve caught her off guard with your suggestion, but Yu is a desirable man. You gotta help your girl out as best you can, before someone else gets with him.

“Oh? Why is that?” Yu looks genuinely confused, and one of the girls voices their protest.

“Because Rise has something important to discuss with you regarding her career. She doesn’t feel comfortable telling everyone yet, so she wants to do it one on one until she feels more comfortable voicing her concerns with the group. She’s still an idol you know.” You come up with that on the spot, praying the investigation team buys your bullshit reasoning.

Rise’s eyes alight with delight when no one has a retort, leading to Yu’s easy agreement. The two of them walk off, and Rise glances behind her to meet your gaze. You wink, giving her a subtle thumbs up. She mouths an enthusiastic ‘Thank you!’ in your direction, leading to an amused smirk presenting itself on your face.

“I know what you’re up to Y/N.” Kanji announces. You glance at him in surprise, only for him to say “Rise’s just too shy to be open and honest with the rest of us without putting on that idol persona of hers, right? That’s why she’s gotta discuss it with senpai alone first huh?” You nod in agreement at Kanji’s off base understanding, but it helps your case significantly.

The rest of the investigation team ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ as if that totally makes sense. Naoto shakes her head in dismay as she pinches the bridge of her nose. Yosuke emits a sigh akin to disappointment as the rest of the group actually buys that reasoning.

“Anyway-! Let’s investigate guys. We can’t call ourselves the investigation team if we don’t play the part!” You successfully divert their attention as the rest of you set off in a group before you split up, asking around as you search for clues.

You receive a text later that evening with Rise’s heartfelt gratitude for the opportunity you provided her.

You send a silly winky face with a kiss in reply, smiling when she sends you a rose and a ring in turn.

You cherish your friendship with Rise, and you hope she can find the happiness she deserves.

Hopefully with the man of her dreams, aka Yu Narukami.

1, 4, 6, 7, 8 for the BG3 asks?

Ohh thank you! ❤ 1: Where in the Faerûn is your Tav from? He was born in Red Larch but he left (fled) with his twin brother when they still were pretty young. For some years, they lived in many different places and earned money in almost every way possible. Eventually, they stayed in Baldur’s Gate and that’s where Rowley spent the major part of his life. 4: If your Tav was a companion, where would they be found? Very early, after you collected Astarion and before you find Gale, in the wreckage of the Nautiloid, hiding in the shadows and playfully threatening the MC once they cross the area. I even wrote the little scene: here. 6: What companion are you platonically close with? Shadowheart. Rowley and she had great chemistry from the start. Shadowheart gets his humor and answers with dry irony when he makes a remark. Rowley highly enjoys this. Furthermore, they share a "not my problem" demeanor in many cases. Although he doesn't understand religious zealotry at all and is skeptical of her devotion to Shar, it’s more a protective wariness because he had his share of bad experiences with fanatical cults. But as long as she doesn’t start preaching? To each their own and all that. And it’s fun for him to gather books and small treasures with Shar-connection and to gift them to her. Shadowheart started trusting him and opens up to him and in return, he views her as an actual friend. Gale. Rowley mocked him at first. “That's lots of pompous drivel for so little action.” “The doing good mage, the ‘eat your dinner’-type, the camp daddy no one asked for”. His opinion changed drastically! When he killed the monster hunter with/for Astarion, Rowley expected a ‘Gale disapproves’ and a tiring, amusing little speech about right and wrong. Instead, Gale said that he's glad he protected Astarion and to see that they have each other's back in this group and Rowley actually was highly surprised (rare). He started to see Gale with different eyes and realized that he is none of those preachers he despises but someone who means his kindness. And that he has some for people like Astarion and him too. The more he learns about his story, the more he likes him. Often, he sits with him for a while when they're in the camp. Gale makes it surprisingly easy for him to open up a little himself (rare again). With him, Rowley even talks about some of his concerns regarding Astarion and the struggles coming with his own feelings. Those two started to build a deep friendship. 7: Romantically close with? Astarion. He developed a spontaneous crush on him the very moment he felt his knife on his throat and ended up on the ground with him. His attempt amused him and he quickly found himself intrigued by his way of talking, his voice and choice of words, his gestures, his posture, his arrogance and pride, and the lofty distance he created. Rowley’s fascination only became stronger when he woke up to his fangs near his neck. (And had them in his neck about ten minutes later.) Unfortunately, this enjoyable little crush on this lying, eloquent, well-read, witty, cruel, graceful, delightfully fallible, attempting-to-be-manipulative, conceited, cynical vampire developed into actual feelings for him so fast that he still is a little overwhelmed by his own reactions. Are they close, that’s the true question. Rowley strongly wishes so. It’s clear that he can’t truly trust him so far, but he has Astarion’s back, no matter what will happen, and there is little he wouldn’t give and do to see him happy. Astarion doesn’t seem to believe him (yet). They have an amazing dynamic, a similar worldview and humor, work greatly together, and shared moments of actual intimacy here and there. But it’s all very new and a relationship that merely just started at my point in the game. While Rowley is aware that Astarion does enjoy their time together, he suspects that he mostly tries to gain an advantage with the romantic aspects. 8: Who are they suspicious of?

In the very beginning? Of Astarion more than anyone. But since Rowley falls in love with him fast, he doesn’t mind being suspicious of him, and the fact that he barely can believe a word he says for quite some time becomes painful instead of a concern for his own wellbeing.

Aside from that? Rowley doesn’t trust fast in general but also doesn’t mind that distance. Everyone tends to be out for themselves, it’s only natural. But at the same time, they are all in the tadpole mess together. He assumes no one in the camp will try to slit his throat (well, no one but Astarion and Lae’zel so far), and if he’s wrong about that? Well, they’ll have to overpower him first.

