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[mementomcriii]

      REMEMBER DEATH !

ind. priv sel. transgender alexander hamilton of hamilton: an american musical. multi-verse, multi-ship, crossover && oc friendly. template credit.

[mementomcriii]

“The room where it happens”

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   me : wow can’t believe i’m gonna be an actual bonafide adult in a few months    terrible goblin h.amilton muse that has been living in my head for 2+ years : hell yeah i want to FUCK!!

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   is. is anyone that isn’t kitty that follows me active anymore. y’all alive

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I’m not going to live anywhere this beautiful ever again, am I?

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He feels naked when speaking about things he really loves.

Gabrielle Zevin (via purplebuddhaquotes)

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mcnticellos‌:

HE THINKS   LOOKS LIKE   FEELS LIKE   SWEARS HE MIGHT FAINT.    Ten words (special focus administered to the last three), and Thomas is seconds from prematurely dialling 9-1-1.  Not in case of a heart attack, as clichés might suggest, but in case of sudden death, because if he wakes up and this is all a dream he might actually die, a comment that’s perhaps ill-timed after Alex’s words, his explanation.

It’s taken months for them to even begin opening up to each other, started with small gestures rather than with words. Things like, I’m picking up dinner, how hungry are you?  or,  Can I have that shirt back now? Please?  or,  Is it too late to come over?    It’s never too late,  Thomas would answer, and even now it feels like he’s been waiting forever. And the second he feels Alexander’s breathing change patterns, shake just as the windows rattle, there’s an ironic sense of calm brought on by his next words.

I am tired of being scared and I love you.

The windows may not crack and leak, but there’s a certain dam that breaks, and it’s Thomas that finds himself choking silently against a sob that doesn’t quite reach the air. Hitched breath, a trembling mouth that presses against Alex’s temple, wonders if the brain behind it wants to make love as much as Thomas does right now. But his brain disobeys his body, warm exhales against his lover’s scalp as the embrace tightens, Thomas leaning back and tugging Alex down onto him. Hand in hair, hand on jaw, hand against neck; lips against hair, lips against jaw, lips against… lips.

It’s messy. Hell, THEY’RE MESSY, two grown-ass men crying quietly together and both still afraid to let the other see, one’s lips not-quite-mashed-but-not-just-pressed against the other’s. It’s not gentle, it’s not a fairytale, no, but it’ll sure go down in Thomas’ history books. Who could let such a man die when he’s the one giving you life?

‘ Last time, ’  he pants, lips still buzzing, still brushing against his partner’s,  ‘ the last time you said that it was in the past tense. And maybe you stopped thinking that or feeling that but… I never forgot the way it sounded or how close we came. An’ I never stopped. ’  The words still don’t quite make it somehow.

So there’s another inhale, a rumbling of the weather and Thomas’ lungs that seems to shake the whole room. A hard reset, like unplugging rather than switching off and on. Rewiring, rewriting. Editing, always editing, Thomas has an essay in his head and despite his best efforts, the paragraphs don’t flow. And maybe that’s fitting of them: fractured sentences, statements with no facts, all spoken in bias. It’s poetic, somehow.

‘ I don’t know when I started loving you, but I know for damn sure I never stopped. ’

   THERE ARE fingers gentle against cheekbones to wipe away Thomas’ tears, and lips firm and desperate and, YEAH, messy, and it’s a blur of tactile immersion and intense feeling and he feels almost as if he is drowning. Not quite overwhelmed by it but out of his depths by miles. Not yet choking on mouthfuls of water but wholly immersed, head under with no hope of breaking the surface but not struggling. Alexander cannot quite process all that takes place but Thomas says, SHOWS what he needs to hear, needs to know and he is at peace, floating comfortably beneath the waves of turmoil usually crashing down upon him.

    WHO KNEW once you let yourself sink it would all feel so much better?

    “ I DIDN’T STOP. ”

    IT’S TONE AND REASSURANCE AND A NOTE OF DESPERATION THAT THOMAS WILL BELIEVE HIM. He needs Thomas to believe him. Because he was and had always been a fool, an impulsive wreck and his MESS was not indicative of what he did of had ever felt. It probably wouldn’t matter to him if it wasn’t the truth, but Alexander needs him to know that it is. That in his absence there is aching in his chest which will not subside until he is granted some kind of attention, that he hardly ever dreams but since they’d started to become something of substance he’d haunted his subconscious more frequently than not ( there were nightmares scattered regularly among the nights of pleasant dreams, which was undoubtedly something which should demand discussion, but now was not the time ).

