#he traps and hunts darlings in a very specific way

[ghouljams]

Do fae’s purr? Is it something they can do? I’m a sucker for big monsters that purr. If not purr do they growl? Or better yet BOTH????

The fae in my au absolutely purr and growl! They make all sorts of noises that humans don't to different degrees. König especially is very noisy, initially he was supposed to click and chitter like a bat when he was curious about something, but I couldn't find the right words to describe it so he hasn't done it yet.

Ghost absolutely makes a lot of angry noises: growls, snarls, a good throaty rrrrrrr. But he has to put a little work into purring because he's not used to it. It probably sounds similar to how humans "purr" sort of low in the back of his throat.

König is much more animalistic and uses noise to express himself first before speaking. I think of him like an overgrown cat: chuffing, proper purring, growling, he could probably do a good little chirrup if he was particularly happy with something. All deep in his chest, good rumbly sounds the Liebling likes the lay her head on and listen to.

Soap doesn't make as much noise. Definitely still has a good growl, but I think he's just more comfortable with speaking. He also is supposed to click, but it's more of a danger/warning sound, a little more insect than bat. He kinda freaks Liebling out.

Gaz is in the same boat as Soap. More reliant on his words, but he chuffs like a big cat too. He and Soap have similar hunting styles so they have similar vocal tricks. I think he is out of practice purring because he hasn't been too attached to his previous darlings. But once he finds the One he's a purring machine.

Bonus: Love starts purring when she settles in to being fae touched and it freaks Liebling out the first time it happens. Liebling growls and König on accident and gets fucked within an inch of her life.

Price does not click but he does everything else. He spends a lot of time around the fae and in the fae wild so he's used to making noise. That said he's only gonna growl once before he bites. Another big cat exhale purr-er unlike König's sustained purr, this is a calming sound mainly, for putting the 141 boys back in order.

[farahtissaiamyloves]

Rest

Larissa Weems x vampire!reader

You, like the rest of the vampire professors, had a weird sleeping schedule.

You were the ones patrolling the grounds for any students who decided not to go to sleep.

You had your own schedule. You were going to hunt during specific hours of the night as someone else covered for you and then you were going to reciprocate the act.

You were all sleeping for a couple of hours at the afternoon as there was a break especially created for both vampire professors and students to rest.

It was midnight as you were having today's hunting class with your students.

Even if, technically, they knew how to hunt, it was very important for them to learn the most convenient way to trap and then drain their prey of its blood.

When the class came to an end, you walked to your chambers to get ready for your later patrol and morning classes.

You, silently, using your vampire instincts in order not to wake Larissa up, snaked inside the bathroom.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

There was blood, not yours, on the right side of your cheek. Your hair was messy and your clothes were dirty.

You sighed as you quickly got undressed and popped in the shower.

The water was cold, but you couldn't care less. Your body temperature was low by nature.

You finished your relaxing shower and checked the hour.

You hummed in the silence.

It was these little hours at night that you thought there were the best...

If only Larissa could adopt your sleeping schedule...

The things you could indulge in...

You let out an other sigh wrapping a robe around your little frame.

Everybody was short compared to your wife, but you were considered to be short in general.

The hight difference was making it a bit difficult for both of you.

Larissa had to either bend down or pick you up if she wanted to kiss you; you had to step on your tiptoes to rest your head on her chest.

You silently walked to your closet, always careful not to wake up the headmistress.

You picked your clothes and wore them; your eyes never leaving the woman's sleeping form.

It was creepy.

Watching someone sleep.

You still remembered how you reacted at Edward doing exactly that at twilight with Bella.

However, you couldn't contain yourself.

She was so at peace while being asleep.

Lately, you kept seeing her worried and anxious mainly because of Wednesday and the new monster killing the one, after the other person off.

It felt so good when she was just laying down and relaxing.

Unable to leave, you found yourself approaching her.

You sat on the bed to take a better look at her.

You thanked the God that he made you a vampire due to your extreme vision.

Vampires couldn't only see at night but could also notice the slightest move rendering them the best of the predators.

You, gently, moved your body closer to her to kiss her forehead.

At the feel of your cold lips, Larissa hummed and before giving you the chance of retreat, the shape-shifter wrapped her hands around your neck, pulling you closer to her.

You bited your lower lip in a desperate attempt not to yield into the temptation.

Her warm embrace and your lack of sleep - you had too much work the previous afternoon for any kind of rest - working together to make you rethink of your decision to go to work.

You were tired, exhausted.

Yet, you had duties outside the lovely walls of your chambers.

Your wife pressed her nose on your neck, probably smelling your shampoo.

Then it hit you.

Larissa wasn't sleeping.

" Darling ! Go back to sleep ! You need rest. " You hissed.

The principal sighed understanding that you saw past the sleeping trick.

" So do you, do you not ? " Larissa retorted.

You shook your head; never pulling away though.

" You don't understand ! I'm a vampire ! I don't need rest ! " You talked her off.

Suddenly, your wife shifted, changing both of your positions. She pushed your body down, on the mattress while she hovered over you.

You swallowed hard. She knew exactly what to do to intimidate you and have you to do whatever she wanted.

Larissa bent her head down to place gentle kisses on your neck, she moved upward reaching your earlobe.

" Sleep with me. " She whispered sensually in your ear.

You whined in protest, your red pupils searching for hers.

" I have patrol.  " You shook your head trying to leave her embrace.

But your wife overpowered you, keeping you steady underneath her.

" You had a lesson an hour ago, the students must have been exhausted. Last thing they would care about is to wander around the school. " Larissa never gave up.

" But - " You started, however she silenced you with her lips on top of yours.

You kissed her back, of course. You always enjoyed her kisses especially in positions like this one.

She deepened the kiss pressing her body against yours.

You hummed, your hands on her hair as her her tongue entered your mouth fighting with yours for dominance.

She pulled away to breathe looking at your shining, crimson pupils. The only thing piercing through the darkness of the room.

" Sleep with me. " She said with a voice full of emotions that had your heart melting.

You knew that she meant only sleeping.

Her hands started undressing you; there was no way she would let you sleep with your working clothes.

You sighed.

She was your weakness.

You could never say no to her.

You helped her until you were left with your underwear.

You saw a smile spreading throughout her face and she wrapped her hands around you, embracing you.

You hugged her back enjoying the feeling of laying down together.

God. You had to do this for ages.

[blorbologist]

41 AGAIN and a tad archaeological again but. Near Stonehenge is Silbury Hill, a historical mound originall probably chalk-faced. Some awful victorian thought it was a barrow full of treasure and dug a tunnel into it's centre and found... nothung. But this damaged it and a few years ago they did a rescue dig to fix it and get soil samples. From this they discovered that it was a series of mounds, built bigger on each other ... and there were ants trapped between two layers.

Ants have pretty specific life cycles, especially male ants which these were - these were winged young males, which meant they knew the specific season the second mound layer began construction - iirc spring.

Anyway if I may ask pretty please for perc'ahlia?

There are ants in the castle and Percival is just about to start shooting holes in the walls to get them out. 

Well. That would be counterproductive - the reason the ants are a problem at all is because they’re eating the wood. And the walls are stone, anyways, so he would just make a mess of things and ruin everyone’s day - insects and his own.

Carpenter ants. Fat, black and with massive mandibles for their size, the faintest of hairs on their shiny abdomens. He knows, having caught a few and peered at them through a few lenses of his glasses. Must have made him look so very alien.

As the name implies, they burrow through wood. Which means finding one, two in the kitchens, making off with crumbs, was a bad sign. And finding neat lines of them down corridors, vanishing here and there, was worse. 

These little - little invaders are running amok in his castle and he will not stand for it.

“They’re just ants, dear,” Vex had teased, late one evening. 

Percy couldn’t begrudge her the joking - she returned from her hunt to find him crouched and scowling at a little hole he had found, certain he had seen the distinct sawdust they discarded. Just investigating if this was an active tunnel - which meant folding himself under furniture on the ground, a candle near to hand to light the issue.

“Carpenter ants.” His teeth are grit not at her - gods no - but at the odd angle as he peers under the dresser. Raises his voice to carry out of this ordeal of his own making: “They’ll eat through the wood, dear.”

“Castle Whitestone is… stone, right?” He can hear her head cocking. 

Can’t sigh or it might disturb them. Come on out, now, just so he can know. 

“The walls, yes - but much of the floor and some walls have wood paneling. Not to mention the furniture, and simply how unsanitary it is to have them in the kitchen.”

The shift of clothing as Vex rids herself of her armor, comes to settle near him. “We could toss out anything afflicted, darling - it’s the best way to deal with an infestation. Surely local carpenters would appreciate the commission of new pieces.”

Now he really grits his teeth. “I can’t throw it all out,” Percy confesses. Quietly, to not disturb the ants. Quietly, to not disturb the memories. “It’s - they’re old, Vex. Older than I. These pieces survived them, too. Survived our antics, and father’s terrible choice in decor.”

“Oh.” 

There’s a tug on the back of his shirt. “Darling? Come on out of there - I can’t drag you.”

Percy obliges. It takes some wiggling, and perhaps a little writhing - the ants have it so easy - to back out of the space he’s crammed himself into. Find himself crammed into Vex’ahlia’s arms instead - kneeling next to him, pulling him into a hug. 

“I’ll fight for them,” she murmurs into his hair. She smells like living wood and living mosses and living waters. “I’m sure we can figure out something to get rid of these pests without damaging the furniture.”

“Thank you.”

Vex hums - he can feel her smile as he relaxes into her hold. “As Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt,” she says, “it’s my job to protect Whitestone from dangerous animals and the like. Ants count, if they’re threatening family antiques.”

(Send me a prompt and I’ll write a ficlet, a HC or an AU idea + share the science fact that inspired the prompt!)

[loosesodamarble]

Nacsele Trivia

Time for me to dump some info about the Nacht x Josele ship! Not in any specific order, this is just me throwing some thoughts out. A romance and fluff and a little hurt/comfort because it's Nacsele.

.....

Their favorite pastimes together are watching the sunset and stargazing.

Nacht once called Josele "my heart" the way Morgen used to and it made Josele burst into tears (in a bad way) for the next hour.

Josele is the only one who can talk Nacht into playing the violin (he usually opts for the guitar). She's the only one until they have kids that is.

Nacht's nicknames for Josele are "my star," "my angel," and "darling."

Josele nicknames for Nacht are "darling devil," "shadow prince," and "my hero."

Both will occasionally call each other "honey" too.

Nacht bleaches his hair back to white for a time after he and Josele get married. Because he knows Josele was fond of that look on him. He uses Shadow Veil to turn his hair black for formal events until his hair returns to normal.

Josele's favorite place to kiss Nacht would be his jaw. He's taller than her so it's an easy place to reach. And it's fun to tease him by kissing along his jaw until she reaches his lips.

Nacht's favorite place to kiss Josele is her lips. He loves the feel of Josele’s lips against his own so very much. And then he can just open his eyes to look at hers once the kiss is over and it sends him over the moon.

Nacht is also very fond of her sternum. It's not cause he's a perv (okay maybe he's a bit of a perv for Josele but ssshshshshshhhhhhhh!). It's because the mark of Josele's curse was on her sternum and now that she's curse free, Nacht likes to admire how that area of her body is clean again.

Some nights, Nacht has horrible nightmares about Morgen's death. His mind twists it so it felt like he intended to kill Morgen. He dreams of having killed Josele instead. Of hurting their children. Nacht screams and kicks awake, and Josele slowly and quietly helps Nacht calm down.

Nacht and Josele’s favorite date spot is a section of beach near their hometown that’s cut off by cliffs. They reach the area by teleporting through the shadows there. It's nice and cute off from the rest of the world so they can do whatever they like on that little beach space. Dance, picnic, kiss, skinny dip... You know, the usual date stuff.

They go on hunting dates together. Nacht doesn't master weapons the way Josele does (his best strategy is sneaking up on animals and then knifing their necks) but he's very skilled with hunting traps.

One of their traditions is exchanging gifts on New Year's Eve. It's never anything more extravagant than, say, a box of chocolates. Think tie pins or candles or a book. Sometimes the New Year's gift will complement a Christmas gift.

Okay one time Josele's New Year's gift to Nacht was way more elaborate than usual. It was Sirius and Merel's birth./lh+j

Very often, Nacht and Josele visit Morgen's grave together. But some days, Josele needs to be alone with Morgen. Some days, only the memories she has of him can comfort her and she won't even let Nacht in on those moments.

Sometimes, a date for the two of them is just sharing a pot of tea while Nacht plays guitar.

They play with each other's hair. Nacht likes to braid the parts of Josele's hair with the gray streaks left from Almatra's influence, to make sure Josele knows that they're still a beautiful part of her.

Josele likes to kiss the scar on Nacht's left wrist. Its presence brings painful memories (and I also imagine that the wound is tainted with negative mana so it'll always be a little sore until Nacht dies) so Josele kissing it comforts Nacht.

Nacht's chair in his vice captain's office at the BB base has seen... certain use...

The Bremen devils do indeed like to take the piss outta Nacht by suggesting that they are also married to Josele via Nacht.

Nacht knows of Josele's hang up with goodbyes. So if he has to leave her for any reason, he tells her "I will come back for you." The "for you" part has the double meaning of "arriving to collect someone" (like for a date) and "for someone's sake."

[attemptsonherlifepdf]

fantastic mr fox: humanising animals, animalising men, and an exploration of masculine identity

‘this story is too predictable.’ / ‘predictable? really? what happens in the end?’ / ‘in the end, we all die. unless you change.’

mr fox, the titular character of wes anderson’s 2009 stop-motion adaptation of roald dahl’s children’s book, is a portrait of two conflicting manifestations of masculinity. he is built to demonstrate the crossover between tradition and modernity, between wild and civilised. characterised as a charming gentleman, almost renowned for his recklessness, mr fox combines his undomesticated instincts with a carefully crafted domestic life. he appears to spend more time manufacturing a perfect home and family than he does actually participating in it. the events of the movie serve to strip away his facade and present both the audience and protagonist with a harsh reality to deal with: the juxtaposing aspects of his identity that he must contend with in order to survive his situation. these aspects are demonstrated through the use of anthropomorphic animals. in essence, the text attempts to convey the message that while you can associate your actions with animal or human traits in order to characterise and frame them, you cannot change their value and their consequences. it serves as a critique of how the nature of male identity is exploited to shunt responsibility, and the movie specifically promotes a more collectivist mentality.

there are four key scenes that mark mr fox’s journey in terms of his identity. initially, we first see his identity openly questioned once he has moved into a new home (a large and expensive tree), just prior to him revealing his ‘master plan’ to kylie, who becomes his assistant of sorts. he asks, ‘why a fox? why not a horse, or a beetle, or a bald eagle? i’m saying this more as, like, existentialism, you know? who am i? and how can a fox ever be happy without, you’ll forgive the expression, a chicken in its teeth?’ he attributes his identity with the ability to fulfil his base desires, like he could in his youth. aspects of his later life such as employment, family, and safety restrict his ability and leaves him feeling untethered from himself. the movie opens with his youthful vibrance and recklessness, and is quickly contrasted with his dissatisfaction with his job, home, and life in general.

MR FOX

i dont want to live in a hole anymore. it makes me feel poor.

MRS FOX

we are poor, but we’re happy.

MR FOX

comme ci, come ca...

does anyone actually read my column?

having been moved out of the hole and into an expensive tree, mrs fox asks her husband:

MRS FOX

do you still feel poor?

MR FOX

less so.

constructing the ideal domestic space for himself and his family does not satisfy mr fox and he yearns for more, which is where is existentialism and ‘master plan’ come into play. domesticity was never going to satisfy mr fox, as he yearns for something youthful and risky and dazzling, adjectives not usually applied to a quiet and content home life. the consequences of this dissatisfaction are drastic and almost immediate.

soon, having been forced out of his new home and underground by an attack from the farmers, mr fox is faced with a situation he cannot charm his way out of. he attempts to apologise to his son and recite a speech to raise the morale of his family, and both of these attempts are shut down by those around him. the facade of his elaborate home, his monologues, even his suits, are abruptly stripped away leaving him with only his actions which he cannot charm his way out of. the reality is that he and his family, his neighbourhood, is stuck underground with no means of food as a result of his selfish actions. this prompts yet another key scene; his argument with felicity, which begins with her viciously hissing and scratching his face.

MRS FOX

why did you lie to me?

MR FOX

because im a wild animal.

MRS FOX

you are also a husband, and a father.

MR FOX

im trying to tell you the truth about myself.

MRS FOX

i dont care about the truth about yourself. this story is too predictable.

MR FOX

predictable? really? what happens in the end?

MRS FOX

in the end, we all die. unless you change.

mrs fox’s physical attack on her husbands face serves as a display of genuine animal ferocity, making mr fox’s claim to being a ‘wild animal’ appear as a flimsy excuse for his behaviour. his chicken theft, which he was insistent upon regardless of the consequences, was motivated not by animal instincts but a selfish desire to feel a particular version of his own masculinity. disregarding the safety of his family actually seems like a natural byproduct of his master plans because he is trying to reclaim his masculinity from a time before his family existed, and in his eyes, restricted him. the very recent loss of his tail, combined with this conversation with his wife, is a harsh reality check for mr fox in terms of the dangers of his masculinity.

the audience sees the outcome of this conversation later on, in the waterfall scene. here mr fox admits to his insecurities and suggests sacrificing himself to the farmers to save the local community.

MR FOX

darling, maybe they’ll let everyone else live!

