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moosoobi · 3 years

Text

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me)

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators)

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc.

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect

The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment.

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now.

But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N.

I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations

As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color.

I don’t think you understand

She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know.

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face.

I was staring? Again?

I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork.

James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York.

We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for

Hey, can I sit here?

I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that.

---

Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework”

Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

She playfully smacks my arm

---

Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it.

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James”

I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark”

James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car.

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?”

My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car.

For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway.

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie”

Reality starts to set back into my head.

“Right, lets dip.”

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

And finally,

3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

“..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook.

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session?

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-”

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal

Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese.

My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone.

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply.

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it?

Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach.

Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

Stubborn. As. Fuck.

I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her.

We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover.

She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer

the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t.

As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

I’ll prove James and Angie wrong.

Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I.

I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it.

This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes.

I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with:

“I told you so”

His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying.

I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner.

She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down.

As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her.

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

And that was the end of it.

My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’:

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind.

If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy.

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light.

Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman.

And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion.

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--”

I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”

Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

---

And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process.

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke.

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ”

Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives?

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way”

I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder

Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got.

I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans.

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly

I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed

She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know”

She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there.

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber.

“See you in the mornin’..”

---

I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming.

My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am.

And that explanation.

I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now.

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment?

He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous.

Thomas: bet.

I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it.

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery.

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

#thomas jefferson fanfic #thomas jefferson #Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #thomas x reader #alexander hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltonau #Angelica Schuyler #james madison #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette #george washington #washington #John Laurens #hercules mulligan #thomas jefferson x reader

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angelqueen04 · 3 years

Text

Hamliza Month, Day 15

@megpeggs @historysalt

Affection Summary: Out of the mouth of babes... Note: This entry is part of the arc that includes Reunion, Tryst, and Wedding, and is set in between Reunion and Tryst. Forgive me, I just couldn’t resist a bit more of Cornelia Schuyler being adorable.

Under normal circumstances, Cornelia usually did not put up much of a fuss about her bed time. Of course, normal circumstances included being under the stern eyes of their parents, and Cornelia, even as young as she was, was loathe to bring their wrath down upon her head. In this case, however, they were far from what was normal. Their parents, and Peggy too, had been gone for some weeks, overseeing the last of the reconstruction of their home at Saratoga, leaving Cornelia in Eliza’s care and that of her nurse. That alone had inspired Cornelia to push further at boundaries than she was normally wont to.

So, truly, the household was already in something of an upset. Add Alexander Hamilton into an already boiling pot, Eliza reflected with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, and you have a recipe for pure chaos. Her fiancé had well and thoroughly enchanted her four-year-old sister. The three of them had spent much of the afternoon together, and Alexander had showered Cornelia with stories of his childhood in the West Indies – though Eliza was fairly certain he left several less savory details out – and had even taught her a few simple games he had learned as a boy.

All of this served up the perfect situation where Eliza would have a fight on her hands in getting Cornelia up to bed.

Or so she thought.

About an hour after their evening meal, Eliza stood up from her seat in the parlor and announced that it was Cornelia’s bedtime, she could see the protest forming on her sister’s face. She braced herself, preparing to hear pleadings, demands, and outright fits, only to have Alexander speak up.

“I dare say it is my bedtime as well,” he said, a yawn forming on his lips.

Cornelia whirled back to him, her eyes wide. “You have a bedtime?!” she demanded, and then narrowed her eyes. “You’re a grown-up!”

Alexander smiled and shook his head. “Ah, but I am also a soldier, Miss Cornelia,” he reminded her, leaning forward to tap her nose. “When General Washington gives an order, he expects his soldiers to obey it.”

Cornelia continued to eye him suspiciously, but Eliza could have kissed him. He had successfully averted a tantrum. She swept forward and held out her hand to Cornelia, which she obligingly took. As the little girl stood up, Alexander followed suit and gave them both a deep, gallant bow. Her lips twitching into a smile, Eliza curtsied in return, and struggled to keep herself from chuckling when Cornelia copied the gesture, albeit much more clumsily.

