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fromaliminalspace · 2 years

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do you ever just think what it would be like for XY to perform the Empathy spell on dead XXC in hopes to find in BSSR’s teachings a way to restore his shattered soul — only to drown in a whole damn universe of formerly unfamiliar emotions he was never granted a chance to experience himself

XY witnesses, with a faint sting of jealousy, little XXC wondering where his parents are and the soft celestial BSSR telling her little star how she picked up him from the streets, appearing relieved to know he doesn't remember those times

XY witnesses XXC gradually shaping into the person XY grew to know and treasure, albeit too late

XY witnesses the pureness of his soul, the pureness XY never thought was ever remotely possible for him, “a street rat”, to experience, the insatiable inquisitiveness about the little world surrounding him and the rest of the boundless world that was lying below the mountain, captivating in its complexity

XY witnesses his daozhang leave the mountain, abandon the crisp clarity and perpetual ever elusive mist of his home for the vast corrupted human world, rotten inside and out and yet subtly summoning XXC with all the flamboyance of its imperfections and profound genuineness

XY witnesses him wander across Jianghu, coming across the ugly side of it far more often than he expected and somehow remaining untainted by it

XY witnesses XXC meet the person he regarded as his zhiji, explore the ever flourishing accordance of their minds as they talked about their most intimately lofty dreams, as they talked no longer with words, but with their eyes and souls

XY witnesses him commiserate with the Chang Clan once having heard of their tragic end and resolutely devote himself to deliver justice on their behalf

XY witnesses him fleetingly wonder how a person, no matter how much of a delinquent they might be, can allow such ruthlessness to permeate their acts so thoroughly, but without actually treading too far into guessing as to what might drive one to it

XY hardly registers, his own senses reaching his mind as though wading water, his heart clenching inside his chest as he witnesses XXC dumbfound and refusing to believe the scene unraveling before his eyes when he steps indecisively into the yard of Baixue Temple, his gaze passing over the dead bodies, returning every time to the man he no longer deems himself worthy to call his friend, the man shedding crimson tears that stain both XXC's robes, once he gathers himself to rush up to his side, and, even more so, his conscience

lightheaded from daozhang's guilt multiplied with a weird indistinguishable yet resonating feeling of his own, XY makes a faint attempt to break out of the Empathy spell only to find himself already far too deep in this foreign mindset to back out, as he feels SL's harsh accusations hammering XXC's own bitter regrets right into his ears, the eviscerating agony of them spreading out throughout the entire essence of XXC

XY feels this agony reaching its peak as XXC is kneeling on the ground before his shizun, imploring her to bestow her last favor

XY feels a solitary half-hushed flicker of something light and warm abruptly flash through XXC's tormented soul as he finds quiet solace in being able to see his home he never thought he would be blessed to lay his eyes upon ever again, solace so soothing that it damps the gravity of awareness that it’s going to be the very last thing he'll ever see. solace XXC thinks he doesn't deserve to have, not after all he's caused

XY can’t help but shudder as he feels XXC gouge out his own eyes in what seems like a futile endeavor to atone for all the suffering he has brought upon SL; the excruciating pain is not nearly enough to bring him the absolving peace he longs for

XY feels the constant guilt weigh down on XXC as he wanders the world, all on his own once again, learning to live with himself

XY feels the warmth timidly blossoming in his heart as AQ's cheerful voice and the upbeat tapping of her bamboo cane fill up the silence of SL's absence and the self-enforced silence of daozhang's generous heart, still eager to give itself away to those who might need it more than XXC himself

XY feels XXC wondering what might have caused his carefree yet discreet housemate to end up that guarded and embittered despite his easygoing personality and then abruptly catching himself — he would not interfere in others' business, he would not prod what may be someone's old and still raw wounds, lest his help turns out to backfire at those he wishes to protect most

XY feels daozhang's homesickness as he listens to Chengmei describe Yi City to him, reminiscing the caressing mist of the celestial mountain, reminiscing what it was like to truly belong somewhere; XXC lets himself realize eventually that these two never failing to make him smile people, both under the same roof as him out of genuine fondness, are not unlike Home to him

XY finds a part of him wish he died in that ditch as he feels XXC's world shutter again because of him when his small unpretentious heaven is revealed to be nothing but lies all along, when his palm envelopes around the sharp frost-biting edge of a unbearably familiar blade, heedless of any pain that isn't XY's making

engrossed in all the emotions he can't even put a name to, XY feels the extent of daozhang's despair deep in his own bones while XXC is groping for the handle of his own sword for the last time to the sound of XY's venomous unabashed laughter

as XY opens his tear-stained eyes eventually, his head simultaneously hollow and overwhelmed, he glances over to XXC's face, solemn and refined as that of a statue and just as lifeless as one, and after a lingering silence utters a single sentence under his breath, the one an unacknowledged part of him now wishes he said much earlier, the one that no longer holds the power of mending anything, let alone something as delicate as stardust, the one that will not bring daozhang back regardless of all the remorse XY can possibly put in it, “i’m sorry, this is not your fault”