…

MR FOX

foxes traditionally like to court danger, hunt prey and outsmart predators, and that’s what im actually good at…i guess at the end of the day im just-

MRS FOX

i know. we’re wild animals.

the difference between this admission to animalism and the one from his argument with felicity is that here, both parties gain some acceptance of their animalism without using it as an excuse for their behaviour. the inclusion of others in animalism – ‘we’re’ wild animals, rather than ‘i am’ a wild animal – contributes to illustrate how wildness is not specific to masculinity. it is not femininity vs masculinity but animals vs man.

the movie also questions the nature of an animal in the final key scene known as ‘canis lupus.’ wes Anderson referred to this scene as ‘the reason im making this movie.’ throughout the movie, mr fox alludes to his ‘phobia of wolves’ and shuts down any conversation surrounding them:

MR FOX

scared? no, i have a phobia of them!...a wolf? what’s with all the wolf talk? can we give it a rest for once?

arguably, these reactions are representative of mr fox’s aversion to competitive masculinity. he shuts down any opportunity for those around him to discuss something he sees as more masculine than himself in order to feel secure in his own masculinity. critic shana mlawski argues that ‘the wolf is described as the wildest, most frightening, and yet most beautiful creature in the world. mr fox fears the wolf and yet wants to be exactly like him. we can thus say that mr fox fears pure, wild masculinity yet also yearns to own it himself.’ the scene holds an eerie familiarity to it; mr fox is recognising something that he thought would be a reflection of himself, but the wild animal is no longer familiar to him anymore. he now accepts his role as a husband and a father and no longer fights to overtly express his animalism in the same way as the wolf. the most he can offer the wolf is raising his fist in solidarity. he calls out to the wolf, ‘i have a phobia of wolves!’, which is an interesting moment to admit this in. it’s his acceptance that allows him to admit this. the scene is entirely compromised of male characters: mr fox, kristofferson, ash, kylie and the wolf. mr fox’s admission to his fear allows him to be vulnerable in front of these people he cares about, and to use this as a teaching moment for the young boys.

MR FOX

what a beautiful creature. wish him luck out there, boys.

here mr fox openly admits his admiration for someone else’s masculinity in front of others without showing signs of his own insecurity. he can admire the wolf for what he is without seeing him as competition. the scene allows the audience to see and directly compare two forms of masculinity and animalism, and to understand that there is no one true expression of either of those traits. the wolf has connotations of violence and ferocity, whereas mr fox and his suit and display of multilingualism are entirely modern, but both are masculine animals who are valid in their own right. either way, both animals rely on violence for survival at times.

kupfer frames violence in three ways: symbolically, structurally and as a narrative essential. there are various forms of violence within this narrative, namely mr fox killing chickens and squabs, and the three farmers’ attack on the animal community. symbolically, mr fox’s chicken theft is attributed to his masculinity. while it is often presented as thought-out ‘master plans’, his desire to enact this violence in the first place supposedly stems from his ‘wild animal’ instincts. he associates a time where he felt secure in his masculinity with his actions at the time (violence). structurally, we see the potential for this violence in the opening scene, where mr fox takes his wife chicken-stealing and they become trapped. he is stuck in a fox trap with his wife when he receives the news of his impending fatherhood, a relatively obvious symbol for his view of fatherhood in general. the news of his wife’s pregnancy disrupts his ability to continue stealing chickens, not just on this specific occasion but through the coming years as well. mr fox appears to view family life as an unfulfilling, less raw expression of his masculinity, and is shown to be wholly dissatisfied with his life.

the violence on the farmers’ behalf is almost always in reaction to mr fox’s violence, already giving it a structural framing. boggis, bunch and bean are referred to early on in the film as the ‘meanest, nastiest and ugliest farmers on the side of the river.’ their violence against mr fox and subsequently the local animal community is an attempt to gain back power and status. mr fox’s actions are “humiliating’ and the local news coverage of this exchange between the farmers and animals raises the stakes as now the reputation of these farmers is on the line as well as their power. violence here serves as a narrative essential because it drives mr fox into a situation that forces him to confront his issues with masculinity and splitting between his animal and human traits, giving the text/movie a fulfilling arc. violence is

introduced as inherently masculine, but is decoupled from masculinity by the ending. mrs fox also plays a small but significant role in this; at various moments in the movie she exhibits her own displays of aggression equal in intensity to the men around her, suggesting to the audience that forms of violence should be categorised as human vs animal rather than male vs female. examples of this behaviour include her clawing at her husband’s face, and a parallel between her and a male human character wherein they both connect two wires and shout ‘contact!’, causing an explosion. while this moment is brief, it highlights a distinct difference between animals being violent and men. humans’ aggression is driven by the need for power, whereas that of animals is driven by the need for survival. the man paralleled with felicity only sparked the explosion to destroy mr fox’s home and assert the dominance of the three farmers, while mrs fox used the same form of violence to enact a plan to save her nephew’s life. petey’s song even alludes to this sentiment: ‘well he stole, and he cheated, and he lied just to survive.’

mr fox’s tail becomes a symbol of power; bean wears it as a necktie, and mr fox feels emasculated by his loss.

MR FOX

one of those slovenly farmers is probably wearing my tail as a necktie right now.

…

BADGER

i cant even imagine how painful, even just emotionally, that must be for you… oh but foxy how humiliating, having your tail blown clean off by-

MR FOX

can we drop it?

the use of the tail as a necktie is a symbol of the power that mr fox and the farmers end up jostling to achieve: at first it belongs to mr fox, then to the farmers, and is eventually reclaimed once more by the fox.

MR FOX

you shot off my tail.

[through gritted teeth] i’m not leaving here without that necktie.

when he reclaims his tail towards the end of the movie, it has been torn to shreds and needs ‘dry cleaning twice a week’ to maintain itself. this can be interpreted as a symbol for his evolved definitions of masculinity and power: his masculinity is no longer defined by impressing people or stealing or killing chickens, but in the quiet satisfaction of having a family. the final scene reveals that mrs fox is pregnant again, and instead of her glowing and her husband giving an awkward grin like in the opening scene, both of the spouses ‘glow.’ the structural framing of these pregnancy reveals bookending the events of the movie allows anderson to demonstrate mr fox’s growth and change in his priorities. the domestic life appears to be enough for him, and he no longer seems to find it emasculating,

what stands out as particularly modern about mr fox is how he unconsciously separates himself from both his wildness and his suburban self in his effort to combine them. he uses his ‘wildness’ as an excuse for his violence and selfishness, but is ultimately not willing to participate in truly wild forms of violence and selfishness, such has hunting. his chicken thefts always include infiltrating a human site, like boggis, bunce and bean’s farms, and the fun of it is in outsmarting them, rather than finding those animals himself out in the wild. the local animal community essentially functions as we would expect a rural village occupied by humans to function: everyone knows everyone, there is one local school and various small and quaint homes. while the setting reflects anderson’s signature style, it is also reflective of dahl’s framing of the community in the original text.

mr fox comes across as an individual who believes himself to be above the somewhat backward mentality of his village, that he is the most civilised and dazzling and original, and he exaggerates these traits in himself out of insecurity: ‘if they arent dazzled and blown away and kind of intimidated by me, then i dont feel good about myself.’this is also reflected in his consistent ‘trademark’, his whistle-and-click combination that he uses to set himself apart from other foxes. his home is also a reflection of this:

MRS FOX

you know, foxes live in holes for a reason.

MR FOX

[grunts and tilts head in disagreement]

yes and no.

this insecurity and desire for outsider approval and individuality is inherently human, a quality of his that cannot really be associated with his animalised parts. this precarious sense of identity and self doubt separates him from his ‘wildness’ as it stands, which is only intensified by the fact that he compensates by exaggerating his human traits in order to be liked and feel worthy, as those are the traits he believes have the most value. towards the end of mr fox’s character arc, he is forced to admit that his need for external validation is flawed and unsustainable. when the façade of carefully constructed grandeur is literally washed away by bean, he is left with nothing but his actions and their implications for those around him. foxy reconciles with the relative insignificance of an identity based on other’s perceptions of you when rat dies soon after, reacting to the suggestion that he redeemed himself last minute by revealing ash’s location:

MR FOX

redemption? sure. but in the end, he’s just another dead rat in a garbage pail behind a chinese restaurant.

this moment is also used to inadvertently allow the audience to evaluate the significance of motivation and intention to the value of an action. although rat did reveal useful information to aid the group in saving Kristofferson, mr fox recognises that he only did so because he realised he could not win this fight.

MR FOX

would you have told me if i didn’t kill you first?

RAT

never.

mr fox’s own motivations throughout the movie have devalued his actions as they have mostly been self-serving. as his motivations evolve to centre around his family, he gains the perspective to understand why one’s intentions are so important. while intention does not entirely dictate how good one’s actions are, they certainly characterise the person who’s action it is. your actions have value and consequences as they are, and that cannot be changed by dressing them up or animalising them to distance yourself.

in essence, fantastic mr fox is a lesson in the value of including those around you in your mentality and worldview. it paints masculinity as something that is inherent and complex in nature, but promotes the idea that it is not stuck with its traditional connotations of violence and egoism. mr fox’s emotional development throughout the text mostly centres around his own insecurities surrounding his masculinity and how that causes him to overcompensate in ways that harm those around him. by the end he recognises that more tame and domestic forms of masculinity are just as valid, and that basing his self-worth on how ‘dazzled’ his peers are by him is immature and not constructive. his family now liberates him and allows him to be vulnerable rather than restricting how he feels he can express himself, and as a unit the animals beat the farmers in their game of power-seeking. mr fox recognises and appreciates both his human and animal traits, without using them as a means to excuse his behaviour or to feel bad about his worth.

MR FOX

i guess my point is, we’ll eat tonight, and we’ll eat together. and even in this not particularly flattering light, you are without a doubt the five and a half most wonderful wild animals ive ever met in my life. so let’s raise our boxes – to our survival.

i.k.b

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 24 - ao3 -

The Cloud Recesses was calm and serene, tranquil and undisturbed. But unlike its usual tranquility, Lan Qiren felt that it was the calm of the moment before a firework exploded, the air thick and heavy with the impending eruption of an oncoming storm.

Lan Qiren’s brother continued to neglect his work to court He Kexin, who seemed to have improved her opinion of him somewhat during the time that Lan Qiren was gone, though whether it was the earnestness of his passionate pursuit, flattery at the idea of a man gone mad for her, or just that she’d become resigned to the idea for the moment, it wasn’t clear. What was clear to anyone with eyes was that her regard for him, although apparently now genuine, was nowhere near as fanatical as his. Lan Qiren suspected that they had started sleeping together, which seemed like a mistake on her part.

Still, brother or no, this was not a matter in which he was qualified to intervene.

Lan Qiren returned to his usual life, although he again temporarily delayed his planned departure in order to assist with sect matters – whatever his relationship with his brother, Lan Qiren loved his sect very much, and he, at least, would not so easily allow it to slip into disarray through neglect. No one asked him about the matter of He Kexin; his teachers pretended his unjust punishment had not happened but avoided his eyes for several weeks, and his peers had mostly moved on with their lives.

(His brother pretended he didn’t exist, but Lan Qiren didn’t hold it against him. Rumor had it that Wen Ruohan had either threatened or actually hit him or both to make clear how much he disapproved of what happened to Lan Qiren, and whether or not that was true, Lan Qiren enjoyed the thought too much to quibble over how his brother wanted to salvage his dignity.)

Lan Yueheng passed along news – not gossip, he said self-righteously, just news, as if Lan Qiren would somehow miss the fact that ever since he’d paired up with that pretty storehouse clerk of his, Lan Yueheng had belatedly discovered the joys of gossip and taken to it like a fish to water – but there wasn’t much of it, not even with his beloved Zhang Xin’s prodigious capacity for romantic stories and ability to embroider just about any situation into something resembling one. Cangse Sanren wrote Lan Qiren several letters, but once she’d been assured of his health and wellbeing, they largely shifted over to complaining about the Jin sect, where she was now residing, and occasionally included lurid descriptions of Wei Changze specifically meant to shock his conscience.

How are you even seeing him, Lan Qiren wrote back. Aren’t you in Lanling? He’s a servant in Yunmeng. Doesn’t he have a job?

Jiang Fengmian has ascended to the position of sect leader, she wrote back. He has to visit the other sects relatively often, and the Jiang sect has always been close to the Jin sect. Why shouldn’t they visit?

Lan Qiren thought about his brother and shook his head. Was irresponsibility in the rainwater this year?

I trust you’ve made your view on the matter clear to Jiang Fengmian.

Of course, she replied. He seems to live in hope that one day I’ll change my mind.

You’ve never changed your mind about anything.

So I’ve told him. Really, the fact that he doesn’t realize that is yet another reason why we wouldn’t be a good pair – putting aside his role, which I don’t want to share. Can you imagine me as mistress of the Lotus Pier? I’d be awful at it.

Lan Qiren imagined it, and shuddered.

Anyway, I’m like you – I want to travel! There’s so much to see out there. What a pity it would be to be trapped inside all day, like a caged lark singing only for a select few.

You could always invite others to come share their stories with you instead, he replied, thinking of Wen Ruohan sitting alone in the room he had designed for Lan Qiren like a dollhouse, waiting for a maid to help him vent his emotions over Lao Nie and Lan Qiren both. The rumors from Qishan said he’d recently taken on a concubine and that she was pregnant; Madame Wen was apparently furious over it. Bring the world to you, if you can’t go to them. That’s what sect leaders generally do, to my understanding: feathering their nest to make it bright and pleasing to their eyes because they cannot leave lest it fall apart. That’s a way of living, too.

I suppose, she replied, fearless and carefree as ever. But not for me!

There was Lao Nie, too.

He visited the Cloud Recesses a month or so after Lan Qiren’s visit to the Nightless City, belatedly concerned about Lan Qiren’s well-being – “I didn’t hear about it,” he said, looking shamefaced. “I had other matters on my mind…I’ll talk to your brother, though. I can’t believe he would order something so disproportionate. Is he here?”

“He is not,” Lan Qiren said with a sigh. Those who said you couldn’t change a man’s essential nature were not wrong, he thought, already forgiving Lao Nie despite his lack of actual apology.

Lan Qiren had always liked people whose spirits were bold and relentless, uncompromising and unbending just like him; there was really no other way to explain his truly inexplicable fondness for Cangse Sanren and Lan Yueheng and even Wen Ruohan, except maybe to say that he found himself compelled to love where he was loved in return. Lao Nie was like two drops of water with the rest of them, forging his own path in the world, wholly and truly himself – even if he left chaos in his wake, why should Lan Qiren expect more of him than to be exactly what he was?

“He’s out night-hunting,” he added. “Down in the south. There were tales of some very unusual beasts roaming there.”

He Kexin had expressed a mild interest in response to a storyteller’s tale, and naturally Lan Qiren’s brother whisked her away at once, her and all her friends that he always seemed to be paying for. Lan Qiren had thought that she kept them around her as a means of holding his brother off, but Zhang Xin had opined over a shared cup of tea that she thought He Kexin was treating the great and powerful Qingheng-jun as a convenient purse, that treating her friends to his largesse was the point and not the defense. 

Zhang Xin liked to hold forth on her views, forthright and unstoppable and loud, and Lan Qiren could see why Lan Yueheng constantly looked so infatuated whenever he gazed upon her – she was not dissimilar to one of the explosions he created in his alchemy laboratory. They were very well matched, and Lan Qiren deeply pitied whichever teacher got stuck with their eventual offspring, which he foresaw as being the least Lan sect juniors to have ever graced their ranks.

“Gone? I’ll see him when he comes back, then,” Lao Nie said, entirely unperturbed by such concerns. “Let me tell you about my son instead! He’s wonderful – a big, fat baby.”

Lan Qiren crossed his arms. “We can talk about your baby later. What about your wife?”

“A goddess!”

Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way, Lan Qiren mused. “Lao Nie,” he said. “What about Wen da-ge?”

Lao Nie blinked at him. “Hanhan? He’s doing well, too.”

Lan Qiren resisted the urge to strangle Lao Nie.

“Oh,” Lao Nie said, apparently figuring something out based on Lan Qiren’s sour expression. “You mean the fact that he’s angry at me?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said patiently. “He’s very angry at you. Do you know why?”

“I’ve tried talking with him about it,” Lao Nie complained. “I don’t know why he’s being so stiff all of a sudden…it’s not like he doesn’t know what I’m like.”

This, Lan Qiren supposed, was definitely true.

“He thought of you as his,” Lan Qiren said. “Didn’t you know?”

Lao Nie shrugged, careless as a boar in full charge, heedless of the damage wrought around him as he moved through the world, none of which could penetrate his thick hide. “Of course. But being his doesn’t make me any less my own, and I can belong to others, too. Who’s he to tell me not to give myself where I will? Does he have dominion over me?”

“He doesn’t want dominion over you,” Lan Qiren said, and Lao Nie looked at him skeptically – which was fair enough. Wen Ruohan was possessed of a strong desire for domination, whether of people, places, or things; he truly believed all good things in the world ought to belong to him, and Lan Qiren only hoped that he never shifted over to thinking that he was actually the rightful owner of all things, for that path led inexorably to the reign of the tyrant. “Truly! Not over you, or any of the people close to his heart. If he wanted merely to possess you, he might as well try to snatch you off to his sect and give you his surname.”

“Not with the sort of relationship we have,” Lao Nie said, a smug smirk curling his lips. “If you know what I mean.”

Lan Qiren sighed. Truly, it was a pity to have reached the age in which everyone around him seemed to think of nothing but sex; he couldn’t wait until they were all too old for such things. Surely it couldn’t be that long…?

“You know what I mean,” he said patiently. “He’s not after Sect Leader Nie, not making some powerplay or attempting to seduce you in order to win your talents over. He likes you, Lao Nie, and all he expects from you is that you like him back.”

“I do!” Lao Nie protested. “I really do. He’s my darling Hanhan, isn’t he? He’s the one setting up walls between us, all because he’s gotten his feathers in a twist over something that’s really nothing. If it’s my time that he’s worried about splitting, what’s the surprise? My sect will always come first, as will his for him. I don’t even have a wife anymore!”

“You – don’t?” Lan Qiren stared, expression blanking out in his shock: this was not a piece of news that had reached his ears. He put down his teacup. “Lao Nie, if something happened –”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Lao Nie said dismissively. “She’s a goddess, like I told you! She’s off and around, coming and going, everywhere and nowhere at once – how could my Nie sect hope to contain such a creature?”

“But…you married her?”

“So? Does that mean I need to live with her?”

