#nobody in their vicinity can stand it for long

[fluffypotatey]

OK both. One monkey is convince his feelings are unrequited and he is doing such a good job at hiding his emotions. A+ at secretblonging. The other knows he loves the other, knows the other loves him, and think the other is equally aware of the fact and equally in the decision to do nothing about it. Which is which?

easy answer is A is Macky and B is swk

BUT!!! IT WOULD BE SO FUCKING FUNNY IF SWK THOUGHT HE WAS SO SMOOTH AND SUAVE AT HIDING HIS CRUSH WHILE MACKY IS LIKE “ok, bet, this is mutual that’s fine but we should move slow with this, you know, be careful”

[dwaekkicidal]

hiii!! can i req a fic or smh in which reader is lee know's younger sister and hes lowkey protective??? (i recently saw a fancall of him rejecting the idea of introducing his "younger sister" to the other members soo.. 😭😭) and like hyunjin gains a big fat crush on reader and reader is oblivious abt it but reader actually has a crush on hyunjin also and lee know founds out abt this?? 🥲 IDK IM SO SORRY THIS IS MY FIRST EVER TIME REQUESTING SOMEONE AND ALSO I'VE BEEN DYING TO SEE THESE TYPE OF FICS BUT THERE AREN'T ANY AVAILABLE..

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 3.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fluff, brother! Lee Know, crush!Hyunjin, mutual pinning, kissy kissy, theyre in love your honor

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: catching up on requests, i kinda hate the way i wrote this but i hope you like it lol ♥️

“I think I’m in love with Y/N…” 

Chan and Changbin’s eyes widen while Han chokes on his iced coffee. “...You WHAT?? Minho's sister?!?” Changbin’s hand comes down on the back of Han’s head, shutting the boy up instantly.

Hyunjin cringes at the reaction, already knowing it was a bad situation in itself. But then the bad reaction coming from the best friend of the man in question only makes him feel worse. He scowls and he can feel tears start to prickle his eyes so he hides himself as best as he can at the moment, plopping himself on the couch and shoving his head in his hands. “I’m gonna die...”

Chan chuckles and takes the seat next to Hyunjin. “Listen man. I know he seems like the devil in human form, but he loves you like you’re his brother. At most, he might be mad at you for a while but he wouldn’t actually hate you.”

Han fixes himself and nods along as if Hyunjin could see him. “He’s… super protective of her after her last relationship. But! He sees us all as his brothers so it can’t be that bad!… I think?” He whispers the last part under his breath, thinking that nobody would hear him. But they do… And Hyunjin only whines more and curls into a ball on the couch, hands still covering his face.

The rest of the morning after that the boys tried desperately to lift Hyunjin’s mood. They managed to hype him up enough to get him cheery enough to leave the dorm and head to the company, using some excuse about wanting to re-record a few lines and wanting his opinion since Changbin wouldn’t be available.

They also figured that getting Lee Know in the vicinity, to show that he wasn’t onto Hyunjin, might help with his nerves, which worked! At first. What they didn’t account for, however, was the girl who was also on her way to the building to "spend some time with her brother.”

Though, you’d never admit to them that you were really only there for somebody else.

And it didn’t take long for you to find them. They were always in the same 4 rooms so after doing a process of elimination and hearing loud screaming from down the hall, you discovered a good chunk of the group.

The entirety of Danceracha along with Chan and Han were in the dance studio, mainly flopping around to one of their songs and not actually practicing. Well, other than Hyunjin that is.

It made you smile seeing them goof around with no worries, but the second you looked a little to the left, your heart immediately skipped a beat. Hyunjin was standing near one of the mirrors, sweat dripping down his neck and eyes focused purely on the motions of the instructor.

You recognized the choreo, it was one you had seen a week or so ago from the last time you visited. But something about seeing Hyunjin so focused on his craft and smiling when he got the moves right made you melt into a puddle.

Just thinking about him was enough to make your heart beat faster, but you were also just the tiniest bit insanely in love with him. So seeing him in person for the first time in what felt like decades made you feel things that words couldn’t explain.

You were cut from your thoughts by a hooded figure- your brother, joining the instructor in helping Hyunjin. Then came Han’s booming voice. He screamed out your name super dramatically as he motioned for you to come over to where he, Felix, and Chan lay across each other on the floor.

You tore your eyes from Hyunjin and looked at them, giggling and shushing him as you headed over to them. You made it over to them without causing any distractions to the others- or, at least you thought you did. Hyunjin was distracted the second he heard your name, though he didn’t realize that it was because you were in the room.

And his distracted demeanor was unfortunately obvious to both the dance instructor and Minho. Though luckily neither of them realized your presence either. They both just assumed the boy was getting tired so he called for a break and Minho pulled Hyunjin to where everybody else was sitting.

It was only then that both men finally realized you were here, and Hyunjin found himself almost tripping on air when he saw the familiar shape of your body amongst the cuddle puddle. Your back was to them, so you had no idea they were even done practicing until you felt a human throw himself on your back. “HEY!! Get off me, Min!”

Minho groaned happily, getting comfortable and stretching himself over you as if he just got home after a long day of work. A big smile took over his face as he made some comment about how chairs shouldn’t wiggle around so much.

Hyunjin watched and laughed to himself before finding a seat behind his leader. Han looked back at him and smiled apologetically, knowing all too well that he was stressed out of his mind. But, in an attempt not to draw too much attention to Hyunjin, he went back to scrolling on his phone and stroking Felix’s hair as if nothing was wrong.

Chan however turned around completely, scooting over to sit right next to Hyunjin before sighing. His voice was below a whisper as he apologized, “Sorry man. I didn’t know she would be coming today.”

“It’s fine. Maybe I’ll feel better now that I’m exposed to both of them at the same time.” Chan made a face full of doubt but didn’t persist. He simply leaned back onto his hands and joined in one of the conversations.

Hyunjin looked away from him just in time to watch you kick Minho off you the rest of the way. You made an ugly face at him and stuck your tongue out before looking behind you as if you were looking for somebody. He followed your eyes to the mirror, that same spot he was just practicing with the instructor.

He felt his heart panged a little and he found himself frowning at the thought that you might’ve started to fancy their dance instructor. Maybe Minho-hyung would want her to date him instead…? He is pretty attractive...

He rolled his neck and took a deep breath, shooing those thoughts away before looking back over at you. He watched your shoulders drop as you didn’t find whoever you were looking for, then you turned around and your eyes met his. Both of you made a surprised face for a moment before you laughed. “Pfft-”

You mouthed a ‘Hi’ at him and waved with a smile sweet enough to give him a cavity. He melted in his spot and waved back, watching in silence as you stared at him for a moment before turning to the blonde boy currently pawing at your leg for a second of attention.

He continued to stare at you for a while longer with a small smile on his lips. The time flew out the window and he completely forgot his other members were even there. He even forgot where he was at as he lost himself in daydreams about a future with you.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that he zoned back in. And it was really only thanks to the loud groans of the boys getting up and stretching. It left you, Hyunjin, and Chan on the floor as the others bid farewell and Minho told you to text him when you got home.

You agreed and sent him a thumbs up before moving to sit next to the other boys with your back against the wall. By the time you sat down, Chan was already on his feet, stretching and feigning exhaustion. “I’m gonna head home. Have fun you two.” He didn’t leave any room for questions as he sent a wink to Hyunjin and speed walked out of the room.

Silence fell between the two of you for some minutes until you attempted to break the silence. “And then there were two…” Hyunjin giggles and nods, turning his body to sit facing you and leaning his head against the wall. The two of you continued to stay quiet for some time after that, mostly scrolling through your phones and occasionally showing each other a post you found funny.

Though, it wasn't necessarily an awkward silence, it was a very comfortable silence that you would argue that you could sit in for hours on end without being bothered by it. You don’t know this, but Hyunjin would also agree.

Although he was a little too caught up in his thoughts to think about it. The confidence from the pep talk the boys gave him earlier that morning was still running through his veins, and he almost had half a mind to confess to you right then and there.

Then, all of a sudden an idea comes to mind and he blurts out a question, not giving himself time to overthink it.

“Do you-”

“So-”

You both speak at the same exact time, cutting each other off. Wide eyes are shared between the two of you before you burst into giggles and motion for him to continue. He tries insisting that you go first, but you close the imaginary zipper on your lips and throw the key towards the mirrors.

He chuckles and shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I… Do you want to go on a walk with me? To the shore nearby? I know it’s getting dark, but I just thought it would be nice and- and the weather is still good so-”

You laugh at his rambling and he cuts himself off, brain malfunctioning as his mind gets bombarded with images of your smile. He finds himself subconsciously smiling and in that moment he realizes just how in deep he really is. It’s not until you nod and make a quiet noise of agreement that he’s snapped out of his trance.

He jumps to his feet and holds out a hand for you, helping you to stand before jogging over to the seats and gathering his belongings. A smile takes over your face as he rushes back to your side and leads you out the door with a hand ghosting your lower back almost protectively.

Hyunjin continues to lead the way up the seawall as he tells you about his most recent paintings and walks shoulder to shoulder with you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours.

He walks a little farther before you notice a heightened concrete platform. It has stairs that lead up to it and you can already tell it has a pretty view so you point towards it. He glances at it before looking back over at you.

“Should we sit here for a bit? I wanted to talk to you about something.” You smile and nod, taking the lead and walking towards the stairs. He follows you up them and watches as you head to the railing that separates you from the sea.

The air was comfortable around the time you guys had started wandering around earlier, thanks to the hot summer air finally cooling down. But now it was starting to become a biting cold. No thanks to the freezing, metal railing that you were leaning on.

You shiver a singular time and run one of your hands up and down your arm as you look over the sea. It was barely noticeable, but he noticed immediately and became a little worried.

And, how do you expect him not to notice? He’s constantly entranced by your everything and worries about you every single day. He just can’t help himself from just staring at you during rare moments like this. Rare moments when it’s just the two of you, enjoying each other's company.

Hyunjin realizes that he is staring when you shiver again and he licks his lips nervously. He stretches, silently pulling his hoodie over his head as he moves forward, gathering the fabric and presenting the neck hole to you.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head at him with a confused expression, but he insists and moves forward again. This time taking a big step and standing less than a foot away from you so he could put the sweater on you himself.

He gently places it over your head and helps it down around your neck. You pop your hands through the sleeves and grab the fabric by his hands, assuming that he would have let it go already. But he hadn’t. Instead, he sits there with pink cheeks and his lips caught between his teeth as he pulls it the rest of the way down your torso for you.

The action makes your heart flutter and your knees almost buckle at the way he's looking at you, eyes shiny and full of something you have only dreamed of seeing. You heart beats out of your chest as he stays close, not even trying to back away from you.

“A bit cliché, don’t you think?” You smile teasingly and, despite your comment, you slither your hands past the pocket and melt into the warm, soft fabric. It smells just like him, obviously, and you can’t help but take a deep breath. Your body physically relaxes at the scent and he notices immediately.

He bites his lip in an attempt to hide a smile and he chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, maybe a little.” Silence falls between the two of you again and you find yourself staring at him for the millionth time this night. He stares back, lost in your pretty lips. He really wishes he could kiss you right now.

He visibly gulps and tears his eyes away from your lips to look you in the eye “Y/N…” His breath quickens and you hum, signaling to him that you’re listening despite the lack of thoughts going on behind your eyes.

In the corner of your eye, you watch his fingers twitch. They hesitantly move forward, between your bodies, and grab your buried hands out of the pocket of the sweater. He sees your breath hitch and you glance down at your connected hands before looking back up at him.

“Listen, I…” He looks behind you towards the water momentarily and takes a deep breath before angling his neck to look at you again. “I know this might be inappropriate, but I really like you. I've had feelings for you for a while, but I was scared that you and Minho would hate me.” His hands are shaking as he talks and you stare up at him in shock.

Hyunjin’s eyes search yours as you blink repeatedly, a cute little habit that you picked up from your brother. It could almost make him laugh if he wasn’t so fucking afraid right now. But he waits rather patiently, thumbs running over the back of your hand as he tries his best to calm himself down. Your lips part after a few seconds and he holds his breath.