#xuexiao #xue yang #xiao xingchen #yi city #cql #mdzs #baoshan-sanren #song lan #a-qing #ficlet #Liam whispers into the void #Liam's stuff #long post #long post for ts #okay this was actually written two years ago back when i only got into the rabbit hole of cql in general and yi city in particular #and tbh it was *meant* to be outline but... sth went wrong i guess?#not that i regret it though #well can't say that current me would write this thing the same way in terms of characterization that my past self from two years ago did #but i wanted to just let it out into the wild closer to its initial state and with minimum edits #so here it goes #since then i've had even more thought on empathy in cql both as a spell and as a theme #but unlike whatever this is they're more metaish so another time #tbh i still can't believe i'm actually posting this after keeping it in my notes for so long #but since i'm trying to say goodbye to my perfectionism it's only natural to let go of old 'not polished enough' projects #and let them live their own life #Liam writes (a bit)

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kakairuincorrectquotes · 2 years

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Kakashi: I've noticed we've slowly phased the "B" out of our bromance.

Iruka, on one knee w/ an engagement ring: I mean, yeah, I guess...

#kakairu #incorrect kakairu quotes #iruka umino #kakashi hatake #naruto #naruto shippuden #incorrect naruto quotes #incorrect quotes #kakashi #iruka #kakashi x iruka #kakashi/iruka #i think I've posted this one like three times #but I'm not sure #and I'm in my cellphone so i can't check ajfjfkfk #so here it goes #for the 100th time

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lnktea · 2 years

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Bunnyblade

Give him all your carrots, this is a threat/j

#technoblade #technoblade fanart #osmp fanart #osmp techno #osmp #ii cannot draw animals for the life of me but i can make humanoid things #so here it goes #i loved his skin so muhc #it's so cute i can't

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ryuumarsart · 3 years

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Trolls but they’re all owo (Pt. 1?)

Inspired by me being unable to see a troll without wanting to draw a :3 face on them

#hilda #hilda the series #hilda netflix #hilda trolls #:3 #owo #this is why the trolls aren't drawn with mouths most of the time #makes them a lot less intimidating #also didn't know whether to put this on my art blog or my main #so here it goes #screenshot edit #if you can consider it that

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parksunghoonification · 2 years

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Top Ten reasons why I hate You

synopsis. tenacity and spite aren’t really a great combination and Jake Sim knows it well.

word count. around 1800

pairings. jake x afab!reader

genre. kind of enemies to lovers??

warnings. i cursed and i also got bitchy

authors notes. hi everyone! this is the first time I’m posting on this site, hope you’ll like it!! English is not my first language, so let me know kindly if there are some mistakes.

(also i do NOT hate Jake, I actually love him too much, this was just for fun!!!)

Hi, I guess?

Sorry Diary, I haven't done this since third grade, I lost all my magic.

if it was up to me you wouldn't exist, this is all Jungwon's idea.

He said and I quote: "Maybe writing about it will give you some sort of inner piece, or maybe it will help you cope or process. It will do more good than harm, just try it". But then I refused, he clapped back and things got desperate really quickly (he knows exactly what to say and how to act to make me give in). Plus, I'm taking psychology this semester, saying no wouldn't have given me any credibility whatsoever.

So here I am, writing in a hate journal about a stupid frat boy (derogatory) for the sake of my friends' mental health (and also because they all have frequent headaches, pretty sure we are the cause of it).

I would like to start off by saying I am not a “fiery beast escaped from the flaming chambers of Hell”, even if I quite like the epithet (it’s giving Dante’s Inferno). If Jake (the stupid frat boy) was writing these pages, he would have kept that supernatural narrative, going on about how monstrously evil I am. I have a message for that troglodyte: my diary, my money, my story, and I will tell it how I like it (the girlbossification of y/n, we love to see it).

Contrarily to what he thinks (and fuck what he thinks), many say I am a good person, a really good person even.

I always stall Mr Kim when that sleepyhead of Sunoo is late to class (after several years of observing and refining my theory, I finally came to the conclusion that the closer you live to the school, the later you'll arrive), I always patiently help that senior citizen of Heeseung with his electronics (even if I really want to hit him with the TV's remote, because really Heeseung it's not that hard, most buttons have the function written on them, you just have to press them), I always make sure that hot tempered mess of Riki doesn't get himself killed (task that costed me a black eye once), I always end up forgiving every one of my unhinged friends (I can't really stay mad at them for long anyway, how could I? At the end of the day, they're pretty cute).

Unfortunately, like every other human being (except for Taylor Swift, the queen herself) I have a few, totally forgettable, little flaws.

Jay often tells me I might have a teeny, tiny, almost invisible controlling problem (which is actually hot if you ask me), remark I really can't take seriously considering it comes from someone who can't stand being wrong. Heeseung has pointed out a few times that I may not be the most tolerable person when drunk, but I would like to point out to him that I, at least, am extremely predictable (unlike him) since I follow a precise scale of drunkenness that goes from silly dances to uncontrolled and unjustified giggles (I think I am adorable when drunk, Heeseung is a loser for not agreeing with me). Sunghoon never forgets to scold me for being "the biggest bitch ever" to his beloved, Sim Jake (I can't defend myself on this one, he is absolutely right but I will never say this to his face).