Lan Qiren was truly taken aback. He had never heard of such an unorthodox arrangement. “You have a son together! Who is raising him?”

“Me, of course! With the aid of plenty of servants, naturally. I wouldn’t dream of tying her down…ah, Qiren, don’t look so shocked. We’re all our own people, with our own wants and desires. Sometimes those desires pair well, and you can live together happily and well for the rest of your lives; sometimes they don’t. If you fall for someone whose desires don’t line up to your own, you can still pursue something with them. That you wouldn’t match well in what’s considered the orothodox fashion is no reason not to match at all, not if there can be an unorthodox arrangement that causes no one any harm.”

“Are we still talking about your ‘goddess’ wife?” Lan Qiren asked. “Or Wen da-ge?”

Lao Nie smiled ruefully. That sharp cleverness that was always with him lingered in his eyes, having been hidden beneath his distraction and his infatuation and his deliberately careless manner. “I tried to tell him,” he said. “From the very beginning…I was the one doing the pursuing, you know. He didn’t even want me at the start. The stupid fool, he thought he’d be better off alone, alone with the cold delights of political power and the miserable fascinations of that Fire Palace of his, leaving no room in his heart for any human warmth at all. You know what they all say about him: that he lost something when he passed the boundaries of his first human lifetime, his cultivation so high as to make him closer to a god than a man.”

Lan Qiren had heard that, too. At the beginning, he’d seen what people meant, but later, once he got closer, he didn’t see it at all.

“Before I convinced him to have me, he was far worse,” Lao Nie said bluntly. “If you think he was bad when you were younger, you have no idea – forget putting you in a dollhouse and dressing you up to suit his whims over your complaints; if he’d wanted you alongside him back then, he wouldn’t have hesitated to carve out your soul and turn you into a heartless puppet instead. It wouldn’t have satisfied him, of course, and eventually he would have discarded you, never knowing why he couldn’t get what he wanted from you.”

“Know your own mind,” Lan Qiren quoted. “What he would have wanted was the heart, sincerely given, and yet that was the first part thrown away…but such a realization would be too late and too bad for the victim, even if he later regretted.”

“He didn’t regret much, when I first got to know him,” Lao Nie said. “Nothing but trouble, down to his bones; that’s what he was, and what he still is, really. Lucky for him, I like a bit of trouble.”

That was an understatement. Lao Nie liked a lot of trouble, the more the better; it was really no wonder that he’d attached himself to Wen Ruohan.

“I pursued him,” Lao Nie said, picking up the thread from where he’d left off. “I dug out all the human parts of him that I could from underneath that stiff and stern human mask of his, and in the end he wanted me, too. But throughout it all I told him, I told him, that I wasn’t free for the keeping – that I knew myself, with my nose for trouble and wickedness, that I’d never be satisfied with just the one. That the only one who’d ever have all of me was my saber, and only because she doesn’t want anything in return but blood. He liked that, once. He thought it was a good thing.”

Yes, Lan Qiren could see that. Especially in the beginning, Wen Ruohan would not have wanted someone who gave him everything; he was like a wild cat, standoffish with those that longed for him and close to those that rejected him. One of the most powerful cultivators, sect leader of the most powerful sect – if he wanted someone who would simper and flirt and yield for him, he could have a dozen at the blink of an eye.

Someone like Lao Nie, who had a firm sense of identity and neither needed nor wanted anything from the outside world, who was always truly fundamentally himself, was far more his style.

So was someone like Lan Qiren, for that matter. Uncompromising and strict, mind preoccupied with his idiosyncratic obsessions – Wen Ruohan had thought him interesting, for whatever reason, and in time had grown jealous of those other thoughts, longing to be counted among them.

Lan Qiren rubbed at his temples. “He always seemed to enjoy you going off with others,” he noted, wondering if Lao Nie had more insight into the matter. “Why is this different? He got married, too.”

“Hanhan’s tastes are changing as he remembers more of what it means to be human,” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, accepting more tea when Lan Qiren poured it out for him. “I only excavated the surface, the rough parts of him that suited my interests, and he was content with our relationship being friendly and casual. But for you he brought out his soft underbelly and the hint of civilization that he used to have, remembering what he used to be and the things he used to want…I see he even gave you some of his paintings.”

Lan Qiren looked where Lao Nie was looking and saw the two paintings on his wall by the mysterious artist. “His paintings..? He painted these? It doesn’t feel anything like him!”

“Trust me, his qi is unmistakable to one who’s known it as intimately as I have. It’s definitely him – though I’d say these paintings are nearly a century old. Can we say that we are the same people we were between yesterday and today? Even the course of the mighty river can shift over time.”

Lan Qiren was stuck looking at the paintings. Free, he’d said to Wen Ruohan, all unknowing. The person who painted these was free and happy. Their soul is like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. 

For all the power and might that Wen Ruohan could bring to bear these days, Lan Qiren wouldn’t use any of those terms to describe him as he was now.

“He’ll forgive me,” Lao Nie said confidently, putting his cup down. “Give him time to remember why he liked me so much, remember all the warnings I gave him, and he’ll get over it. Maybe we’ll be a little less close than before, maybe there’ll be more anger and jealousy between us - at any rate, I haven’t pushed him so far to the brink that he would try to kill me to keep anyone else from having me, at least not yet. He’s just disappointed, that’s all. He’d only just realized that he wanted more when he realized he couldn’t get it.”

Lan Qiren nodded slowly. He thought that Lao Nie was right, although he also thought it was stupid of him to knowingly play with fire in such a brazen manner – Wen Ruohan really wouldn’t hesitate to murder a fellow sect leader, even one in another Great Sect, if he was determined enough, and he was smart and twisted enough to think of a way to get away with it, too.

Still, just as Lan Qiren had gotten over his feelings about Wen Ruohan’s inclination towards seeing torture and pain as entertainment, realizing that if he wanted him then he had to accept him as he was rather than rejecting him for it, Wen Ruohan would do the same for Lao Nie. He would remember what Lao Nie was like, what he’d always been like, and he would teach himself to appreciate those traits that he had once thought preferable, even as he resented them.

They’d get over this. Lan Qiren was sure of it.

What would come of it in the future, though...

“Anyway, I’ve dithered for long enough,” Lao Nie said. “I really only swung by briefly to say hello. I’m due at the Jin sect before the week’s out, and that means I have to go at once. Anything you want me to pass along to your lady-love rogue cultivator?”

“Leave Cangse Sanren alone, that’s what you can do for me,” Lan Qiren said. “Also, we’re still not lovers, nor will we ever be. Not everyone’s you!”

“No, they’re not,” Lao Nie said, grinning at him. “And that’s the way I like it – the richer the variety of the world, the more interesting people I can meet and be friends with, just like you.”

Lan Qiren was so overwhelmed by the compliment – he of course considered Lao Nie a friend of his, having as he did so many acquaintances and so few true friends, but he hadn’t realized that Lao Nie saw him as a genuine friend in return – that it didn’t even occur to him until it was too late that he hadn’t brought up the matter of his brother and He Kexin, nor told Lao Nie that he needed to stop his reckless encouragement of that relationship.

He’d tried to put that whole thing out of mind, Lan Qiren thought to himself with a sigh, and he’d succeeded – too well.

Whatever. His brother wouldn’t listen to their own sect elders, even as their exhortations shifted from encouragement to censure and their suggestions to leave it alone got more and more pointed, their interventions less and less subtle. Why would he listen to Lao Nie? 

He’d just go his own way and do what he wanted, no matter what.

Lan Qiren ought to learn from his example and put the whole thing aside, accepting the facts just as they were. He’d finally given up on the idea that he could help his sect through this moment of disaster - there would simply be nothing for it; they would have to stumble along without him or else force his brother to actually do his job, but in any event, it wasn’t his problem.

He was going to go - he was going to finally make his way out of the sect for his long-planned travel, and when he did, he wouldn’t need to worry about his brother, or He Kexin, or any of it.

Only a few more months from the date he’d informed the sect elders of, he thought, and this time he would stick to it, not delay. A few more months...he could even count the time in days, if he wished. 

His brother (and He Kexin) would return from their night-hunt in a few days, likely straight into the various elders’ less-than-subtle plans to find them and scold them over the whole thing. 

Lan Qiren would give his brother ten days after he returned - the same ten days his brother had given him - before he formally informed him that he was leaving.

It wouldn’t be long now.

[zv5x]

So uhh,,, I'm starting to get into writing again after restarting everything, so to really warm myself up I'm doing the Yandere ABC's prompt thingy with Spirit! Cause I need the Spirit simps to return to my blog and cause Spirit is my main source of serotonin!!! Plz enjoy teehee, and I promise I'll get to all of your requests soon! let me have my Spirit simping hour, I need it very much ( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? - Spirit is VERY intense affection wise, and is almost always holding onto you in one way or another. Whether that be laying his head on your chest and purring quietly, or by insisting that your hand stays connected with his while outside, he's always making sure he has a good handle on you. He's also very protective and caring, so expect to be feeling a lot safer in the future. And I mean a LOT safer. Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? - Spirit was never a big fan of wasting his time on the filth that keeps the two of you apart, so he likes to keep rival elimination quick and painless. However, if he feels that whoever he's killing isn't worthy of a quick death, he will most definitely accommodate to that fact. Or, if you ask him to kill someone and specifically request for it to be long and messy, he'd do it without a shread of hesitation. After all, he'd do anything to prove his loyalty to you. Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? - Mocking you isn't in Spirit's vocabulary. He could never treat you with a shread of inhumanity (unless that is, he sees it as needed), as he feels you deserve the best and nothing but the best. He owes his life to you! You saved him, you showed him that the world wasn't nearly as vile as he once thought. Treating you with anything less than the love and adoration that you deserve just doesn't seem like a concept to him even. If he get's to the point where he sees abduction as necessary, he might do the occasional "ara ara" type shit while stepping on your chest though lol, he can get like that sometimes. He'd step on you very gently, though..he doesn't want to hurt you too bad Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? - Before you even got him out of the game in which he was trapped, he was very creepily overbearing. Though, he couldn't directly show that considering he wouldn't ever get let out then. He'd just keep tabs on all your devices through the shadows. P.S., it was very kind of you to make a ROM of his game for your laptop for him to move into! It made things so much easier for him! Now he can have a much easier time watching you sleep and hearing you breathe when he's placed right by your side on your bed (you said you didn't want him to be lonely, which he thought was very kind and cute of you. It's exactly why he adores you so much). It also makes it so much easier to look through your phone since you have that data connected to your laptop as well. Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? - What was that, (Y/N)? Spirit's actions are making you doubt his undying love for you? No fear! He'll pour his entire heart to you right then and there! He'll list of just every little thing about you that makes his heart beat fast, he'll also lovingly alert you to the fact that he owes his life along with everything that he is, all to you! He wouldn't be alive or free if it wasn't for you! The coding of his game would have crumbled and basically ate him alive, so without you he'd probably be dead. Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? - A combination of betrayal and confusion. Confusion, due to the fact he just doesn't understand why you'd want to leave him. Isn't this exactly what you humans consider true love? The idea of being with someone who would gladly bare any level of agony just to be the only one you gaze upon, the idea of someone being willing to go to any

length just to see that smile of yours that they always adore seeing, how is this not what humans consider love? The feeling of betrayal from you doing something as selfish as trying to leave him, the pain could almost eat him alive. How could you? He's done everything for you, he's given you every inch of love and affection that he has to offer, and you repay him by trying to leave him all alone? Expect the biggest guilt trip you've ever experienced. "I thought you loved me, dearest! Why would you try and leave me?!" Along with millions of demands to know who you were running away to. There had to be some place for you to go when you left him after all, so whose throat does he have to slit just to prove to you how much he adores you? Go on, don't be shy, tell him! Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? - The hunting you down aspect of all of this? Yeah, I guess he could consider it a game. But the thing is, he never really considers what he's doing Hunting you down unless you're directly trying to run from him. So, at that point, hunting you down is exactly what he's doing. Spirit considers everything he's doing to be completely understandable and normal for human relationships. So he definitely doesn't consider what he's doing to be a "game" or anything else similar. His love for you isn't just some game, it's serious and it's all he has Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? - If you ever dare cheat on him, expect to see the last thread of sanity he has in him just snap right before your eyes. He could never kill you, no. But your little partner? Expect them to be torn to shreads right before your very eyes. Ever hear one of those crazy ass yandere laughs? Yeah. He'd pull that too. He'd quite literally go ballistic, getting up when who you cheated on him with isn't even recognizable, screaming at you and demanding to know the reason for your disloyalty. He did everything for you! And you just go on and pull shit like this? No. He won't accept it. You won't get away with it. He still loves you of course, and will remind you of that fact every millisecond, but you can tell he just isn't the same. More possessive, more angry and suffocating. Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? - Spirit definitely wants to marry you. Like, this is a fact. He's basically your fiance without even proposing to you yet. He'd definitely enjoy a few kids as well, but only if you want them as well and are able to have them. He understands any reason you might not want kids, and he won't pressure you. Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? - He's like, literally the CEO of jealous (As well as the CEO of protectiveness). His protective nature causes him to be extremely suspicious of others and their intentions. Sometimes if he feels that person was getting a little too friendly with you, he'll possessively wrap his arms around you while you're talking to them and growl at them until they power walk away out of fear. Sometimes while the two of you are cuddling he'll subtly and quietly bite your neck to leave marks. Or, sometimes he just goes for the more direct route, and offs anyone who he saw as in his way. He can't have anyone walking in on private property thinking it's their own, can he? Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? - He's usually extremely understanding and sweet. Spirit doesn't like having to use fear tactics to get his way, since he hates it when he has to resort to putting fear in you. Around you, Spirit is more loving than he ever was around anyone before. You're his precious darling after all! You saved him, you taught him what love was like. How could he not act painfully loving and sweet in your presence? You just make his heart flutter so violently. Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? - Literally exploding Senpai's face off one day while you were paying his game. He's just been watching you for so long, allowing

Senpai to soak up all your love and attention. He just couldn't contain the jealousy, or the rage. He didn't get what Senpai did to be getting so much affection from you. So, he got rid of the problem. Senpai. He was able to convince you Senpai was completely unalive and unfeeling, just lines of code. Which, he was lines of code, but Spirit knew very well that he was aware of the world and environment around him, and could very much so be considered...alive. However, you didn't need to know that. Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? - Kinda? You know how protective and jealous he can be, but he completely hides the fact he's literally committed murder. He doesn't want you to think of him as some heartless monster, now does he? That wouldn't do at all. He needs you to adore him, just as much as he adores you. He wants you to be fully willing to marry him, and live out the rest of eternity with him. How could that happen if the very thought of him scares you? Naughty: How would they punish their darling? - The usual, causing you physical pain. His methods of doing this vary, along with the severity of the pain. But, lucky for you it takes a lot to get him to the point to where he sees punishment as the only way. Additionally, if you allow him too, he could get a little...lewder with the punishments... Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? - Not many, if everything goes by his plan. However, if you refuse to do what he says, he'll take away as many rights as he can. Physical freedom, friends, family, and everything else in between. If he feels something is keeping you from him, he'll snatch it away in a millisecond. You don't need it. However, if everything goes to plan, then great! He's so happy you realize that your future is with him, and only him! Patience: How patient are they with their darling? - Oh, he's extremely patient! That is, unless you do something to upset him. Don't show too much fear, don't yell or scream at him, don't deliberately make him jealous, or do anything similar, and everything will be okay! He understands why you might be a little reluctant, as you've probably never had someone as loving and adoring as him in your life! So much affection being given to you is something you need to get used to, he would know. It took him a little bit to fully adjust to all the love you had for him. Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? - No. He wouldn't. Not in the slightest. He'd never be able to move on if you were to leave him forever. If you die, he could just chase you down to wherever you ended up considering he was a demon himself. But, if you somehow find a way to get away from him even after he chases you down? He'll be devastated. He thought you loved him, he loved you so much. He still does love you. He can't let you go, he just can't. He needs you. He lives for you. He craves you. You're his light, his everything, he can't imagine an existence without you by his side. But, that won't even happen, he won't let you go no matter what. You won't be able to loosen yourself from his grip. Not that you want to though, right? (Extra fact: Spirit wouldn't hesitate to resort to killing you himself, just so he could drag you down to Hell and keep you there forever. If it's something he needs to do, then he'll do it no questions asked. He hates causing you pain, he really does. But Spirit will do whatever it takes to have your love) Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? - Spirit has a very warped view of love, so while he is capable of feeling guilt, he doesn't at all regret what he's done. He feels guilt for the way you cried when he tried snuggling you and holding you, he felt guilt for the way you trembled as he reached out to you, but he just couldn't feel bad for the people he damned and murdered. They were trying to take you away from him, and that's absolutely unforgivable. Stigma:

What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? - Definitely his time in the Hating Simulator. He was completely ripped away from all contact with the outside world and everyone that inhabited it, human or not. He stayed like that for years, until his captors daughter finally decided to dispose of him. Then, somehow, he met you. You decided to pick his game and it's console up, and take him home. He didn't trust you at first, but soon, watching you talk to Senpai and get closer with him, he fell in love with you. Hard. He needed you in his life, he needed to keep you. He had to have you. You needed to be his, and his alone. Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? - Confused, but still upset and guilty. He hates seeing you in pain, whether that pain be physical or mental. So to hear you scream and cry with such pain, it absolutely makes his heart shatter. But he just doesn't understand why you're acting in such agony...aren't you happy? Don't you love him? He'll probably look at you with a pained look in his eyes. He'll try and hold you in his arms and hold you close to his chest, no matter how hard you struggle. Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? - Literally chasing you down to wherever you go, with no effort at all. He makes it so you CAN'T escape him, no matter how hard you try, and no matter who you cry to for help. With any other Yandere, there's always the possibility of escape. Whether it be by leaving their basement, killing them in self defense, getting them arrested, etc, etc. But with Spirit, there's nothing you can do. You're going to love him, or he'll make your life a living hell. Quite literally, in fact. Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? - While there is literally no way to escape him, you can try and manipulate him to get whatever you wish. Spirit is extremely touch starved, to the point where he'll probably tremble and shake with pleasure if you do as much as reach out to him. Just hold him in your lap and let him purr into your neck as you run your finger through his hair, he'll be literal putty in your hands. While trying to use this against him to escape will result in harsh punishment, if you can think of anything you can get out of him using this then by all means go for it. Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? - Only if needed. Spirit doesn't wish to cause you pain, but he won't hesitate to if he thinks it will make you love him and stop that hopeless struggling of yours. Spirit will make sure to cuddle you and kiss you after each punishment however, praising you in a soft whisper about how good you've been for him while he taught you a lesson. Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? - If you want to know how much you mean to him, Spirit will without hesitation get on one knee and kiss the tips of your hand as he purrs words of pure love. He'll make sure you know just how loved and important you are to him by the end of the night, any way you wish for him to, no matter how direct or "explicit" Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? - After escaping the Hating Simulator, maybe about a year Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? - If you were to "break" under his care, rest assured it was completely unintentionally. But, he'll still take your submission as a win. You're willing to tell you love him, you're willing to marry him and live a life with him, and that's all Spirit needs. He loves you so much ♡

[eve6262]

gwen is lost

Everyone has somewhere to go.