꒦꒷ dancing queen. ꒷꒦

SYNOPSIS 𖦹 young and sweet, only seventeen...

CHARACTERS 𖦹 arashi narukami, gender-neutral!reader (no pronouns used)

MARION'S NOTES 𖦹 i made this while binge-watching the great british baking show lol. anyways this song consistently makes my "most played songs" list so here is a writing piece based on the title ... naru unfortunately does not get as much presence as i'd like but i'll most likely make a part two if you all want!! (F/N = friend's name (EDIT: part two can be found here!)

You were captivated by her beauty from the moment that you laid eyes on her.

She shone under the stage lights that illuminated her. Perhaps she truly was a star, one that lit the entire room up with just her mere presence. From the way that she carried herself with confidence & elegance, to her beautiful voice, everything about her in that moment was just...

"Stellar..." you breathed out.

"Oh?" (F/N) piped up from next to you. "Does (NAME) have a favorite unit now?"

Ignoring your friend's subtle teasing remark, you continued watching the performance from the idol unit onstage. Knights... that was their name.

According to your friend, Knights was an idol unit at Yumenosaki, the school that they attended. Although you weren't a Yumenosaki student, your friend smuggled you in (barely, with the amount of close calls that they had) to watch an idol live.

"(F/N)... just what is an idol?"

(F/N) looked at you like you killed their firstborn child. "Excuse me?!"

You shrugged, giving them a genuinely confused look. "Is it similar to how much you look up to that one basketball player?"

"Not rea— Well, kind of..." (F/N) paused, trying to formulate some comprehensible explanation for what an idol was. Sucking in a deep breath, (F/N) jumped into a long explanation.

"An idol is a performer! They shine and dazzle onstage! They perform, dance, and sing! My school has tons, they're all amazing! Ah, but more importantly—"

Your head spun with each word that came out of (F/N)'s mouth. Dazzle... shine... perform... This was...

"Strange..."

"Huh?!" (F/N) pretended to be wounded, placing a dramatic hand to their chest. "No, no, no, (NAME), you're wrong about that! While kidnappings are common at my school—"

"Kidnappings?!" you placed a hand over your mouth in shock.

"Wait, disregard that! (NAME), please forget what I saiiiiid...!"

"Okay, okay, I'll forget it...! That's still concerning though..." you mumbled the last part, although you were certain that (F/N) heard it anyways.

"As I was saying...!" (F/N) cleared their throat, clearly trying to change the subject. "These idols... they're the real deal! They're like... um... Cirque du Soleil, but with pop music and dancing!"

"...So it's nothing like Cirque du Soleil is what you're trying to say," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, but— well, just take my word for it, okay?! It's super interesting, and...!" (F/N) suddenly looked as if a mental lightbulb went off in their head. They began to dig through their bag on the floor, in search of god-knows-what.

"Um...?" You stared at your friend with an expression of half-concern and half-amusement at the sudden change in demeanor.

"Here they are...!" (F/N) pulled two paper strips out of their bag, handing one to you.

"A... ticket?"

"Yes! This is for one of Yumenosaki's veteran idol units, Knights!"

"Knights..." you echoed, reading over the ticket that (F/N) just gave you.

"This is for their next live! I can sneak you in~♪"

"What?!" you exclaimed, eyes darting from the ticket to (F/N)'s excited face. "Nonono, you're not going to do th—"

"But I am! See? It's on a weekend, so you'd be free!" (F/N) stated matter-of-factly.

You didn't even know how to respond to that one. Despite your overwhelming silence, (F/N) continued. "Besides~ you need to live a little, (NICKNAME)! You're always working hard, so why not treat yourself this once?"

You inhaled and exhaled, weighing your options.

"Well..."

Here you were, two weeks later. The idol unit Knights was wrapping up their live, although it wasn't like you noticed. Tunnel vision was one way to describe how you felt about the pretty blonde-haired girl. Smitten was another (although it wasn't like you'd admit it).

She was just so... ethereal. You didn't even know her name, but at the same time, you were absolutely enthralled by her performance. Beauty goes a long way, yes, but this girl... she seemed different.

The way she danced and sang was so confident, youthful, and graceful all at once. God, you were enamored by her.

"So? How was it?" (F/N)'s words brought you back down to earth from your inner monologues. "Did you like it~?"

You merely nodded in response. Your heart felt like it was on fire from the performance. That was the most fun that I've had in a long time, you mused to yourself.

"So..." (F/N) twiddled their thumbs, drawing out the last letter of the word. "Seems like their Arashi has caught your attention?"

"Arashi...?" you asked. Could it be that her name was Arashi?

"Yeah, the blonde-haired one! You really couldn't keep your eyes off of her~"

"Was it really that obvious?" you responded, suddenly feeling awfully flustered. If it was noticeable enough for (F/N), someone that was obsessed with dissecting Knights performances, then did that mean that this 'Arashi' noticed too...?

"Your eyes were on her the entire time, y'know? Looks like we have totally different taste, (NAME)~" (F/N) teased before launching into rambling about that 'Suou' kid, presumably the red-haired one.

Knights... what an interesting unit. Maybe they're right. Living a little couldn't hurt... it seems like you'll have to take (F/N)'s advice more often (and ask them to smuggle you in again).

"Hey, are you even listening?!"

A soft smile makes its way across your face. "Maybe."

"Well, you better be! If you're gonna attend the next Knights live with me, you'll need to know everything, from image colors to fan chants!"

From Earth to the Stars: Julia Garner's Spectacular Portrayal of Silver Surfer in 'The Fantastic Four'

Introduction

Julia Garner, noted for her riveting performances in many film and television productions, is about to go on a groundbreaking voyage as the Silver Surfer in the upcoming reboot of 'The Fantastic Four.' Garner's interpretation of this famous figure promises to provide a new dimension to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

The Legacy of the Fantastic Four

"Fantastic Four has been a beloved part of Marvel Comics since its debut in 1961, showcasing a diverse group of superheroes with incredible abilities. The series has left a lasting impression on society, sparking numerous adaptations across different forms of media."