The thing is, my friend group still hasn't had the opportunity to grasp on the fact that I am extremely bad at letting grudges go, I hold on to them for as long as I can. I have to admit, it happened to me on several occasions to forget the reasons behind them, but what can I do? Give up? Suddenly change my behaviour? I don’t want people to think I am a crazy, moody bitch, I prefer they think of me as a bitch without any other attribute, I don't really need all that decoration.

I guess you can add to the mix the fact that I am also pretty stubborn. Tenacity and spite aren't really a great combination and Jake knows it well.

To be honest with you diary, I forgot why I hate him so much but he gives me at least one new reason every day to do so.

First of all, he skipped Lady Gaga on the radio. that alone I could have ignored, but after that heretic act he pronounced these precise words, and I quote, "who even enjoys this kind of music", with the most arrogant tone ever. For your information Jake, I do, you little piece of shit.

He also said that Yeonjun is "just okay", and that I was "blowing this out of proportion" by calling him "the most beautiful creature to ever walk on heart". Jealousy is quite a bitch, I guess.

Petty motives, aren't they? Yes, of course. In all sincerity, I just believe me and him are too different to coexist civilly in the same environment. He is always pushing the wrong buttons, the big red ones with "DO NOT TOUCH" written all over. He does this on purpose, I’m convinced. He must not like me too.

To further prove my points, I made a contained list for you, my dear Diary, where I picked the top ten things I hate about Jake Sim (so I can antagonize him and explain why I am right at the same time). I know, I know, just like the movie. I had to pick a number, okay? I could have written for infinity but neither of us have all that time.

Disclaimer: it gets ugly

1. He is legitimately the worst at pranks but he won't give you the same answer if you ask him. He goes either way too small (he once moved every piece of furniture in my apartment by half a centimetre. Spoiler: I didn't notice and he almost went insane) or way too big (he freed a racoon in said apartment that destroyed most of said pieces of furniture. Also, it had rabies).

2. He is the biggest nerd. He picked maths and physics in college and made that his entire personality. Now I might be a bitch, but I am not a monster. I am all for talking about one's passions, but there is a limit, it being my total lack of interest towards Einstein and his stupid clock tower (with all due respect Mr Einstein). I also have unprocessed trauma from high school (it's the teachers' fault if I can't look at numbers without crying). So, no Jake, I am not bad at those, I just happen to despise them as much as I despise you.

3. He tries so bad to understand literature and refuses to accept that he really doesn't. He is extremely factual and he said himself multiple times that he doesn't believe in anything that isn't supported by objective actualities. Stories aren't always rational because human behaviour isn't always rational. He is convinced he can understand literature by using the same approach he uses for Math!!! How unacceptable is that? And that is why you didn't enjoy Wuthering Heights Jake, you tasteless little bitch! (He insults that masterpiece one more time and he is done for).

4. He is a robber, a criminal, an offender. He always steals Riki from me. And do not get me started on Sunghoon! Every time I happen to be alone with them, he approaches with his callous, grabby hands and takes them elsewhere, leaving me all alone. They like me better anyways Jake, get over it!!!

5. He ruins all the pictures. I can't post a group photo because of him. He's always right in the middle (I can't even crop him out and he gets extremely sensitive when I photoshop a celebrity in his place) with his stupid, constipated face. What's with that expression? Who lied to him? I swear his bottom lip will fall out one day from all the biting (I like to think that the doctors will have to use the skin from his ball sack to reconstruct it so that no one will kiss him ever again).

6. He makes me homesick. Layla this and Layla that, he always makes me think about the dog I left at home on the other side of the globe, the family I left behind. I face my personal dilemmas more than I would like because of him and believe me, realizing daily what a shitty daughter and sibling you are isn't ideal. I can't even cheer myself up with Layla, for some reason he is gatekeeping her from me, I have never even seen a picture of her. Scared she will like pick me over you, Sim?

7. I hate when he calls me "baby", "princess", "sweetheart" and other stomach upsetting pet names, mainly because his flirting (at least that's what Sunoo says it is) is pitiful and it gives me a heart attack every two business days.

8. He never worries. "y/n it's just a little coffee", Jungwon never blinked that day, not even once. "Relax y/n, it's chocolate", Riki was high on sugar. "We're at a party, have fun for once baby" Heeseung ended up in a fountain a neighbourhood away from the feast and almost drowned (we had our own little Titanic that night). For the record, I do have a lot of fun Jake, stop calling me an "uptight little princess".

9. That fucker laughs at his own tiktoks, he watches his page for hours on ends and has the audacity of having the time of his life. I wonder how the fuck he still finds deez nuts jokes funny when he hasn't been twelve in a while. If you're thinking "well, that's tragic" and not "he is hopeless" it's because, Diary, you still don't know that he listens unironically to Drake in 2021. Now that is tragic. To all the girls and boys who simp for Jake I just want to say that no, you can't fix him.

10. He makes me feel sort of funny sometimes. I believe it's due to the stress he gives me while Sunoo, on the other hand, is convinced that my hate for him it's "just a cover" for my "romantic feelings" and "that's what's up with your accelerated heartbeat, dumbass".