“You… like me?” Your eyebrows furrow and his heart drops. His eyes widen and he pulls his hands away from you as apologies start to pour out of his lips. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, I just had to say something before I exploded. I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll leave you alone if I made you uncomfortable-”

“Wait no, Hyunjin! I- I’m sorry that came out wrong.” You laugh nervously and grab his hands, already missing the warmth. “I like you too. I really, really like you… I talk about you all the time to my friends, I’m sure they’re sick of seeing your name in their text messages.”

You both laugh and he seems to loosen up again. He waits a few minutes, letting your words hang in the air as his nerves calm down. Then he tries pushing it a step further.

His hands are warm as his fingers intertwine with yours and he smiles to himself when you reciprocate the action. “Your brother will kill me, but I’m willing to get cooked alive for you. Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

You smile widely and nod, “I won’t let him do that to you.” He huffs out a laugh and his eyes quickly flick to your lips again. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks somehow burn even more, but you nod enthusiastically. He lets go of your left hand in favor of settling his hand against your cheek and rubbing the skin there with his thumb. You close your eyes and nuzzle into it, making him smile to himself as he leans forward.

Then, he finally closes the distance between you. You swear you can hear the fireworks exploding around you and you melt against his soft lips. The kiss is short lived though, as he doesn’t want to push a boundary and scare you away already.

You make a noise of disagreement when he pulls back and you wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him back into you as you whine. He smiles and doesn’t make you wait much longer before he pushes his lips against yours again, this time moving his now-free hand to rest on your waist and pull you into him.

You feel the hand on your cheek slide to the back of your neck, holding you there as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. His tongue slides over your bottom lip and you are in the process of parting your lips when a voice startles you both out of your skin.

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin flinches and you feel him frown against your lips at the sound of his surname as well as the stranger interrupting his important business. It was the dead of night so anybody around was seen as a threat so he went on high alert, backing away and preparing to hide you behind him.

But as soon as his lips leave yours, he realizes he knows that voice all too well. The two of you separate and look over to the stairs like deer caught in headlights. “H-Hyung??”

“Min-” Minho glances over to you for a moment, silencing you. He’s scowling but loosens up when he sees the genuine fear in both of your faces. He sighs loudly and crosses his arms around his chest as he stretches his neck. It’s only then that you notice Jeongin behind him, staring quietly with wide eyes and his jaw on the floor.

“I checked your location to see if you got home safe and freaked out when I saw you were near the sea at fucking half past 10.” You curse to yourself, forgetting that the two of you shared locations for safety reasons once you moved to the city and then again when you realized that he said it was already almost 11 o’clock.

“I thought something bad happened to you.” Minho nervously bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes dart between the both of you, then he sighs loudly and looks to the side, suddenly becoming flustered. An almost awkward silence fills the air around the four of you.

Eventually, Jeongin finally fixes his jaw just in time for Minho to turn to him and nod his head towards the car. You hear a faint ‘Let’s go’ before Minho takes the first step down the stairs to follow Jeongin. You and Hyunjin glance at each other in confusion and you open your mouth to call out to your brother, but before you can he looks back at Hyunjin with fire in his eyes.

“Break her heart and you won’t get the mercy of the air fryer. I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Then he looks at you. “And, please for the love of God, get her home before midnight or I’ll kill both of you.”

Taglist:

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez

[burstinn]

I need more krueger fics (anything) 👉😔

Stalker x Stalker

(Part 1/?)

KRUEGER X M! READER

Notes And Warnings:

- Stalker x Stalker trope

- Stalking on both sides

- Masturbation and jerking off

1.To people without their awareness

2.To a dirty piece of cloth

- Sexual innuendos and thoughts

- NSFW

- no proofreading

- made in a short span of time meaning probably an hour or shorter so this is probably not the best way to yknow..

- made short on purpose because I got lazy

- This is a work of fiction made because I was bored, This should not be followed or replicated or else I will kill myself (>o<)

-made this cuz I didn't write for a good while and I felt bad

You don't know how this even started, He wasn't even acknowledging you the first time you guys met.. Was it his eyes? His accent? Maybe he reminded you of someone.. Shit you didn't care, you stopped caring for a long time now. It's an obsession at this point, You are hidden in your closet. You made a small hole inside of it like a secret room.. Just so you can keep trinkets and everything about.. Him.

Nothing but heavy breathing fills your cramped secret hole.. You need more pictures of him, this is getting out of hand, you're so desperate to feel him in some kind of fucking way it's unbelievable you held back for so long. Smelling one of the missing boxers of his wasn't enough to even satisfy you anymore.

Krueger, Sebastian Josef Krueger.. You scan your wall of pictures.. Pictures of him sleeping, working out, talking, eating, bathing.. Jerking off.. Those pictures were when you got lucky enough to take them and by God do you masturbate to those every night. Wishing one day you'd finally able to make him yours.. You know everything about him, His likes, his dislikes, his family, relatives, who he dislikes, what he does every morning and every night..

And recently you've only just started breaking into his room just to touch him, his face, tracing your finger tips against his jaw line, pressing your thumb against his soft lips.. Fuck,the thought of it makes you so hard.

But right now, you have a mission you need to attend to and the only thing that can calm your nerves is Krueger. Since you couldn't find him anywhere, Your shrine is the best place. You softly press your lips against one of the pictures of Krueger. One day, You will have the balls to actually try and talk to Krueger. You walk out of the closet, leaving with a slightly less grouchy mood. Hopefully the mission would go off without a hitch.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

You're gone, The helicopter you got in with your other mates had just left and he watches intently and carefully to see that you actually did leave. Once he sees the heli leave the vicinity he wastes no time walking over to your room.. Not without precautions of course he made sure nobody saw him walk in there.

Fucking finally, Your room empty.. Everything in this room is just you, Your clothes, Your pictures, Your bed, your dirty laundry.

Krueger can't help but feel a short adrenaline rush come over him as makes his way to your desk which was right across from your bed.. He shuffles for a moment under the desk, pulling out a small camera.. He can't wait too watch this later, he doesn't care if you were doing nothing, reading a book, scrolling your phone, jerking off.. He didn't give a single shit he was gonna jerk off to whatever was recorded here anyway.

He pockets the camera, walking over to your bed and just.. Smelling, hugging everything.. You are so intoxicating. How could you do this to him? He knew it was wrong but he was in love, more than in love. Why else was he doing this? He loved everything about you.

Even if this obsession started over nothing special he didn't give a damn, what happened, happened and he's in love with you.

He stands up and grabs one of your dirty briefs from the hamper, making his way back to the bed laying back down and slowly lifting your brief to his nose. Krueger flinches his body getting hot just by the smell of you, He could just.. He shuts his eyes keeping your boxers to his nose.. His other hand shuffling to unbuckle his belt. His hard cock almost immediately throbbing out when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

He rips his gloves out of his hand with his teeth, slow breaths. His mind drifting off to you, naked on your bed.. Your cock out and lonely, desperate for his touch. Bothof you just whining and grunting out his name as you rubs your cocks together, moaning in each other's mouth, your tongues fighting against each other..

He didn't even notice he already came, his cum staining his uniform and on your bedsheets.. Goddamit, He promised himself he was supposed to make sure to not cum on your bed this time. He takes a breath, pocketing your brief as well as he gets up, zipping his pants up.. He should clean this.

Next time he'll be careful, It's only a miracle he doesn't get caught in your room while your sleeping, jerking off to your sleeping figure.

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob

mafia!Remus Lupin x fem!reader | 3200 words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: mentions of spiked drink (no one drinks it), reference to past spiked drinks, complaining about misogyny, bad reputation of American tourists in the UK (I'm sorry!)

The short of it was: it had been a long day.

The long of it though, by God, was that you really, really needed a drink.

You got to your favourite pub which was only a brisk 7-minute walk from the university; a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub which probably had several thousand identical pubs lined across the UK but that didn’t matter, dammit, because this one was special – this one was yours. You chuckled at the irony that you had moved half-way across the world to England only to sit yourself in an Irish chain pub that you’d likely be able to find back home a mere 6000 kilometers away.

You relished the feel of the warm air hitting your rosy cheeks after marching your ass down to the pub in the biting wind in naught but a long coat and a scarf. The warm air stung but in all the best ways as you shucked off your outer-layers and plopped down on a stool by the bar, unawares of anyone else within your vicinity other than the bartender promised to serve you your drinks.

“Alright there, Lass? What can I get for ye?” The fellow asked and you could have kissed him right then and there.

“Can I have a negroni and your tallest pint please.” You asked, hoping the desperation in your voice wasn’t noticeable – the fact that the bartender didn’t comment on the odd combination of drinks let you know that is was noticeable. No matter – you were desperate, what did you care?

Turns out you should have cared more.

“I’m sorry but I must tell you, that is an awful combination of drinks.” A lilting voice came from your left side. You groaned audibly and held your hands up to your temples like blinders to avoid even looking at the voice who dared to speak to you after such a day.

“S’pose its good nobody asked you then.” You muttered darkly. You didn’t make a habit of speaking to people this way often – people already spent enough of your time in the UK mistaking you for an American on account of your accent anyway, you needn’t add fuel to the fire by adding to an already bad reputation.

“Please tell me that you’re ordering for a friend. You’ve surely just ordered for someone who’s meeting you here?”

You knew better – you really did. You don’t let strange men in bars know that you’re alone; make them believe someone could show up to save you at any minute. But dammit, you’ve been fending off jackasses all day – what’s one more?

“Apparently, I live to disappoint men, sir, so no – both drinks are for me. Is that quite alright with you? I didn’t realize I had to pass this decision by the board.” You spat, finally turning your what you were sure was a burning gaze to this mystery guy on a stool to your left.

You hesitated in your ire for a moment: the man was quite a bit larger than you had pictured in your mind – not large in a particularly broad way but the man seemed to be excruciatingly tall; he sat basically spilling off his stool, while still managing to look elegant in doing so. He was dressed sharply but not in a way that made him stand out – respectable but forgettable, he blended into this bar well. Or he would if he hadn’t been so fucking handsome.

He had warm, honey-coloured curls that seemed to artfully fall in front of his face, and eyes to match. You’d never seen amber coloured eyes before, but you couldn’t seem to pull your gaze away from them. You did – by god you did – because the rest of the man was too enticing not too. He had a chunk missing out of his left eyebrow which was arched mischievously at what you assumed was your attitude with him, and his crooked smirk matched. He had a few scars littering his face – most were small, but there was one large one that crossed the bridge of his nose, and another nick on the right of his upper lip that may have continued onto his lower, but you didn’t want to get caught staring at his mouth. And of course, of-fucking-course he’d have a dimple. Why wouldn’t he? Could this day get any worse.

“What was the thought process, then?” He asked, his smirk growing deeper.

“What?” You guffawed. He couldn’t seriously be doing this; people didn’t do this, right?

He gestured between the two drinks sat in front of you with his own – a rum and coke if you guessed correctly. “Why those drinks, specifically? They don’t exactly pair well together.”  

You stared dumbly at this hot, audacious man. You hoped he’d decide you weren't worth the breath and move along. He only stared back at you.

“There wasn’t any.”

“Hm?” He queried.

“There wasn’t any. Thought process, I mean.” You muttered, taking a sip of the negroni. “I like both drinks – usually separately, but I’ve been dreaming about getting my ass down here since practically 9:30 this morning and I couldn’t choose which I wanted first and I knew that I planned on getting at least a little bit tipsy in order to pretend I didn’t have a completely mind-fucking day so I thought ‘fuck it, I’ll order both’ and I thought since it was no one’s business but my own what I put into my body that I could get away with it but clearly, I was wrong.” You felt winded after your mini rant as you looked back at the man. He seemed genuinely entertained at your story, though his eyes grew a bit softer.

“Thinking of drinking at 9:30 am, hm?” He pondered out loud. “You know, that’s usually the sign of a problem; one might call it alcoholism.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah, you call it alcoholism, I call it Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“Ah, so boy-problems then, is it?” He asked in a laugh.

You shot him a warning look. “It is not like that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” He offered with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Tell me what it’s like then.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I’m just mad about stuff at school.”

“Ah, you’re a student, then?”

“PhD candidate, but technically, yes.” You offered, downing the rest of the negroni.

“Very neat. What’s your focus?” He asked again as you began sipping on your pint, trying not to grimace at the change in drink. You're sure you failed.

“Music.”

“Hm, I didn’t know one could get a PhD in music.” He queried.

“Music theory, but yeah.” You offered, moving your drink back and forth between your hands.

“And that brought you here? To England? Why not stay in Canada – if that’s where you’re from, pardon my assumption.” He quickly apologized.