Senna and Lucian hunt Thresh, Vayne joining them. Olaf returns to the Freljord, Pyke to his waters and Graves to the port, Rengar to his jungle- Riven and Irelia both to Ionia, surprisingly. Akshan prefers the desert air, and thus starts trying to repair the sentinel bases starting with Shurima, but Gwen?

Gwen has nowhere to go. Nowhere she was, really, aside from looking around fruitlessly in the black mist for Viego. Now that he’s gone, she has nothing left but a bit of joy and the faint memory of, in a last moment, seeing Isolde once more as a spirit. She could help them with the hunt for Thresh, but she fears she would only be another soul for him to capture.

She has no way to fight a man that powerful. Senna, Lucian, Vayne, they’re all experienced hunters. But Gwen only knows how to fight very vaguely, and snips and slashes are her forte, not tracking and traps and the like. On this very journey it’s been proven, from the mistakes she’s made and the assumptions that have been so very wrong.

The memory of fear still strikes deep into her heart.

She decides, eventually, to simply see the world for herself. Pick a spot, and start there, and simply go places, experience the world however she pleases. Eventually, she’ll find somewhere that needs a seamstress of her exceptional talent, and then she’ll finally have a home.

She hopes.

Piltover is the place she starts in, because their shops are simply wonderful and that parasol looked absolutely gorgeous when she wasn’t concentrated on its status as a fetter. Upon arrival she sees some remnants of the mist, surely, but largely the streets are still there. Aristocrats look worriedly around as they take the corner, scared another drop of mist is going to take over the city again. Their children are less frightened, until one of them spots the darling doll with giant scissors and rushes behind their mother.

“What is it- oh my! You’re- you have it!”

“Have what, Miss?”

“The- the mist! The Black Mist!”

“Oh, not at all! This is the Hallowed Mist- very different, I assure you.”

Nonetheless the woman looks like she’s about to faint, and there’s a large commotion from the people around her. A hextech-colored voice cuts through the panic.

“What is this, now?”

The crowd immediately quiets, and silently parts for a woman with grey hair and a loose blouse that does nothing to conceal the metal body she’s got below the neck, complete with two blades for legs. They remind distinctly of scissors when she walks, back and forth like they could cut so easily through fabric.

“What sharp blades! You must tell me how you don’t end up cutting everything you wear.”

“I don’t wear anything that they could cut.” Her eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

“I am Gwen.”

“Last name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Don’t tell me, then. I’ll find out.”

“If you do find one, please tell me! I’m terribly curious.”

“What are you?”

“A doll! Or a seamstress. Which one were you asking about?”

“Not human?”

“I don’t believe so, no. Unless I was turned into a human by the Hallowed Mist.”

“Hmph.” The woman tosses a lock of hair out of her face. “Come with me.”

So she does, follows the lady down the alleys and streets of Piltover. At the mere sight of her people rush to get out of her way, clearly wanting nothing to do with the woman, but Gwen is only concocting ways to make a blouse with no bottoms look fashionable. Maybe something simple, like a piece with sleeves to her elbows and a flowy bottom so it doesn’t look like it should be tucked in somewhere or ends in a strange silhouette.

Finally, they get to a towering mansion, and the lady throws up some kind of gesture Gwen doesn’t recognize. Suddenly, there’s wires shooting out from her hips, and she attaches to a wall and quickly starts to scale it.

“I suppose she wants me to follow?” She mounts her scissors and quickly follows, though she’s proven wrong when, after entering through a window, the woman turns around and is shocked by the development.

“You can fly?”

“In a way. My scissors can, and I can ride them.

“...Alright, then. Come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Ooh, who was that woman who Akshan said liked tea? Shadya, was it?”

The woman looks at her strangely, but continues in. “Sit,” she asks, motioning to a small table with two chairs, and so she does.

While presumably boiling water, the woman looks over to her guest appraisingly. Gwen does her best to look pretty, though she thinks her clothes already to that for her; Isolde’s final gift, she thinks. Joy, skill with a needle and thread, and a beautiful outfit to fit. Finally, she speaks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Piltover.”

“More specifically.”

“Your home?”

“Who am I?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“...Camille.”

“Well then, very nice to meet you, Miss Camille!”

The teapot whistles, and so the woman goes to pour it out. She balances so perfectly on the blades that make up her legs that Gwen can’t help but imagine her doing ballet, carefully slicing her way through the stage in a gorgeous dress made of material that’s suspended by magic. Oh, it would be such a sight.

Thankfully, though she can’t eat proper things, she can drink tea. It tastes like regal refinement and a little like memories- perhaps her maker liked this flavor.

After a few sips, Camille speaks again. “Well, then. You must have a story to tell.”

“I do, if you’d like to hear it!”

“Absolutely.”

And so for maybe the next hour or so Gwen recounts her journey with the sentinels, starting from when she found Lucian and Senna all the way to Veigo’s imprisonment in her impeccable sewing and with plenty of boasting about her own skills in making outfits for each and every sentinel. Even Pyke, the slippery thing, who seemed all to happy to put on the clothes when she showed them off to him, citing something about water making the threads in his clothes all thick.

She almost thinks she won’t be able to tell her about Isolde, but she manages without her voice cracking and only a few pauses. Finally, she leaves out Thresh for the most part, only explaining that the Black Mist still exists because he does.

When she stops, and looks quizzically at the woman, there’s a certain pensive look on her face. “I see,” says Camille, considering what to follow that with.

“If I may, you seem like you have quite the story as well, what with those legs! Would you tell it to me?”

She almost says something, but hesitates. Closes her mouth, then opens it again. “Alright.”

And she begins.

----

literally in the middle of writing "she's in piltover and a woman goes OH MY GOD" I go "what if camille and gwen" so here's the bit

~Eve6262

[just-a-creep-babe]

Hoodie Yandere Alphabet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Commissioned by anonymous, thank you so much! 💗💝💗

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Despite everything, ya boi isn’t really that affectionate. He doesn’t like being vulnerable cause he doesn’t wanna risk the control he has, so any affection usually comes in the form of sickly sweet teasing & mocking. Like he’ll drag a knife/gun up & down their body while cooing about how pretty they look when they’re all scared & helpless beneath him, and that’s about as affectionate as he gets

But he is, admittedly, a huge softie in the mornings when he’s half-asleep & also when he’s a little woozy from blood loss. In that case, he won’t be so afraid to smother his darling in plenty of kissies & cuddles :3 And once he’s got a grip on them, it’s damn near impossible to escape; boy’s got some thicc 👏ass 👏muscles 👏 just perfect for trapping his squirming darling against his broad chest, even when he is just waking up or injured 👀

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Mmh he won’t actively make an effort to cover them in blood or anything, but he does appreciate how those streaks of scarlet look on their skin. He sometimes likes cutting them when they’ve misbehaved, and he especially loves whipping them until the blood starts beading up, but other than that, he’s prolly more of a fan of bruising. Too much blood can make too much of a mess, which just isn’t worth the effort in his opinion. He’s a clean boi uwu

Still, despite that, he’s not afraid of getting his hands real dirty every now & then when the occasion calls for it ;)

And on the other hand, if he gets injured while he’s out, he‘ll picking at his wounds & stitches until blood gushes out just to smear it on his darling. It brings out this kinda possessive side of him when they’re covered in his blood—his mark. He also enjoys how kinda fucked up it is—and bonus points if it freaks his darling out too :)))

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He’s pretty damn cruel tbh. He enjoys hurting them physically, but he also absolutely adores messing with their head. He’ll act sweet & caring one second, then flip the switch & start mocking them for thinking he might actually be a good person. He likes being unpredictable with his cruelty too—it keeps them on edge. If they expect him to ridicule them, he won’t, and if they let their guard down & start believing he might genuinely care this time, he’ll be extra cruel~

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Oh, he definitely would. He’s smart enough to realize that what he’s done isn’t right, and he‘s probably beyond redemption at this point, so why not? Homeboy knows he’s going to hell anyways, he might as well enjoy the ride & do what he pleases ;p

He does many-a things against their will, and like I mentioned, he loves mind games & generally messing with their head, to the point of possibly breaking them. He’s also certainly not against dishing out punishments too. Whether or not they deserve it is sometimes questionable, but he’ll find a way to gaslight them into thinking it’s prolly their fault regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He doesn’t like being vulnerable with someone he knows won’t reciprocate said vulnerability. Boy’s just not about taking those unnecessary risks. So he doesn’t really let himself show any kind of emotions towards them. And this mans is fucking excellent at hiding what he’s feeling, and tbh, as a yandere, it just makes him all the more downright terrifying

The only time he might start opening up is when, again, he’s tired/injured & his defences are down, or he thinks his darling might be falling for him & their relationship is getting,, kinda more serious/genuine. Even then, it’s a slow process, cause opening up to someone isn’t exactly a familiar concept to him

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Oh, he loves it when they fight back. They can’t make things too easy for him now, can they?~ He likes when they aren’t afraid to show a bit of spunk; it only makes things all the more entertaining~

And besides, he knows that when it boils down to it, they can’t overpower him, so it’s not like he’s got anything to be afraid of anyways. They just end up looking super cute all flustered & upset trying to fight him off—all bark & no bite~

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

The whole thing is definitely a game. He wants to see if they can outsmart him—it gives him a huge rush & brings out this competitive side of him. He knows he’ll win in the end, ofc, but still, boy loves his little fucked up tricks & mind games, especially when his victim’s as cute & precious as his little darling~

When it comes to escaping, he’ll even go as far as to purposely letting them leave, just so he can leave traps around the forest & see if they can make it home—or if they end up crawling back to him. Make no mistake however; if they somehow, against all odds, manage to escape, he’s not gonna let that be the end of it. In fact, he’ll probably grow even more obsessed with them because they actually outsmarted him. The game would only really begin at that point 😈💀

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I don’t think there’d be one specific event that’d be the worst experience. If anything, the constant manipulation & gaslighting would wear them down over time and really fuck ‘em up in the long run. Just the whole experience of being his captive would leave some lasting trust issues, to say at the very least

But yeah, he isn’t one to get too physically violent unless it’s they’ve really misbehaved so they aren’t likely to experience any emotional outbursts/near-death experiences. He plays the long con & would rather fuck up their life by twisting & warping their perspective so bad no one could undo it. Not that they have much of a chance at returning to the real world w/o him, anyways. Cause, like I said, even if they escape, he’ll likely keep watching them from the shadows before reclaiming or killing them. They’re either stuck with him, traumatized for life among the normal population, or they’re dead, plain & simple

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Well, he’s got about a thousand back-up plans if they ever manage to escape that’ll lead them right back to his arms, but other than that, he doesn’t really,,,, know or care about the distant future?

Part of him realizes he might not always have his darling, while the other part of him’s convinced nothing could possibly tear them away from him. He’s kinda just betting they’ll eventually cave in, accept their fate & admit they love him back. At the same time though, he doesn’t want his little game to end, and he doesn’t want them to become complacent, so to speak. Despite all his careful planing ahead, he’s not really sure what he wants in the long run :/

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), he’s not one much for jealousy. In fact, he’d definitely let Masky, at the very least, play around with his darling because ya boy knows sharing is caring 😏😉

Yet despite his easy-going nature, there are time when even he, himself, isn’t immune to those sharp pangs of jealousy & possessiveness. It’s more of a mental thing than a physical one, though. Like he’s fine with letting his darling be around others, as long as everyone knows they ultimately belong to him, but if he catches hint that his darling’s thinking about someone else, then he‘ll be none too pleased.

He wants their thoughts to always be about him; and whether in a positive light or a negative one, he doesn’t care which. So he’d find some way to punish them or gaslight them until they can’t think of anyone else anymore. They should know they’re all his, no excuses

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Hm, Hoodie’s generally a reserved person, and that doesn’t change much around them tbh. He won’t be as quiet as he is around the other creeps, but he’s def not the type of yandere to gush about how much he loves his darling & how much they mean to him & stuff

Sometimes, he can even be,, kinda cold & stoic. He enjoys confusing them, so he might act like he doesn’t care about them & their presence is a burden—like he didn’t actively choose to kidnap them. He might range from acting like a cuddly murderous teddy bear to a detached blank slate of a person. Typically, when he puts some distance between him & his darling, it’s cause he wants them to fill the gap. He wants to see how far he’s twisted their mind to have them crave his acceptance, despite all the terrible things he’s done to them. So not only is he mentally unpredictable, but he’s also physically unpredictable too

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He probably just,,,,, wouldn’t go through any courting. He knows that if he wanted, he could easily slip his way into their life like everything’s normal, since he does look like a regular dude, but that’s not really what he’s about

If anything, he’s more the type to stalk them for a few weeks, even months, slowly making his presence more & more known until they know something funky’s going on. At that point, either they’ll snap & hunt him down, or he’ll just break in & take them. Either way, he’ll wanna have his fun even before kidnapping them—none of that trying to impress them bs

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yeah, they are, but mostly cause he’s just so quiet & reserved that people don’t expect him to be so sadistic behind closed doors. Anyone that doesn’t know him well prolly thinks he’s a big ol’ softie, which he can be when he wants to, but they severely underestimate him. The creeps that know him a little better have an inkling of an idea as to what his true colours are, but he’s just so damn mysterious & elusive that it’s hard to get a good grasp on what he’s truly like. Only Masky and maybe EJ know what he’s really all about 👀😳

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Ooh, he’s got a whole arsenal of punishments. There’s the regular physical ones like tying them up & sorta just,,, leaving them there for a while, there’s spanking, whipping, cutting—y’know, the typical punishments you might expect. He might also starve them or deny them warmth & human contact until they’re begging for his attention. He’ll also emotionally manipulate them & gaslight them until they feel super bad for doing whatever they did. Boy just likes playing a whole lotta mind games w his darling, what can I say? 🙃

Tbh, he can get pretty creative with his punishments if he’s in a sadistic mood. And he likes to keep his darling on their toes, so there’s no knowing what he might do to them. Sometimes the anticipation of the punishment is worse than the punishment itself :”)

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Hmm... it depends how bratty they’d get. If his darling is the type to fight back a lot, he’ll take away most of their rights. No outside time, no getting untied, limited bathroom breaks, the whole shebang. But if they’re a bit more on the docile side, he’ll actually be pretty lenient. Like he’ll even leave the doors unlocked & let them go out whenever they please, so long as they come back before their curfew. The more obedient they are, the more rights they’ll have, so a lot of it depends on them tbh

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Hoodie’s a pretty patient dude by default. And for his darling of whom which he adores so dearly? Oh yeah, he’s got plenty of patience. That doesn’t mean he’ll let them get away with misbehaving tho; it just means he won’t get upset when/if they do misbehave. He’ll never snap or yell at them or anything. This boy’s got a wild sense of control so, despite everything else, at least his darling doesn’t have to be afraid of him getting mad & going manic 👉👈

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If ever his darling manages to leave or successfully escape, it’s cause he let them. Either he lost interest or he wanted them to return to their lives while he watches from the shadows. If he decides to keep them alive even after releasing them, he’ll still keep tabs on them, maybe popping in every now & then to remind them that their time spent with him wasn’t just a horrifying dream

If they die, however, and it wasn’t on purpose, he’ll be pretty upset. It’ll maybe be the only time he’ll have an outburst—when no one’s around to see it, ofc. But boy will just explode in a fit of rage & regret. He’ll completely wreck the room, taking out all of his aggression on the things around him—and boy won’t hold anything back. He might even inadvertently end up self-harming in the process too :”c

He’s not usually one to feel guilt, but he’d definitely blame himself for their death. He’d try to focus on his work to distract himself, to the point where he’d almost become a shell of a person. It’d take a good few months/years before he’d get over it. But I mean, he has killed some of his pretty close friends before, so he’ll prolly recover just fine. What’s one more body of his loved one to add to the count? :)

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Nah, not really. Aside from blaming himself if they accidentally die, like I mentioned, nothing really makes that mans feel guilty. He knows what he did is wrong, he just,, doesn’t care lmfao 😅

And he probably wouldn’t let them go, either, unless he gets bored of them. But even then, the chances of letting them go instead of killing them are about 50/50; boy really just Does Not Give A Shit™️

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Homeboy used to be a super sweet dude that wouldn’t hurt a fly, but Slender’s influence kinda brought out this twisted, fucked up amoral side of him. He already stalks & kills people for a living, so what’s the harm in bringing his work home sometimes, ya know?