Alexander accompanied them out of the parlor and then parted ways with them in the front hall, though not before catching Eliza’s free hand in his own and kissing it, winking at her as he did so. He then made his way to the bed chamber just off the front hall that was left for the use of guests, or for her parents, when they had guests whose exalted status merited them the finest room in the house – their own bedchamber. Eliza, meanwhile, led Cornelia down the length of the front hall and then up the stairs to the second floor.

Cornelia had only recently come to share the chamber that had been designated for the use of all of the daughters of the house, having before slept on a small bed in their parents’ chamber. It had only been these past few months that Cornelia – and her tiny bed – had joined Eliza and Peggy in the room the two of them had once shared with Angelica. It had been something of an adjustment, Eliza reflected, and one she realized that would be repeated soon enough, when Eliza left home as a married woman to live with her husband.

Upon entering the room, Eliza found that everything was laid out and waiting for Cornelia’s use, from nightgown to hairbrush to sleeping cap. It was thankfully not a difficult task to clean Cornelia’s face and dress her for bed. Once that was finished, Eliza ran the brush through Cornelia’s curls, marveling at how they were such a lighter color than her own. Like Eliza, Angelica and Peggy all had the darker hair of the Van Rensselaers, as did their three brothers. Cornelia alone had inherited the lighter tones of the Schuylers, something that never failed to make their father smile fondly.

“Betsey,” Cornelia suddenly spoke up, interrupting Eliza’s thoughts.

“Yes?” she responded, setting the brush down and moving to plait Cornelia’s hair.

“Are you really going to marry Colonel Hamilton?” the child asked her.

Eliza nodded, weaving the strands together with practiced ease. Even with Cornelia’s thick curls, she had more than enough skill to work the braid into existence. “Yes, I am.”

“Like Angelica’s married to Mr. Carter?”

That question gave her pause. Eliza knew very well that there was, in the minds of their parents and wider relations, a marked difference between Angelica’s marriage and Eliza’s own approaching nuptials. Her parents had approved of her suitor for one, and had given their blessing for the marriage for another. Eliza would not be sneaking off into the night to throw herself on the mercy of her grandfather and present the old man with no other option but to summon a pastor, but would instead be married from the home she had grown up in, with her family gathered around to witness it.

Still, that was all a bit much to lay before a five-year-old. So instead, she said, “If you mean that we will be say our vows before the good Lord and that we will live together as man and wife, then yes.”

“Oh.” Cornelia said, and Eliza could hear the pensive note in the child’s voice. “Does that mean you’ll go away?” The words ‘like Angelica’ hung in the air, but this time Cornelia did not say them. Despite her youth, even Cornelia knew to tread lightly where their oldest sister was concerned.

“That’s what girls do when they marry, Cornelia,” Eliza told her gently as she tied the braid off. She then reached for the child’s sleeping cap, and added, “But I imagine that we will visit here often.”

Cornelia nodded and followed Eliza over to her bed. Once she’d crawled under the covers, she declared, “I like Colonel Hamilton.”

Eliza smiled as she sat down on the edge of the tiny bed. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“So can I marry him too?” her little sister asked, the words coming out of her in a rush. “Then I could live with you and him and then you and I won’t be lonely!”

The idea was one only a child could come up with, and it took all of Eliza’s self-control not to bust into boisterous laughter. Cornelia was perfectly serious in her question, earnest in that way that only children could be.

Struggling to keep her voice from shaking with mirth, Eliza shook her head and said, “I’m afraid not, dear heart. Colonel Hamilton is just for me. But,” she added, leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner, “one day, you will find someone you like even more than you like the Colonel, and he will be all yours. And Colonel Hamilton and I will visit you then as well.”

Cornelia cocked her head, considering her words. She didn’t look entirely appeased, but then she nodded. “That’d be all right then,” she said grudgingly. She then added, “So long as he doesn’t pull my hair like Renssy does!”