Julia Garner, The Ascenting Talent

Julia Garner's remarkable skill and adaptability as an actress have led to her steady climb to fame. One of Hollywood's most promising talents, Garner has gained critical recognition for her noteworthy performances in films like "Ozark" and "The Assistant."

The Mysterious Surfer of the Marvel Universe

Norrin Radd, a.k.a. Silver Surfer, is a celestial entity of great strength and intelligence. First published in 'Fantastic Four' #48 in 1966, Silver Surfer was created by Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. Comic book enthusiasts adore him because of his mysterious demeanor and heroic actions.

Garner's Change to Become the Silver Surfer

In order to get ready for her role as Silver Surfer, Julia Garner had to go through a lot of physical training. Garner thoroughly researched the character's past and distinctive qualities to ensure that her portrayal of Silver Surfer is realistic and faithful to the character's core.

The Fantastic Four Reimagined

Fans are quite excited about the impending 'The Fantastic Four' revival, especially since Julia Garner will be playing Silver Surfer. The movie promises to unveil new facets of the adored superhero team as well as novel takes on well-known figures.

Expectations and Reactions

Both critics and fans have voiced their interest in and anticipation of Julia Garner's portrayal of Silver Surfer. Discussions concerning the franchise's future and how Garner's performance would affect the story as a whole have been spurred by the casting choice.

Obstacles and Benefits

For Julia Garner, there were obstacles involved in portraying a figure as legendary and complicated as Silver Surfer. But Garner met these obstacles head-on, embracing them with a fierce enthusiasm that paid off in the end when she gave an unforgettable performance.

Hype and Reaction from Fans

The Marvel fan community was shocked to learn that Julia Garner would be playing Silver Surfer, which led to intense anticipation and speculative discussion. The chance to see Garner's portrayal of this adored character on the big screen is much anticipated by fans.

How It Affected Garner's Career

It seems likely that Julia Garner's portrayal of Silver Surfer will prove to be a pivotal point in her career, providing her with fresh prospects and enhancing her reputation as a versatile and in-demand actor. The part demonstrates Garner's versatility and her capacity to take on complicated characters with subtlety and depth.

Comparisons and Contrast

As fans eagerly await Julia Garner's portrayal of the Silver Surfer, similarities to past renditions of the character naturally emerge. Garner's portrayal is supposed to provide a new perspective while still honoring the legacy of the Silver Surfer in Marvel Comics.

Behind the Scenes Insights

Julia Garner's commitment to her craft is evident as she immerses herself in the universe of 'The Fantastic Four.' Garner's dedication to perfection can be seen in all aspects of her preparation, from rigorous training routines to collaboration with the creative team.

The Cinematic Universe of Marvel

Julia Garner becomes the latest member of the esteemed group of performers who have made contributions to the ever-expanding Marvel Cinematic Universe with her portrayal of Silver Surfer. Garner's participation in the franchise creates intriguing opportunities for potential future MCU crossovers and partnerships.

What Silver Surfer Means

'The Fantastic Four' including Silver Surfer emphasizes the character's continuing relevance in the Marvel Universe. Silver Surfer is a cosmic nomad with a noble soul who personifies ideas of atonement, selflessness, and the limitless potential of the human spirit.

Conclusion

In "The Fantastic Four," Julia Garner's portrayal of Silver Surfer ushers in an exciting new era for the cherished superhero franchise. Garner's skill, devotion, and love of authenticity promise to take the role to new heights and wow viewers everywhere.

The Daily D/S For 1/16/24:

What challenges have you faced in finding like-minded individuals within the BDSM community?

The BDSM community is a diverse and vibrant space that fosters connections among individuals who share unique interests and lifestyles. However, navigating this community to find like-minded individuals can be a journey filled with challenges. Whether online or at in-person events, the process often feels akin to hunting for a precious diamond. Today, let’s explore the difficulties of meeting compatible people within the BDSM community, highlighting the nuances of online interactions and the benefits of in-person events. Despite the challenges, it is important to remember that remarkable individuals are waiting to be discovered. Ultimately, safety should remain a top priority, as it is the responsibility of each participant to ensure their well-being.

The internet has revolutionized the way people connect, and the BDSM community is no exception. Online platforms provide a space for individuals to explore their desires and connect with others who share similar interests. However, this virtual landscape is not without its challenges.

Firstly, anonymity can be a double-edged sword. While it allows individuals to explore their interests discreetly, it also opens the door to deception. Many have faced the disappointment of building connections with someone online, only to discover that the person misrepresented themselves or their interests.

Furthermore, the sheer volume of online profiles can make it overwhelming to filter through potential connections. Identifying genuine like-minded individuals becomes a challenging task, often likened to searching for a needle in a haystack. Patience is crucial in this process, as finding authentic connections may take time.

Despite the challenges, there are countless extraordinary individuals within the BDSM community waiting to be discovered. Building genuine connections often requires sifting through the complexities of online interactions. Engaging in thoughtful conversations, participating in community forums, and joining reputable online platforms can increase the likelihood of finding like-minded individuals who share common values and interests.

While online platforms offer convenience, in-person events present a unique set of advantages. Attending BDSM gatherings, munches, or workshops allows individuals to connect on a more personal level. The face-to-face interaction fosters a sense of authenticity and facilitates the formation of meaningful connections.

In-person events also provide an opportunity to gauge compatibility more accurately. Body language, tone of voice, and overall demeanor offer valuable insights that may be missed in the digital realm. The shared experience of attending an event can create lasting bonds that extend beyond the initial meeting.