He just wants to watch a cutie squirm in his possession—it makes him feel alive. Not to mention, those cat-and-mouse games go a long way in providing stress-relief from work. He just wants some good ol’ fashion fun & entertainment, can you really blame him? ;)

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Honestly, he,,,, he kinda likes it 😳😳 Lowkey gets off to seeing them cry ngl, it just gives him this fucked up kinda rush. If he sees them curled up and crying, he might go up to them & caress their face, cooing his usual deceit, or he’ll grip their cheeks & lick the tears off as a way of mocking them

He might cuddle or comfort them if he’s feeling particularly sweet. If they’ve been bad, however, he’s more likely to leave them crying in the corner w/o paying much mind to them. Screaming’s a similar case, too, except he might gag them & let them scream until their throat’s raw. Only if they’ve been good will he give them some positive attention uwu

How he reacts to them isolating themselves depends. If they’ve been good, he’ll find a way to coax them to stop, usually via some kind of manipulation, and if they’ve been bad, he’ll just,,, let them do as please. If they keep isolating, only then will he start losing patience. He’ll find some way to force them out of it. This includes, again, manipulation of all sorts, withholding food & warmth from them, all that “fun” kinda punishment stuff. But he won’t apologize. At that point, it almost becomes a game to see who caves in first, and homeboy will not lose

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

While he does love his darling, they tend to be more of a plaything to him. And he might not stick to just one singular darling over the course of his life. He might let some go, or he might get bored & kill some others; it all depends on their chemistry. He gets obsessed with all of them, ofc, but he might legitimately care more deeply about some than others. In fact, the ones he really cares about, he‘ll even let himself be more vulnerable towards. But if he’s vulnerable w someone & eventually grows bored of them, he’ll kill them w/o releasing them, cause he doesn’t want anyone knowing his secrets. It can be difficult to do if he still loves them, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do

The whole thing’s really all just a game. It’s only if/when he manages to find the perfect victim that he’ll keep them forever. Someone who’s not too docile but who also isn’t afraid to fight back. They’ve gotta be pretty smart, resourceful & entertaining, too. He wants them to end up falling in love with him, but he also doesn’t want them to stop fighting him. It’s only once he finds the truly utmost perfect darling that he’ll keep them all to himself forever and ever~

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Oh god, he honestly,, doesn’t really have any weaknesses. If his darling wants to escape, they just gotta hope he’ll let them go. Either that, or they gotta find some way out of his twisted game. Even if they manage to escape, he’ll keep tabs on them, so they’ll never truly be free. Once he’s got his sights on someone, the only escape is death tbh :/

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Oh yeah, for sure lol

He’s a pretty damn sadistic boi uwu. He’d hurt them physically and emotionally; boy just doesn’t care. How much & how often he hurts them all depends on how well behaved they are 🥴

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Hm he’s not quite the type to worship his darling. He adores them & thinks they’re damn precious, but he likely won’t put them on a pedestal or anything. The only chance he’d grow to revere them is if they outsmart him & prove themselves time & time again in his little games

He also doesn’t really care what his darling thinks of him. He knows he’s a bad person & probably doesn’t deserve their love. He’s accepted it, really. But it won’t stop him from gaslighting & manipulating them until they possibly fall for him. Love just becomes part of the game at that point ¯\_(ヅ)_/¯

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He likes to thoroughly think things through before making any decisions, so he’s likely to wait a good few weeks/months before making up his mind. He just wants to be certain before putting too much effort into things, ya know?

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yeh, he probably would. If they can’t handle his mind games, they’ll break one way or another. But honestly, how cruel he is depends a lot on his darling. If they‘re nice & obedient, he’ll be sweet and rewarding as long as they don’t bore him too much, so breaking isn’t likely at that point. But if they’re super defiant, he’ll be much harsher, and if they keep ignoring his warnings, things will keep escalating until they break or he just kills them skdjkdls. He wouldnt want his perfect darling to break though, cause that’s just no fun. Boy realizes a lot of them are likely to break because he’s not exactly,,, the kindest of yanderes ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ)

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

Part 32

masterlist

Alright my darlings! It’s here, the last part of ADG! This story has been such a wild ride, and I have loved writing it. I hope you all loved reading it! It’s been amazing, and I cannot tell you all how much I’ve loved hearing from you! Please feel free to pop into my messages or asks for an “ask my muse” for ADG as well as Something Wicked. I love you all! Enjoy!--- chaotic puff

Christmas passed in tense silence. She still refused to speak to him. Every attempt was met with hostility, and his patience was waning. But he couldn’t deny the way his heart fluttered watching her walk down the stairs in that gold gown. She was positively ethereal, a golden goddess, but she was as cold as the winter air. Staring straight ahead of her and straight past where Namjoon waited for her, and straight to where Jungkook waited for her with her fur wrap in hand.

“You look beautiful.” Namjoon complimented as she breezed past him allowing Jungkook to place the wrap around her shoulders. “Y/N.” He sighed annoyance creeping into his tone as she ignored him.

“Shall we?” She asked throwing him a cold smile over her shoulder.

“Y/N.”

“We don’t want to be late.”

There was a dark spark in her eye that unsettled him. She was going along far too easily. She’d been fighting him in a cold war for weeks, but when it came to the gala she was perfectly willing to go even though she was still treating him like a carrier of the plague. He’d expressed his hesitance to Jin, and Jin had been quick to point out that he was going to be so busy with the gala that she could mingle freely, something she hadn’t been able to do since he’d taken her. That had brought its own concerns, but the boys had all promised to keep an eye on her.

Everyone was going to keep a sharp eye on her throughout the night especially considering the vast assortment of guests that there would be in attendance not that that made Namjoon feel any better. She looked far too lovely for him to be comfortable letting her roam through a room of his associates, but she was expected to be there especially by those who hadn’t been in attendance at the wedding.

As soon as they reached the venue she’d melded into the crowd Jungkook following on her heels ever the loyal guard and little brother. Namjoon hadn’t even had a chance to introduce her to anyone, but Namjoon’s eyes were always scanning the room looking for a hint of her in the crowd. He’d catch the occasional flash of her skirt or a glimpse of Jungkook, but she was easily lost in the crowd, and he had greetings to give and respects to receive.

“RM!” Crowed the voice of a man Namjoon had no patience to deal with. “How are you? Where is that lovely wife of yours?”

“JB.” He growled pasting on a sharp smile of his own.

“I don’t see Y/N? Where is the lovely lady? I thought she would be here?” He looked around the room scanning the crowd for the elusive Mrs. Kim.

“She’s with Jungkook, circling the room.” He shrugged off the question his expression sharp and cautious though his posture remained relaxed. JB didn’t have any power here, while Namjoon was still armed and dangerous.

“Shouldn’t she by your side?” He quirked a brow sipping at his drink still searching the crowd for her. “Shirking her wifely duties already?”

Namjoon growled under his breath at that. JB had no place sticking his nose into their marriage. “She’s mingling. She is the hostess.”

“You’re sure she’s not just avoiding you? She did try to leave you.” He pointed out with a wicked smirk. “She hasn’t run off again, has she?”

“My wife is perfectly safe and being escorted by one of my best men.”

“But not with you.”

His smile was cold but polite. “She’s very safe as she is.”

“You’re sure about that?”

While Namjoon did his duty as leader of Bangtan, Y/N had other plans. She was on the hunt for someone specific though Jungkook made that hard. She didn’t find him intimidating, but those who milled around her were quickly scared away by the tall, brawny boy. The dark look in his eyes didn’t hurt in that department either. None of these urchins were worthy of being near his noona in his eyes.

“Dance with me, noona?” He asked plastering on a bright bunny grin when a brave soul came up looking like he had something to ask. Jungkook wasn’t having that.

She smiled and agreed letting Jungkook pull her onto the dance floor not noticing the dark glare he shot at the other man as he began to twirl her around the floor.

“I didn’t know you danced?” She laughed as Jungkook spun her. “Where has this skill been hiding?”

“Where Namjoon hyung can’t shoot me for dancing with his wife.” He chuckled pulling her back in.

“And it would have nothing to do with the man who was approaching when you whisked me away?” She asked smiling as Jungkook looked at her wide eyed not expecting to be caught red handed. “So who am I allowed to dance with?”

“Namjoon hyung and the other hyungs.” He murmured guiltily.

“What if I wanted to dance with someone?” She looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Kookie.” She whined making her eyes as big and pleading as she could. “It’s a gala. I can’t just dance with you guys. It would be rude.”

“And who do you want to dance with?” He asked quirking a brow at her.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged letting him twirl her again. “But I can’t avoid everyone that’s not one of you seven forever. The men here outnumber the women two to one at least.”

“Noona.” He sighed as their song came to an end and he led her to the edge of the floor again.

She shot him her big pleading eyes again trying her best to seem innocent. If Jungkook knew her plans, everything would be ruined. She needed him to trust that she was still his delicate trapped noona, and not the scheming woman that she was. She knew this was going to break his heart, and it was going to break her heart to leave him behind as well. But as much as she loved Jungkook, he was still Namjoon’s friend, Namjoon’s family. He wasn’t going to leave with her. He wasn’t going to betray his family like that.

“I’ll be fine, Kookie.” She smiled softly, trying to be as demure as possible. Demure ladies did not scheme. “What could happen with you by my side?”

Jungkook sighed furrowing his brows in concentration. “We should really ask hyung.”

“And he would say no, and then we would offend everyone that isn’t Bangtan.”

“Jungkook, can I steal my wife away?” Namjoon asked appearing at their side holding a hand out for her to take knowing that she couldn’t refuse him in public like this.

“Of course, hyung.” He bowed casting one last worried look at her before backing away into the crowd.

“Namjoon.” She greeted stiffly allowing him to pull her back onto the dance floor despite her tense posture.

“Are you enjoying the party?” He asked pulling her close.

“It’s fine.”

“You’re not feeling ill are you?” His brows furrowed as he cast a worried glance over her trying to detect any signs of distress or sickness.

She shook her head pasting on a brittle smile. “I’m fine.”

He pulled her closer whispering into her ear as they danced. “You look radiant tonight. Almost like you’re glowing.”

She scoffed under her breath. “Glowing?”

“Gold is an excellent color on you.”  

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She pulled back slightly desperate for some space. This was the closest she had been to him in weeks, and his proximity was making her uneasy. “Don’t you have people to see and greet.”

He laughed lightly smiling down at her. “I can’t dance with my wife?” He asked teasing her gently.

“It would be preferable if you didn’t.”

He sighed. He had hoped that by now they would have made a little more progress than they had, but she still flinched at his touch. He could see her practically itching to get away from him.

“Just one dance.” He pleaded, praying that she would agree.  

She paused considering the request. She didn’t want him anywhere near her, but she could do this one thing. “One dance.” She agreed albeit reluctantly.

The relief that swept through Namjoon was astronomical. He wouldn’t have put it past her to refuse to continue the dance based on the simple fact that she hated him. It was the first time she had allowed him to touch her in weeks, and he was going to savor every moment of it, savor having her in his arms again especially when she looked so lovely.

He wasn’t lying when he said she had a glow about her. She seemed to shine from within the gold of the gown illuminating the healthy and youthful aura about her. It was a relief to see her looking so well after how sick she had been. Jin swore up and down that it was stress, but Namjoon still worried. She was his world. He hated to think that anything was wrong with her.

“You know I really am sorry.” He murmured into her ear internally cringing at the way she stiffened even more in his arms. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you do it?” She asked turning her gaze to meet his. “Knowing what you know and claiming that you love me, why would you do that?”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

She scoffed pulling away a little more, her hard shell of indifference taking its place around her once more. “So you’ve said. But you did. Sorry doesn’t change that.” Her eyes scanned the room over her shoulder meeting Mark’s in the crowd. He nodded at her, and she knew instantly and much to her relief that it was time to end the dance. “Excuse me,” She said pulling away. “I need to slip to the lady’s.”

She picked up her skirt gliding into the crowd and away from him as Namjoon was approached once more by men looking to make a good impression.

“Noona?” Jungkook asked appearing by her side once more.

“I’m fine. I just need to slip to the powder room. I’ll be back in a minute.” She smiled lightly touching his arm reassuringly. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

He nodded allowing her to go as he was pulled into conversation with someone she didn’t know.

She slipped away hiding herself away in the lady’s room that was situated outside of the main ballroom. And was met with an intense wave of relief that Mark was waiting there for her.

“Oh thank god.” She breathed out practically sagging in relief. “Is everything ready?” Her eyes flicked to the door nervous that they were followed or that Jungkook would pop out of nowhere. For such a large man, he was suspiciously good at sneaky. She swore the kid had ninja skills to rival Mark’s. She never had figured out how Mark had managed to get into the estate all those times.

“Everything is as ready as it’s going to be. Are you ready?” He asked watching her with sympathetic eyes. They both knew what was going to happen next was not going to be pleasant.

“Do it quickly?” She begged trying to be brave despite how scared she felt. Anything could go wrong.

“It’ll be fine.” He reassured smiling as brightly as he could given the situation. “I have Jackson out there running interference. We don’t have long to get this done before someone notices that you’re missing and all hell breaks loose.”

“Just do it.”

She braced herself against the counter gritting her teeth in preparation for the pain that was to come, mouth set in a grim line.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured before moving her hair aside and making a cut on the back of her neck.

Y/N had to bite back a scream of pain at the sensation, but she had to bear it. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut taking in deep shuddering breaths to keep herself still and quiet. She couldn’t make a sound. If she made a sound, someone would definitely come running.

“Just hold on a few minutes. I’ll get it out, and then you’ll be done.” He promised trying to extract the chip.

She didn’t know what was worse, the incision or the digging around for the chip. It was like fire in her veins burning through her. She could only grit and bear it though.

“Is it out yet?” She hissed her whole face scrunched up in pain.

“I’ve almost got it. It’s a stubborn little bugger. Why on earth do they make these so tiny?” He cursed. “I’ve almost…. Got it!” He cheered holding a pair of tweezers with a tiny little blood covered chip pressed between the tongs. “Oh, shit, here let me help with the blood.”

Mark frantically grabbed towels pressing them against the wound he’d caused in the back of her neck. “Okay, keep pressure on that. I’ll grab the bandage.”

“You didn’t ruin the dress did you?” She joked a little breathless from the procedure.

“Luckily the low cut back managed to keep most of the blood from the fabric.” He smiled placing a bandage against her neck and laying her hair over it. “You ready to get out of here?”

“God, yes.” She said slipping of the ring that Namjoon had forced on her and dropping it to the bathroom floor. 

“Change into this then.”

She didn’t know how he did it, but he seemed to have pulled a black dress out of seemingly nowhere. She could swear the man was magic. The change was to make them less conspicuous as they tried to slip out of the party, and the gold Gucci gown that Taehyung had picked for her was anything but subtle, and subtlety was key in this situation.  

Once she was done, the pair slipped out of the bathroom wandering back out into the hall and back into the main room. They had to slip past all of the guests and back through the service hallways to make it to the getaway car. This was the hardest part of the whole plan, making it through the party in one piece. If any of Namjoon’s men or Namjoon himself figured them out, neither of them would be making it out of this.

What greeted them in the main room was not what she was expecting though. Everything had been fine less than ten minutes ago, but now the room was filled with a subdued hush as Namjoon stood in the middle of the room gun drawn on a horribly familiar figure being held on his knees by Jungkook.

“Oh God.” She breathed clutching onto Mark’s arm to keep herself steady.

“Don’t move.” He whispered into her ear. Both of their eyes were glued to the scene in front of them.

Namjoon wasn’t saying anything, but the look on his face was anything but pleased, and the fact that JB was being held back by Hoseok and Taehyung didn’t make her feel any better about the situation.

She turned with wide frightened eyes to stare up at Mark. He shook his head warning her to keep quiet, to keep still.

“Where is she?” Namjoon’s deep voice spread through the room like a thick fog choking her.

“Go to hell.” Jackson spit hocking a glob of actual spit onto Namjoon’s dress shoes only to get himself pistol whipped.

“Do you think you can keep her from me?”  He seethed grabbing Jackson by the hair and forcing his head up. “Do you really think whatever ill-conceived plan you have is going to work, that I wouldn’t know you were up to something? Where is she?”

Jackson didn’t answer but his laugh filled the room deep and almost manic completely nonplused by the gun in his face or the man holding him down. “You’re not going to find her.”

The grin that settled over Namjoon’s features was nothing less than bone chilling. Namjoon was scary on a good day. He carried himself well always establishing himself as the most powerful man in the room, but tonight he exuded a dangerous aura, something lethal in his eyes. She hadn’t seen him like this before, not when she’d tried to run from him, not when she’d been bartered off to him, not when Jackson had cornered her at the wedding. There was no warmth or mercy in the man before her.

“You have ten seconds to tell me where she is.”

Jackson grinned. “Go to hell, you fucking son of a bitch.”

And there were no ten seconds, only the unforgiving sound of a gun echoing through the room.

Everything seemed to slow down, the world held its breath for a moment as Jackson fell out of Jungkook’s hold and onto the ground eyes wide and empty as the hole in his forehead. She nearly collapsed with him if it weren’t for Mark’s arms holding her up, and the hand across her mouth that stopped her screams from echoing across the room and alerting Namjoon to her presence.

And then everything sped up again. People were running trying to clear the room to escape Namjoon’s wrath while his men searched around the room for her and gunshots rained down on the members of GOT7. JB was the first to fall after Jackson, the others following swiftly behind.

“We have to go.” Mark whispered voice shaking as he tugged her in the direction of the door.

“We can’t leave him.” She sobbed fighting his hold to get back to him. “We can’t leave him there.”

“There’s nothing we can do now.”

“That’s my brother. That’s Jackson. I can’t leave him there.”

Mark didn’t let up though dragging her through the crowd easily hiding her in the rush of people trying to leave. “We can’t do anything for him, but I can still do something for you.”

An underling approached Namjoon clutching Y/N’s dress in his hands. “Sir? I found this in the bathroom along with some bloody towels.”

With no hesitation Namjoon put a bullet between his eyes turning his furious gaze to Yoongi and Hoseok. “Find her. I don’t care what you have to do. Find her.”

She didn’t know where in the process of fleeing she lost her shoes, but she knew they were gone. Mark ran with her through the streets trying to get her numb figure to safety. She was shoved, prodded, and dragged all the way to the airport. Their getaway flight was nothing glamorous, a cargo plane that had been paid off to take them to Moscow, and from there who knew where else. She was cold, heartbroken, uncomfortable, and exhausted, but she was safe. She was free.

epilogue

[moving-wright-along]

tim for the yandere alphabet ?