Eliza snorted. Their mischievous brother did like to tease Cornelia. “If he is at all worthy of you, sweetheart, he will not only not pull your hair, he will fight any man who dares do so! Now,” she said, standing up, “time to sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”

There was no argument forthcoming and Cornelia settled down against her pillow. Just as Eliza went to blow out the candle, however, the girl murmured, “Hope the Colonel isn’t cold. Papa says that room’s always cold.”

Eliza paused a moment, considering the words, but then continued. The bedchamber fell dark, save for the glow emanating from the fireplace. Quietly, she slipped out of the room, thoughts swirling in her mind about Alexander.

Cornelia was correct. Papa thought that guest chamber far too drafty. Surely, it was only right that Eliza see to it that he had plenty of blankets to keep him warm? But, oh, to be in the same room with him, alone, and in a bedchamber at that...

Eliza could feel herself beginning to blush as an idea began to take shape.

#my fanfiction #hamliza month #hamliza #elizabeth schuyler hamilton #cornelia schuyler morton #alexander hamilton

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miss-multifandom-mess · 3 years

Text

I got a little bored... So I wrote this!

This short story is partly based on/inspired by the song More by Halsey.

I have recently heard that the singer (Halsey) had many miscarriages, and she has been wanting a family for a long time. I also heard that sometime recently that her doctor has said that she has a good chance at finally having a child of her own (if I heard correctly). And so I hope that she will get the family she's always wanted.

And to others who've always wanted children but couldn't: there's always going to be hope. And this goes for everyone as well. Not just for those who've had miscarriages.

There's always going to be hope, and you should never give up.

Eliza and Maria Schuyler had been married for four years, and they wanted a family. They wanted children.

At one point, before they had gotten married, Maria had been pregnant and hoped she and her wife would have the child together...

But sadly the newborn had died at birth.

Both women were devastated since then. They hoped and prayed for a day that they would be blessed with a child---day and night they prayed; day and night they cried.

They could adopt a child, but money was so scarce for them---what with the low-paying jobs they had. This was due to living in a small town with not very many places to work at (and not very many customers). But they had to work with what they were able to get.

Eliza was working full-time at a small diner that was four miles away from their cottage they had, just on the outskirts of town.

While Eliza was away and working at the diner: Maria worked part-time at a convenient store before heading back home to prepare dinner for when her beloved came back.

It was another year later that they got a phone call. A phone call that would change their lives altogether.

"Hello?" Maria picked up the phone from where it hung on the wall in the kitchen.

"Oh, Mary!" Came Samuel's voice, sounding relieved and ecstatic. "Thank goodness!"

Samuel Seabury had been a close friend of Maria and Eliza's ever since they moved to the small town of Boring, Oregon. He had also been the first to welcome them, being one of the closest neighbors to the couple.

"What is it, Sam?" She asked somewhat worried. "Is everything all right?"

"It's Peggy! She's- She's-" The young man sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. "Jus- Just come to Doctor Withers's office! Right away!"

Maria didn't say anything else as she nearly slammed the phone back on its perch. Obviously it was an emergency. She rushed to slip on her shoes, grabbing the key to the house and running outside.

Her wife took the small convertible they owned to work, so she was left with taking her bike. The couple had fallen into a traveling-to-and-from-work routine ever since moving, and they were quite alright with it:

On her work days, Eliza took the car to and from work, while Maria either walked or biked to hers---she was always more of the outdoor-sy type than Eliza---the diner was farther than the convenient store any way.

The community hospital that was established in Boring was small, but perfect for the small town and its small population. The man that owned the place, Doctor Withers, was a kind and friendly gentleman, who was willing to do whatever he could to help the townsfolk.

Maria peddled and peddled, tires kicking up dirt and gravel. She managed to arrive at the hospital in a mere few minutes. She skitted to a complete stop once pulling up to the front and hurried in getting off it. She let it fall to the ground before jogging inside.

"What's wrong?! Did something bad happen?"

"Mary!" Shouted Samuel as soon as she had walked in, embracing her into a tight hug. "Nothing's wrong; it's okay."