While the quest for like-minded individuals is exciting, it is essential to prioritize safety throughout the journey. Whether online or offline, individuals must exercise caution and trust their instincts. Verifying the authenticity of online profiles, safety protocols for meeting the first time, and establishing boundaries are crucial steps in ensuring a safe exploration of the BDSM community.

Finding like-minded individuals within the BDSM community is undoubtedly a challenging yet rewarding journey. The online landscape may feel like a vast and daunting realm, but it harbors incredible connections waiting to be uncovered. In-person events offer a more tangible avenue for meeting like-minded individuals and building authentic relationships.

What challenges have you encountered building lifestyle connections? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below.

If you enjoyed this, I invite you to give my podcast a listen 'Chatting With The Lightkeeper,' a top 25% most-followed podcasts on Spotify but available on all the major podcasting apps and follow my socials for more exclusive content: Instagram, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) for a deeper dive into the wonderful world of D/S.

As with all of my thoughts, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2024

Happy Friday Contre Parry! I would love to see what you are thinking for "A conversation you wish had happened in canon" this week!

I'm really on a Vivienne kick today, so here's a conversation I wish could have been expanded upon in the canon for Vivienne and a mage!Trevelyan for @dadrunkwriting!

The resemblance was uncanny.

Not in physical appearance. Senior Enchanter Lydia was, as Vivienne recalled from the one time she met the woman in person, as similar to Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan as the sun was to the moon. And they were different in demeanor as well, Lydia all sunshine and smiles to Trevelyan's measured cool calm. But here and there she spotted traces of her old friend in the young woman who stood before her. There it was in the critical examination of every paper that passed her desk. It was in the way she flipped through the dusty pages of old tomes, gentle, so gentle, caressing each page as though it were as precious as gold. And Vivienne saw it now as Trevelyan eagerly expounded on a minor detail of her herbal research.

Shared enthusiasm was not uncommon upon mentors and disciples, but the light in Evelyn Trevelyan's dark brown eyes was eerily similar to the brightness of Lydia's spring green whenever she spoke of thaumaturgy. It was remarkable.

It was frightening.

"I was well acquainted with Senior Enchanter Lydia, you know," Vivenne said when Trevelyan paused for a moment in her impromptu lecture. The letters they exchanged over the years would have filled volumes, but who knew how many of those letters survived the fall of Ostwick Tower? Who knew what happened to Lydia's things when she died. Was murdered. And as for the murderer... Vivienne carefully examined the woman sitting across the table from her.

It was not a question of capability but of motive. Lydia had many pupils, but few could have ended such a skilled Mage. Even fewer could have found the opportunity to do so. But Trevelyan... Vivienne watched the woman pour a cup of tea. Her hands did not shake.

"I know," Trevelyan finally said, her voice soft and even. "Lydia spoke of you often, Madame."

"Oh?" Trevelyan was giving her an opening, which was rare for a woman as guarded as her.

"She enjoyed the gossip you shared, of course. Nothing happens at Ostwick. Happened. But she discussed your research the most. She always said you were the most inventive alchemist she had the pleasure to meet," Trevelyan confided, her expression wistful. Masterful actor or innocent party? Vivienne watched Trevelyan stir a dollop of honey into her tea, watched her eyes go misty with memory- or was it guilt?

"Ever the scholar, Lydia was," Vivienne said.

"That is the Ostwick way," Trevelyan replied distantly. "She... I cleaned out her study. After she died."

"After she was murdered by her pupil," Vivienne corrected. Trevelyan didn't wince. Her expression was as stone, but her eyes- there was a tempest stirring in those eyes, and wasn’t that interesting? Lydia was like that as well, Vivienne recalled. She could lie and flatter and blather on like any other skilled player in The Game, but if you knew where to look- if you looked at her eyes- her true feelings were easily discerned.

Trevelyan was angry. Clumsy to let her feelings be known, but Vivienne wouldn't complain about a gift falling into her lap. Anger was something she could work with, though it also brought some interesting questions to light. Was that anger at the death of a beloved teacher or anger at being accused of murder? Or perhaps it was anger at being found out. It was not the murder itself that was scandalous, for The Game could not be played without a few pieces falling under the sword. But this was personal. Lydia was a friend, and if Vivienne could unravel this mystery- well, her heart would rest a little easier if she knew why Lydia died.

"Mages are not in the habit of carrying poisoned misericordes. But you know that,” Trevelyan replied coldly, her tea dangerously sloshing around in the teacup when she set it down. Didn't even take a sip. How very interesting- but Vivienne hadn't known about the misericorde. A distinctive weapon. Flashy. If Trevelyan was being truthful, then Lydia's murder was not exactly what it first appeared.

Of course it wasn't. When had Lydia ever done anything expected? Even her death would be a layered mystery.

"A Bard in Ostwick Circle sounds absurd,” Vivienne finally said, “but as it was Lydia, I will allow for the possibility that one might pay her a visit.” It made a twisted sort of sense: Ostwick Circle was neutral, which Lydia gracefully maintained for a long time- too long, clearly, for someone removed her from the picture and flung the sleepy Circle into chaos. Anyone could have done it, and Trevelyan wasn't quite in the clear yet, but somehow... Vivienne looked over the young woman again. Shemet her gaze, unflinching, and Vivienne smiled. Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan, no matter if she was guilty or innocent of the crime of murder, was going to be interesting.

"We have many matters that need our attention," Vivienne declared, and she broke part of an overly sweet tea cake over her plate. "But rest assured, I will investigate Lydia's murder. Thoroughly."

Q: Your character meets one of your original characters in the World of Darkness.

Olivie always wanted to visit Hollywood. The Dream Factory had produced so many of her favorite films that now in her unlife, she could finally get out and enjoy the night views of the city in peace.