Let's focus on our last point. First of all, cardiovascular diseases run in the family, the doctor once told me that I am subjected to episodes of heart insufficiency. So, there's that. Second of all, I will never fall for that cretin of Jake sim. What would I even fall for? His outrageous skinny jeans? His stupid hair? That dumb laugh of his?

Now let’s hypothesize that I like him (which I don’t, ew), why would he like me? But this is a conversation for another time.

This was sort of fun, maybe I’ll do this again tomorrow,

Bye bye Diary :)

#enhypen #enhypen reaction #enhypen scenario #jake sim #enha #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enha jake #jake imagines #sim jaeyun #i actually don't know how to use hastags #i promised myself i would have share this #so here it goes

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incorrect-hogwartsyay · 3 years

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Hufflepuff: I’m struggling with this decision I have to make... I don't even know where to start...

Ravenclaw: Do it like me, ask yourself "what would Slytherin do in this situation?"

Hufflepuff: ...And then do the opposite thing?

Ravenclaw, nodding: And then do the opposite thing.

#this has been in my drafts for a while now #so here it goes #incorrect harry potter #incorrect quotes #ravenclaw #slytherin #hufflepuff #incorrect Hogwarts house quotes #Hogwarts houses #chat #dialogue prompts

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hellengellen · 2 years

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Is there anything better than a lovely brawling session with ur gf? 💕 (the answer's very obviously no!)

#noikaido #dorohedoro #ドロヘドロ #noi dorohedoro #nikaido dorohedoro #violence cw #just in case #injury cw #wasn't gonna originally post it as it's kinda personal art but :P I spent a lot of time on it and ended up liking it a lot #so here it goes #it's probably very fun for Noi to finally be able to fight against someone that can actually stand her blows pfff #sometimes caring for your gf is agreeing to beating the fuck out of eachother (lovingly and with loads of aftercare and cuddles ofc)#also post canon hcs but the idea that they're long distance makes my little gay heart go whooo yeah #none of them like eachother's world so they alternate the places where they date that way it's fair!!#I should probably just write this all out in a fic instead of dumping headcanons in the tags pfft #anyways yeah I dont even know if phones exist in the drhdr world but lets just say they have phones and have a dumb gc with everyone in it #they ALL became friends after the ending of the series because I said so

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rockyybeach · 2 years

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peter shaw but it’s vibes only

#this is super old #but I still kinda like it #so here it goes #Peter Shaw #pete crenshaw #edit #Die Drei Fragezeichen #die drei ???

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xolaanii · 2 years

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The Curse of the Pharaohs ASSASSIN'S CREED ORIGINS 2018

#this dlc was so much fun and i want to gif them since december #so here it goes #when i saw ramesses come at me swinging like that #i felt like a little kid running from the shoe #i was overleveled and still thot i was about to get an ass whopping so big #vg: assassin's creed origins #acedit #assassin's creed origns #assassin's creed #mine: ac: origins #p: mine #valedits

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greatfairymia · 2 years

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He walks towards the bed. His feet simply carry him and he simply gives in.

Praying to Hylia that the demon is well and fully asleep, Link sets his fingers in white hair -- just along the longer pieces that cover half his face. The hair is unnatrually soft, like silk or willows; Link wants to brush it behind one long ear but knows Ghirahim keeps this hidden intentionally. Instead he only glides his fingers down the locks, then across a wide grey forehead. The demon sighs in his sleep.

#my fics #i dont think this is very good but i have to delete it and the scene entirely and im SAD ABOUT IT #so here it goes

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znikomek · 2 years

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Hi. Hope I’m not bothering you but before my idea slips away, I was wondering if you take ficlet requests? If so, could I request some more domestic lams (historical of course) family fluff or angst if you’re up to it?

For angst: It’s similar to the Reynolds affair but with Kinloch(? Perhaps Manning?) Laurens and Hamilton are married, and they raise Frances of course. And one night, either Manning (out of revenge or jealousy) or Kinloch (out of pure jealousy) takes to their advantage and use Laurens against his family and it isn’t until he’s made a pamphlet of it to the world do the Laurens-Hamilton family break to pieces.

As for fluff: Based off your “Please Meet” ficlet, which I loved by the way. Was so adorable- But it’s when Laurens and Hamilton watch their daughter walk down the aisle to marry Peter Coleman. And of course, Hamilton being the overreacting one and tearing up every five seconds.

I wasn't thinking about taking requests, but I decided to do it, because there was no reason not to, apart from the initial fear of not delivering well. Here goes angst, as I have had fluff planned in a slightly different form that I'm still thinking about.

It's not explicit, but the subject is an affair, so I couldn't skip all the mentions.

Golden August light was falling through the big windows by which John had placed his easel with a sketch. He planned on applying the initial coat of paint to the canvas today, using the time he was given between clients. Frances was attending a dance lesson and Alexander had gone to the office and was to stay there for long, as the prices of receipts rapidly fell.

Their lifestyle was so different, yet so similar to when they were in the army. Always busy, always on duty. Sharing a bed, yet apart most of the time. Alexander had left in the morning before John even opened his eyes. Any time this happened, the cold of the other side of the mattress, suggesting its inhabitant was far away, grew into John’s heart, but he understood the importance of his husband’s work.