You smirked at his correct assumption – thankful that you didn’t come off ‘too American’ today.

“She goes wherever the wind takes her.”

Your statement was met with silence, so you turned to see the man had frozen in his movements and stared at you incredulously.

“Are-are you quoting Disney movies to me?”

“So, you did get the reference.”

“I did, I just fail to see how Pocahontas relates to a PhD program in England on music theory.” He mutters, looking up at you from the rim of his drink.

“I finished my Masters, then the wind changed.” You offered with a shrug, “It brought me here.”

He seemed to study you for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that you weren't going to elaborate further. “And what does this Gabriel fellow have to do with the winds of musical theory?”

You snorted indelicately. “Nothing. He just, I don’t know, it sounds stupid now that I try to say it out loud.”

“None of that, now.” The man said gently with the same smirk on his face, “a smart girl like you doesn’t strike me as the type to overreact to male foolishness.”

He seemed honestly interested in your answer, at least, the most interested anyone has ever seemed in your ramblings about your toe headed fellow PhD’er. You tried facetime’ing your friends from home about him many-a-times before, and they listen but they don't get it. And your schedules don’t align and with the time-difference one of you is always either just waking up or going to bed. But this random, handsome guy in your bar making fun of your drinks has done nothing but listen so far and you really wanted to get it off your chest.

So, you did.

You told him how your morning started terribly as you ripped a hole in your stockings and only noticed once you got to campus and you usually don’t dress this formally to campus, but you were guest lecturing for Minerva and you know professors didn’t technically have a dress code, but she always looked well put together so, dammit, so were you. You explained that your mother always was the superstitious type and had you carry an emergency pair on you at all times, so you were thankfully able to change, but only after you spilled coffee on your blazer and had to shrug that off for the day and the lecture halls are ridiculously cold always; you know these stone buildings were built before electricity but surely with the great minds this school has churned out, they could find a way to keep the warm air in and cold drafts out?

And if all that hadn’t been bad enough, the other PhD candidate working under McGonagall is this absolute bell-end that you're almost positive has plagiarized half of his written work because everything he spews is absolute nonsense. He’s rude, and condescending, and spoke over you throughout all of your lectures to wax poetic about different Opera’s he’s performed in across the world - that you swear to God you will fact-check one of these days - that had absolutely nothing to do with the course content. And then, and then, he had the audacity to suggest you were only here because the school was required to accept a minimum number of foreign students and since you were, quote, just a woman, you also checked off their minority requirements too.

“People don’t get accepted here because of their nationality or their gender or their status as a minority. They’re supposed to get here because they’re good.” You muttered, finishing your pint you hadn’t realized you had guzzled during your rant

“And how’d Gavin get in, then?” He asked. You choked on the last of your beer.

“Fucked if I know.” You sighed.

A few more pints were placed in front of you as you continued to rant about the ins and outs of being a scholar in the world of music [for Christ’s sake, what was I thinking? I’ll never work a day in my life.] The man interrupting only to say that switching back to liquor would be a choice you would regret in the morning, and who were you to argue?

And he listened. He scoffed at some parts when you quoted Gilderoy suggesting something ridiculously altruistic that he’d done for the less fortunate while being nothing but condescending, he sprinkled in a few you’re kidding me’s, and even asked you to repeat something he couldn’t fathom the first time.

“See? I knew it. A smart girl like you wouldn’t overreact like that. Sounds like you’re perfectly justified in your ire.” He said.

You hummed as you finished your last pint. You felt thoroughly warm and heavy which was your intention of coming to the pub in the first place. You looked over to notice that the man – whose name you still hadn’t got – was still holding the same drink he had when you first arrived.

“Who are you here waiting for, then?” You asked him.

He looked confused for a moment. “How do you know I wasn’t just in desperate need of a drink myself?”

You nodded toward his still half-full cup in his hand. “Because you really haven’t been drinking.”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked at you. “Observant, aren’t you? Clever girl.” You rolled your eyes at the compliment.

“I was supposed to meet a business associate, actually.” He offered as he looked behind you towards the bar door. You turned to take in the rest of the bar yourself; it didn’t seem like the sort of place one would meet a business associate. The bar was dimly lit and somewhat claustrophobic; it didn’t offer a lot of privacy to talk business. You liked it because it was small - you’d be able to see everyone who was currently in the building with one sweep of your gaze save those who may be in the washrooms, and you could see out onto the street from your seat at the bar.

“I think it might be safe to say they stood you up.” You offered with a smirk as you turned to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“I think you might be right.” He offered, looking you up and down.

You couldn’t help but admit he was quite attractive – and not just in his honey-blond curls and mischievous smirk and long limbs way, but he seemed clever, smart, and clearly he was a good listener. You sort of hoped he’d offer you his name, maybe even his number. You wouldn’t mind waiting around for a business associate of his with him again sometime.

You had no such luck.

He began to stand with an expression that bordered regret crossing his face.

“It appears I must be off.” He offered with a sad smirk as he placed some bills down on the table. You weren't quite familiar with the bills in the UK yet, but it seemed like an awful lot of money for the one drink he had at the bar that was still unfinished. You took notice of said drink as you came to this conclusion and got a weird feeling in your gut as he took the drink by the rim and brought it to his lips.

“Wait!” You said as you grabbed his arm. He tensed immediately and you pulled your hand away as if it burned. “I’m sorry. Just, is that the same drink you had when I first arrived?”

He looked from the drink back to me with furrowed brows. “Yes, why?”

You pointed to the drink he still held in his hand. “It’s old.”

He smirked. “Are you a drink snob, miss orders-two-incompatable-drinks-together-and-drinks-them-at-the-same-time?” You rolled your eyes and snatched the drink out of his hand as he brought it to his lips once again, which earned you an indignant ‘oi!’

“No, you berk, what I mean is, this drink is old. It’s warm to the touch, the ice has all melted and it should be as flat as a board but it’s bubbling, like, a lot.” You said as you held it in front of his eyes. He watched you for a few moments before you continued.

“It looks like someone put something in it.”

His gaze shot back to his drink where, sure enough, his should-be-flat diet coke was fizzing wildly as it began to turn a slightly murky shade.

You watched as he gently plucked the drink from your hand and casually put it back down on the bar and shrugged on his jacket.

“It appears you’re right.” He said in monotone. “Looks like we both ought to take our leave, hm?”

You nodded and followed suit; replacing your jacket and scarf you had ripped off unceremoniously as you had entered and headed for the door. The alcohol made you wobble for but a moment, but you were quickly righted by a gentle hand pressed to your lower back. Mortified, you put your best foot forward and marched out the door, hoping your embarrassment wasn't to evident in your cheeks.

You had to admit, you were beginning to panic. Why were you trusting this man? You had spent the last – you checked your watch – nearly two hours talking to this man whose name you still don’t know completely unaware of what was happening around you, and it turned out that there was someone here drugging drinks.

What if it’s him? An unhelpful part of your brain supplied. Why would he spike his own drink and then almost drink it? You argued back.

“You should be more careful.” You offered in what you had hoped to be a playful manner, but it came out strained. “Do you know of any reason why someone may want to spike your drink?”

He seemed to consider your question as you both walked somewhat briskly down the busy street to the subway station.

“No reason that would be suitable to share in the presence of a lady, I’m afraid.” He offered with a wink, leaning down slightly with his hands in his pocket. This answer didn’t make you feel any better.

“Any particular reason why you’re familiar with the signs of a spiked drink?” He offered back.

“I have a feeling most girls would be able to answer that.”

“Hm, perhaps. But I do not believe all would be as quick to catch it as you were.”

You didn’t answer him; you decided you had shared more than enough with this stranger tonight, and you were officially feeling all sorts of uncomfortable with the situation. You were mostly uncomfortable with how not uncomfortable you felt. It felt easy, walking with this stranger, as if you’ve been walking down dreary streets of London together for ages and this was just another Tuesday.

He stopped suddenly and flagged a taxi. You scowled at how quickly a cab stopped for him and his long as arms.

“Here, it’s too muggy for such a lady to brave the underground.” He offered as he opened the door. You began to protest, you had a tube pass through school for a reason, but his hand was on your lower back again as he gently led you into the car and closed the door before sticking his head in the window of the front passenger seat and tossing a handful of bills at the driver.

“Anywhere she wants to go.” He said, stepping back to the middle of the sidewalk and waving you off.

Between the alcohol, your nerves and being disarmed by the attractiveness of this man, you simply spouted the address of your flat to the driver and turned your face forward. The whole evening seemed otherworldly – like you were missing a big chunk of information of what happened tonight, even though you could account for every minute of it.

Your suspicions would have been proven correct if you had turned around to see your mystery man again, who was now accompanied by two other similarly dressed men - one with an unruly mop of brown curls and a shorter man with long black hair tied back haphazardly - who began chasing a fourth man in earnest down the street in the opposite direction.

Continue to part two here.

[doudouma]

can you do nakime x amab reader headcanons where reader has invisibility as a his demon blood art. and reader and nakime like to play a game to pass the time where she has to guess where reader is? I thought this would be cute lol. especially if you wrote it

“you’re invisible, but visible to my heart”

m!reader and nakime playing together to pass time!

_______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

nakime, the all-knowing infinity castle owner, has to guess where m!reader, with the bda of invisibility, is located! which team wins〜？

there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

reader is male.❀ 〜

a/n : i believe it’s canon that nakime knows where everyone is in the castle, thats her blood demon art after all〜 but for the sake of this, lets say that your BDA hides your presence too♡

this idea really is cute! I’m happy i got a male reader request, especially with nakime! she’s quite underrated. and thank you for your kind compliment! fluff is something i enjoy writing♡

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

oh, just how adorable this is♡?

another long day at the beautiful fortress with nobody around, nobody doing anything.

the only thing going on is a few uppermoons that pass by every once in a while.

the only two sticking around, really, is you and nakime (of course)!

nakime doesn’t talk unless she’s spoken to, so you two aren’t speaking much. but definitely, she’s watching you in adoration♡

shortly later, you ask her if she wants to play you two’s favorite pass-time game!

she almost instantly responds, like she was waiting for you to ask her〜

“yes, i would love to, m/n. today is quite slow moving, i enjoy passing time like this.”

don’t forget that it’s been shown in the anime that they can talk quite normal and hear each other just fine〜

with that being said, nakime talks in a softer and quieter tone, only for you to hear her♡

but just with that, you smile and her and stand up, and activate your blood demon art of invisibility.

with the endless amount of time and patience you two have, the game is on!

nakime knows she can teleport people with her biwa. so to keep the game more fun, she describes the spot you’re in, instead!

if she wins, you turn off your BDA.

she starts off by guessing your favorite spots, and spots you’re most commonly seen in.

when you don’t appear or say a word, that’s how she knows she has guessed incorrectly.

she even guessed the special spot that she made just for the two of you, and only you and her having access to it!

what do you mean you’re not there this time?

she’s puzzled, but quite patient〜

to switch things up this time, you decided to keep changing your spot! poor nakime

“m/n, are you located in the special space?”

“are you near the smallest lantern in the castle, dear?”

“maybe you’re in the vicinity of akaza’s domain, sweetheart?”

nothing, nothing, and nothing again! where are you, invisible boy〜?

eventually, you make your way closer to her, just to hear her voice closer to your heart♡

you end up going back into your hiding, incase she says “are you in front of me?” hehe

on your way back, you find another spot, but this time it’s kind of out in the open.

you sit down, just smiling at your beloved nakime♡…

when just then… wait, huh? you sense another presence about to turn on the corner you’re hiding on?!

daki is trying to make her way past! but she obviously cannot see you, and ends up stumbling over you!

out of shock, she exclaims,

“dude, what on earth are you doing?! you almost made me fall! move it!!” (storms off)

nakime, the know-all-see-all, of the infinity castle, clearly witnessed that whole situation.

quickly, you change your location before nakime claims her victory!

when she calls out to your spot, it’s only followed by silence. speedy demon, you are!