During her lifetime, her ex did not show a single desire or even consent to go anywhere with her, but now ... She is left to herself, a little bit to her Sire, whom she affectionately called "daddy", a little to her Prince and a little to her Malkavian boy, still not understanding how it happened with the latter at all, although there were pluses with each of them. No cons

The taxi driver dropped her off in front of the store. Olivie walked down the main street, admiring its surroundings: on the slope of one of the hills, from afar, one could see those huge letters "Hollywood". She must go there too.

Her attention was drawn to the colorful sign of the strip club "Vesuvius". Mademoiselle Leroy herself did not notice how her legs carried her inside. Unlife demanded impressions. And the future book is a little more (un)life experience.

Inside it was loud but beautiful. The music beat on the ears, and the eyes clung to the bare parts of the bodies of the strippers. And their underwear. Half of what they wore, Olivie would gladly put on herself.

"Did you lose someone?” came a flirting voice from behind.

Turning to the one who had called her, Olivie almost forgot how to breathe. Although, in fact, she really forgot how to do it, she would use a similar turn of speech in one of her stories.

"Bonjour" not embarrassed by the appearance of the interlocutor, Olivie made contact. Feelings do not deceive: in front of her is a relative. "Anything is possible”.

She had lived long enough in America for the French accent to be less noticeable, although she was accustomed to inserting words from her native language into phrases.

I am looking for inspiration for a future book.

“Usually people come to this place for something else. But if you wish...”

“After all, we're not all that different,” Olivie reminded her. "What is your name?”

“Velvet Velour,” she said, lightly stroking her own thighs out of momentum. "Miss Velour”.

The clarification was extremely important. After all, no one had the right to call her more affectionate names, except for her relatives.

"Olivie Leroy. You can call me just by name" she smiled sweetly at her fellow Toreador, showing that she was far from being an enemy. “How about a little help gathering information? In return, I will give you my book. As soon as it is fully published.”

Mademoiselle Leroy tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear with a flirtatious look.

"Intrigued.” VV put her hand on her waist. "I’ll try to help”.

"Mais tout d'abord… How about a solo performance, mon chou? I have a lot of money on my card right now, which I am ready to tip and support such a wonderful place. Joignons l'utile à l'agréable.”

One of the visitors was already staring at her. This flattered Olivie. She had never felt so desirable in her lifetime.

“Come with me,” Velvet Velor smirked in response to her remark. She gestured towards the stairs leading up.

"Magnifique! Avec plaisir, ma cherie”.

They say the French are good at love. In all its manifestations.

Swinging her hips on sharp stilettos, VV led her after her. Olivie could see the beautiful view of her buttocks under the thong as she followed her up.

"I'd even demonstrate," she murmured in a deliberate French accent. “Perhaps another time”.

Velvet Velour seemed to her a bright personality. Not so much because of the color of the hair, but because of the demeanor and self-esteem. And, damn it, she owned a real strip club!

Olivie was even slightly envious, but immediately pushed the negative thoughts aside; she decided that it would be better to just be happy for her relative and what she was good at and pay attention to what Olivie herself was wonderful at.

Today they will be the heroines of one story.

How to Attract More Followers on Twitch

Jerk is an internet web-based feature, with an emphasis on computer game related content (however the expansion of the 'Imaginative' segment permits craftsmen to stream their cycles to people in general).

Gushing on Jerk is a phenomenal method for enjoying your #1 side interests while being a functioning piece of a huge web-based local area. Decorations typically see that as sooner or later similar watchers will get back to watch you stream and become your regulars. Becoming your base of regulars will bring about a development in prominence, and can prompt the possible adaptation of your substance by means of the expansion of a gift button to your stream. Be that as it may, be cautioned, you might simply slap a gift at any point button in your depiction and hope to make $50 per stream seven days in the wake of joining.

ALSO VISIT:-Tips for Becoming a Twitch.tv Affiliate

Notwithstanding, there are steps that you can take to build your stream quality and empower adherents!

7 Fundamentals to Building a Following on Jerk Top notch Streaming Utilizing a Webcam Speaking With Supporters Utilizing a Headset Have a Timetable Collaborate With Watchers Have Channel Craftsmanship Utilize a Mediator Bot My Speedtest Results My Speedtest Results

(Gotten in under 1 Moment)

Streaming Settings for Top caliber This is where factors, for example, bitrate, goal and FPS (Casings Each Second) become possibly the most important factor. Amateur decorations will more often than not put every one of their settings at most extreme, this isn't suggested.

Right off the bat, in the event that you put the settings at a more significant level than your streaming gadget can deal with, this will result in interactivity issues, for example, slack and the stream will likewise slack and cushion. Also, regardless of whether your streaming gadget can deal with it, not every person review will actually want to watch with the settings maximized. The last thing you maintain that should do is 'freeze out' possible watchers by making it unimaginable for them to have the option to watch your stream. The Open Transmission Programming site has an incredible mini-computer here. Enter your PC's subtleties and your web transfer speed and the number cruncher will let you know the ideal settings for bitrate, goal, FPS, support size and considerably more. (On the off chance that you don't have the foggiest idea about your web speeds, you can find that over here at SpeedTest.net)

Utilize a Webcam: Individuals Need to See You Indeed, in all honesty, individuals need to see your face. At the point when the watcher can see you responding to the game, or your demeanors when you read their remarks, it causes the stream to feel more private. Furthermore everybody likes to have the option to see a voice. The webcam I at present use is the Logitech C920 960-000767.

Having a face camera takes into consideration exceptional open doors for the decoration to communicate with the crowd. For instance, having a themed stream where you spruce up. Or on the other hand having a sound order that watchers can use to frighten you. At the point when the watcher can see you having a ball, or responding to something they did, they feel as though they can more readily interface with you.