    “ NO MATTER ‘OW MUCH OF A FOOL I ACTED or ‘ow ‘ard I pushed against this, I did not and will not stop loving you, Thomas. ” It is a promise which he will not allow himself to take back, though part of him demands it once the words spill past his lips. Each part of his heart he surrendered to someone was never to return, he would love wholly and without end, no matter the circumstance. “ I am sorry that I let myself be the cause of so much pain. I just want to ease it, make up for it now. ”

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mcnticellos‌:

AND THOMAS THINKS, we’ll use the back door, stay inside, directly to my car.   Thomas thinks, Jesus, it was your own fucking idea, don’t get pissed at me.   Thomas thinks, please don’t ever move, let’s just stay here and be warm and snuggle until the weather passes.  But he says none of it, not even tell me what’s on your mind.

And how could he, when the response to his offer is such a loaded statement? It’s not as simple as ‘I give up and don’t want to argue’; it’s not meant to be passive-aggressive. It’s more like, ‘I know I’m a pain and you should want better for yourself’.  But Thomas doesn’t want better and refuses to be told how to feel, what to want. Alexander might be a hurricane all his own, but Thomas is a dark storm cloud, looming in the distance, ready at any time to swoop in and rain on your fucking parade and strike you down. He can be grumpy, he can be miserable. But most importantly, he’s stubborn as hell.

Which is why hands come up to cup Alexander’s cheeks the second tears drip into the fabric of an old t-shirt. They curve along his jaw and settle against skin much paler than his own, and the contrast is its own metaphor. Where Alexander brings tension, overwhelming emotion, Thomas does his best to remain a blank slate.

‘ Look at me. ’

Thumbs tilt the other man’s chin upward. Eyes are still closed, but that’s not what’s important. If looking with your ears were a thing, it’s what he’d say, but Thomas isn’t eager to sound stupid and controlling. He hates how stern he sounds, but it’s the only way he knows to get Alex’s attention in this kind of a spiral: snap him out of it.

             ‘ Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t you do that. Not for everything, at least. ’

There’s a brief pause where Thomas considers if ‘for all of it’ really means what it says, or if he means the bad things. Like, yes, leaving, or the razor-sharp tongue the words had dripped off of that day. Thomas hasn’t forgotten, and he hasn’t necessarily forgiven, either, but he’s working on it.

                        ‘ Alexander Hamilton, do you hear yourself? Are you really tellin’ me that you regret ever coming into my life? ‘Cause, I don’ feel that way. And I’ll be fucked if you try to tell me for one second that it’s all been bad since you arrived. ’

              His words are heavy, but his tone remains light. After all, something has to, lest they sink into a black pit of despair and a void swallows them whole. And Thomas, though he never admits it, is afraid of the dark.

                                ‘ You are one of the most interesting things that has ever happened to me. It hasn’t always been good between us but fuck you if you think I’m leaving you. I GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU. ’

Another pause, a swallow he’s sure Alexander will hear, another tilt of a head but this time his own. A forehead resting against Alex’s, closed eyes as he inhales, the words shaking, his hands shaking, his heart — well, he’s not sure if hearts can shake, but it certainly rattles his rib cage metaphorically.  ‘ I care about you in the deepest way a person can be cared about. ’

And then there’s no sound for just a second, and Thomas, with trembling lips, offers in silence,   I love you.

   AND THAT blows the door wide open, doesn’t it? Pulls the curtain up on the stage their emotions had been playing out on while Alexander sat in the audience, willfully unaware. It demanded attention in a way he’d been so afraid to give it before.

    THE GENTLE PRESS of palm to cheek accompanied by steady, firm voice grounds him in a way he so desperately needs and the scope of the world seems to slide in, only to surround the two of them. And it’s not exactly kind, there will be no fairy tales citing Thomas as their inspiration but they’ve never been gentle, opting instead for teeth and bruised hips and the knife of a tongue to quick to speak. They’re all jagged edges and old breaks that never quite healed and that’s how they exist. Achingly, but together.