"Actually, it's better than okay."

"Oh my God, Angie!" Maria squealed after she and the ginger had broken away from the hug, her attention going over to Eliza's older sister, Angelica. They both embraced each other. "Eliza and I weren't expecting a visit from you for another few weeks."

Angelica smiled warmly, tears in her eyes as she rested her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "Well, plans have changed."

Maria was confused as to why both her friends were crying---she was even more confused when she didn't see Eliza anywhere.

As if knowing what she was thinking, Angie said, "We haven't called Eliza over yet---we thought you'd like to give her the surprise."

Again, Maria was still confused when the doctor himself walked into the small lobby. "Ah, Maria!" He acknowledged her at first glance. "Good news..." He trailed off for dramatic effect (like how he usually did) when Samuel cut in, obviously too anxious for a dramatic pause.

"Peggy will be delivering your baby!" He cried, his smile so wide that you would think it be impossible for someone to smile that big.

A gasp escaped past her lips, hands clasping over her mouth. So many mixed feelings flooded into her like a cascading waterfall: shock, excitement, sadness, hope, but most of all happiness. She choked out a sob, tears already flooding down her cheeks. She couldn't believe it.

She and Eliza were finally going to have the child they've always wanted; they were finally going to be parents; they were finally going to have the family they've always wanted.

It wasn't long before Maria finally called Eliza. Minutes later, said brunette came running in, looking the same as Maria did when she first arrived at the hospital.

They embraced one another, Maria crying into her shoulder. And with a soft and another sob, she told her of the news. Tears poured from her own eyes as soon she had processed everything. The couple becoming a complete mess in the lobby as Samuel and Angelica joined in the hug, too.

The four of them sat in the lobby in wait, all nervous and praying for Peggy and the baby's well-being. Doctor Withers had gone back to Peggy's room at Eliza's arrival, now already been gone for two hours.

Time passed by slowly, it seemed, and one by one, each fell asleep. (Later came Samuel's boyfriend, Charles, to stay and wait with them. "Sorry I'm late---my boss kept me." He had explained.)

It was then, after three hours of waiting, that Doctor Withers walked out and calmly woken them all up. "Care to follow me?" He had on a small smile.

Angelica, Samuel and Charles all looked to Maria and Eliza in silent encouragement. The said women exchanged looks with one another, taking deep breaths and taking hold of each other's hands before standing up from their seats. They followed the doctor down the hallway and into one of the rooms.

"Peggy," Eliza sighed, a hand over her heart. She walked to the side of the bed and bent forward, hugging her sister gently in her arms. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel wonderful," she let out a hearty giggle. "And don't you dare say, 'you didn't have to do this.' You always say that." Eliza shook her head with a playful roll of her eyes.

Peggy then turned to Maria, who now stood at the bedside next to Eliza. "Mary, it's so nice to see you again." She reached her arms up to give Maria a hug, too.

"You too, Peggs."

"Want to see your pride and joy?"

"More like your pride, Peggy," Eliza chuckled and smiled softly. "You're the one who gave birth."

"True." The three giggled.

The door freaked softly behind them as Doctor Withers walked back in (when did he leave?), cradling something in his arms---it was their baby, swaddled in a soft blanket.

The doctor walked up to the ladies, lowering the baby into Eliza's arms (at Maria's insistence).

It was a girl. A light pink, long-sleeved onesie was put on her underneath the blanket wrap she laid in; a matching hat adorned her small head. Her skin was a light chocolate color; her skin also smooth as Eliza lightly stroked her cheek.

"She's beautiful," she breathed out.

Eliza took another moment holding the little newborn before carefully handing her off to Maria. Maria held her close and smiled, a contented sigh leaving her lips. "She's lovely."

"What are you going to call her?" Withers asked patiently.

There was a moment of comfortable silence.

"I think we'll call her..."

"Margaret." Eliza finished softly. "We'll call her Margaret." It was a silent agreement between the two as they softly smiled down at their new baby girl. They were mothers now. They will be there for their daughter always, and they will become a family. A strong family, with the help of their friends and family members.