However, be cautious about it. Don't simply slap the camera haphazardly on the screen. Ensure that the facecam doesn't dark a significant area of the game (e.g putting it over the wellbeing bar). Continuously ensure that your game catch is greater than your facecam, individuals come to see you game, not to simply witness you while you to play a game. It tends to be useful to make an overlay with a container for your facecam and a different box for the game catch.

Collaborate With Devotees Utilizing a Headset With Mouthpiece Collaborating with your watchers is a flat out must, subsequently a receiver is a need.

A wise venture is a headset with a mouthpiece joined. I utilize the G430 Gaming headset. The justification for this is that assuming you play game sound from your PC for instance, and have an on-work area mouthpiece then the amplifier will get the game sound two times and there will be an irritating reverberation. This additionally builds the opportunity of advanced input (that shrill shrieking clamor) and static: the two of which will dismiss watchers rapidly.

A further benefit of a headset with a receiver is that you can hear the game sounds better, any stream warnings better and you don't need to contend in volume with your environmental factors (diminishing your need to yell, your throat will be extremely grateful).

A decent gaming headset should be agreeable as well, particularly in the event that you are wearing it for 4-5 hours relentless. Fortunately, great headsets can be gotten at a sensible cost.

Have a Timetable Having a normal timetable advantages you in two principal ways

It tells the watchers when you are streaming and permit them to expect your stream It shows that you are significant about spilling as you are moving toward it with the expert way you would move toward a task. Regardless of whether you can't focus on unambiguous time runs, that is alright, even something, for example, "Streams will happen after 5 p.m. GMT Monday-Friday" can permit watchers to separate time for you in their everyday daily schedule.

Did I Specify Associate With Your Watchers? In the event that I've said it once, I have said it multiple times! There are numerous ways of communicating with your watchers:

Look to Proceed year-1931-fun-realities random data and-history-occasions Year 1931 Tomfoolery… the-most generously compensated hubbers-make-650-to-3-800-every month-gaining from-their-details section 2-ends The Most generously compensated Hubbers Make $650 to $3,800 each Month: Gaining from their Details - Section 2, Ends indeed you-can-lose-the-menopot Indeed, You Can Lose the Menopot Peruse and answer remarks that clients make in your visit Mess around with your devotees every once in a while (great games for this are Cards Against Mankind and Quiplash) Engaging in the community is additionally significant. Watch the surges of individuals who come and watch you. Assuming you follow one of your watchers on another web-based entertainment (e.g., Twitter), they will follow you back. All of unexpected you have a very close gathering who all follow one another and will spread your stream. This incorporates facilitating the channels of different decorations that you appreciate.

It can likewise be valuable to set up a Steam bunch or Facebook bunch for your channel and welcome each of your companions to like it. On the off chance that you do this, you can set up everyday 'occasions' which tell individuals from the gathering when you begin streaming.

the most effective method to get-supporters on-jerk These are instances of the segment headers that I made for my own channel. These are instances of the part headers that I made for my own channel.

Have Channel Craftsmanship As opposed to simply having a little portrayal under your stream have it in segments: e.g., About Me, Rules, FAQ, Online Entertainment, and so forth. It tends to be all the more stylishly satisfying in the event that you have pictures as your part titles as opposed to simply message, these pictures can be made actually rapidly in MS Paint and it considers you to include your own flare your page and makes you stand apart from the group!

Channel workmanship likewise incorporates a picture showed on your video player when you are disconnected. Having a picture with your streaming times and web-based entertainment contacts on it urges individuals to follow and return when you are streaming. Yet again it likewise shows that you have invested energy into your channel and assists it with standing apart from the conventional dark disconnected screens.

Utilize a Mediator Bot Channel arbitrator bots are irreplaceable! It stays in your channel every minute of every day and various bots have an entire large number of various elements and capabilities. These capabilities can permit you to:

Set up restricted words and will Break individuals who use them. Post thank you messages in talk for new follows/has. Allow watchers to add music to a melody line played on stream. Mess around, for example, sorcery 8 ball or bank heists together. Add entertaining statements during the stream and permit an irregular statement to be raised on request. Sound orders for in-jokes or to frighten the decoration. The bot that I use is called Ankhbot and can be viewed as here. Other normal and famous bots are Nightbot and Moobot.

Assuming you are capable in programming with assets, for example, mIRC or C++ you can compose your own bot and redo it some way that you like.

Blissful Jerking! This finishes up the aide on the means that you can take to work on the nature of your stream and to get more devotees. I trust that it has been advantageous to you. Assuming you have additional inquiries if it's not too much trouble, go ahead and message me and remark beneath! Cheerful Jerking!

Additional Notes Other significant elements to recollect are: Spread your stream inside internet based networks that you are now a piece of (yet don't spam individuals or they most certainly won't watch your stream). Comply with the Jerk Rules. You may be enticed to accomplish something many refer to as View Botting (where you pay for 1000s of bots to visit your stream to give you an expanded view count). Try not to do this. It is hard to miss when somebody does this and it is against the Jerk rules. You will be restricted. In the event that you are battling to concoct a name for your channel/image or on the other hand assuming that you routinely battle to name characters in games you can name them after individuals in your visit. Or on the other hand to abstain from investing an excess of energy attempting to think of something, simply utilize an irregular name generator, for example, the Chains to Gains name generator. Have some good times! Watchers can figure out whether a decoration is having some good times or exhausted. On the off chance that you are exhausted: they are as well! Gifts Whenever you have developed your watcher count and you are getting regulars, then go ahead and add a gift button to your stream. To do this you can utilize Streamlabs or TwitchAlerts. It is valuable to watchers on the off chance that you add a gift objective, where you clarify what you are fund-raising for. Assuming watchers realize that their gifts will go towards you redesigning your webcam or getting the continuation of your ongoing game; it will urge them to give and they will actually want to see the their rewards for so much hard work.

📔 like father, like son

𐐪 warning: this fic contains dark content, please read my disclaimer before continuing. minors dni.