(silly enough, from nakime’s perspective, she could just see it as daki being in on your silly antics, or daki just going insane.)

you sit somewhere else, this time being more thoughtful about demons using it as a travel way.

she starts to get creative with her answers! however, she’s not hitting the hammer on the nail〜…

a few more guesses goes on, until nakime falls silent, just smiling?

have you won?

did nakime give up?

or does she want to switch things up, too?

no one said that couldn’t use her biwa! she just always chose to not use it!

she would let out a little laugh, a laugh that sparks a light into you, but also confuses you.

after long hours of you two playing, and with you changing your spot frequently, she decides you strum you right into her lap!

she has defeated you with the power of her heart.. finally wanting to see her lover again♡!

now you have to turn off your blood demon art, because she found you her own way〜

she places a hand on your face, with a simple sentence,

“my m/n, i have found you♡”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

my, my! i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope it’s good for my first time writing for biwa-lady〜 i truly do enjoy the creativity you all come up with! thank you for your patience and continuous support, my precious flowers❀ 〜

[whencyclopedia]

Eyewitness Accounts of the London Blitz

The London Blitz (September 1940 to May 1941) was a sustained bombing campaign by the German Air Force during the Second World War (1939-45). Londoners were subjected to nightly bombings that killed thousands, destroyed homes, and necessitated long and uncomfortable nights spent in air raid shelters. This article tells the story of the Blitz through the eyes of those who experienced it firsthand.

After the fall of France in the early summer of 1940, the German Air Force (Luftwaffe) set itself the task of destroying the British Royal Air Force (RAF) both in the air and on the ground, a necessary prelude to an invasion. However, as the RAF began to win the Battle of Britain and so maintain air superiority, the Luftwaffe switched objectives to the bombing of cities, particularly London, in the hope of destroying civilian morale. Colonel Adolf Galand of Luftwaffe Jagdgruppe 26 explains this switch:

We didn't know at the time why he changed to London: we had only to obey orders. I believe today that Hitler and Göring wanted to make use of their advantage of having the capital of the enemy in the range of their fighters which could therefore escort the bombers. On the other side Berlin was far out of the effective range of the RAF at this time...Nobody knew at the time how much was needed to destroy a great part of the town. Perhaps Hitler and Göring hoped that they would force England to negotiate after these attacks.

(Holmes, 138)

Peter Stahl, a crew member of a Junkers Ju 88, noted in his diary his experience of bombing London in one of the first raids in early September 1940:

It must be terrible down there. We can see many conflagrations caused by previous bombing raids. The effect of our own attack is an enormous cloud of smoke and dust that shoots up into the sky like a broad moving strip.

(Holland, 731)

On the ground, F. W. Hurd, a member of the Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS), describes the sound of a bomb dropping close to him when fighting a fire in a London gasworks:

Guns started firing, and then I had my first experience of a bomb explosion. A weird whistling sound and I ducked behind the pump with the other two members of the crew. The others, scattered as we were, had thrown themselves down wherever they happened to be. Then a vivid flash of flame, a column of earth and debris flying into the air and the ground heaved. I was thrown violently against the side of the appliance…what a sight. About a mile to our right was the river front. The whole horizon on that side was a sheet of flame. The entire docks were on fire! On all other sides it was much the same. Fire everywhere. The sky was a vivid orange glow…And all the time the whole area was being mercilessly bombed. The road shuddered with explosions. AA shells were bursting overhead…The shrapnel literally rained down. It was now about midnight and still the racket kept on. It surprised me how quickly one got used to sensing whether a bomb was coming our way or not.

(Gardiner, 15-16)

Bombs landed on all sorts of places, but it was local landmarks being destroyed that often shocked the most, as explained by Anthony Heap, a local government official:

I heard that Tussaud's cinema caught a packet last night. So as soon as the All Clear went at 6.25 I dashed along to see. And by gosh it had too. Only the front of it in Marylebone Road and the proscenium was left standing. The rest was completely demolished as were some buildings behind it as well…not a single window in any building in the vicinity remained intact. Huge crowds thronged along the Marylebone Road to see the ruins. It was one of the sights of London today.

(Gardiner, 44)

Londoners went on with their daily lives as best they could, as explained here by Phyllis Warner:

One of the oddest things about our everyday life is its a mixture of ruthless horror and every-day routine. I pick my way to work past the bomb craters and the shattered glass, and sit at my desk in a room with a large hole in the roof (a block of paving stone came through). Next to a house reduced to matchwood, housewives are giving prosaic orders to the baker and the milkman. Of course, ordinary life must go on, but the effect is fantastic. Nobody seems to mind the day raids. It is the nights which are like a continuous nightmare, from which there is no merciful awakening. Yet people won't move away. I know that I'm a fool to go on sleeping in Central London which gets plastered every night, but I feel that if others can stand it, so can I.

(Gardiner, 48)

Sometimes people had no time to seek shelter, as told here by an anonymous East Ender:

The day I was hit was October 13th, 1940. About ten to eight I said to my wife and my in-laws, 'Well, I'll be off now,' and I just walked out the door. Lovely, big three-floor houses they were and I just walked up the approach road about twenty yards from the church which was our air-raid post and suddenly there was – shh – nothing. I heard nothing and I fell flat on my face. I picked myself up, I turned around and all I could see was just a grey curtain hanging down the middle of the road, about twice as wide as this pub. It was just a brownish-grey curtain hanging there and I thought, My God, something's happened. So I staggered down to the post and I said to the post warden, 'Jim, I think something's happened up at the Prince of Wales.' When we went up there and when I saw it I said, 'Christ almighty, the family's down there!' And there it was – we were there, about fourteen of us all on this big row of houses, and it was just one bloody great hole.

(Holmes, 140-1)

The authorities took some months to build communal shelters and then make sure they were not themselves unhealthy death traps. Barbara Nixon, an Air Raid Precaution (ARP) volunteer, describes the poor state of shelters in her district in Finsbury:

They were poorly ventilated, and only two out of nine that came in my province could pretend to be dry. Some leaked through the roof and umbrellas had to be used; in others the mouth of the sump-hole near the door had been made higher than the floor, and on a rainy night it invariably overflowed to a depth of two inches at one end decreasing to a quarter of an inch at the other, and rheumaticky old ladies had to sit upright on their benches for six to twelve hours on end, with their feet propped up on a couple of bricks. four or five times during the night we used to go round with a saucepan and bucket baling out the stinking water…There were chemical closets usually partially screened off by a canvas curtain. But even so, the supervision of the cleaning of these was not adequate. Sometimes they would be left untended for days on end and would overflow on to the floor…Then there was the question of lights…We had one hurricane lamp for about fifty people…The one paraffin light was the only heating that there was in those days. It was bitterly cold that winter.

(Gardiner, 62)

A shelter was not a guarantee of safety. Margaret Turpin recalls the night her shelter was hit by a bomb when she and her family found themselves buried in rubble:

I must have had lots of periods of unconsciousness…I remember seeing an ARP helmet, and it was way, way up, a long way away. And then suddenly it was quite near. I do remember the man saying to me, 'We'll soon have you out.' He said, 'All we've got to do is get your arm out.' And I looked at this arm that was sticking out of the debris, and I said, 'That's not my arm,' and he said, 'Yes it is love, it's got the same coat'…and I don't remember coming out of the shelter. I do remember being in the ambulance, and I think for me that was probably the worst part…I felt somebody's blood was dripping on me from above, and I found that awful - mainly I think because I didn't know whose blood it was, whether it was someone I knew and loved or not. And I tried to move my head, but of course it was a narrow space and I couldn't get my head away from the blood. And I heard a long time afterwards that the man was already dead. But it couldn't have been my father because he was taken out of the shelter and he didn't die till two days later…He died, my mother died, my baby sister died, my younger sister died. I had two aunts and they died, an uncle died…I knew almost immediately because when I came home from hospital…there were milk bottles outside and I just knew then that nobody had come home to take them in…The seven were all buried on the same day. My brother said that they put Union Jacks on the coffins…They sent me to Harefield…But unfortunately the people at Harefield could see the raids on London, and they used to come out to watch, to view it like a spectacle, and I couldn't stand that.

(Gardiner, 64-5)

The stations of the London Underground were a popular refuge, with people sleeping on the platforms in rows. A journalist describes the scene in the Elephant and Castle station:

From the platforms to the entrance the whole station was one incumbent mass of humanity…most of this mass of sleeping humanity slept as though they were between silken sheets. On the platform when the train came in, it had to be stopped in the tunnel while police and porters went along pushing in the feet and arms which overhung the line. The sleepers hardly stirred as the train rumbled slowly in. On the train I sat opposite a pilot on leave. 'It's the same all the way along,' was all he said.

(Gardiner, 84)

Some families preferred to stay near their homes, and so they erected an Anderson shelter in their garden. Made of sheet metal and packed around with soil, they could resist close calls and flying debris but not, of course, a direct hit. A London air raid warden, Mr Butler describes one tragedy where the Anderson shelter survived but not the occupant:

There was an Anderson shelter and apparently there was a little girl inside. Her parents had gone round the corner to visit their friends or relations or something and the shelter was more or less caved in and covered with soil. I got down into the shelter and there was this little girl about fifteen or sixteen and her mouth was full of soil. Naturally, I got hold of her hand, which is our job to console these people and try to quieten them down. She was in a pretty bad state and I cleaned her mouth out; she laid back and as she was catching her breath, sort of breathing heavily, some stupid devil walked over the top of the shelter, soil came down and went back in this girl's throat and as she squeezed my hand like that she just faded out. Now I had the feel of that girl clenching my hand for weeks and weeks and weeks. I could never forget it and I don't forget it now.

(Holmes, 144)

One family that stayed at home was the Royal Family, who earned much respect for remaining at Buckingham Palace. When the palace was slightly damaged on 13 September 1940, Queen Elizabeth was not too distressed:

I'm glad we've been bombed. Now I feel we can look the East End in the face.

(Ziegler, 121)

The government was keen to keep tabs on people down in the shelters and find out if any social unrest could be bubbling under the surface. There was a Mass-Observation unit that sent out secret observers who then compiled reports on the public's behaviour. Mostly there ended up next to nothing to report beyond rumours as to what some couples were getting up to in the darker corners or the existence of a black market in getting the best positions to sleep in. One mundane report is typical, the highlight being a little aggravation between understandably stressed family members:

First was a girl, shouting and screaming at her mother. In the end they were separated by force, and led away from each other, struggling and screaming. The other case was of a man and his wife. The wife wanted him to sit down, the husband wanted to walk about. She became very excited, and a crowd of 'rubberers' formed round them. She bit his ear and tore out his hair. He smacked her face and threw her to the ground.

(Levine, 88).

The number of homeless kept on rising, and the need to look after them inspired such organisations as the Women's Voluntary Service (WVS), as here remembered by an anonymous East Ender:

A big morale booster was the Women's Voluntary Service – the WVS…When the Blitz started they certainly proved their worth. They went out with mobile canteens right in the middle of the Blitz; the following day they had their clothing centres open. People who had lost everything were fitted up with clothes and then taken along by the WVS and be given a cup of tea and a bun, then taken along to the assistance people who doled them out £10 or £20, whatever the size of the family was.

(Holmes, 142)

Tragedies were everywhere as people lost much more than their property. Frances Faviell, a Red Cross nurse in London recalls one woman's grief:

There was a little woman from Dovehouse Street sitting on a bench…Dovehouse Street had had a parachute mine on it and the Chelsea Hospital for Women had dealt with many casualties. Suddenly her control gave way and she began screaming in a frenzy of grief…'He's gone…He's gone and I'm all alone and no home, nothing. No one wants me…Why didn't I go with him, it's cruel, it's cruel, cruel. Why? Why?' Her anguish was terrible.

In the appalled silence with which officialdom treats such outbursts – almost as if she had said or done something obscene – a sleek, well-dressed clergyman…told her sternly to desist – that what had happened was God's will and that she must accept it and thank Him for her own deliverance from death. She looked at him in dazed misery as if he spoke a foreign language and began screaming even more wildly. 'God! There's no God! There's only Hitler and the Devil'

(Gardiner, 317)

A spirit of defiance drove people on, as evidenced by this anecdote from Anthony Eden, then Foreign Secretary, who was with Wendell Wilkie, the US politician sent to determine the mood of Britain during the Blitz:

We were coming out of the Foreign Office and his leadership. But immense credit is also due to the British people, because it was their victory.

(Holmes, 147).