"Margaret's a lovely name." Peggy softly smiled as she was then passed the newborn, looking down at her with loving eyes. She knew that Maria and Eliza would be great parents.

#eliza schuyler #elizabeth schuyler #maria reynolds #marliza #miscarriage #tw: depression #hamilton #peggy schuyler #angelica schuyler #samuel seabury #charles lee #leebury #halsey

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emma-nation · 4 years

Text

Unfinished Business - F! Sam Dalton x MC Fanfiction (Chapter 3)

Summary: When Sam Dalton is caught in a scandal, Anna Schuyler is the only one who can help her. But will her former nanny be able to leave the past behind?

“Samantha Dalton was like one of good dreams you don’t want to wake up from. You close your eyes, you force your brain to remember every minor detail, you begin to imagine what comes next… hoping to be in control. You want to fall asleep again. You want it to continue, but it’s too late now. You’re wide awake.”

Genre: Angst, Romance

Tag List: @save-me-the-last-dance, @nydeiri (If you wish to be tagged for future chapters/fics of this pairing, let me know)

Being back to that motel room brought a turmoil of feelings inside Anna's chest. Deep down, she knew the real reason why she was standing in the same room as Sam Dalton again. Yet, she felt the constant need of reminding it to her brain, and especially her heart.

"I'm doing this for Jack," she repeated mentally. "I must get the money to pay for his treatment."

"I'm glad you accepted my offer, Anna," Sam said. "But it's late now, you should probably get some rest. Tomorrow we can start to work."

"Right, I'll get a room."

She knew what Sam was about to offer, so she anticipated herself and left through the door, giving her no chance to speak. There was absolutely no possibility she'd spend the night in the same room as that woman. By the morning, she could grab Sam's gadgets and work by herself. They didn't have to speak, or even see each other. That was a professional deal and nothing more.

"My apologies, Ms. Schuyler," the receptionist spoke as she typed on her computer. "We're crowded."

"Uhhh... I... I only need a bed for a few hours," Anna handed her some extra cash. "Anything is fine."

Even the janitor's room would be better than sharing the bed with her ex lover. It was almost scientifically proven that any physical contact between them could not end well. Or it could end too well, considering how great she was in bed. Anna shook her head dismissing those thoughts.

"Ms. Schuyler, you don't understand. We don't have any rooms."

"Fine! I'll sleep right here."

She stomped to a small couch in the reception room, trying to curl her body enough to make herself a little bit comfortable. She closed her eyes for a minute, when a voice brought her back from her failed attempt of falling asleep.

"Really, Anna?" Sam sighed. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

"I don't want it, thank you," she quickly closed her eyes again. "I don't want to be so near to you in such a small space."

"You can take my room then. I'll... I'll stay up, walking around. I haven't been able to sleep since it all started anyways."

Anna opened her eyes again. Sam seemed to be exhausted. Her face gave it away. The scandal was truly affecting her. After dedicating her whole life to that company, she was about to lose everything. Including her children if she went to jail. And that was when their eyes met.

"I can't believe I'm here," she rolled her eyes on the bed. She was trying hard to not move, or make any sounds that indicated she was still awake. Sam kept her promise, she was sleeping on the floor, very far away from the bed. "Those damn puppy dog eyes. They make her seem so innocent!"

"Good night, Anna," what was it? Was she reading thoughts now?

"Good night, Sam," she rolled to the side, facing the wall until she fell asleep.

When she woke up in the morning, Sam was already awake. Outside the room she seemed to be busy on the phone with her lawyers. Anna took a shower and changed her clothes before she returned.

"Anna, good morning," Sam met her after some time. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"I didn't want to disturb your phone call," Anna told. "Any important news?"

"They've set the trials to start three weeks from now. We'll need to work fast. But I told them I may have found a manner to prove my innocence, they're optimistic."

"Okay then, let's get to work."

Anna turned on Sam's computer. Password protected. The first step to narrow the suspect's list was to discover how safe Sam's password could be. Anna tried a few guesses.