They lived together, but their love language remained the same as the one adopted for a distance of hundreds of miles. Any time Alexander left home before John woke up, he wrote a tender note for good morning, but that was not what John wished for. He wanted at least a kiss.

He heard a knock on the door and put down his brush, checking the time and wondering who could wish to come by. It was not Frances, as she wouldn’t knock, neither would Alexander and he was stuck behind a desk.

John stood up, wiping his hands, and went to open the door. Standing there was a man he did not expect to see.

“Kinloch.”

“John Laurens.” The man smiled at him boldly and somewhat insincerely.

“Laurens-Hamilton.” John corrected him sharply, wondering what made his ex-lover and ex-friend pay him a visit at a late hour after many years since they saw each other for the last time.

“Yes, I tend to forget you are a madman. But as we speak of Hamilton- where is he?” Kinloch moved and, uninvited, walked into the house, hanging his hat next to the door. “At work, am I right?”

“What do you want from me?” John crossed his arms and followed the unwanted guest.

“You paint?” Kinloch managed to find his way to John’s atelier and nestled himself in an armchair. “I did not know you used oil paints. But you must fill your spare time with something, don’t you? When your husband is gone and you are left alone.”

“What do you want, Kinloch?”

“Talk to an old friend, is it not obvious?”

John knitted his brows together and sat on an ottoman, still carefully holding his gaze at the surprise guest.

“You are a lawyer, am I wrong? And Hamilton, he became the Secretary of Treasury. Did you not have an attraction towards politics as well? So I remember from our good, ole times. John Laurens, an activist and abolitionist, stuck at home. Who would think?”

“I am not stuck at home. As you said, I am a lawyer.”

“Yes, you bring money home. Is it not what this is about? Hamilton shines on banquets, impresses with his wit, yet he wishes to live a rich life, so you provide with finances. He plays you.”

“Alexander and I agreed upon this. I have nothing against practising law where I can do much good as well when he has a mission to fulfil for the sake of our nation. And we both can lead a simple, modest life, but we need to provide for Frances.”

Kinloch only hummed and looked around in search of something, putting their discussion on hold. John didn’t want to admit it, but his words stung him. There still was something in him that wished for the bit of glory Alexander received, but he knew Alexander needed him, and John was one of the factors making him succeed.

“Do you have some wine you would by any chance wish to share with me?”

So that was what he was looking for. John hesitated, as that would mean he wished to guest him, and he wasn’t sure whether that was true. On the other hand, it would be polite to give your visitor a drink.

John stood up and left, with an intention to go to the living room, bring them a bottle and two glasses. He hoped during his absence Kinloch wouldn’t childishly destroy the painting. He couldn’t still be jealous.

He chose a bottle he knew Alexander wouldn’t wish to open anyway, and hastily returned to the room, only to find Kinloch in the same position as he was in when he left, and feel relieved. John poured them a bit of the beverage on the bottoms of the glasses and handed Kinloch his one.

The man sipped it but didn’t seem much interested. He quickly shifted his attention back to John and smirked. “You seemed dismayed, my dear Laurens. What is that concerns you?”

“I do not think this is your burden.”

“I simply enjoy your smile. It used to be on your face much more often when we were together.”

“We both know 'tis not true.”

“Do not be so offended. I hope Hamilton takes care of the great man who trusted him properly. He does, does he not?”

John felt a knot in his stomach. Naturally, Alexander cared for him greatly, but lately, his work restricted him largely. John longed for the sensual expression of affection they couldn’t afford right now. Kinloch’s words reminded him how much he craved to get physical. Since it was no longer a crime, he let the monster free, and now it was roaring in his chest, asking for prey.

“What is the pout on your face? Does he neglect you?” Kinloch stood up and approached him, putting the glass to the side. “My dear Laurens, do not waste yourself on an ungrateful man. You give yourself to him all the time. When was the last time he gave himself to you?”

Kinloch’s hand landed on John’s arm and that was the first bad sign, but John decided to ignore it, recalling how Alexander was refusing lately to nearly every proposition John made, fully focused on establishing the bank and the dangerous situation with the national debt.

Now, both of Kinloch’s hands were on John’s chest, dangerously close to his cravat. But they were warm and they were there, not on papers and quills. He shouldn’t think about it, but John remembered Kinloch was attractive. Not as handsome as Alexander, but definitely appealing.

Kinloch continued to speak, but John didn’t care much about the meaning of those words. He thought of all those good moments they had had in Geneva, and about the sensation of skin burning through his clothes. Kinloch was too close.

“You deserve someone who can be with you, Laurens. You deserve a man to be willing to help you. I can help you.”

When John looked up, his eyes met Kinloch’s greyish-brown and he locked his sight there. Their faces came closer to each other so that John could feel the other man’s breath. He should have reacted, he should have done something, but instead of it, he allowed Kinloch to kiss him. He returned the kiss. Kinloch’s hands worked on ridding him of his clothes.

***

He had to stop this. Everything about it was wrong, and John barely could look at himself in the mirror each morning. Every time he promised himself the next time he would tell him they had to end it - he was afraid of another word that could describe his wrong deeds - and every time he lacked the strength.