    FOREHEADS PRESSED together and voice so fragile it may as well fall apart in the air Alexander has to wonder for a second if any of it is real, if the intent and his interpretation line up. But then, how else is there to interpret it? Breath hitching with well silenced sobs and tears still leaking from the corners of closed eyes he gathers himself and blunts his tongue. This is not a time for wit and the clever concealment of feelings. They are both raw as an open wound and it shows and thunder rumbles in the distance and he has to remind himself he is a man made of words and to stay silent now would be to condemn what this has become.

    “I `AVEN’T loved in a long time.” Voice hoarse and cracking he forces himself to continue, arms still wrapped around Thomas shaking even as they held on as if their life depended on it. Perhaps it did. “Last time `e died and the person I was died too. And I am not a fraction of the man I was then but per`aps that is better -- I think you would’ve liked that `amilton even less. But I `ave been SCARED and I `ave been `IDING because I `ave not wanted to die again because I do not know what I will become and that is terrifying. But I am--” There’s more thunder, this time jarring enough to cause him to flinch, to interrupt his monologue. A deep, shaking breath, and then,

    “I AM TIRED OF BEING SCARED AND I LOVE YOU.”

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   IF IT weren’t for John, Alexander would’ve fled the kingdom years ago, found somewhere where no one knew who he used to be and his status didn’t matter. But there was John, who assured he was well taken care of and called him a man a if there were no evidence to the contrary and loved him as if there weren’t a plethora of reasons not to. The other staff of the castle had considered him a slut even before their involvement and now he was all but outcast. There were laws which stated royalty weren’t to marry lower class citizens, though they were allowed to take them as consorts, so long as it didn’t affect their actions as ruler. All of this and so much more left him to feel as if there was nothing but trouble to come of their involvement, but John insisted otherwise and he’d always been selfish.

    STEALING TIME AND AFFECTIONS tucked away in secluded spaces of the garden was no strange pastime for them, placated by golden sun and syrup sweet scents of flowers in bloom. It felt like there was nothing wrong, like it was just the two of them and their feelings and nothing laying between. But the tension had followed them on this excursion with the news of the other prince’s impending arrival. It was a subject Alexander did not want to broach but it was inevitable and as such, he supposed, necessary.

    “DO YOU THINK the public outcry of you marrying another prince or a peasant woman would be greater?” The words are left to sound casual, but he means them. It was an option he’d considered ever since he’d realized the inevitability of John being made to marry another. “I could be a DARLING QUEEN when your empire is watching and YOUR ALEXANDER be`ind closed doors. It is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make on your be`alf.”

            cont. from here. @gcldenplated

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@corixr

fuck jobs i just wanna be a gay vampire

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my biggest dream is to calm down

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If I don’t have time to live my life well the first time, when am I going to find the time to go back and live it over?

Robert Fulghum, Uh-Oh (via books-n-quotes)

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   IT ISN’T as if being reminded how absolutely he loves Thomas is anything strange by this point in their relationship. He’s reminded periodically throughout their day together, over coffee, in the scramble of getting ready and every spiteful comment over differing views or opinions throughout the workday ( how he’d ever fallen for a Republican, Alexander may never know ). He doesn’t say it as much as he thinks it, but the words slip out breathless between desperate kisses, underneath a snort when Thomas pulls a face at one of Alexander’s more unsavory habits ( he still didn’t understand the problem with re-wearing clothes without having washed them as long as the looked presentable ).

    POINT BEING, this is by no stretch of the imagination normal behavior on his part, of which he is painfully aware. He’s forced, then, to reconcile with the fact that THIS IS NOT A “NORMAL” SITUATION. Normal couples don’t tread as if they’re walking across minefields so they don’t get caught so much as HOLDING HANDS outside the safety of their homes. Normal couples don’t go “presidential campaign announcement press conference” suit shopping. Normal men don’t have to realize that, with any amount of luck, they could be the president’s husband one day and realize how FUCKING LUCKY they are to be with someone so accomplished and astounding ( even if these facts made them want to tear their hair out on occasion and regularly drove them to mild infuriation ). 