🦢 a/n this is my first time writing dark content sorry if it’s not very good lol. also if this doesn’t flop i might to a zhongli version thats like the prequel or smth lol

your stepbrother albedo’s been getting jealous of how much better your father, zhongli, treats you, and his envy only grows when he finds out the reason why.

cw: dubcon + mentions of noncon, stepcest, choking, degrading (slut shaming), creampie, alcoholism, porn mention, toxic parenting (?)

° 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 nsfw below the cut ! 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 °

you finally stumbled into the large kitchen, all but collapsing against the cool marble counter. god, how much did you have to drink? your head was spinning, the journey from the front door to here nearly wiped you out. you were considering dozing off on the counter instead of trying to make it to your room. your parents were out for the evening; you didn’t think you had to worry about anyone finding you.

“does our father know you drink?”

you nearly jumped off the stool at the sound of your stepbrother’s voice calling out from behind you.

“whatthefuck— albedo, don’t sneak up on me like that!” you spun around to face him as he sat at the dining room table, his textbooks and notes sprawled across the ebony surface. he was his father’s son, alright. they couldn’t look any more different, but their cool demeanor and extraordinary work ethic were one and the same.

and, of course, their depravity.

“i don’t think sitting behind you counts as ‘sneaking up,’” albedo said. the way he looked you up and down made a knot form in your stomach, and you were suddenly self conscious about how little you were wearing. “anyway, does he?”

there was a taunt in his voice, and you knew very well why.

zhongli spoiled you rotten; it must have stung for albedo, seeing his own father treat you so much better. he even let you address him by his first name, while albedo got a severe look from him if he called him anything less formal than “father.” you both followed his strict rules as far as he knew, but your equal obedience didn’t result in equal affection.

of course, the true reason zhongli doted on you was guilt. he knew the insatiable lust he had for you was wrong, but, he simply couldn’t help himself. you were so beautiful, and so well behaved. your voice was angelic, too— he had been the one to insist you call him by name outside of the bedroom as well, it sounded so lovely in your high and sweet tone.

zhongli was ashamed, yes, but not so ashamed he could stop himself from fucking his perfect little daughter. he raised you so well, you were such a good girl for him. filling you up with his cum was all he could ever think about— breeding his little princess, sending her out of his study limping, her tight little cunt oozing his semen down her legs.

he thought himself a reasonable man, though: in exchange for you being his well behaved little girl in public, and his obedient slut in private, you had his fortune at your disposal.

still, if he knew his sweet, demure daughter had been breaking his rules— drinking, smoking, sneaking boys in— well, you weren’t sure what he’d do. and you certainly didn’t intend to find out.

you narrowed your eyes at albedo, your voice daring.

“does our father know you’re a fucking pervert?” you spat.

you weren’t the only one who broke the rules. you had been unfortunate enough to catch your brother porn several times— he was gross enough to do it in the home theater with the door open. the last occasion had sparked some animosity between you two. you never cared what filth he got off to, until you had found him jacking off to what you surmised was incest porn. if that wasn’t disturbing enough, the girl in the video— who was moaning out a cliched line about her “stepbro”—looked remarkably similar to you. when you confronted albedo, he told you it was just acting, and you shouldn’t flatter yourself— you weren’t hot enough to compare yourself to porn stars.

you had almost told zhongli then, but it was too mortifying. besides, albedo had caught you drinking so many times, there was an understood idea of mutually assured destruction between you two. you’d never gotten along, but at least you stayed out of each other’s way. until tonight.

albedo smirked, clearly feeling no shame at his indecency. the knot in your stomach grew larger as he approached your stool. perhaps it was just the alcohol, but you were getting a funny feeling between your legs.

like the one your father gave you.

“and does your mother know you’re fucking her husband?”

you pulled away quickly. you couldn’t have heard him right. you and zhongli covered your tracks well: your room was on the opposite side of the house from albedo’s, he’d put you on birth control to prevent any accidents (no matter what he moaned in your ear, he knew he could never actually get you pregnant).

albedo laughed at the shocked expression on your face. there was a hint of fear in your eyes, too. cute.

“it’s rather obvious, isn’t it? i don’t think our father would buy you so much expensive lingerie to wear for anyone but him,” he mused, twirling a strand of your hair.

you wanted to ask what he was doing looking through your underwear drawer, but a part of you already knew the answer, and you certainly didn’t want to hear him say it out loud.

“you’re crazy,” you slurred, too drunk to try to argue. “you dunno what you’re talkin about, zh- father wouldn’t do that.” you put your hands on his chest to push him away, and he quickly grabbed your wrists.

albedo had a sinister glint in his eyes. “is that what this is about, then? you go out, get wasted and sleep around to cope with the fact your father can’t stop himself from fucking his little princess? try to forget your own father knows you’re nothing but a slut?” he chuckled as he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him. “oh, if only he could see you now. i wonder if he’d feel guilty about what he’s been doing to his poor baby girl. probably not, though, right?”

you felt tears well up in your eyes, you knew he was right, and you hated it. you struggled against your brothers grasp, glaring at the smug look on his face.

“i suppose, then,” he continued, “that’d make two of us.” his grip on your jaw tightened. you tried shoving him off you once more, and you actually fell off the chair this time, wincing as your knees hit the hard wood floor.

he jerked your head up harshly by your hair, looking down at your tear stained face. “it’s frustrating, you know. seeing my slutty little sister fuck so many boys, hell, even our own father, yet never give me a chance.”

from this angle, he really was just like his father. you’d spent countless nights on your knees for zhongli, making up for rules broken. he was tyrannically strict sometimes; anything to have a reason to fuck your pretty litte mouth.

of course, he’d make it up to you afterwards, cuddling you and buying you a new dress or coat afterwards. but, seeing the malice in your brothers teal eyes, you knew he wasn’t interested in after care.