"What are you doing?" The CEO asked.

"Trying to guess your password," Anna answered. "Through this, we can find out how close to you our suspect can be."

"This is smart. Though I can't think of anyone who would be able to guess it."

"Not even Sofia?"

"No, she wouldn't know."

After lots of combinations, Anna threw her hands in the air. Without an expert cracking method, it was impossible. Sam approached, typing a combination of numbers and letters: 'M9S16N2M00CK7Y'.

"Hmmm it's long and safe," she asked curiously. "What is it by the way?"

"A mix of the boys' names and the date I met their mom," Sam told.

"Your first wife, huh? You never talk much about her, so I guess no one would find out so easily."

Sam's expression suddenly became distant and somber. Her current situation was probably making all those old feelings resurface.

"The truth is I still feel guilty for her death. We had a fight that day, she thought I was spending too much time at work. I realized she was right, I came home with a surprise and... I received the news of her accident."

"I'm sorry. This wasn't your fault, Sam. It was a tragedy."

Not wanting to get involved, Anna turned her attention back to the computer screen. She didn't know where to start searching first. She wasn't sure she wanted to have all the pictures, videos and evidence of the last two happy years Sam spent with Sofia thrown in her face all at once. She wasn't ready for this.

"Okay..." she took a deep breath. "Remember, you're here for the money."

As she started scanning the folders for any suspicious files or activity, she was surprised. Most of the pictures were of Mason and Mickey, a few of Sam's parents and only a couple where she was accompanied by her wife. Her marriage seemed boring and unhappy, different from what the tabloids would often paint.

"So, did you find anything?" Sam asked after a few minutes.

"Not yet. Whoever is doing this to you was smart enough to not leave any tracks or..."

"Or what?"

"They didn't hack you. They had direct access to your computer."

"Are you suggesting..."

"You should trust no one. Not even Sofia, or Robin."

Sam's cell phone was now their only hope to find proof. Anna plugged it on the laptop and using some advanced software, she started analyzing its activity. It didn't take long for her to come across some evidence.

"Crap!" She shouted.

"What's going on?" Sam want to know.

"Not only somebody has hacked your phone, Sam. But they've bugged you too."

"Damn, they listened to all my conversation with the lawyers. They know what I'm trying to do!"

"Well, on a brighter side you need to take this to the police as soon as possible. It'll be more than enough to prove you didn't send that email."

Anna collected her stuff, Sam did the same. Now all she had to do was wait for her paycheck and leave. Easy as that. But before, she was going to grab some breakfast. All the adrenaline of the last few hours had her starving.

"Uh, what are you doing?" She asked, noticing Sam had followed her to the motel's cafeteria. "Aren't you going home?"

"I haven't had breakfast yet and..." And. Followed by the puppy dog eyes. Anna knew there was something else. "I was hoping you could come with me to the police station."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I don't wanna get any more involved, I've already have a ton to deal with right now. "

"I understand. Can you at least take me back to New York? Carter is with the boys in my parents' house."

Anna sighed in frustration. Everytime she thought she'd free herself from any contact with Sam, something new would come up. Again, she needed money and the CEO had more than enough to pay extra for a rid back to New York. She agreed. All for Jack... and a little revenge too. Samantha Dalton would be literally paying for every tear she made her cry.

"What's going on?" As they walked back to the room, Sam attempted to break the awkward silence that was always present between them. "In your life, I mean. You said you're dealing with a lot right now."

"It's... personal," Anna didn't want to give her details about her stepfather's health. "Family issues."

"Is this why you accepted my offer, Anna? Are you having money issues?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does, because I still ca-" Sam's sentence was cut short by the surprise of seeing the door was open. "Did I forget to lock it when we left?"

"No, I'm pretty sure you did," Anna said. "I remember seeing you lock it."

As they entered, the room had been completely trashed. All of their clothes and belongings were scattered on the floor.

"No..." Sam rushed inside, knowing exactly what could be missing. She started searching everywhere for her cell phone and laptop. "No... it can't be."