John watched Kinloch dress up from between the screwed sheets. The man had the same unusual manner of pulling his shirt into the breeches as all those years ago. He barely changed, and that was probably pertinent also about his personality and views, but John wasn’t sure if he wanted to check that out.

“I must admit, Hamilton has kept you in a good shape, Laurens.”

How dare he mention Alexander right now. They had to end it. John grunted to encourage himself, “This is the end.”

Kinloch turned around unhurriedly, scanning John still naked on the bed, barely covered with a blanket. “I don’t think you want to end, Laurens.”

“I do. This has come to an end.”

Kinloch spat, reaching for his coat, and leaned, pressing his lips to John’s. Repulsed, John pushed him away, wiping his mouth.

“You do wish it to last, my dear Laurens, you do. And, being as merciful as I am, I will allow you to keep seeing me.”

“No, listen.” John snapped, pulling the blanket higher over his chest. “This shall not continue.”

Kinloch only smirked indulgently. “Do you really wish for your husband to learn about it? If no, then you shall pay me. No, don’t get upset, my dear Laurens. In return, I shall pay you other visits. I believe it to be an honest trade.”

John didn’t look at him nor speak as he left the bedroom, his throat tied and voice stuck in it. It has been many months since their first encounter, and nothing has changed since then. He still, even stronger, lacked Alexander’s company and indulged in Francis’, by no means nearly as good, but he would never think Francis would use it to blackmail him. Was that his sole intent? To use him? That was what John could have figured out sooner, knowing his character, but the touch he offered was too desired in the situation and it beclouded the truth, his common sense.

***

When John came home on a cold March afternoon, he met Frances waiting for him, sitting on the stairs and reading. This view always cheered him up, no matter how bad his day was till then. Their daughter was the best what has ever happened to him.

As she noticed him, she put the book down, jumped and threw her arms on his neck, smiling. “Papa!” She hugged him tightly, laughing.

John returned the embrace, dropping his suitcase and also grinning. “Hello, Franny. How was your day?”

“Good. I read, and played piano, and had a maths lesson with Mr Dickhaut. He said I was very good.”

“I am very proud of you.”

“Dinner is already cold, but I will heat it up for you. I made chicken.” She finally detached from him. “Shall I prepare you tea?”

“No, thank you, dinner is fine. Have you heard from dad?” He stepped back to hang his coat, and then returned to plant a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “You’re an amazing child and such a big girl. I don’t know how I would live without you.”

Frances giggled. “No, he didn’t write. But, there is someone waiting for you in dad’s office.”

John frowned, concerned. It couldn’t be him.

“Papa, will we paint together today? I have an idea for a still life, and I prepared the model for us!”

John hummed something in response, absent-minded, and rushed to the mentioned office. In front of the door, he cooled down a little and opened with calm and deliberation in his moves. That was the one person he didn’t wish to see.

“I see you work long hours.” Francis Kinloch was sitting at Alexander’s desk, drinking the wine Alexander kept here for unexpected business meetings. “You kept me waiting for quite a long time.”

“We didn’t have a set meeting, Kinloch.” John closed the door behind himself and stood next to the occupied chair. “Who gave you permission to be here?”

“You, my dear Laurens. And if you ask who opened the door- Martha’s daughter grew up to be a beautiful lady.”

Something in John protested at the idea of his innocent girl meeting Francis Kinloch. This scoundrel was the last man he hoped could influence her.

“I hope you have prepared the sum we agreed upon. You must know that is very little for silence, yet I am able to agree for this thin dime as I care about you deeply. It always is only for your sake that I act here. And so I thought today we could- make things even more interesting. There are so many unused surfaces here.” He stroked the counter of Alexander’s desk.

John gulped, repulsed. Who did he think he was?

Kinloch stood up and approached him, cupping John’s face. “How many times did he invite you there? You see? He didn’t want you. But I do, Laurens, I do. You are wanted here, and I know you want me as well.”

He should have stepped back, but the palms on his cheeks were warm and tempting, so he only leaned into his touch, swiftly checking only if he had closed the door.

***

“John, have you seen my letters to Seton?!”

Curious, John peeked into Alexander’s office, where his husband was rumbling through his papers, sitting on the floor. Casually neat piles transformed into sheets flying over the whole room. “What?”

“My letters to Seton. I make copies of every note I send him to know exactly what I wrote. But they disappeared.”

“No, I haven’t seen them. Why are they important?”

“Someone leaked that I, as the Treasury, will step in to rescue our economy and bond market. It encouraged the speculators to try to do what Duer didn’t manage. In a second, we will have another crisis and they accuse me of working with those men. John, they accuse me of trying to destroy the system I spent years building! Years to deal with the debt that accumulated due to the war and poor financial management!”

With panic rising in his brain, as a terrifying thought crossed his mind, he gulped. “Why are those letters so important?”

“If someone took them, they’d know exactly how I would act. This could be the leak.” Alexander’s eyes were rushed, the blue irises in the colour of a storm. "Those letters could ruin me, and my whole career."

Without another word, John turned on his heels and rushed to his office.

***

“You wanted to see me, Laurens?” The confidence and calm in Kinloch’s voice were infuriating. "You miss me so soon? We saw each other barely three days ago."

“Did you take those letters?” John hissed, fighting an urge to forcibly grab him by his shirt.