For this I’m going for a CP vibe, so this is mainly Masky behavior, but I don’t think he really wears the mask around his darling. 

TW: Not to bad, mentions of hitting and abuse. Murder and whatnot. Yanderes are very unhealthy in real life babes!!!!!! 

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Before meeting you, Tim wasn’t a very touchy or affectionate person. Although that changes when he finally has you safe in his arms, he becomes almost suffocatingly affectionate at times. He’ll trap you in a bear hug, your face pressed into his chest and his limbs wrapped tight around you. Good luck getting out any time soon, because he’s going to get his daily snuggle time. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very. Bloody. His first plan wouldn’t be to kill all your friends and family, but he certainly would if he felt like he had to. He can’t have anyone prying into things they shouldn’t see, or trying to take you away from him, so if he thinks someone is close to getting in the way, they’re gone.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He would only be mocking or cruel if his darling didn’t immediately accept him. He’s going to become frustrated and angry at every little snap or cry, god forbid you try pushing him away or fighting back, because that’s when he’s gonna get really pissed off. He’s a naturally very angry person, and not even his darling is totally protected from it. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Snuggling for sure. Especially in the beginning when you’re still scared of him. Just like in Affection, he’ll trap you in his arms for hours until you calm down and accept his love. 

He also likes to control what you wear and do. You’ll be put into a lot of his clothes, or just things he think you’d look cute in. He likes having as much control as possible, so he enjoys picking things like that out for you. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Tim remains completely closed off, emotionally, even to his darling. In his mind, it’s his job to remain strong and protect you, so he always has to be on guard. There are points sometimes though where those walls will come down, and you’ll see how he really feels. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Like I mentioned in Cruelty, he’d be incredibly frustrated and confused. He’s given you everything you could need, what more do you want??? If his darling fights back, he’ll become a lot more likely to punish them or take away rights, so they’ll be forced to see just how much they need him. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This. Is. Not. A. Game. He’d be BEYOND pissed off if his darling even tried to escape, not to even mention if they succeeded. If his darling managed to get out, well, first of all good luck, because now you’re just lost in the middle of a forest with other killers and an eldritch being in it. And second of all, he’s going to get blinding tunnel vision. He’s not going to rest until he’s caught you and dragged you home by your hair. He doesn’t care how much you scream or cry or beg- you betrayed him. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

(Maybe not the worst, but definitely still bad. The first time you realized just how willing he is to hurt you if you defy him.)

“I...I’m sorry, baby, but you know you shouldn’t make me mad like that.”

You flinch away from him when his gloved hand reaches up to stroke your swollen cheek, wiping away a tear. He pulls your cowering body in close, pressing your red face to his chest. 

“Don’t ever do that again. Okay? Next time, I might not be able to hold back.”

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Tim hasn’t thought much about the future in specifics. Overall, he just wants to live out this ‘normal’ fantasy, in your own little world where everything is okay. This is his future. Coming home after work everyday to his darling, that’s all. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 

He’s extremely jealous. Of everything. Before he whisked you away, his skin would start to itch at any little interaction you had. The waiter’s playful banter, the girl who complimented your outfit, the dog you stopped to pet- He mostly just bottled it up and seethed in private. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He tries (keyword, tries) to make your relationship as normal as possible. Of course his concept of ‘normal’ is a little distorted at this point. Very suffocating and overprotective. You’ve very rarely find yourselves in separate areas of the house, because he’ll always want to be with you. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He doesn’t. He silently pined after them then kidnapped them when it became too much for him to handle. They probably had no idea he was even romantically interested in them. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He’s more laid back around his darling once he starts trusting them more, but he hides any semblance of you and being in love around others. Not because it’s weak or he’s ‘hiding his true, soft self’ or whatever, but because he’s literally that paranoid of someone taking you away. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

His go-to is isolation. Locking you up in your room for a few days with only the bare minimum of what you need to survive. This way, maybe you’ll be a little more grateful for everything he does for you once you’re let out. And while violence isn’t his first choice and he doesn’t like purposefully hurting his darling like that, he can and has lost control before. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? 

Mentioned above in Naughty. He’d take away essentially everything if he felt like he had to. You’d might as well be in solitary confinement. He might even chain you up if you’ve done something he’s deemed unforgivable, like trying to escape. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

His patience with his darling is higher than it is with anyone else, but that’s not really saying much. He can be forgiving if his darlings makes a genuine mistake, not so much if they defy him on purpose. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If his darling escaped- absolutely not. He’d kick himself every minute of every day, thinking about what he could’ve done better to make you stay (more accurately, how he could’ve better trapped you). If you got out, you’d better hope they’ll accept you into Witness Protection, because he’s going to be hunting you down for the rest of your lives. He won’t accept anything else. 

He’s even more devastated if his darling dies. ESPECIALLY if you die while in his care. Any sanity he might’ve had left would fray and snap, leaving him an empty shell and completely unstable. 

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He’d feel bad about it if his darling cried a lot or clearly said that they missed their home/family. And while he would feel bad that they were upset, he would never consider giving them up. Sure they’re sad but it’s for the best. He’s the only one that can keep you safe, after all. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Pretty much every person that’s been important to Tim has either died or abandoned him. He stays so protective and possessive of his darling because he can’t handle losing another person- especially not his darling. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He’d feel bad if he did something to make his darling cry, but he might start getting irritated if they were yelling or being loud. His solution is usually to let you just cry it out and get over it. All you need is a little time to adjust, you’ll learn to love him soon enough. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

The only thing that may be different than typical yandere behavior is that he at least tries to act sweet and caring and at least kind of normal.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He can be mean as sin sometimes but he still has a soft spot for his darling. He can definitely be manipulated by his darling if they play along with his little fantasy. I don’t think he could be sweet talked into giving you anything that might aid your escape, though, he’s ultra paranoid about that. But you can certainly trick him into giving you more rights or whatever else it is you might want. Snuggle up to him, initiate affection, tell him you love him even if you’re lying through your teeth- he’ll melt like putty. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not on purpose, but when he does he’s the king of gaslighting you into thinking it was your fault somehow. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

How much he worships his darling would depend on them. If his darling accepts his love and returns it? 100%. He’ll do his absolute damndest to treat you like royalty. He’d also try pretty fucking hard to get you to that point of loving him back- he doesn’t want you to pretend to love him, he wants you to love him as much as he loves you. If his darling is good, he’ll reward them frequently to try and win them over. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A pretty long time, actually. You probably just start off as a friend or acquaintance, and he keeps you at arm’s length for a long time. Tim has convinced himself that getting close to people only gets them hurt, but he catches himself thinking about you so often, and he starts to spiral. He needs you, but what if you get hurt because of him? What if you get taken away like everyone else? This thought eventually spirals into you need him. He needs to save you from this cruel world, and protect you. To answer the question, it’s probably at least a few months. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Again, not on purpose, but it’s certainly possible depending on what kind of person his darling is. Accidently breaking his darling is probably one of his worst nightmares. 

[elaz-ivero]

Poetry Fieldnotes ||Broken Artists Collective||

[image description: a block print with a bright red border around a greyish blue grainy image. Atop it is a pair of discoloured hands, palms facing forward, red and outstretched. Above the hands in white Garamond font are the words, Broken Artists Collective and in smaller font, and other poems. /end id]

Over the past week, I may or may not have fully embraced the concept of a broken artist finding myself unable to conjure up a single creative thought unless I'm lying on the floor surrounded by scrawlings and broken-spined books. For a long time, I have been trying to cater my work to a series of magazines that clearly yearn for a very specific 'type' of poetry that I am incapable of producing. These poems are ones that applied pressure, the ones that were crammed into inattentive submission boxes and were returned in empty emails.

Here are the poems,

[image description: a photograph of a boy laying down looking upward, a lit cigarette stands upright in his mouth and his features are overlayed with the shadows of ferns and other plants. He wears an orange collared shirt and around him are the words in white Garamond font, Floor Bound Echo Location. /end id]

Floor-bound Echolocation is a disjointed 403-word prose poem that is a coalesce of liminal spaces, chaotic ingenuity and a reversal of grief. Like many of my poems, it describes a series of small events and feels more like a corrupted scene from a novel than a stand-alone poem. It's a short tale of a brother and sister cleaning out the garage-workspace of their genius, estranged and recently deceased cousin. It opens as follows...

All the lines are in lowercase and of sporadic length, every so often a single random word is isolated and highlighted. These are the words that were isolated throughout the poem.

//enigma //a test of patience //satisfied //memorized

I adore this poem and it feels strangely personal (my own experiences often slip into my work unconsciously like fears finding their place in dreams) as a creative I fear the idea that a lot of my work and unwritten ideas will never be read or known. The poem focuses on one of the cousin's creations, a geometric pattern drawn in chalk on the concrete floor. This pattern, its design obsessive and laid out like a triggerless trap takes over the narrative of the poem. The characters wash it away and the pattern, the physical manifestation of this dead cousins genius clings to the idea of being appreciated, recognized.

[image description: a boy sits up against a wall in a barren green and blue-tinted room, to the right of the image, is a window showing trees outside and beneath it a gas heater is attached to the wall. The boy's wearing a similar orange shirt and on the wall beside him are words, 'it blends and swirls with the oiled water and tidals along the length of the driveway to passer-by's what remains of it asks, begs, to be, memorised.' /end id]

I wrote 'floor-bound...' in a day and made subsequent edits over the course of a couple of days, I tend to write out my ideas and make minor changes to word choice and sentence length before I add in the details that make each poem unique. The isolation of individual letters was a way to almost mimic the process of looking in a cluttered space you'll see something recognizable and latch onto it.

Status: Submitted

[image description: A girl with long black hair, olive skin and a tired solemn expression face forward, an unlit cigarette held loosely in her mouth. She stands in a red elevator, the doors are closed and on the left on the image is the metal switchboard showing she has reached level 12. On her right is the word, 'Peephole'. /end id]

Peephole is a mirrored poem and is split into 'Inside', and 'Outside' with Inside, aligned to the left and Outside, aligned to the right, they are reflective of each other, mirrored. Peephole is about a young drunk woman staying inside her boyfriend's cramped apartment inspired by the 43-Square-Foot rooms in South Korea and an image from the article below inspired the entirety of this poem.

She, aware that the apartment seems to reject her, steps out into the hallway, the 'Outside' which feels apocalyptic with a burning wining sun and a ghost standing by the elevator, a personification of her sickness silently assessing how she is still alive and if she could find her way home in this state. The women in turn assess how this hallway faintly reminds her of the one from 'The Shining' leading into a breaking of the fourth wall.

[image description: A photograph that looks similar to a corrupted piece of film, tinted red and showing a woman's profile looking toward the right. Words on the left of the image read, 'I take an imaginary drag as if setting the scene of some ninety's horror, slasher, mounting suspense with the final girl, alone, a lonely lamb how easy would it be to just end a film right here.' /end id]

The tone of the poem is gritty, realistic and almost elusive in its design. I love writing poems without intending to care about its audience, with no closure, no clarity, no kindness. This poem is an amalgamation of all the recent media I've consumed, 'The Shining', Final Girl, Wikipedia dives into the housing crisis and psychological horror. I love writing poems that reflect a blend of culture, using language as a way to implement distinctive voices in my writing.

[image description: Another room tinted green, on the bottom of the image head barely in frame is a women looking off into the distance, above the cigarrete she holds red smoke reflecting in the shine on her face twirls and unfurls. Text reads, 'Tiger balm and salt, "kapuahi ahi" his whisper hurts my ears and sounds like, toungue on velvet, tooth in cheek.' /end id]

Status: Submitted

[image description: a close up of a brides face covered by a sheer veil in front of a black background, her eyes are tinted with red eyeshadow and she looks forward with a bored stare. Large text in the upper left-hand corner reads, 'Chekhov'. /end id]

Chekhov, my most recent poem is- as the title suggests- from the perspective of a gun, a woman on her wedding day is left at the altar by a cheating groom and hunts him down in the orchard venue with an heirloom of a gun. I love the perspective of this poem, the way it slowly reveals the origin of the 'voice' and grows darker and darker as the wedding dress soils and darkens with dirt and blood. Few of my poems spur from ideas rather than images but the idea of a furious bride filled with anguish and horror brought this poem to life.

[image description: a young bride looking behind her as she runs toward a patch of dark trees in the middle of a field. One hand holds up the edge of her white dress, it's evening. Text on the left-hand side of the image reads, 'Darling when my steel feels soft, revoke your vows and kiss something just as cold and cocky. /end id]

This poem is split into three stanzas, before the wedding, during and the evolving aftermath. I feel like I could extend this into a short story saving the strange gunpoint perspective till the final scene.

Status: Completing

[image description: A black and white image of a boy looking up, his expression a mix of horror and fear while blades point down at him and hold steady inches from his neck. The image is a still from "Ivan the Terrible" by Sergei Eisenstein. Text aside it reads, 'The Sound of Hamlet Rehearsed. /end id]

The sound of Hamlet Rehearsed, inspired by my own recent exploration of scriptwriting and theatre. The sound of Hamlet Rehearsed is about a boy being held accountable during a faux court hearing, on stage on opening night. The narrative slowly switches from fiction to reality as it dawns on him that the punishment is about to be dealt and he struggles with understanding how much of his reaction is performance or authentic. It's structured in a sporadic unbroken series of words and moments.

Tone-deaf touchtone tipping point Ziplock bags and scented zip ties off script the boards atop the trap door tremble imagine the conductor beneath torch amongst teeth briefly making out direction from diction.

Status: Editing

Those are the poems I've been working on! I'm not going to write any more poetry until I come to my poetry course next trimester and instead are going to focus on short stories (I'm developing two right now, three-course meal and Wren versus the Russian Government) and continuing by Worldbuilding Diaries series.

-E

[writingfromkitchenator]

The Hunter, The Demon, And The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 5

Words: 2,556

Crowley was glad to finally get Madelyn alone properly for a moment, knowing that none of them would come upstairs in a hurry.  He was still wishing it hadn't come to this, but neither of them had a choice now.

It was clear Madelyn was relieved to be alone as well, holding tightly to him as he led her to the bedroom door.

“You are far from alright,” Crowley said softly, allowing her to rest against the wall so he can get a proper look at her.  “Whatever am I going to do with you?”

Madelyn, despite the pain, grinned.  “I can think of several things.”

Crowley returned it, stepping in close so he can rest his forehead against hers.  “Don't let your brothers hear that, they're high strung enough about this as it is.”

“They'll get over it,” Madelyn closed her eyes, just allowing the two of them to be still. “Besides, once they find out the next part, they won't have a choice in the matter anyway.”

“They don't have a choice now,” Crowley growled, his hand hovering over the wound in her side.  “Nor, do I believe, did they ever have a choice.”

Madelyn sighs, her arms looping around his neck.  “I'm glad you're okay Crowley.”

Crowley relaxes and dips his head, placing a chaste kiss to her lips.  “I'm glad you're okay too love.”

She nudges his nose slightly with hers.  “You probably shouldn't stay up here too long, they'll start to wonder what happened.”

“Let them wonder,” Crowley's lips hovered over hers.  “There's something I have to do first.”

Madelyn hums as he pressed his lips back to hers, pressing her a little firmly against the wall, one hand just over the wound on her stomach.  The kiss is deep and slow, but it had more purpose than to just rile the other up.

A small trickle of blood ran down the corner of Madelyn’s lips, a small shudder going through her, her hands bunching in his jacket, trying to keep him close.

She had to break off, allowing herself to breath, both their lips stained red.

Crowley kissed her softly. “Does that feel better?”

“A little,” She breathes, her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip.  “You know they aren't going to like this.”

His thumb cleans the blood that had trickled down and presses it against her lips, allowing her to take it into her mouth.  “It doesn't have to come up.”

“They'll figure it out,” Madelyn said softly.  “And they are upset enough as it is without trying to hide that too.  Not to mention, if there is an…incident.”

Crowley thinks for a moment, clearly concerned, but sighs, pressing another soft kiss to her lips. “Go and get some rest love, I'm sure I can manage for a little while, as much as they probably don’t want me to.”

Madelyn smiles softly. “At least Casey won't come down, she loves curling up next to me still.”

“Something I hope she never grows out of.”  Crowley opened the door quietly for her, Casey still fast asleep in the bed.  “At least she seems to be resting easily.”

There was no hiding the worry in Madelyn's expression.  “I hope we've done what's right for her Crowley, I really do.”

Crowley nods and gently leads her in.  “Get some rest love.”

Madelyn blows him a kiss, letting Crowley smile as he closes the door.

She quietly gets herself comfortable on the bed, a soft smile coming to her as Casey stirs a little and instinctively curls into her side.  Madelyn couldn't tell her brothers yet, but she wouldn't trade Casey in for anything in the world, no matter what had happened in between all that.

Downstairs, Crowley had taken up Madelyn’s seat, aware, but ignoring, the three slightly impatient and uncomfortable glares from the three other men in the room.

“You're lucky you're getting this much,” Crowley said lightly.  “If I had it my way, details would be kept far more to a minimum.”

“Come on Crowley,” Dean growled.  “Just get on with it.”

Crowley shoots Dean a grin. “Well, as I was saying, your sister was far more intelligent than you two, and actually managed to finally track me down in all that pre-purgatory mess.  I wasn't too pleased about it, but I have to give credit where it’s due.”

Madelyn glared at Crowley, her arms folded across her chest.  “A compliment?  That's really what you're offering me?”

Crowley shrugs easily. “What would you prefer? A blade to your throat?  A gun to your head?  A compliment is far more entertaining.”

He wasn't a fool, he knew that she could reach for her gun quickly, and he also knew that there was a chance she could've learnt a new trick or two.  Madelyn was incredibly, and infuriatingly, resourceful.

For what it was worth though, Madelyn didn't seem to be there to fight.

She rolled her eyes, doing her best to hide her irritation.  “Right.  Look, you're the one in charge downstairs now, right?  So can you do anything about Sam's soul or not?”