“albedo, please,” you choked out, begging him to stop before you had gone past the point of return. “i’m drunk, i’ll forget this happened, just let me go, please.”

“aw, but look at you, already on your knees for me. it’s instinctive isn’t it? you know your place, can’t help bein’ a slut.”

you wanted to protest, but he was squatting down next to you, whispering into your ear now.

“you probably like this, too, don’t you?” albedo’s hand slid under your dress, his thumb pressing into the damp fabric of your panties. you involuntarily whined, hating yourself for it. he chuckled, sending a chill down your spine and into your inner thighs. “look at that, i guess daddy’s little princess gets wet for every boy that gives her attention. even her brother.” albedo wrapped his free hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. “you’re not even trying to fight back, must really want it, huh?”

he took your silence as a yes, pulling you in by the throat for a kiss. you didn’t bother trying to stop him. if he was anything like his father, he’d get what he wanted from you by force if necessary. it was easier to just obey; you were drunk, anyway, you hoped you’d just forget all of this in the morning.

“really didn’t think it’d be this easy,” albedo mumbled, mouth brushing against yours. his words were cruel, but his lips were so soft. you were getting wetter now, you couldn’t stand it. everything about the situation was gross, most of all your body’s reaction to it.

“i hate you,” you mumbled, your stomach turning with rage and arousal. you hated him, and his just as perverted father, why couldn’t they keep their hands off of you? were you really nothing but an object to them? “i hate you so fucking much.”

albedo smiled before roughly yanking you to your feet. you fell onto the counter, balance completely shot. you felt something hard press against your ass, arousal and disgust radiating through you simultaneously.

“that’s nice, but, i really don’t care,” albedo responded, yanking up your dress. you shuddered as his large hands began to massage the soft flesh of your ass. “unlike our altruistic father, i’m not going to pretend your feelings matter to me. besides,” he pulled your thong down, mesmerized by a string of slick drooling from your pussy. he pulled his cock out from his sweatpants, moaning as he ran the tip across your vulva a few times. you gasped each time you felt the him rub against your clit. “you sound hot as fuck when you cry.”

without warning albedo slammed his length into you, a ragged scream leaving your mouth as your legs buckled. he was so big, the stretch of your walls was so painful you thought you could pass out.

“albedo- fuck— it’s t-too big, pull out—“ your whines were cut off by another cry as he pulled out and rammed back into you, with even more force this time. the burning was unbearable, you were sobbing now.

albedo sighed, leaning down to kiss your shoulder with a laugh. “ah- sorry,” he mumbled. “got a little excited. you’re even tighter than i’d hoped, it’s amazing.”

he pulled out and slid into you again, agonizingly slow, his gasps echoing in your ear. you felt your body trying to adjust to your brother’s cock, its squishy head pressed against your cervix while the shaft pulsed against your walls.

“didn’t expect a slut like you to grip me this good, fuck,” he moaned, languidly beginning his thrusts again. “have to- ah- go slow, been waitin s-so long to fuck you, wanna make sure i last.”

pressed up against you like this, you felt him deep, his thick cock rubbing against your g spot with every movement. the pleasure spreading through your body paired with the alcohol in your system had your brain spinning. you couldn’t think— only feel, the warm tingling sensation radiating from your quivering pussy as albedo lazily pounded into you.

your sobs turned into moans, knees buckling from the euphoric feeling of your his throbbing cock dragging against your slick walls.

“you moan so pretty, baby,” albedo cooed, his grip on your hips tightening. the added pressure made you dizzy. “you like taking your brother’s dick, hm? you’re so wet, making such a mess for me. tell your big brother how good it feels.”

your brother. the disgust returned in waves with the pleasure. it was gross, he was gross, your perverted brother who would always get hard around you, especially when he was being mean. you tried not to notice, how his eyes would trail down to your chest when you spoke to him, or how your panties would always turn up missing after he had been near your room, but it was always obvious. he was just as disgusting as his father.

“you’re s-so gross, ah-” you whined, grinding your hips back to meet his thrusts. you were close, electricity shooting throughout your body while your pussy pulsed around him.

“yeah, i know, i’m the worst,” he rasped, panting into your ear with every thrust. he wrapped one hand around your throat, the other holding you in place as he rutted into your sopping cunt. “but you’re still gonna cum for me, aren’t you baby? pretty little pussy’s twitching around me— fuck— sucking me up so good.”

you buried your head in your arms, his lewd words combined with the wet smacking sound of his dick pounding into you made you weak. you felt a warmth between your thighs that spread throughout your trembling body.

“‘bedo, ‘m g- gonna- ah-“ you cut yourself off as you felt your body reach its peak, the tsunami of pleasure washing through you left you unable to speak. albedo’s thrusts grew sloppy as he continued fucking your spasming cunt.

“look at that, my cute little sister’s cumming for me,” he moaned in your ear, his slender fingers squeezing the sides of your neck. your eyes rolled back, the combination of overstimulation and decreased blood flow had you on the verge of consciousness. “fuck, baby— not so tight- ah- relax a little—“

you couldn’t help how hard you were clenching, the delicious sensation of his thick length plunging into while you came made your body tense up.

“c- can’t, ‘ts too much,” you gasped. the room was fading to black when you finally felt his rhythm falter as he finished, spraying warm white rivulets of cum inside you.

albedo pulled out slowly, and you fell to the floor once he let go. your face burned with humiliation as you felt his semen drip out of you. when you finally looked up at your brother, he had regained himself, disinterest plastered on his face.

“by the way, stop coming home late on nights i’m studying, it’s annoying,” he told you sternly, turning on his heels toward the dining room to return to his studies. “and clean up your mess.”

he really is just like his father, you thought, tears welling in your eyes for the third time that night.