“What letters?” He tried to sound innocent, but that was not what he could perform.

“That's why you took me to the office then. That was audacious. Why do you even need them?”

“You think there are no men willing to pay for the documents of the Secretary of Treasury?”

“How dare you-” John barely kept himself together. “You will pay for it.”

“Do you really want your Alexander to see who you are?”

John shut his eyes. There must have been a catch. It would be a shame that he had already spent so much money on keeping Kinloch’s mouth shut, but at least he could save some by not paying in the future.

Eureka! “If you spoke about it, your wife would learn as well.”

A dangerous smirk crawled on Kinloch’s face, and John started analysing. What he had missed in it?

“My wife has left me. For a woman. And that was because you spoke up.”

That was ridiculous. The man was angry at him because he was not afraid to fight to legalise relationships like theirs from the past? Because he lifted fear and self-hatred off many shoulders? He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“So, do you wish for something else, Laurens? If not, then I shall anticipate my payment in two weeks.”

***

He had to deal with it by himself. He couldn’t be silent anymore. The stake was too high. He messed up, he had to clean it and refute the slurs thrown at Alexander. There was only one way to do this. With his head dizzy, John reached for a quill and a piece of paper.

***

That was late evening when he was working on the stack of documents to prepare for work. He was tired, and his eyelids felt leaden. The flickering candle in front of him barely lightened the paper.

John turned around when he heard footsteps. On the doorframe, Alexander was leaning. He was dressed only in his breeches and a shirt, with the blue ribbon on his hair tied lightly so it would be easy to pull it off.

“Hey…” his husband grinned, with arms crossed on his chest. “I haven’t been the best lover lately, but I thought that you may want to… spend some time together.”

John smiled at him, with warmth growing in his chest. Even in the dark, Alexander looked spectacular. “I’ve got some important work to do,” he sighed with regret and looked at the piles in front of him.

“I can help you, and then you can join me in bed.” Alexander offered and gladly moved towards the desk, but John quickly, pretending to be a work matter, moved another paper over the unfinished draft.

“No, thank you, I can manage.”

“Do you not trust me in my knowledge of law? Shall I remind you I’m a lawyer as well? I didn’t forget it despite working on creating law, not executing it.” He reached for a paper and a spare quill.

John gingerly took it out of his hand and put it out of his reach. “It’s fine, I can do it. And you should go to bed. I see how tired you are. Alex, you have black circles under your eyes.”

“I must admit, I hoped for something more. John, I am eager to-” his fingers run over John’s waistcoat- “take some action even in the evening. Frances is asleep, the curtains are pulled down, and I want to make it up to you for all that neglect. I could have put my work above you, and I am ashamed of it. That was wrong. Please, forgive me. And I promise, from now on, you will be my first priority. I will be whatever you want. If you are too tired, I can attend to you, give you a massage, or we can cuddle. God, how much I miss it. So, what will you say, dear?”

John swallowed. There were no words in his mind that could express how wrong he felt at that moment. But he knew he had to have these papers finished by the morning and that he couldn’t allow Alexander to help him, as he could find out papers not addressed to him.

“We will have time in the future when this nightmare of your job is over. Now, get some sleep, my dear boy.”

Alexander only smiled, a bit woefully, leaned to place a kiss on John’s cheek and left. And John tried to silence the guilt, expressed by a large knot in his stomach that made him want to vomit.

***

John had spent the whole day by the river, working on a travel desk. He needed air, he needed space. That was the first day the pamphlet putting the blame on Kinloch was printed and to buy. He had taken every possible action to forget about it, even though it was the right thing to do. He was afraid of what would people say about him.

Now, he was walking back home, his thoughts still on the most important case he was working on, so his legs led him with no assistance from the brain. No one stopped him on the route, only avoiding colliding him with.

When the door finally appeared in front of his face, he pushed the knob with relief and quickly dropped the baggage. But there was no one to greet him, and he recalled well today Frances should be home. With no sight of her on the stairs, he assumed she must have been waiting for him in the kitchen, maybe over steaming tea.

John unhurriedly hung his coat and stepped into the kitchen to see the one person he didn’t expect. At the table, over a newspaper and a brochure, was sitting his husband, with his face hidden in his hands and messy hair falling over it.

“Alexander? What happened? Where is Frances?”

Alexander removed the hands from his face, and John could see the smears after dried tears. His eyes were red and heavy, with lashes glued together. Ginger locks stuck to his forehead, pressed by the fingers, and there were marks on where the skin touched another part of it. John wondered if he had ever seen him in such a state.

“Frances is safe in her room,” Alexander rasped. “How dare you ask me what happened?”

At first, John didn’t understand. Then, he peeked at the papers on the table and a lump formed in his throat. He hadn’t thought about it.

“You- you- you cheated!” The cry that escaped Alexander’s lips was horrifying. “You cheated with that scoundrel! When I was working on the financial situation in the country, what you always told me was an important task that I was made to perform, what you repeated to me was serving our country with the biggest honour, you couldn’t keep it in your pants! You cad!”

John felt his legs tremble under him, but he didn’t dare to sit. Slowly, awareness of the meaning of his words printed there reached him.