    “I SAID...” There’s a pause as Alexander comes closer, slowly, as if approaching an animal prone to startle. He stands on his toes to see over Thomas’s shoulder in the mirror, a hand coming to grasp either bicep as not to fall over and make a greater fool of himself. “Can I kiss you?” It’s barely more than a whisper now, careful and weighted with adoration. “You’re beautiful and I’d like to kiss you.”

            cont. from here. @mcnticellos

[mementomcriii]

mcnticellos‌:

HE WANTS TO FORCE ALEXANDER’S LIPS backward, as if they’d take back the words he’s said and return them to that comfortable silence. All that talk about awkward silence people say is bullshit; Alexander’s company is so much more enjoyable when he’s saying nothing. At least it’s sincere. At least it means something.

And, Thomas wants this to mean something. He wants those words to be true. But the ache stirring in him isn’t longing to hear them again; it’s knowing that no amount of hearing them will make him believe them.

So Thomas swallows, thumbs rubbing across Alex’s cheeks, one cupped in each palm, and they trace darkening circles, stormclouds gathering above Alexander’s cheeks day by day. They follow his cheekbones, his jawline, his throat, and his only response is a small nod, eyes that don’t quite meet the other man’s.

For a moment.

              ‘ Don’t. ’  Thomas leans in, pecks the corner of Alex’s mouth.  ‘ You don’t have to pretend. I just — I’m not ready to hear that from you. ’

And that’s the truth, but not the whole one.

   JAW CLENCHES and the reminder comes that the difference between sober and not is volatile. He doesn’t shove or hit, to his credit, simply takes Thomas’s hands from his face and scoots away, face pulled into a neat frown which says most clearly ‘ I’m not happy with this and it’s not my fault ‘ because when has an addict been known to take the blame for his own. There is no fault of his own to be revealed from his own examination and every reaction, through his eyes, seems like a carefully contained act to disguise a compilation of lies. His talents include USING and BEING USED and the chemicals are fading fast and fried synapses are left to draw conclusions of the latter.

    “WHAT ARE you ready for, then?”  It’s a trap Alexander isn’t conscious of setting but one that will go off no matter the response. Restlessness replaces his former comfortable posturing in an instant, stiff muscles and hands which refuse to remain still give the illusion of a prey animal trapped between fight or flight and unable to choose. “Moving on?”

    NOW HE’S the one not looking, caught between confrontation and breakdown. Volatile. “I `ad made the mistake of allowing myself to grow comfortable, or believing something I knew better than to believe. You should, I find no offense in the action. Why should I? It isn’t as if there is anything I should lack, or miss, or...” He’s rambling, already grasping at phrases to calm himself when all is said and done and he’s left alone.

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softer world sentence meme.

❛ i miss doing nothing with you. ❜ ❛ when i look at you all i can see are the mistakes we’re going to make. ❜ ❛ i wish being a good person could erase the bad things i’ve done. ❜ ❛ everyone you love will eventually die. but sure, go have another nap. ❜ ❛ if we couldn’t carry our dead inside us, we would be empty. ❜ ❛ when live gives you lemons take the lemons and be thankful you got anything. ❜ ❛ i don’t know how to make things right. so i’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong. ❜ ❛ if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of hell. ❜ ❛ there’s two ways we can do this. the easy way, or i cut you. ❜ ❛ the hospital sounds restful. i could use a rest. ❜ ❛ I’m in love with the you I wish you were. ❜ ❛ you and i were meant to be together, even if we weren’t meant to be happy. ❜ ❛ sometimes i want to ruin my whole life so i can start over without feeling guilty. ❜ ❛ the only thing we leave behind when we die is fear. ❜ ❛ i wonder what kind of person i’d be if i didn’t worry so much about what kind of person you wanted.  ❜ ❛ even monsters are welcome when your home feels empty. ❜ ❛ ah, unrequited love. when your best isn’t enough. ❜ ❛ love is a drawer for knives to rust in. ❜ ❛ there’s no silence worse than the silence of a friend. ❜ ❛ looking at you is like looking in a mirror except i like what i see. ❜ ❛ when my cage is by the window i can see the sun. ❜ ❛ my body is a temple and there’s another funeral today. ❜ ❛ infinity does not have your picture in its locker. ❜ ❛ i have never seen them scared before. ❜ ❛ you can’t get any further away before you start coming back. ❜ ❛ nobody grows tired of something they can’t have. ❜ ❛ there’s a lot that can go wrong in a life. ❜ ❛ i was lost until i found you. now i’m lost and on the run from the cops. ❜ ❛ happiness is not a house where you can live. ❜ ❛ when they look back on their lives, they’ll smile. ❜