The 'Blitz spirit', the pulling together of strangers from different levels of society to defiantly resist the terrors of the bombing, was, for many, the defining experience of those dark days of 1940 and 1941. Much has been made in recent times of a 'myth' of the Blitz with undue emphasis given to rare incidents of social unrest, looting, and prejudices against perceived outsiders. The vast majority of eyewitnesses speak of people simply getting on with their lives as best they could in terrible circumstances. Another recurring theme in witness accounts is that people had an all too clear sensation that they were playing a role in a drama that would have consequences for the future of Europe. As Caryl Brahms noted in her diary in December 1940:

These are the days to be alive in. These days now. They are hard, unhappy, lonely, wasted, infuriating, terrifying, heartbreaking days. But they are history. And in them we are a part of history. We are lucky to be living now.

(Levine, 313)

Continue reading...

[shini--chan]

Can i request for general yandere hcs for the baltic trio (seperate)?

Ravis is first, the other two Baltics will follow in due time.

Yandere Charater Sheet I

1p! Latvia: Raivis Galante

Characters adjusted to the reader's age. Here I am, wondering how I managed to turn Latvia into a complete nutcase. 

Trigger warnings: Kidnapping, stalking, inappropriate touching, theft, voyeurism, restraining, subduing, human experimentation, murder

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

Raivis, is for all intents and purposes, shameless when it comes to the activities surrounding his pursuit and "relationship" with you. The notion of stalking you, stealing little "trophies" from you, taking pictures of you while in public or in private - he doesn't feel a sliver of guilt. The factors preventing him from being completely insolent around you is that if other people caught on to his behaviour, then they would do their best to stop him. Furthermore, he wants you running towards him and throwing yourself in his arms, not running away from him. If anything, he hates it when his actions have negative consequences, even if he technically did nothing wrong. 

On the flip side, he is desperate to have you, and that is something that curtails his behaviour. Latvia so dearly wants to impress you, to have you in awe of his skills. Everytime you enter the room or his vicinity, he perks up like a puppy that wants to play. In a way, he even acts the part - when he does get the chance to be with you, he is enthusiastic, stumbling over his words and gesturing a bit too wildly with his hands. He'll become your shadow for the evening, or just the day, opening doors for you or pulling out your chair. He'll use these small chores as excuses to get very close to you - hands lingering a bit too long when he takes your jacket, his nose almost in your hair when he stands behind you in the bus. 

Added on is that he has been withdrawn for so long, and with his exuberance in approaching you, that he doesn't know how to handle the situation correctly. He is awkward in many ways, even more so during your time together. However, he is somewhat conscious of it and will make it clear that the things he does wrong are not due to malicious intent and are genuine mistakes. This way, he hopes to encourage you to dismiss his yandere tendencies. 

Because he is self-conscious and aware enough to know that what he is doing isn't right, that a healthy relationship doesn't consist of him dogging your every step, or interrogating every person you spend more than five minutes with. However, if there aren't any negative consequences then he can't bring himself to care. He just wants somebody to dote on him and in turn to be cherished by him. Surely there is nothing wrong about that, even if it means infringing on your personal freedoms? Besides, rights are only as strong as those willing to enforce them, and if nobody comes to your rescue, then surely there is no problem. 

Immaturity is another mark of him, but not in the way you would expect. It manifests in that he strives to ignore problems as much as possible, i.e. if there are negative consequences to his actions that can be ignored, he'll readily sweep them under the rug. Likewise, if he can shove responsibility of some atrocity onto somebody else, it will be done without a second thought. In his mind, the reason you don't accept him is that others filled your head with fluff. He is not at fault that you find him reprehensible, oh no sir. 

Cornering - How would they get you?

This is where he can be spectacularly impulsive. Mayhaps he is fretting over how to approach you, how to win over your heart, when he spontaneously decides to throw it all in the wind and nab you. It could be during a field trip - the two of you out on a lake on a sailing boat, just having finished lunch. You're just lying on deck, sated and sleepy. Would this just be the perfect time to tie you up, dock and then squirrel you away to his house? 

Or he offers you a ride home from an event that you both are attending, and decides to take you to his house. If you protest when he pulls into the garage, he'll feign being a cheesy romantic and that he understood his place when you told him to drive you home. 

The matter is, Raivis is very intelligent, but he still sucks when it comes to planning a complex sequence of events, especially when some of the variables are unknown. Chess is foreseeable since it is a lot about developed tactics and countertactics, where the properties of all pieces are known and everything is visible. Real life is not so accommodating and thus he struggles. Thus, he has a vague idea as to how to win your heart, but as to how the chips should fall so that he gets his happily ever after, he is clueless. 

So he decides to just go for the kill. Part of this is also to blame on the fact that his idea of romance comes from tragic romance books, where the love interest slips through the fingers of the protagonist due to lack of action. 

You wind up in his humble abode, and he has no idea what to do with you. Installing child safety everywhere seems like a good first step. If you don't watch out, you might wind up tied to a bed. All in all, how well you are treated depends on how well you take the sudden change in your living situation. Should you accept it with grace, then you'll be able to trick yourself into thinking it is a normal relationship, with one eye closed that is. Should you might back, tranquillisers and chains it is. 

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

He wants you to me feminine. Not girly, don't be mistaken, rather imbued with grace and kindness. Lavia wants somebody tender to spend his time with after enduring the stresses of the day. A bit like those old aristocratic ladies, with impeccable manners, a good sense of fashion and a stern demeanour. Though, please don't look down on him. 

That is partially where the desire for a more down to earth persona comes in. Somebody that doesn't hesitate to roll up their sleeves and get to work, no matter how long the hours and tough the task is. Somebody with whom he can build a home. A partner with a matronly side here is ideal, that isn't too stuck up to laugh and enjoy life, nor withers away when the going gets tough. 

It is then up to you to stick a balance here. Ravis is very much a dreamer, and can often get carried away with them. On top of that, he often tries to superimpose his dreams on reality and then becomes either upset or anxious when they don't match. Here, you'll have to be good with words, good at dragging him out of his slump while not encouraging his daydreaming tendencies to an unhealthy extent. Additionally, have good communication skills. He is so afraid of you leaving him, but doesn't see how the fault for that could rest on his shoulders, instead it would be all your doing. In the long-term, you'll have to learn how to communicate with him without setting him off. 

Also, rely on him. Let him feel smart and strong, worthy of your time. If you don't, then it isn't him that is wrong, but you. You are the evil being trying to undermine his self-esteem and make him doubt himself. How can you reject all his hard work, you ungrateful ignat? Here you would be dealing with a volatile young man. Be careful what you say to him or else you'll put yourself in danger. Be grateful for his affections and attention, even if it should come in the form of a severed head in a cardboard box on your doorstep. 

On top of that, you'll have to have a lot of metal resilience. Look, he isn't the sort that doesn't know how to comfort people, or bring somebody down from an anxiety attack, but he doesn't expect to have to carry you through life because you can't function in day-to-day life. And if you are catatonic? Then you'll find yourself without company, not even his. He wouldn't provide the most psychologically healthy environment to begin with, and it not something he'll ever fully, consciously acknowledge. In that way, you'll have to put up with his daily antics without tearing your hair out. 

Intelligence is also important to him. Mind you, you don't have to be a complete genius - that would just intimidate him and the leash he'd have on you would become even shorter. What he desires, is somebody that can understand him, especially when he starts rambling about his interests and hobbies. And understands not to fidget too much when the chains are brought out. 

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

If you would become catatonic, then he would toss you aside without a second thought. Being a walking corpse, you just wouldn't be the person whom he became obsessed with. Since you wouldn't have any value to him as an empty doll, he would get rid of you fast. Murder wouldn't be an option, not for old times sake at least, so he would just drop you off at the side of the road and call it a day. He would be a bit worried about you, but would ultimately decide that he would do you no good by fretting over you. With you out of sight and having no more importance to him, he'll manage to move on.

The other way would be if you are much more powerful than him in your own right, or if you have somebody protecting you from him. Even if it is just Poland that is your partner, he would hesitate to make you his. So it might just as well be that he'll be restricted to pinning for you from afar. Over time, he could just as well fall for somebody else, or force himself to not think. With enough distraction and enough time, the memory of you will fade.

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

Oh, this can be scary. You see, this young man doesn't really know when to stop and often goes too far due to his skewed perception of reality. Don't worry though, he isn't for public humiliation, usually. What can he do if unsavoury rumours about you suddenly start circulating. Bad things happen, and sometimes people get bored and make stuff up to pass the time. It isn't his fault in any way. If it pushes you closer to him, then he won't complain. 

Other than that, he would want to illustrate to you how generous and gracious he is being with you. How about going a few days without heating. How about without food? No clothing? No water? No electricity? It would be like a science experiment to him where he can play around with the parameters to produce different outcomes. Ravis isn't above writing a report about it and then presenting his findings to you, also thanking you for your "willing participation". 

Another way he would punish you would be by granting your wish to stop interfering with your life. He’d let you run the show, cook and clean and read whatever, whenever you want. But he would be there the whole time, eyes tracing your every movement, listening to your every word. He would never interfere, just watch the whole time. With him having all the keys, you wouldn’t even have privacy while sitting on the toilet - he would just be standing there, watching you. This would also be one of those scenarios where he wouldn’t say anything for days. Ravis would do his best to not outwardly react to anything you say or do, and only end the whole affair when he deems you ready. This could be after a few hours, or after a month or two. 

There is also a game plan if you resort to violent action - breaking bones. If he shatters the bones in your fingers, then you'll be dependent on him for and during your recovery. Also, you won't be able to attack or escape. Actions have consequences, and this would be the consequence of you being mean and hurtful to him. Surely that will teach you a lesson. On top of that, your hands will never be the same again. Future attacks will have no chance of being smooth and lightning quick. 

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

This would be where he'd get very impulsive. You see, you are like an opiod that soothes and dulls the pain. Having you suddenly disappear into thin air would be a shock in more ways than one. Latvia would become frantic, running all around your shared living space, ripping open closets and peeking behind wardrobes, because surely you are just hiding from him, right? Right? 

There is a chance that he'll be the one to catch, not eating or sleeping until he has you back in his grasp. Should you meet him in this state, don't expect him to be reasonable or merciful - he'll be too frenzied for either of those. Best come along quietly and don't draw it out for longer than need be. That would just make him more irate and prone to injuring you and bystanders. 

It could just as well be that you aren't captured by him, but by agents or mercenaries employed by the Latvian government. They might not have a lot of power or influence, but they still need a functioning nation. The best way to ensure that is to drag you back to captivity.

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO?

This would only work if you can convince him that you are acting in his best interests. Maybe he is a patient and you have to play nurse for him, taking his health in your hands and handling it expertly. Maybe you earn more than he does, and thus make the big purchases, like buying a house, a car and whatnot. Then he can be relatively at ease with the whole dynamic. Control ultimately rests with him though, and at the end of the day, you have to accept him in your life. 

When that isn't the case, that is when matters turn ugly. Due to nearly always being under foreign control means that Ravis has garnered a lot of negative experiences of what happens when he gives up control. He reacts allergic to situations and dynamics where he doesn't have any control and doesn't go in his favour. So you can expect manipulations, pot shots, and waking up in the night to find that he is smothering you with a pillow. All of this wouldn't be to kill you. No, it would just be to make you hand back the reins to him. 

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition?

Ravis would know that he is a small country with little to his name. Little to offer, and even less means by which he can threaten. All in all if another country or a powerful person takes interest in you, there is little he can do about it. What he can do is gather allies or also use somebody else's interests to his own ends. There are border issues, economic disputes, intelligence problems and so much more that rise and subside in international relationships. He just has to make sure goals align and with a little grease on the wheels, he is good to go. 

Perhaps the near neighbour is in desperate need of a colour revolution. Or should it rather be a plain political crisis. With some well placed words and offers, he could end up pointing a benefactor at his enemy like a howitzer. Once the wolves are done tearing at each other's throats, he'll be sifting through the rubble to take his own spoils. If one of those spoils is you, then that is just his luck, isn't it?

In the case we are talking about a regular mortal, then matters are simpler - they go missing. If they end up as pig food or as "goods" on the black market really depends on his mood. 

[loosingmoreletters]

Summary: Jin Ling has never met Lan Sizhui. On Dafan mountain, confronted with a statue they can't defeat on their own, he learns why.

Jin Ling has known all his life that he would one day lead a sect. Nowadays, he knows there was a time when it wasn’t certain which sect it would be, if he might have been presented as the Jiang Heir under the guise of while his cousin would have inherited the Jin Sect. But Jin Rusong is dead, which leaves Jin Ling with his father’s sect and too many cousins and sect heirs to talk to. He’s been exposed to the children of most famous cultivators, their parents hoping to make some connection.