“When I went to work today, I received some weird looks.” Alexander’s voice wavered. “Then, I was given today’s press. Can you imagine the shame I felt when I read what you have done? The shame I felt when my subordinates read how I was a neglectful husband, a neglectful lover, so you had to replace me with the first man you saw?”

“Alex, that’s not like that-” he tried to make it right, with the terrifying thought of Alexander leaving him, but something different whispered it was too late.

“Not like what?! You want to tell me now you didn’t cheat? Or maybe-” he reached for the pamphlet- “the two of you didn’t make out on my desk so he could take the letters and sell them, putting my name and work in the mud? What is not like I think?”

Despite the obvious anger and frustration, he must have felt, there was mostly sadness in the last sentence, and the full power of what he had brought on his husband hit John. “He took the letters before,” he muttered without thinking.

Alexander laughed wryly through fresh tears flowing down his face, looking like they could leave scars, flutes, in places they went on multiple times. “Then why on earth would you make public what you did later? To brag?”

John had no answer for that.

“You cheated, endangered my legacy, and published it. What did you expect me to say?! To thank you? For the malicious whisper I have had and will have to deal with?”

“Alex-”

“The night you were 'working', did you also meet with him? When you promised Franny to paint with her and then didn't appear, were you also with him? The time I escaped from work, though I was not supposed to, to eat dinner with my family but you weren't there, nor you were in your office, were you also with him? The time Martha Washington had to pick Frances up from her dance lesson cause you weren't there for her, were you also with him?”

“Not when I told you I was working.”

“So that was the case every other time. My God.” Alexander hid his face again. “And you paid him.”

“What were I supposed to do?!”

“Don't go to bed with him!” Alexander screamed over John's head, standing up and clenching his fists. “Is it that much to expect from you, to stay true? Or maybe I shouldn't have been so naive, you had done it once, why wouldn't you do it again? Why did I trust that the reason was different than common infidelity?”

John ground his teeth. He was furious at himself for bringing the suffering to the man he loved. “What were I supposed to do?”

“Talk to me! Tell me the truth! I don't know if I would forgive you, but at least I would clean up the mess you have made over my name! But you never tell me things! I had to learn you had a wife from a letter that was not for me! After nearly two years of an affair! That's what I have always been to you, haven't I? An affair, just like the one you say you have just ended. You played me, tricked me into thinking you love me so I would help to legalise your game. And now left. For the man that supposedly hurt you. For the same man who broke your heart and I was holding and soothing you for hours when you cried over it.”

John knew Alexander was being hard on purpose, but it still crushed him and poured tears to his eyes, hearing those slurs. “I wanted to end it sooner,” he whispered.

“I don't care! I don't care for what you say right now. I have always cared for you, I have always cared about what you think of me, about what you feel. I do not anymore.” Alexander rushed towards the corridor, wiping the tears from his face and involuntary sobbing.

Till now, John felt chained to the ground, but he couldn't let Alexander go. With streams of water dripping on his waistcoat, he rushed after his husband, ready to drop on his knees and beg.

“Alex-” he started, but was soon cut off.

“No. I don’t need to hear your excuses. Better explain it to your daughter. Tell her what her papa was doing when she was waiting to show him a portrait of him she had painted. Explain to her what her dear papa was doing when she wished to share with him the new thing she learned on piano. Where he was when her other father failed.”

That shocked John. He hurt Frances so bad? That was another arrow in his side. And, of all, he didn't expect Alexander to blame himself for anything now.

“I failed.” Alexander whispered. “I failed as a partner, friend, lover, father, politician, leader. I'm a failure. All of my life. A disappointment. And so are you.”

Bewildered, in tears, with his heart in pieces, John watched Alexander put on a coat and step towards the door. “What with Franny?” he stuttered out.

“I rented another house, my things should already be there. I can't live in the same place where the man I devoted my life to made a fool out of me. And I have already told her, if she wants to go with me, I will do everything I can to be the best father I can be. If she decides to stay, you must care for her. If she wants to move in with the Washingtons, her aunt or anyone else, I will do everything that is in my power to let her do so. And if she wishes to have a house on her own, I will sell my soul, live on the streets, whatever it takes to give her a fair life.” He gave John one last mournful look and stepped out, shooting a bullet through his glass heart.

Along with his husband, strength abandoned John, and he felt as the legs under him bent and he fell on the floor, crying, choking on his own tears. He couldn’t cope with what had happened, how could his life drift down so easily.

He didn't know how much time had passed until he heard barely audible steps of Frances, descending from her room. When he looked up, he saw a scared face of a young girl staring at him with shock. Her colourful ribbons and a rich dress with sparkles seemed ridiculous in comparison with how he must have looked like.

The disappointment in her sight felt like a kick; as if someone deliberately would crush the bigger shards of what was left from his heart. “Forgive me, Frances.”

“I- you hurt dad, father.” Her words were washed out of emotions. “You hurt him.”

That was when John noticed a suitcase standing behind her, and shut his eyes. He couldn't watch his daughter leave him.

The door opened and shut.

#fic request #I actually wrote two different endings #both coming after this #but I am not sure about any of them #so here it goes #hope it's what you asked for #historical hamilton #historical lams

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