“Why? Is he having performance issues?”

“Cut the shit Crowley,” Her eyes flashed dangerously at him.  “I'm not in the mood.  I know full well that you know what’s going on with those two.”

Crowley chuckled. “Always straight to it, makes a nice change.  To answer you honestly, no, I can't do anything for little Moose’s soul.  It's trapped in a little cage with a big bad Lucifer, and I have very little interest in that being opened again.  I'm sure you can understand why.”

Madelyn observes him, her mind thinking.  “And here I was thinking that the King of Hell would have access to all the perks.”

He knew her well enough by now to know that she was now just buying herself time, trying to get the information she needed.  “Don’t underestimate me darling, it wouldn’t be a wise decision considering just how vulnerable you are here.  Considering what you were going through last time as well…”

“Vulnerable?”  She raises an eyebrow, ignoring the second comment. “And here I was thinking that we’d built up enough of a rapport with each other to discuss things civilly.  Or did I actually make an error on that?”

Crowley chuckles, unable to help it.  “Oh, you are far too interesting for that Madelyn, unlike those brothers of yours, but if you actually stay here much longer, then I will have to take action.”

Madelyn’s eyes narrow on him, her eyes doing a quick scan of the room.  “What are you up to Crowley?  You’re being far too cautious and calm for your own good.  Especially around me.”

He smirks.  “Would you care to handle this one Feathers?”

The sigh from Castiel made her jump, quickly taking several steps back from the angel, eyeing between the two of them cautiously.

“I warned you not to go looking,” Castiel said, a little firmly to her.  “To stay with Sam and Dean.  It would’ve been far safer.”

“Like I’m going to listen to you, I barely listen to them.”  She said flatly.  “And the fact that you’re working with him, really doesn’t improve my opinion of you.”

Castiel sighed.  “This is an awkward enough situation as it is Crowley, why did you call me here?  Sam and Dean will be on us quicker than anything if something happens to her.”

“Have you currently seen Sam?”  Madelyn asked bitterly, cutting off Crowley.  “He’s just a little bit of an arsehole, which is the only reason I even ended up here. Discovering you two are up to something, however, is far more interesting, as here I thought not long having one apocalypse would’ve been more than enough for both of you, or am I reading that wrong?”

Castiel flinched, but Crowley held her gaze, amused.  “You’re acting like it’s not going to be beneficial.”

“And you’re acting like I’m going to trust the word of a demon and a renegade angel,” She replied. “Why don’t you both just cut the shit? Surely it must be tiring?”

Crowley smirks and his gaze moves to Castiel.  “I’m sure we can keep her out of the way somewhere, at least enough so the boy wonders won’t worry?”

Castiel sighed.  “It’s bad enough lying to them, let alone doing that as well.”

“What’s a few more lies?” Crowley shrugs.  “Besides, it’s one less hunter to work around.  A rather painful one at that.”

“Oh, I don’t think-” Madelyn collapses, a simple touch from Castiel rendering her unconscious.

Dean stares at Crowley.  “So who the hell was texting us throughout all that?”

Crowley smirks.  “Who do you think Dean?  Feathers lacked the imagination and I have to admit, it was a lot of fun.”

Dean pursed his lips, looking less than impressed.

Sam was frowning.  “So what, you just kept her aside somewhere?   I can’t imagine Maddie standing for that, nor do I remember her ever mentioning it.”

There was no missing the slight unease in Crowley’s expression.  “Well, there may have been a good reason for that, and before you all start saying something, it was unintentional on both our parts.”

They stared at him, Bobby sighing heavily.  “Let me guess, you underestimated her.”

“A little,” He admitted.  “I wasn’t quite expecting the determination she would have in trying to get herself out of the situation, no matter how comfortable I made it for her.”

“Comfortable?”  Dean growled. “Like you would ever make something comfortable for one of us.”

“You need to understand,” Crowley said.  “At that time, I was still intending to get her onside.  One can hardly do that through torture, especially to a Winchester, not to mention Feathers was more than determined to keep her whole.  So yes, we tried to make her comfortable, as much as I’m sure that seems strange to you.”

“But you both forgot that it was Mads,” Bobby shook his head. “The only time she is comfortable is out on the road hunting.”

“Yes, or at least making my life a living hell,” Crowley said. “Which is exactly what she did once she learnt the…routine of things.  See, Castiel and I were hardly going to let anyone else near her, and as Castiel was usually strongly invested in keeping you three occupied, especially after Sam got his soul back, then it left me to keep things as civil and normal as possible.”

“Unfortunately,” He continued.  “She quickly made other plans.  Managed to construct herself a devils trap for me.  I thought we could’ve avoided the whole situation by not giving her anything to write or hurt herself with, however, as usual with you Winchester’s, you are more resourceful than that.  She crafted herself a small weapon, one that would go unnoticed, and slowly, I would imagine quiet painfully, constructed herself a devils trap out of her own blood.”

Sam sighed.  “Of course she did, and judging by the way this is going, you walked straight into it?”

Crowley looks less than pleased.  “It wasn’t my finest moment.  I had gotten…complacent…with her.  I had figured that I had her exactly where I wanted her.”

“Just another wonderful day in paradise,” Crowley said as he enters the room, barely even glancing at Madelyn, who was leaning against the headboard of a large, bare bed, glaring at him.  “Don’t worry, I’m sure your brothers will notice you missing eventually.  Although, their returning messages give zero indication of suspecting anything.”

“Funny,” She said thickly, not moving from the bed.  “I wasn’t aware that I had to rely on them for rescue.”

He places some food and drink down at the table, casting her a smirk.  “I never said you did darling, but you do seem to be taking this all rather well, all things considered.”

If he’d been paying proper attention, he would’ve seen the small makeshift blade she was spinning in her hand.

“Like I’ve had much of a choice,” She clipped.  “But don’t worry, I promise I’m coming up with all sorts of plans for you.”

Crowley chuckles. “Now that I like to hear.  Only good plans I hope?”

Her eyes flash. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

To Crowley, the interaction had been no different to normal, however, as he went to leave, still chuckling, he found himself suddenly frozen in his steps, unable to move any further.

He glances down and discovers that it hadn’t been the carpet he’d been walking on, that the sheets from the bed were covering what was clearly made beneath it.

Madelyn smirks. “Getting a little out of touch, are we?”

Crowley glares at her. “And just what is it you intend to do here, darling?  You still can’t leave this room, and if you keep me locked up like this, then there’s going to be no more food and drink coming in.”

“Guess we’re at a bit of an impasse then,” She said lightly.  “Because you’re not getting out of that trap unless I say so.”

“It’s on carpet-”

“And I’ve been here for a while now,” She said.  “Don’t think I haven’t thought this through Crowley, you’ve given me more than enough for that.  I would’ve thought you’d know by now, never let a woman, especially a hunter, think too long, you never know what she’s going to come up with.”

He grits his teeth. “So, what is your suggestion then?”

Madelyn shrugs. “Honestly, at the moment, this is more than amusing for me.  The oh so powerful King of Hell, trapped and powerless, and the only one that can come and save him is off somewhere, more than likely, looking after my brothers.” She grins.  “Who’s the damsel in distress now?”

Crowley wasn’t impressed, although he could applaud her tenacity.  His eyes narrowed her for a moment, a sudden thought occurring to him, a slow grin coming to him, one she doesn’t notice, preoccupied with the blade in her hand.  “Oh darling, I do believe that that is still you.”

“Oh?” She said, only half interested.  “And what makes you come to that conclusion?”

“Your heat,” He said casually, making the knife stop in her hand as she glances at him.  “Just how many tablets do you have left?  No doubt you got a stern warning from the doctors about it after our last encounter.”

Madelyn scoffs and keeps spinning the knife, but her voice wasn’t as convincing as she wanted it to be.  “Keep dreaming.  I have myself well and truly within control.”

“We’ll see,” Crowley said lightly, deciding to play her game pulling up a chair and sitting down. “I seem to remember the last time I found you that you were almost wild with it.  This time, I can promise, I won’t be so generous as to get you to a hospital.”

She makes an indignant noise as she gets up from the bed.  “Hoping to put me in my place Crowley?  Fat chance.”

He shrugs.  “I won’t have to do anything.  You’re going to beg me for it.”

Madelyn makes a disgusted noise and strides past him, heading to the bathroom.  “Good luck winning this one.  We’ll see who cracks first.”

Crowley smirks as the door closes behind her.  “Oh, we’ll definitely see love, but it’s not going to go the way you want it too.”

[xiu21chen99]

wait wait wait i kinda want a Titanic au for hisoillu where the Zoldycks aren't assassins but just top class business men and the Black Whale is the ship that sinks (not that we know of that yet) and Hisoka boarded bc he's being hunted by the mafia (the ryodan) AND I WANT THIS/ THINK THIS PROMPT WILL WORK FOR FOUR VERY SPECIFIC REASONS:

ONE ARTIST HISOKA! Like,, COME ON, (honorable mention but-) if you read Cigarette Teeth by hisokun then you would know exactly what a painter/ artist Hisoka would look like and why i fIND HIM SO DAMN APPEALING

TWO this is kinda a painful reason and image to think about but during the scene Rose was supposed to jump, y'know their very first meet? yeah, Illumi was about to do jump off of the balcony railing in deck 3 too, but Hisoka has been sneaking around jumping from deck to deck and he finds Illumi there

since i like adding fuel to my sad boi fires how bout we add that Hisoka is a bit of an asshole at their first meeting, and talked to Illumi while he literally held on for dear life; Hisoka would psychoanalyze Illumi, make fun of him a lil bc he's rich and he's "from a well off family so why the hell do you wanna do this?" to which Illumi promptly and quite incompletely explains why being the eldest Zoldyck son was the worst thing ever...

they talk like that until Hisoka starts hearing ppl and he deadass goes over behind Illumi and says "okay princess, the ship's about to wake up soon. let's get you back to your upper deck."

and Illumi struggles bc suddenly he remembers why he was there in the first place.

h: "you don't wanna jump,"

i: "yes i do"

h: "nah, princess, you want the people who hurt you to get hurt back. jumping off ain't gonna solve anything. come on,"

hisoka lifts illumi from the railing, flipping detaches him and carries him over one shoulder, illu's hair cascading down in silky black waves (also rmmbr that hc where illu's kinda weak combat wise? xD yeah let's apply that too since this is a no-nen world)

THREE the quotes would work so well!!

i: "you're crazy!!"

h: "with all due respect, pretty darling, i'm not the one hanging off of the railing of a whale boat"

i: "I know what you must be thinking. “Poor little rich boy, what does he know about misery?”"

h: "No, no, that’s not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was, what could’ve happened to this boy to make him think he had no way out?"

h: “I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what’s gonna happen or, who I’m gonna meet, where I’m gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people.”

i: "hisoka, i'm flying!"

i: "paint me like your-

h: “They’ve got you trapped, Illu. And you’re gonna die if you don’t break free. Maybe not right away because you’re strong but sooner or later that fire that I love about you… that fire’s gonna burn out.”

i: “I saw my whole life as if I’d already lived it. An endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull me back."

(ffff the shoe fits so well for this one but) i: “Now you know there was a man named Hisoka Morow, and that he saved me in every way that a person can be saved. I don’t even have a picture of him. He exists now only in my memory.”

and FOUR we get an image of Illu who didn't submit to his parents' will, an Illu that wanted to save himself instead of letting go of his identity to please others. ain't that what we all want? He'd make a pretty good Rose! on the other hand we have the free and elusive Hisoka, here i think he'd perfectly fit the character for Jack; loose with connections, all about living the moment and have been through hell and back but still has a skip in his step and a smile on his face. like, siR-

(bonus if Killu meets the squad there too! and the 6 out of 1500 that Older Rose talked abt who survived would be the gon squad + hisoillu or... whoever you prefer would survive :'))

anyways I'm @ chap 383 on the manga don't spoil anything for me please-

[itsallavengers]

How to hold on to hope

No one really understood how cold it got on the front lines until you went in there and lived in it.

Steve shivered, tucking his knees further into his chest and breathing out a shaking breath, then watching as it crystallised in front of him. Despite all his enhancements and the fact that his body ran hotter than anyone else’s in the Commandos, he was still freezing. A few paces ahead of him, his men were all huddled around the pathetic fire, covered in ratty blankets and whatever coats they could find in an attempt to keep warm. They were all talking and laughing, though- probably because they knew they were getting a week’s leave back to the US soon. The hard times were far from over, but if they survived the night, they could at least get a break from it all.

Steve was glad. The Commandos had all been working themselves to the bone in the hunt for the Red Skull recently- they deserved a rest. 

Shuffling a little and pulling out the yellowed envelope with shaking hands, he smiled to himself and let his fingers trace over his own name,Tony’s familiar scrawl already warming a place in his chest up. It was the reason he’d tucked himself away into a little corner of the trench, rather than warm himself with the rest of the team. Letters from home were few and far between, and when they did come, Steve wanted to take the proper time to read it in private. It was silly, but this sometimes felt like the only part of himself that was wholly his own- Tony’s letter and Tony’s words, just for him and no-one else. Not a lot of things were private in the army (he was almost certain the rest of the team already knew he and Tony weren’t the ‘good friends’ Steve always said they were, although they never commented) , but Steve wanted to keep these moments to himself, if he could. 

He ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter. It had dampened on the journey and some of the words were smudged, but it was still legible. Still Tony’s.

Steve, 

I’d like to start off by saying I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you for breaking the sonic transmitter I’d got the boys to send over to you JUST LAST MONTH. I worked on that for hours, you clumsy lug, and then you go and break it on it’s first time out? Poor baby, I got it back in about a hundred different pieces! Even after specifically designing it for durable use! What the hell did you do, throw it off a damn cliff?

Steve chuckled to himself, feeling sheepish as he remembered. In his defence, it hadn’t been a cliff exactly- a very busy intersection would be a better way of describing it. It had worked a treat whilst it had been in one piece though. He’d thank Tony for that later.

Anyway- expensive inventions aside, let’s get on to the more important matters. Like when the hell you’re getting home. The higher-ups are being very vague with me, but they keep saying it’s soon. They better be telling the truth- I miss you. My brain doesn’t work right when you’re not here. It’s been five months, Steve. Five! I had a brief panic about whether or not you even remembered how handsome my face was, so I’ve sent a picture along in the envelope, just in case. 

Steve raised his eyebrows and huffed in amusement, looking back down at the envelope he’d placed on his lap. Picking it up again, he tipped it upside down and then caught the small rectangular piece of paper that fluttered from the folds. He felt his heart speed up just a few beats with anticipation- it had been seven months, dammit, he was excited. Not that Tony’s face wasn’t still as crystal clear in his head as the day they’d first met, of course, but still. He looked at it intently, making sure his fingertips were clean before he traced them delicately over the sepia smile stretched over Tony’s beautiful face. His hair had grown out while Steve had been gone. It curled around at the bottom of his neck now, stuck up in tufts at the front of his face, every bit as wild and beautiful as Tony himself was. A storm trapped inside a body. Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and took a small breath in as he shut his eyes and etched the image into his memory. Soon. Soon, he’d be able to touch in real life. Hold Tony’s face between his hands and relearn all the parts of him that had faded with their time apart. 

Carefully, delicately, Steve tucked the photograph into the pocket of his coat, patting it once before returning back to the letter itself, the sound of Tony’s voice speaking up in his head as he read each word the man had written for him.

I’m doing okay. Still inventing, still trying to win the war through out-sciencing the Nazis. Please come home soon, though. If you can. It’s selfish, but it’s fucking lonely here. And I hate thinking about you out on the Western Front right now. I swear, you better be using that insulation blanket I sent over right now, or I’m going to get a plane over there and throttle you. I really just... hate the thought of you being cold. You shouldn’t be cold. You should be here, with me. 

But whatever. There’s a war on, a fight for our freedom, yadda yadda. Guess I can be a grown-up about it for now. Just come home to me soon, darling. Please. I miss your smile. Among other things. 

In the mean-time, please continue fighting fascism and being attractively heroic. I’ll just pine quietly for you like every other desperate girlfriend and wife around me is, it’s fine. Remember not to die. And tie your shoelaces before you go into No-Man’s Land. And try to eat something that resembles a fruit, I know you’re all muscly and super-soldiery but you still need your minerals, alright? Promise? I’m going to assume you just promised. 

I love you more than anything. I want you to know that, right down to your bones. Carry that with you on the battlefield, okay? I’ll be your good luck charm. 

Yours always, Tony.

Steve got to the end, looking down at the inked words and imagining Tony writing them out, a week or two ago maybe, hunched over his desk and running a hand anxiously through his hair as he wondered what he should put. There were small grease-stains around the edges, so maybe he’d just finished working. And maybe once he’d signed his name at the bottom. he’d done exactly what Steve was doing now, and imagining him receiving it in seven days’ time. 

God, Steve couldn’t wait to go home to him. 

“Not long now,” someone said in front of him, and he jumped in surprise, looking up at Bucky as the man smiled gently down at him. He was the only one who Steve had explicitly told about Tony. He’d been there right from the beginning, and treated Tony like a little brother. “I know it must be hard, but you’ll be home soon. And I’m sure you’ll have a great reunion that I will make sure to be far, far away from.”

Steve went pink and looked down, folding the papers up carefully and tucking them into his pocket too. “Yeah,” he murmured, thinking of how it was going to feel to be able to touch a body that wasn’t caked in mud or blood or dust, or an enemy trying to kill him. To touch someone whose skin was warm, and full of care. 

He looked up toward the starless sky, tinged with shell-fire fog and filled with the stink of death and decay, and thought of home as the icy cold dug into his exposed skin. 

Soon.

-

Like my work? Consider donating to my kofi or commissioning me!

[aswithasunbeam]

An Elusive Peace, Chapter 12

  Read on AO3

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: For Hamilton and Eliza, peace was supposed to mark the end to their separation and the beginning of domestic bliss. But Hamilton's ambition and the challenges facing the new nation quickly interfere. Happily ever after may not be as easy to attain as they once hoped.

Stress and insecurity weigh heavily on Hamilton...