The only one he’s never met is Lan Sizhui, which stands at odds with how close their families are. Their uncles are sworn brothers, it is obvious they should’ve met, but Lan Wangji keeps his son by his side and far away from politics.

If they weren’t running from a cursed statue hellbent on killing them all, Jin Ling would probably be expected to make introductions, but he has trouble keeping even far away from it to make an attack.

“Sizhui!” a loud Lan boy shouts, panic carved into his very heart. “Sizhui, get away! You’re not supposed to fight something like that!”

Supposed to, Jin Ling notes while he tries to pretend he isn’t shaking in fear. He said supposed to, not can’t.

Lan Sizhui smiles in a manner Jin Ling would categorize as apologetic, then he straightens his back and walks into the path of the attacking statue.

“Sizhui!” the Lan boy cries just as the statue’s arm pulls back to strike Lan Sizhui down.

Jin Ling can’t do anything but watch as her hand approaches, ready to squeeze the other teenager to death. He waits for the impact with fear in his gut, eyes open wide even though he wants to tear away from the sight of destruction.

It’ll be over in a moment, Jin Ling thinks hysterically. She’ll just kill him, and nobody’s moving to protect him. There’s not a single adult around, if jiujiu were just here—

The statue towers above Lan Sizhui and just when the impact should come, an unholy scream leaves her and resentful energy explodes around Lan Sizhui. The resentment forces Jin Ling and every other cultivator in vicinity to the ground as it spreads and spills, ripping into the statue like a pack of feral dogs.

Jin Ling struggles to keep his eyes open at the brutality. Even though a stone statue isn’t made of flesh, he can still see her bleed as the resentful energy feeds on her.

And right in the middle of that assault stands Lan Sizhui, not a single injury dealt to him.

He has to be in control of the resentful energy, but the thought alone seems ridiculous enough to startle Jin Ling into a breathy laugh. The righteous Gusu Lan wouldn’t tolerate a demonic cultivator in their midst, and yet while disturbed, none of the Lan cultivators in attendance seem surprised.

Eventually, the statue’s body stops twitching and the resentful energy returns to Lan Sizhui’s side, dark smoke twirling around him in an almost playful manner. How can Lan Sizhui stand it without throwing up? How did Jin Ling not sense it before?

“Jin Ling!”

Turning his head feels like a task as tiresome as running the steps at Koi Tower up and down, but he manages just in time for Jiang Cheng to arrive at his side and kneel down next to him.

“Jin Ling, what happened?” Jiang Cheng asks, but Jin Ling has no answer for him. How is he meant to explain that Gusu Lan has been harboring a demonic cultivator?

But his uncle is a Sect Leader, and he’s the strongest person Jin Ling knows. If anyone can deal with this, then it must be him. He’s been protecting Jin Ling for as long as he’s been alive.

The resentful energy around Lan Sizhui doesn’t seem to disappear. From a distance, Jin Ling can’t tell perfectly, but it almost seems like it’s not putting any strain on Lan Sizhui either. If anything, he appears to brighten as the energy tightens around him and wraps him up like an odd approximation of a hug. The limbs are too long, and the skin is as pale as a ghost’s. It can’t be human what steps out of the twilight there with its hair hanging in dark ribbons, dragging over the floor like rivers through Yunmeng, but it has a mouth that’s far too wide, turned up in a mockery of a smile.

And then a high pitch hum leaves its throat.

“A-Yuan,” it croons. “A-Yuan, my A-Yuan.”

It comes out like a song that sends shivers down his spine. Jin Ling thinks of the spirits of mothers who lost their children. They always linger, and they sing to him just as sweetly.

The clearing is dead silent; not even the forest around them dares to speak, thus making Lan Sizhui’s words echo all the louder.

“Hello, Xian-gege,” Lan Sizhui greets and leans into the monster’s touch. “Thank you for protecting me.”

It purrs in delight and wraps even more of itself around Lan Sizhui, who embraces it just the same.

“Always protect my A-Yuan,” the monster promises. “Always and always and always.”

And then it turns its head to stare at the cultivators surrounding them and Lan Sizhui’s robes wrinkle beneath the monster’s grip tightening. “Are they hurting my A-Yuan? They can’t hurt you, I won’t let them, I won’t tolerate it.”

“No, Xian-gege,” Lan Sizhui is quick to reassure, his voice only now strained. “I am fine. You kept me safe, right?”

“Yes,” says the monster, but it doesn’t look away. “I keep my A-Yuan safe. Nobody will hurt you, I won’t—”

The monster interrupts itself with a snarl and sends another wave of resentful energy, striking a Lan holding a talisman paper. “No!”

“Lan Sizhui!” another one of his sect members shouts as the monster grows more agitated. “Control it!”

There is no controlling monsters like that, don’t they know better? They can only be destroyed and Gusu Lan obviously failed to do that. Why was Lan Sizhui even allowed to leave Cloud Recesses if his presence contained such a spirit?

“Xian-gege,” Lan Sizhui says as he holds onto the beast as if he had any ability to stop it, “Xian-gege, you have to stop. They’re not harming me.”

“They will!” the monster screeches. “They always lie! Nobody will hurt you, I will make sure, I promise, I promise, my A-Yuan, nothing will ever hurt you again.”

“I know,” Lan Sizhui insists. “Xian-gege, I know, but you have to stop, remember? You promised to stop.”

At that, the monster cocks its head, bright red eyes narrowing as if in thought. “I promised?”

“Yes,” Lan Sizhui says. “To me, to Rich-gege.”

And then, suddenly, all at once, the resentful energy subsides. “I promised,” the monster says quietly. “I promised Lan Zhan?”

“Yes,” Lan Sizhui says. “You promised.”

The monster lingers a moment longer, then it wraps around Lan Sizhui so tightly that Jin Ling thinks it might just kill him before it vanishes and Lan Sizhui drops to his knees, breathing heavily.

“Sizhui!” the loud Lan boy from before shouts and runs to his friend’s side, stopping only a few meters short of him, hesitating.

“It’s alright, Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui replies. “Xian-gege won’t attack you.”

And that’s apparently all Lan Jingyi needs to know before he embraces his friend just as tightly as the dark beast before. The stark difference between the two images is enough that Jin almost wonders if the last minutes weren’t just a nightmare he’d got caught in. But his uncle’s hand is still on his shoulder and pulls him to his feet before Zidian comes to life.

The latter does not go unnoticed by the Lans either.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Sizhui says quickly. “Please don’t attack. Xian-gege won’t take lightly to it.”

“Xian-gege,” Jiang Cheng echoes. Jin Ling has never heard his uncle speak with such disbelief and horror in his voice. “Tell me, how long have the Lan been sheltering you and Wei Wuxian, Wen Yuan!?”

[cats-and-fiction]

Demise and Ascension

Human Quaritch x Human Reader

Part 1

Part 2 (You are here)

Weeks gone by and each nicht you had thrown yourself from side to the other and couldn‘t sleep. You had tried to go out of Quaeitchs way but he seemed to have a habit of existing right in your vicinity. Always an eye on you and if you catched him looking a smirk on his lips.

It drove you crazy. For one because he hindered your work which you personally really wanted to do. You loved Pandora the first time you had set foot on the planet and knew immidiatly that you wanted to protect. Hard to do if there is a man who doesn‘t want you to do that. Multiple in fact but one in particular seemed to set foot in desrupting your work in every possible way. And driving you crazy with just existing. Despite that you felt something. As stupid as it sounds you enjoyed your little quarrels and you two even managed to have normal conversations. Despite wanting to make a profit of this planet while destructing it at the same time he was just a guy. A guy you liked. A lot. For some reason.

Grace and Norm often told you to not fold that easily. That you should stand up for what you are here and that it‘s important you are here. With thag you balled your fists as you laid on your back and stared up on the dark ceiling. Tomorrow you‘re gonna end this madness and show them who you are. That they better listen to your demands or else they can forget their funding for this whole bullshit.

The next day you had stood up early, taken a shower and put on your most comfortable clothes. With confidence you stepped out of your room and onto the hallway. For a few minutes you wandererd the corridors which slowlsy started to fill with life. Scientists, soldiers and what not. You didn‘t need to search for long and the voice of Quaritch came from a nearby hallway. Rounding the corner there he was. Standing with two of his men, looking at a notepad and probably giving them some orders. Confidence not wavering one second you stepped up to them with squared shoulderes and your serious face on. Despite your thought though the way up to Quaritch was shorter than expected and slowly nervousness crept up your back. Maybe this was a stupid idea?

Quaritch noticed you as he didn‘t stand with his back to you like the other two did. He had slight smile on his lips and with a handmotion send the two soldiers away. They looked at each other and new what was happening. They quickly took their legs and disappeared. The corridor was empty and from afar voices and steps could be heared but nothing seemed to come your way. Now you stood there in front of Quaritch, tall as you could make yourself but still not reaching eye level. He on the other hand looked amused and just waited. Like a predator for his prey to do something stupid.

„I want you to let you know that I‘m no longer withdraw because you decided to be an asshole towards me and blatantly manipulate me with fear. This operation will now go as my superiors want it to go and I will not tolerate anything anymore“, the whole night you had put together some words and sentences and this was the best you could come up with. Your voice sounded firm but while speaking you noticed how…he didn‘t care. He looked at you, yes, but he didn‘t listen to you. His arms were crossed and his amused look was all the answer you got. For now.

„Please, L/N. You know if those big suites wanted to go this ‚humane‘ they would have made sure it happens. Instead they send you, a small nobody who probably just was an intern until before they sat you into that ship and brought you here.“, he stepped closer, trapping you between his tall figure and the wall. „I don‘t care about those blue freaks just like anybody else does. You better go somewhere else and look pretty, thats the best you can do.“, you gulped at his words and anger started to dwell up. Supressing the embarrassment.

„What if you were in one of those Avatar bodies? Maybe you would then finally understand the love some of us have for this planet.“, you acoffed angrily, looking up eight into his face. Chests barely touching as you came closer.

Quaritch looked calmly at you at laughed. „Please, even if I was in one of those I would burn this whole planet down“, he copied you with coming closer to your face. Only that he had to look down and to not have your noses touching you took a step back.

„Right. I belief that when I see that.“, your face felt hot. Not only because of anger but also of embarrassment. This was the first time you actually were the one to come that close, usually Quaritch was the one who tended to break your personal space. Now he was towering over you. He lowered his head a bit and put his hand to his ear. „I couldn‘t hear you L/N. What did you say?“, you had mumbled your answer but not you wished to scream it into his face if you could. But you didn‘t. You kept quite.

„Thats right sweetheart, you keep your pretty mouth shut and let us do our work. No problems, do we remember?“, he softly grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. A grin gracing his lips. A second of staring into each others eyes and then he let go of you and moved on. Just as easy as that and without a look back over your shoulder he continued his walk through the corridor.

Part 3

[jjsstars]

tw rarepair week 23: day 2, season 1 lydia/scott

|| for @teenwolfrarepairevents event

|| tags: alternative universe, mechanic!scott, bartender!lydia, underage drinking/working at a bar, creepy guys, protective scott mccall, slight angst, confessions, first kiss, somehow set in the summer but also s1 idk

After getting a side job at an automotive repair shop just outside of Beacon Hills, a way to get away from all the chaos of supernatural creatures, the last thing Scott expected to see was Lydia Martin working the bar attached to the shop. But after months of working in the same vicinity, he’s made a point not to go into the bar, assuming she came out here to escape Beacon Hills the same way he has.

Yet that’s where he stands, watching how she smiles with her glossy lips before pouring a drink for an older gentleman sitting at the bar.

Scott hesitates before making his way over to the bar, sitting furtherest away from all the other patrons. He didn’t even know teenagers could serve alcohol, but then again, he wouldn’t be surprised if the owners were paying Lydia under the table the same way they pay Scott.

“Hi Scott.” Lydia says nonchalantly as she wipes down a glass with a white towel that mirrors the one sticking out of the back pocket of her shorts. He makes a point not to stare at them, or at how tight they are, or how small her top is and how low cut it is. It’s nothing like what she usually wears, it makes Scott a little uncomfortable to see this much of Lydia, as though he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. If anyone asked him how old he’d think Lydia was without knowing her he’d say in her early twenties, he wonders if being here makes him look older too.