February 1791

“If we were to gift France such a benefit, especially one not called for in the treaty, as we both agree, where would we get the funds to offset the expected income?” Hamilton argued to John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, using his fork to emphasis his point. “Retiring the public debt requires income, and exempting one of our largest trading partners from the tonnage tax would put a sizable hole in the nation’s pocket.”1

Jefferson frowned and raised his wine glass to his lips. Where Hamilton expected a rebuttal, only a long silence followed. Hamilton swallowed down the inclination to say more, conscious not to give too much away.

“As trustees of the sinking fund, I do believe we must heed Mr. Hamilton’s advice on this account, Thomas,” Adams responded finally. “Congress has tasked us with reducing the public debt, and an exemption for France would run counter to that duty.”

Jefferson gave a noncommittal nod, which seemed to signal less his acquiescence to their arguments, and more a desire to move on to a new topic. They’d assembled at Mr. Jefferson’s new Philadelphia lodgings to discuss the sinking fund, specifically, however, and the three men had little else about which to converse. Given what a wily opponent Jefferson had proven himself to be over the past year, Hamilton had little desire to share current news or plans.

The sound of cutlery scraping against fine china seemed unusually loud in the awkward silence that followed. Adams turned his attention to his plate, slicing the cut of beef before him with great concentration. Jefferson’s gaze focused straight ahead on the window, unfazed by the tense moment where Hamilton would have been scrambling for a topic of conversation were he the host of this gathering.  

Eliza never would have let such a tense silence endure.

Hamilton wished she were with him.

“I suppose congratulations are in order, Mr. Hamilton,” Adams remarked. “For the passage of your banking bill. President Washington signed it today, did he not?”

Jefferson’s jaw tensed noticeably. When Adams raised a glass to him, Jefferson pointedly set his down upon the table. Hamilton fought a vindictive smile as he replied, “He did. Thank you, Mr. Vice President.”

Not without a hard won fight, however. Jefferson and Jemmy had collaborated against him, filling the President’s mind with doubts over the constitutionality of the National Bank. His mind still felt fuzzy from the sleepless nights he’d spent crafting his defense. Eliza, bless her, had stayed at his side that last night, when he’d despaired of ever finishing. She’d copied the pages he’d scribbled and scratched over, her boundless optimism a beacon in the churning sea of his thoughts. What would he do without her, his darling angel?2

“I did my utmost to keep harmony in the Senate during that debate,” Adams continued. “I trust you know best, Mr. Hamilton, though I confess I do sympathize with the position of our more Southern colleagues. The bank will surely benefit the North far more than the South. Not to mention the money men who shall make out best are, in my estimation, little better than swindlers and thieves.”

Now Hamilton’s jaw tensed.

“What America surely needs is less banks and more farmers,” Jefferson agreed. “Financial speculation will never yield the virtuous citizenry a republic requires to function. Cities and industry provide just so much to the support of pure government as sores do to the strength of the human body.3 Our farms are the bastion of a free society.”

One of Jefferson’s servants paused beside him to refill his wine glass as he spoke. Hamilton’s gaze drifted up to the enslaved man, whose face was fixed into a blank expression of placid obedience. Had he choked down a derisive laugh at that statement? Hamilton wondered.  

The South was as much a bastion of free society as Saint Croix, he badly wanted to retort. The plantation systems that flourished in societies arranged around cash crops were the very antithesis of a republic, which was meant to be organized around merit. How well he remembered the violence and cruelty that abounded on the plantations, and the rigid hierarchy that ruined his father and would have condemned him to the groveling state of a clerk for the rest of his days. Was that truly Jefferson’s ideal? Or was he simply blind to the failings of a system that had gifted him so much privilege?    

“I’ve not found that to be so,” Hamilton settled on as the most diplomatic reply. “I think, rather, that a diverse economy is the best way to open the door to all, that each may have the opportunity  to rise above the disadvantages of his birth and command the tribute due to his merit.”4 That’s what he was working towards, the vision he conjured when his eyes blurred in the wee hours of the morning as he reviewed endless contracts, tables, and charts.

Jefferson frowned again. Another noncommittal nod followed, signaling the end of the topic. How maddening it was, to debate with a man who refused to argue his position.

Another tense silence filled the room.

Hunting for a new point of conversation, anything less controversial to carry them through to the end of this interminable meal, Hamilton’s eyes landed on the portraits of three men Jefferson had hanging in his dining room. Bacon, Newton, and Locke, he identified. Surely science and philosophy would be safer ground than their competing political visions?

“Pray tell me, Mr. Jefferson, why you have the portraits of those particular three gentleman displayed?” he inquired, pasting on a smile.

Jefferson cleared his throat and launched into what could only be described as a lecture, and a dry one at that.

Hamilton pushed a green bean through the sauce on his plate idly. The food was delicious—Jefferson’s meals always were, his dinners like pomegranate seeds meant to trap the unwary into perpetually returning to his lair—but he found he had little appetite. All the late hours and opulent dinners had been taking a toll on his waistline, such that he’d had to have his breeches let out last month. Angelica’s latest letter had been proof that his expanding girth had not gone unnoticed.

He’d known something was off when Eliza refused to share Angelica’s latest letter with him. Regardless of to whom the letter was addressed, the first to lay hand on it always read it aloud for the benefit of the other. This time, however, Eliza had stuffed it into her sewing kit and put him off whenever he inquired about it.

“It’s silly, girlish nonsense,” Eliza had argued, patting him on the cheek fondly. “Nothing that would interest you.”

On the contrary, having it hidden away from him interested him greatly in the contents. He’d sneaked it out from under a pair of Pip’s socks when she’d had her back turned and cast his eyes over his dear friend's words. “…[O]ur dear Hamilton writes too much and takes no exercise and grows too fat. I hate both the words and the thing and you will take care of his health and good looks. Why, I shall find him on my return a dull, heavy fellow.”5

“Please don’t give it a moment’s thought. You look wonderful, sweetheart. Very handsome,” Eliza had tried to console him.

He’d taken pains to restrict his diet ever since, nonetheless.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Hamilton?”

He blinked and refocused on Jefferson, who had fixed him with his intense, studying gaze. Apparently the great Professor had come to the end of his lesson. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jefferson,” he apologized, shifting in his seat. “I’m afraid I was miles away.”

“Do you agree that Bacon, Newton, and Locke are the three greatest men who ever lived?” Jefferson repeated for him.

A bold claim. He didn’t disagree, really. But he wanted to, if for no other reason than to throw Jefferson off guard.

A long ago, late night flashed through his memory, a campfire crackling while he, Lafayette, Laurens, and Mac had huddled round. “Why does Alexander get to be great?” Jack had asked to no one in particular.  

“I’m not great; I’m just better than you,” Hamilton had jested. Jack had elbowed him in the ribs.

“I mean it. Why do we call him Alexander the Great? Who determines which men will have fame that lasts through the centuries? His deeds weren’t necessarily noble; he didn’t fight for freedom or justice. Just conquest.”

Jack had worried about that frequently. Fame. Glory. A name that would be remembered throughout history; remembered for the right reasons.

“The same reason Caesar is remembered. They were conquerors. Heroes in their own time,” Lafayette had observed with a careless shrug.

“You think we’ll be the conquering heroes of our time?” Jack had asked, looking at him.

“You two? Of course. Our very own Caesar and Alexander,” Mac had interjected.6

A smile tugged at Hamilton’s lips as the memory washed over him. He longed for the simple camaraderie of the war, when the enemy was clear and the goal unquestioned. Oh, what better answer could he give?

Arranging his features into a serious expression, he replied, “The greatest man who ever lived was Julius Caesar.”7

The utter shock on Jefferson’s face forced Hamilton to cover his mouth with his napkin, feigning a cough to cover the his laughter. He’d pay for making such a comment, of that he had no doubt. Oh, but the expression on the unflappable Virginian’s face made it so very worth it.

**

A moan of relief fell from his lips as he closed the door to the house on Third Street that he and Eliza had picked out last August. He thought he’d never be able to leave that dining room. Any time spent with Jefferson always seemed to leave him with a merciless headache and the desire to sleep for days on end.

“Dinner went well, then?” Eliza queried, watching him from the entryway to the parlor with a teasing smile.

“I can’t stand him,” Hamilton groaned as he shrugged out of his winter coat. “He barely speaks. It’s impossible to win an argument when all he does is listen to my side, then change the subject. What’s the point of even meeting with him?”

“Well, as long as we don’t need to move cities again, I’d consider it a win.”

His face fell. He knew she was angry about having to leave New York, their home and their friends, as part of his concession to pass assumption of the debt, but he hadn’t expected her to raise that now. The comment had clearly come off more barbed than she’d intended, because her expression softened, and she swept over to kiss him softly.

“Do you want some tea?” she offered. Her hands massaged his shoulders gently. “Sarah brought up a fresh pot.”

“I have more work to do. Now that the lighthouse at Cape Henry is authorized—”

“Come sit for a few minutes,” she insisted. Her lips touched his again, soft and light as a butterfly’s wing. “Pip finished his theme a few minutes ago. He’s eager to show you.”

He gave in and followed her into the parlor. Pip was writing at his little desk, his face scrunched up with concentration as he wrote in his composition book. Alex and Jamie appeared to be fighting for control of the rocking horse, while Fanny and Angelica sat on the sofa, little fingers occupied with sewing circles. When he’d settled on the sofa beside the girls, Pip bounded over, thrusting the theme book into his hands.

“I finished, Papa,” Pip announced proudly.

Eliza poured a cup of tea for him as he opened the book to the latest page. Pip’s writing was crooked and just a touch too large, but he could tell his son had put thought into the answer to the question he’d set him this morning. He smiled encouragingly when he glanced up, and saw Pip’s chest puff out with pride.

“Do you want a tart, honey?” Eliza offered. “They’re cherry. Your favorite.”

“No, thank you,” he refused. She kept making him little treats like that, trying to tempt him to indulge himself. She felt unreasonably guilty for Angelica’s letter, he knew, but giving him desserts was hardly going to undo the truth of her sister’s words.  When she frowned in disappointment, he pleaded, “As much as I love your tarts, my angel, I’m quite stuffed from Mr. Jefferson’s dinner.”

“I want a tart, Mama,” Alex piped in, abandoning his wrestling match with his little brother in hopes of a treat. Eliza smiled indulgently, and placed one of the treats on a plate for him.

When Alex was settled, she brought over the teacup for him and sat on his other side, her hand rubbing up along his arm and resting on his shoulder, her fingers tangling unconsciously in his hair. The tension in his shoulders loosened at the affectionate gesture. He loved when she played with his hair.

Time in the loving embrace of his family seemed to fly by with a speed incongruous with the pace it had taken while he’d been at Jefferson’s lodgings. After Eliza finished plying him with tea, he knelt down on the floor to play with the boys. Fanny and Angelica were both quick to abandon their sewing when they saw a chance for a piggy back ride, and soon he was rolling around with his little ones, thoughts of Jefferson and his political intrigue far away.

Eliza had a great knack for knowing when he was about to excuse himself to return to work. The very moment  the thought of the contracts on his desk crossed his mind, she immediately rose. “All right, children, time to go upstairs and start readying for bed. Papa and I are going to take our evening constitutional.”

He sighed. “Betsey, I really must—”

“It’s important for your health that you exercise.”  

He touched a hand to his stomach self-consciously, the statement conjuring Angelica’s words all over again. As Eliza ushered the children towards the stairs, she paused beside him and whispered, “It’s my only time alone with you.” She smiled, and looked perfectly sincere; still, he couldn’t help wondering if that was the only reason she wanted him to take the evening walk.

As they set out into the brisk winter air towards Walnut Street, Eliza tucked her arm around his. “I feel like we never see each other anymore,” she remarked. “It’s even worse than usual, since we moved to Philadelphia.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I’ve only just begun to set the nation on a more solid financial footing. There’s so much left to do. And between Madison and Jefferson, I can hardly keep up with all the plots to undo the work I’ve already done.”

Eliza squeezed his arm comfortingly. “You’ll manage.”

“I hope so.” If he failed, economic collapse and the ruin of the nation were sure to follow. After a beat, he added, “You sleeping in a separate room is hardly helping.”

“I’m not sleeping in a separate room,” she said. “I’ve just been comforting Fanny. I try to give you time to fall asleep before I come back, so I won’t disturb you. You need your rest.”  

“You’re never there when I go to sleep.” His voice carried more bitterness than he’d intended. He wasn’t angry with her, not at all, but he did miss her desperately.

He could actually hear her lips thinning in response, he’d swear to it. “Fanny’s nightmares keep getting worse. What would you have me do? Leave her weeping in her bed so you won’t be lonely?”

Guilt swept over him. Their poor little girl had been suffering acutely from nightmares ever since they’d broken word to her of her father’s death. He doubted she even remembered Edward Antil; although they’d been honest with her from her earliest days about her parentage, she’d never wavered from referring to them as Mama and Papa. As gentle and reassuring as they’d tried to be, though, the concept of a parent dying appeared to have had a profound effect on her.

“Of course not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She sighed, and added, “I’m just really tired.”

“Me, too.” They shared a weak smile in the orange glow of the streetlamps. “I love you, Betsey.”

“I love you, too,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

They continued strolling along the street in companionable quiet for a time.

“I saw Mrs. Washington today,” Eliza commented suddenly. Her voice had the particular quality it always acquired when she meant something to sound casual and airy, but it in fact had more significance. “She’s encouraging Angelica and Fanny to sign up for dance lessons with Nelly.”

“That sounds nice,” he replied, tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s rather…expensive.”

Ah. Money. The ever sensitive topic.

“You know our finances better than I do at this point, my dearest,” he said honestly. She’d taken over care of the finances before they’d left New York. He’d hardly even look at their account books recently. “If you think we can afford it.…”

“Pip and the girls all need new clothes,” she added. Her voice began to sound strained. “The rent is higher here in Philadelphia, as is the grocer bill. And you keep talking about sending Pip to boarding school this year. He’ll need clothes, and books, and money for room and board, not to mention the cost of the school itself.”

He frowned.

“I’m…worried, Alexander.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he tried to reassure her.

“I’m doing my best, but I can only juggle so much when the income just isn’t there. The way you spend money….”

Defensiveness flared up within him. “Didn’t you have the dress you’re wearing made at the tailors this month?”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s not just me spending money, is it?”

“Don’t cross examine me, Alexander,” she snapped. After a deep breath, she continued more calmly, “I’m not trying to attack you, honey. I’m just telling you that we need more money. I could talk to my father?”

“No.” His refusal was immediate. “No. I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll consult on legal cases,” he suggested. Even the thought of it made him want to curl up and weep—he hardly had time to sleep as it was—but if his family required more money, he’d need to do what was necessary to provide it for them. “Reviewing appeal documents, perhaps. Nothing that could cause a conflict of interest with my current position.”

“Honey,” she sounded concerned. “You don’t have the time to take on legal work on top of your Treasury post.”

“If we need money, I’ll make more money. That’s my job.”

“That’s your job for the entire country.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. “You know Papa would be happy to help if you’d let him.”  

“I promised to provide for you and our family when I married you, and I intend to see that through.”

She shook her head at him. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it. We can economize. We’ll manage. We always manage.”

“I’ll look into taking on a few cases.” He dropped a kiss onto her head to settled the discussion. He hated that the only time they managed to eke out with each other, they spent arguing about money. He’d do anything, work as much as he needed to, so long as he had her by his side. “Would you try to come to bed tonight?”  

“I’ll do my best,” she promised.

Later, much later, when he’d finally finished reviewing the most pressing documents in his briefcase, he managed to drag himself to bed and was delighted to see Eliza waiting up for him. He slipped into a nightshirt and crawled into bed beside her. “Hello, my darling angel.”

Her brow was furrowed. “Why did you change in the dressing room?”

“Isn’t that what it’s for?”

“You’re still sensitive about what Angelica said.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

“It’s not what she said. It’s that it’s true. Look at me, I’m growing round as a pumpkin.”

She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I like it. You’re less bony; much more cuddly.”

“What every man wants to hear,” he commented. She nuzzled her nose against his neck and squeezed him tight, though, and he couldn’t help chuckling. He rolled over, partially on top of her, intent on kissing her properly.

“Careful. You might crush me,” she teased, expelling an exaggerated breath around a laugh.

“Too soon. Not funny,” he insisted, crushing their lips together. He was smiling, though, properly smiling.

“Mama!” Fanny’s scream carried all the way across the house.

He groaned.

Her eyes held an apology as she pushed him away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “She needs you. Go.”

She pulled on her dressing gown and hurried from the room, while he rolled over in bed and stared up the canopy. Without Eliza beside him, his mind raced with all that needed doing. The comfort and relaxation he'd felt moments before seemed to disappear with her. He drummed his hands on his chest absently, then sat up.

Well, he may as well get some work done.

1. See Hamilton to Jefferson, 11 January 1791 2. Eliza Hamilton interview with Benton J. Lossing, 1848. 3. Elkins and McKitrick, The Age of Federalism, p. 195 4. Paraphrase from Federalist No. 36. 5. Angelica Church to Eliza Hamilton, April 1792—I adjusted this letter up a year to play up Hamilton's insecurities more. 6. Robbins, “James McHenry, Forgotten Federalist,” p. 67: Embracing Laurens after the battle of Yorktown, McHenry supposedly queried, “Here is Caesar, but where is Alexander,” to which Laurens replied, “He is safe.”  The fact that Laurens was teasingly referred to as here Caesar adds an interesting layer to the comments that follow. 7. The famous dinner party with Hamilton, Jefferson, and Madison has been covered so much recently, I thought I’d write about this one instead. Joanne Freeman tells this story in the most entertaining way in her American Revolution course (available on youtube and itunes, if you’re interested). Hamilton's comments about Caesar over a meal they shared were repeated by Jefferson for literally decades, but given that Hamilton never expressed any real admiration for Caesar anywhere else in his papers, it seems highly likely that Hamilton was messing with Jefferson (assuming, of course, Jefferson didn’t just make the whole interaction up).