If the grease on his hands and uniform add a couple years, or maybe that’s the newfound werewolf features. His fangs itch to come out, not in anger, not because of danger, but just to let them be free for a moment. To feel them in his mouth.

“You gonna order a drink?” He blinks himself away from his thoughts and nods, trying to think up a drink order.

“Whiskey, neat.” It’s what his dad would order, and Stiles’ dad, he knows because he sat in the bar next to them more than once as a kid. Stiles never did, Noah’s too good to do that shit, but Rafael definitely isn’t.

“Whiskey neat, enjoy.” The glass gets slid towards Scott, he quickly sips it, both out of how hot it is outside and how nervous he is being in a bar like this.

It feels all sorts of wrong to watch as Lydia laughs and jokes with the costumers, ignoring how their eyes linger on her chest, or how they make a point to hand her her tip just so their hands can linger a moment too long. It makes Scott feel sick, angry, he wants to slam their heads into the bar and ask what the hell they’re doing. Lydia’s eyes catch his own, probably seeing how hard he’s staring and how angry he is, he softens seeing Martin shoot him a reassuring smile.

“I deal with it everyday Scott, you don’t have to get all wound up.” She hustles back over and starts to pour more whiskey into the glass Scott didn’t even realize he finished. It’s not like he’ll get drunk anyways.

“It’s gross.” A small sigh escapes Lydia, she settles her elbows on the bar and leans towards Scott, looking a little exhausted in the action.

“Like I don’t see the girls out there harassing you when you’re trying to work.” She has a point, nobody knows either of them in this town so they assume it’s okay to flirt and get touchy with them. Scott’s always quick to politely decline and mutter up an excuse of having a girlfriend that doesn’t really exist, it doesn’t always make the people back off, but he cares about this job so he keeps his mouth shut.

“That’s different, you shouldn’t have to deal with those guys.” He side eyes the men talking amongst themselves, oblivious to Scott and Lydia even being in the room. Self centered assholes.

“And you should? Scott, it’s just part of the job, and I need this job so I handle it.” A piece of hair falls forward and without thinking Scott leans to push it back behind Lydia’s ear, fixing a few pieces so it looks like how she normally wears it.

“You’re too sweet to me.” Lydia’s hand wraps around Scott’s wrist, pulling his hand down from her face and dropping her head as she does. Scott frowns, he can smell the guilt on Lydia, the small hint of sadness that makes Scott’s heart squeeze.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” There’s a sheen layer of tears built in Lydia’s eyes, she looks over a moment, the group of men are leaving change and crumpled bills on the bartop before they stumble outside into the California desert heat.

“I was so mean to you and Stiles before, me and Jackson— we were assholes.” She huffs, Scott hates that she blames herself for the control Jackson had over her. Scott forgave her ages ago, and Stiles never even held a grudge in the first place.

“None of that matters now.” Instinctively Scott threads their fingers together, squeezing slightly to try and ease the hurt coming from Lydia.

“Still, I- I don’t think you’d be so nice to me if you knew that—.” She stops herself with a click of her mouth closing.

“What?” Lydia’s eyes level with Scott’s, her heart rate speeding up enough for concern to grow in McCalls chest.

“I like you. Like- really like you Scott, and I know you deserve someone better than me and—.” His lips are pressed into Lydia’s before he can think about it, cupping his free hand around her cheek and not daring to open his eyes in fear of this all being a dream. Martin kisses him back just as deeply and desperately, leaning herself in as close as she can get with the bar still acting as a barrier.

“Your fangs are out.” She pulls back with blown pupils watching how Scott’s tongue flicks across his teeth, she’s right, he doesn’t know when they came out.

“Sorry.” He mutters and tries to get them to go back up but it’s not working all that well, he isn’t good at that type of selective control yet.

“No, it’s okay, I like it.” She smiles into another kiss, Scott forgets about his fangs.

[therealvinelle]

I just finished Nebuchadnezzar's Dream and I have to say: Holy shit! The werewolf fight, Carlisle getting investigated by the FBI, Aro's funny hat idea as a diplomatic tool, the Ziggy Stardisciples feat. bad face paint, Renata ❤️, the bickering twins, Jane (yes, she gets her own point, she deserves it), Carlisle's gift induced despair and then the fall of Volterra, the horror and grief of the group and the very loud broadcasted-live-to-the-usurpers revenge sex (I hope Edward combusted into a pile of ashes right then and there, lol). It was an amazing rollercoaster to read. And just so you know, I'm very interested in that potential sequel 👀

(Also, if Aro had decided to follow Caius' advice and attack the Cullens first, how would he have done it? Kill them all but spare Carlisle? Kill only Bella and leave it at that knowing that they don't pose a threat anymore even if they do decide to take revenge? Or something entirely different?)

I'm so glad you enjoyed it, thank you!

To answer your question:

If Aro was to take out the Cullens, there are about a million ways he could have gone about killing the Cullens but the simplest one in my mind would have been if he used Nahuel and his sisters to hide from Alice, and then went and killed them outright. No fuzz, no convoluted schemes, even with Bella's gift the Cullens would be easily overwhelmed.

A more thought out plan, at least if Aro wants to be sure Alice doesn't catch on to him, would be sending Chelsea and Marcus around to weaken the bonds of friendship the Cullens have with their various allies, and strengthen their faith in the Volturi. And if some remain adamant, they die. Leave the Denali alive, however, and then make his move.

The factor that allowed the Cullens to gather as many allies as they did in Breaking Dawn was time. The Volturi deliberated two weeks, when a direct flight from Italy to Washington would take less than a day. Should Aro in my scenario then decide "Alright, we're doing this," the Cullens will have very little time and be at a complete disadvantage.

Their only option would be to run for it and not split up, so Bella can shield them all, but even so they'll be leaving scent trails, which means they would have to go by human transportation means. This in turn puts a constraint on their movements.

The Cullens would likely end up on a boat or an island, where nobody can track them, where they would be unable to step outside of Bella's immediate vicinity, meaning Jacob and Renesmee are both obscuring Alice.

This is where the Denali come in, because without them the Volturi would have no way of guessing where the Cullens might go. With five friendly vampires a short distance away, however, the Cullens have an obvious destination.

Where, of course, Jacob and Renesmee's constant presence means that Alice won't know the Volturi are waiting for them there.

Even if the Cullens figure out that the Denali are compromised, they have no allies and Bella needs only let down her guard for a moment for Demetri to know where they are, and given the pressure she's under she inevitably will. They won't have an easy time hunting, either, the stress of the situation will be constantly grating on them, they won't hold out for long.

As for what the Volturi do when they have them at their mercy, Aro would be sad about it but they all have to go. Regardless of the strategy he used, he wants to reinforce that the Volturi are a force you don't stand up to, you don't resist, and you don't embarrass them.

By all accounts, Aro's distinguishing feature is that there is nobody he isn't willing to kill.

People would be crying injustice for a while, but I imagine those voices would be silenced in death or through intimidation, and with vampires having such a high turnover rate it would only be a few centuries before they were forgotten by all but those who keep their mouths shut about it.

[pillowbeast]

Random new OC thoughts I'm gonna dump here, big text post :3

Mascot suit character, mascot for a mall of sorts. The mall lacks security of any sort, just the mascot. The mascot takes all affairs that pose a threat to the mall into its own hands Two people having a fight and before you know it this mascot suit has dashed to you in the blink of an eye, standing between the two parties and holding them apart with no effort at all, head still in a static expression "That will be enough, please move along." INCREDIBLY vigilant against those who try to pull shit against small businesses too I think

Is the suit haunted? Controlled by AI? A construct of magic? Nobody who works there even knows if it's manned (It's not). Nobody hired it, it doesn't want pay, it arrived one day while fitting the theme of the mall in question not too long after the mall's construction.

Tempted to lean towards it knowing magic, doesn't use a lot of it's destructive capabilities so as to not damage the mall Maybe knowing restorative magic as well as (very rare) rewind magic to return damaged property in the mall to a previous, undamaged state Like by all accounts this mascot should be OP but generally you're only target #1 if you're in the mall

I feel like, with the static head I win in either camp of A. People think its vaguely unsettling (Works in its favour) B. People think it's cute (Fits the vibes well) ALSO LIKE I think like, the mascot tries to play mostly to its character even during combat encounters, seemingly canned voice lines and all but I think the mascot breaks kayfabe like A. When it's out of the premises B. After hours (with exceptions) C. If there aren't any customers/visitors in the vicinity

[verminfang]

Had a dream last night featuring two extremely fucking lame super villains.

The first was a hulking rock monster man who backed down and turned into a regular guy the second a weapon was pointed at him, admitting that his rock form came with no added durability and that while looking rock like it was just as vulnerable as his human flesh.

The second was someone who just was, kind of normal? Their power was apparently looking like a slightly less attractive version of the most attractive person in the room, for unclear reasons this was person on a safety poster that happened to be in the room.

I love them.

Because they suck so much.

Weirdly I can very much see them as parahumans because they both have a very obvious trigger logic to them. The first being a changer with a crisis of identity when an indomitable tough guy bully image was destroyed by someone standing up to him and the second easy to see as a Stranger\Changer desperately aping someone they idolized and failing to measure up. Given they could copy people not physically there I feel like a parasocial focus on a beauty blogger or celebrity feels right for that.

Naming the first Grotesque after gargoyles, made of stone and meant to ward off things with their scary image. I think the thrust of his power is he can change back and forth from dude to rock monster form very quickly (probably mirroring the speed of his pedestal toppling once his image was destroyed) and that the deal with the hulking form is he changes size but not mass, he's lighter and more vulnerable as the changer form. Clearly it's mostly an intimidation thing so I like the idea of it coming with a mild fear aura that builds in intensity the longer he can go without losing status. Getting hit resets both the fear ticker and tends to make him reflexively turn back due to the pain and forms fragility.

In practice his best bet is to play the glowering enforcer, build up his groups status as a totem during a meeting or as a prelude to a fight breaking out hopefully enough that once things do break down nobodies going for the paper tiger. The irony of course being that brutes and giant killer capes always go after the big threatening brute calling that attention.

Other mildly interesting power interactions is funnily playing into the name I think his rock forms long limbs and lightness would make it great at climbing and clinging to things. Once he's actually in the thick of a fight one of the better ways to utilize the power would be to rapidly keep form switching to fuck with expectations of reach and where to aim hits on him and maybe even use the weight shift to his advantage. I think in practice he rarely does this because he either doesn't want to lose the fear aura he's been building by changing or he's too hyper aware of how weak his rock form is.

Ersatz as I'm calling the second is kind of interesting. The most attractive person, or most attractive image of a person, in their vicinity is someone they can change into, clothes included. With the caveat that they don't actually look like them, a slightly less attractive knockoff. By no means ugly but you'd be more likely to call them the second most attractive person in the room and wouldn't confuse them with their target.

I think much like a lot of parahuman powers this is very much a thing of the Agent deciding what that means, likely it would be who Ersatz believes to be most attractive and less attractive is also down to their own biases of what creates the imperfection. The main use case of their power is obviously infiltration, but not quite imitation. It's easy for them to slide into a family gathering as someone who can easily pass for a cousin or sibling, blend into other demographic based gatherings by bearing a resemblance to someone who fits in.

I think if they can take a form and 'hold' it they can easily be a very successful honey pot or femme fatale, looking only slightly less attractive than some knockout they found online is still useful and of course the big benefit to any of their infiltrations is the second you lose sight of them they can be a whole new person with a different crowd or an online image search.

In the same way I gave Grotesque the fear aura though I do think they need just a little more pizzazz to distance themself from say, being a slightly faster but less hot Oliver. I think in line with the vague trigger of overly investing themselves trying to become like an idol and failing I like the idea that if they can get possessions owned by someone their imitating, possessing them gives them access to lesser imitations of that person's skills. Giving them more of a reason to copy people actively around them or go full celebrity stalker.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Stalker Hunting

I've done my little bits of Horizon Forbidden West the last couple of days. There are issues about spoons, because work's a mess right now, but sometimes you just need to fuck up a bandit camp or two. Maybe dig up some greenshine. OR ... stalk the Stalkers. Literally.

Bandit camp. Poonk. Poonk. POONK. Nobody saw me. Nobody engaged. And again, one guy kept talking about how "she must have gone to lick her wounds" when a) nobody even fired a shot at me and b) EVERYONE ELSE WAS DEAD. Eh well. POONK.

So much climbing. So many near misses, close calls, and running around. But several outright slabs of greenshine so it's entirely worth it.

Ooh, hey, new form of Burrower. Hi, Burrower! ...Bye, Burrower. POONK

The Gouge is still kicking my ass. I got most of it, including the cluster, but the one remaining fucking fragment of greenshine is not worth Outlast-meets-Subnautica with fucking Burrowers. I get why you can't shoot them with an arrow underwater. But why, why can you not just stab them?

Look. Bellowbacks. Even if I am blowing you up, there should be some of your sac webbing intact enough for me to use to upgrade my weapons and armour! But no! Every time I kerboom you with a sac rupture, you deny me Bellowback Sac Webbing AND I AM FED UP WITH IT.

Time to take out my frustrations on another rebel camp. But lemme get some surrounding campfires first.

Yes, thank you, map, for finding me a route to the bandit camp by the paths. I would prefer not stroll through the front gate, thank you. So I will climb this mountain.

Ah. Here we are. Sharpshot booooooooooow ... GO.

I'm sorry. Three people just dropped dead in front of you, and you're now saying it was a false alarm?!? BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! ...Also POONK.

Okay, no one's alerted and I haven't seen anyone but they're still playing the tense music. Maybe because of people inside that bunker?

Definitely people inside that bunker. Oh, this is going to get stupid - shield and melee stupid. Time to improvise.

YOU ARE IN TIME OUT; GO STAND IN THE CORNER. Good! Perfect! Facing the corner like something out of Blair Witch! *WHACKSTABSTABSTAB*

And the other two did not come to your rescue. They will regret that. Shorter range Hunter bow. Poonk-poonk.

(Yeah, my draw speed on that's a little insane too.)

Huh. I guess these are where some of the weapons like the one that destroyed Verbena's forcefield were being developed. ...SYLENS. YOU. LIVING. SHIT.

I mean, I probably could take some of these schematics, but if Boomer ever got hold of them... Yeah, no. I will instead make a boom that she would be PROUD OF.

Okay, and it's still telling me that there's someone in this camp. BUT I SEE NO ONE. Stealthing stealthing stealthing...

...Oh. Right. The front door I avoided like the plague getting here. There is a lone sentry scouting the area, who apparently was not alerted because I cleared the place out so quickly and quietly. Ah well. Charger first, then HEADSHOT.

Okay, I'mma head out and get a few more-- Ooh, that says "unknown settlement", and it's in territory I'm going to need.

Thank you for the news about the rebel camps. At least one in your vicinity will not be a problem anymore, sir. (Kind of wish you had the option to tell them that.)

Right. Lemme do some trading and then see what I can upgrade.

...Not much. Not enough. Guess I'm going to have to go hunting Stalkers again.

Oop. BELLOWBACK CONVOY. DETOUR.

Right. Now lemme see if killing them without hitting the big sac in the back will get me what I need. ...ohthisisgonnahurt...

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK--

(I did get way better at dodge-rolls, though. Just ... not quite better enough. Hence...)

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Right. Okay. That's enough for now. Surprisingly, Stalkers are going to be easier. So long as I'm careful about how I hit their stealth generators, since that's the part I'm after.

Approaching from a different angle and ... yeah. They really do climb now, the little fucks. Okay, that one I can see and... GONE. Tree-climbing little shit.

Huh. There's generally at least three in these areas. But the other two aren't coming out. Time to do the usual. Hide in bush ... then shoot proximity flare-mine.

Theeeeeeere you are. My vision is mostly shit but I can see your shimmer surprisingly well. POONK.

Right. Third one. Another proximity mine aaaaaaaaaand...

AW FUCK!

No, I mean, I got the Stalker, but ... there was a duck. I NEED DUCK BITS.

Heeeeeeeeeere ducky ducky ducky...

...fuck.

Well, I can at least upgrade and shop some-- Wait. Is that purple-grade Utaru infiltrator-type gear? GIMME!

Right. To upgrade it, I'm gonna neeeeeeed... Fuck.

Heeeeeeeeere, Stalker Stalker Stalker...

DUCK! Sorry; Duck first, then more Stalkers.

Okay. I can get this a little more upgraded now. For more, I'm going to neeeeeeed... Stalkers. AGAIN. Also ... oh fuck we get Scorchers back?!? AND I HAVE TO HUNT ONE?!? Fuuuuuck.

...However, I do see a Scorcher site not too far from here... And in the same vicinity as some greenshine and a rebel camp--

And I will think about that tomorrow or something.

Look. I know. I know. There is a main quest and I should be getting on with it. However, my play time is limited and my spoons more so. Also I can't decide on whether I want to go for AETHER or DEMETER first. I'm at level ... 49 now, I think? Not 50 but close, anyway. So level isn't an issue.

(See, you might ask how? But ... like ... I hunt constantly when on the move. And when you add up the various XP extras for stealth kills, head shots, weak point shots, etc? I get a lot of XP very quickly.)

Anyway, level's not an issue but what I get out of it is. On the one hand, I figure that DEMETER is probably the quest that will let me deal with those damn metal flowers. On the other hand, @true0neutral informs me that one's reward for dealing with AETHER involves a really spiffy Sharpshot bow? That can also shoot Tear arrows? Aaaaaaand I am conflicted. Heeeeeeelp.

[kurocrow]

Well you can bother to figure it out you are smart and intelligent and i expect you to continue to be expected to be smarter and intelligent times no excuses it's in spud supercraft and injuries oneYou want to adult you neglect one you'll be one you'll be one you used as brain cells a gun gave you and started it all over again and keep on and studied it all a very good until you get it right readily a simple

Do not ask for a painted gallery or a basket case to be standing around behind me in the background blast the ammotion third predict minority possibly here and blast me your hole will not close keep your hole close at all timeOfficial original opinion stands anatomy initial original opinion will continue to stand now and long after you're gone it's besieged overturns and overall zeorses mine is the dominant one yours is the recessive

Never ever ever ever ever think me again that is your first frank freestykes and you'll be out or without putting mercy or mars don't get to the third struck of our view that we very nice to be violent unpleasant experience forPieces been now issued his first and far more funny morning don't get to the third stack of our U you have been

Good of all you can't be doing that you can't be like imposts you can't be logging posts you can't be postponed posts and you cannot be near my internet vicinity hereSo shirley's help cannot be following me or spending a additional motion simbertic military puzzle headed and blessed me on any content to do to me mine seize doing what you are doingThere isn't out to nobody of course and that is to sell for hear yourself do some soft terms the english english english and's eye with snails that afore you that you have to be buddy by and following at all times nokesOr all in or all out or anything like a white there is no shades grey here no wash washingness no being bothered to feel like at one moment not being bothered if you feel like that the next moment choose a side and sickThe evil i visited autonomous policy for teenagers lucky to being silent on the internet good crema earned to have come up earnest bad crema what comes around and what goes around and what goes around therefore i eagerly wa

Bro I literally can’t understand a thing you wrote but from what I did see you. Hate teenagers or sumn?? Idk but please leave me alone bc I want nothing to do with you 💀

[vulpeskorsak]

Day 17 of Whumptober 2022: Losing everything

Day 17 of Whumptober 2022!  

No. 17 HANGING BY A THREAT

Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker

Timeline-wise my current shorts go: Day 2 -> Day 15 -> Day 5 -> Day 16 -> Day 1 -> Day 13 - > (Day 4 -> Day 9*) -> Day 3 -> Day 7 -> Day 8 -> Day 6 -> Day 11 -> Day 12 -> Day 14 -> Day 17

*Day 4 and 9 do not happen in the same AU where Ludwig exists. Day 10 is a modern AU.

Victor is my human fleshsmith inventor (KibblesTasty Homebrew class) from a long-running DnD adventure. Ludwig Richter is a tiefling and a former gravedigger turned archeologist who

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42505632 (AO3 link)

Losing everything

It is an hour past midnight and Ludwig still cannot fall asleep. Which could be a good thing because thanks to that he heard something moving outside his tent. Could be a random wild animal, but better safe than sorry.

He looks around the sleeping camp to only see a couple of clueless guards patrolling around it. They look at him and gestures for them to keep an eye out for danger. They nod vigorously and begin looking around their respective areas.

There is nothing in the immediate vicinity of him. Nothing in the trees. He starts circling the tent when he hears the cloth at its entrance shift. He freezes. Nobody and nothing but him and Victor… just him now is supposed to be able to enter it this easily thanks to a powerful enchantment they have ordered over half a decade ago.

He bites his lip sending the memory away before it can hurt him and focuses on the task. He quickly but silently returns to the entrance, switching his rifle for his battle shovel and gripping it tightly, getting ready for an upswing if something lunges at him from the tent.

Slowly he lifts the flap out of the way to look inside. His grip on the shovel tightens to a painful degree.

“Vic?” He whispers in disbelief taking a step inside.

The creature before him looks so much like his former partner and it is wearing his pants and his shirt. Dirty and torn. But it cannot be him. Victor died this morning. In front of his eyes.

The creature has uncomfortably long limbs that end in clawed black hands and feet. It is standing on all fours, barefoot and gloveless, although a strap from his black glove is still wrapped around its wrist. It is thin as if it was starving for a lot time and pale. Paler than Victor has ever been. The whites of the doctor’s eyes are black and his irises are glowing white. His mouth is filled with clean uneven sharp teeth.

He is crouching next to Ludwig’s unused bed, sniffing at it intently. He turns his head to his former lover locking eyes with him and stares silently. Not breathing. Not blinking. A shiver runs down the archeologist’s spine. He has encountered plenty of unsettling creatures but this one is…

“Victor?” Ludwig takes a slow step forward into the tent, his voice shaking. “Were you able to make it? Did your… stupid reanimation injection actually fucking work?!”

It turns its head slightly at the sounds. He knows the look in the creature’s eyes. He has seen it a thousand times before. Undead hunger. Even if Victor’s solution has worked, it did not make him the person he once was. It did not make him a person. A ghoul of sorts, Ludwig guesses. It somewhat resembles a wendigo the two of the had encountered a few years prior.

Before Ludwig can do anything else, it lunges. Ludwig swings, hitting it with the blunt side of the shovel in the chest and throwing it off balance. It is swift, however, and merely bounces off the floor and tackles him to the ground, its sharp claws digging into his chest and shoulders, its jaws almost closing on his throat if it were not for the shovel handle blocking its mouth.

Ludwig bucks with his hooves as hard as he can while pushing with his hands, sending it off him and jumps to his feet, throwing the light camp bed onto the creature to trap it if even for a second. A hooved kick to the head as it is trying to get up to disorient it. And then a powerful swing of the shovel. It’s meticulously sharpened and magically enhanced edge slices the head clean off.

The body goes limp on the ground. Ludwig watches as Victor’s head flies through the air and lands on his table, covering all the documents and the journal on it in dark red blood and black liquid ichor.

He lets go of the shovel and strides towards it. The sharp teeth and black eyes are still there, not fading away like it happens with some transformed people. But now he is dead for good.

He carefully picks it up looking into the eyes. They look nothing like Victor’s but they are still his. He has been holding it in all day. Staying functional for the sake of the expedition’s goals. He did not think they would be able to recover Victor’s body from that disaster of a ruin. And now it is here. He is unsure if he would have preferred it to be gone for good. But this means that Victor’s invention has partially worked. He would have been so happy. Excited to do more tests, completely ignoring his responsibilities until Ludwig would have had to personally remind him of his duties as the expedition’s head doctor.

Victor once jokingly promised he would never die or at the very least come back as a ghost to haunt him so he can tease and torment him for as long as he lives. Ludwig would have loved for him to keep at least the ghost part of his promise.

“Victor…” Ludwig lifts the head up to give it a long soft kiss on the lips and teeth sticking out here and there. “I love you. I’m so sorry I never actually said that. But I love you.”

At that moments his knees buckle and he falls on the floor of his tent cradling the head and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He tried to stay calm for a second but is unable to hold himself together any longer. He starts weeping out loud. The loudest and hardest he has ever cried. And he cannot stop once he started. The third eye of his forehead begins leaking something as well. He did not think it was possible.

He is vaguely aware of the fact that people are running into the tent and stopping at the sight of their nerves-of-steel leader shaking and howling like a wounded dog. His reputation is the last thing on his mind.