Anna decided to help her. There wasn't any signs of the devices until she opened the bathroom's door and found they had been destroyed in a million pieces. Sam stood by her side, her mouth opened in shock and her eyes full of tears.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Anna placed a hand on her shoulder. "Someone is really determined to destroy you."

"What am I going to do now?" The woman sat on the edge of the bed. It was the second time Anna was actually seeing her cry. The only thing that had affected Samantha so badly in the past was her accident in Italy, days before her wedding with Sofia.

"I don't know..." Anna walked to the window. As she contemplated the world outside, she noticed as a black car was watching them. Its windows were heavily tinted, but she could distinguish the figure of a man behind the wheel. As soon as he noticed her staring, he drove away. "Damn it, we're being followed."

Sam was fast enough to approach in time to see the car leaving.

"We're not safe here, Anna."

"Right, you should go to your parents' house with the boys. I'm coming back to my small hometown, where I know no one will even bother following me there."

"I can't risk putting their lives in danger," Sam said, placing her clothes back into the bags. "I'm coming with you."

"What?!" Anna tried to protest, she tried to think of reasonable excuse to voice and prevent that madness from happening. It was too late, paralyzed with shock, she was already back to her car with Samantha, headed to Rhode Island.

"I hate myself," she thought, glancing discreetly at the passenger's seat. "It can't get any worse than this. Can it?"

As they parked in front of Anna's childhood home, she began to wonder what she'd be telling her parents about Sam. It was a small town. Even if the scandal had made to the national news, no one would ever imagine the CEO would be hiding there. They probably wouldn't even recognize her.

Her phone started ringing. It was Jenny. Now it would be the right time for some friendly advice. She left the car for privacy, standing under a tree.

"Hey Jenny."

"Hey. You promised me daily news, don't you remember?"

"I do, but not even in your wildest dreams you could imagine what happened..."

She told her everything, from Jack's illness to the fact Sam Dalton was inside her car, minutes away from being introduced to her family.

"Anna, you should have dropped her in the middle of the road!" Jenny yelled. "She's not your problem. She's her wife's problem. And it's not like she can't afford the best lawyers in the country, people like her will never go to jail."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I should. Yet, I had no strength to do so. Even after everything she did to me, I couldn't stand seeing her suffer. God, I'm so stupid..."

"No, Anna. You have this great heart that will always help people, no matter who they are. This is part of you, and one of the reasons why I love you so much."

"Thank you, I... I learned it from Jack."

"Then go save him, you're doing the right thing. Even if it's crazy and absolutely stupid."

She turned off her phone and returned to the car. It was time to enter the house and face her parents.

"Ready?" She went back to the car.

"Anna, would you mind borrowing me your phone for a minute?" Sam asked. "I'm gonna call the lawyers to inform the incident."

Anna handed her the phone. But instead of dialing, Sam stared at the screen for minutes. She nervously ran a hand through her hair.

"What's going on? Something wrong?"

"Yes. Helena Hawthorne, the woman I'm being accused to sleep with, she released the pictures to the media. And Sofia is already filing for the divorce."

----------

Notes: (Oh Anna, you have no idea how worse it can get.)

Thank you so much for the feedback. It means a lot to me!

#the nanny affair #sam dalton x mc #sam x mc #f!sam x mc #choices tna #f!sam dalton x mc #tna #tna fanfiction #unfinished business

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bayoubashsims · 3 years

Text

Naturally

Naturally is a short story about the life of a Dutch-American woman who settled in Indonesia during the early days of its independence, the legacy she carried across the ocean, and the legacy she built in her new homeland. The story reflects on the most poignant events in her long and candid life; from the circumstances that made her birth possible, her childhood in the tumultuous early twentieth century, her new life in a new nation, to the troubles of her offspring, the return to her birthplace, and her dying days. These vignettes of Eleanor Mangkoedimedjo’s life serve as a testament that much of what we are we owe to those who came before us (whether good or bad), particularly our mothers and the mothers before them, and understanding our past often means understanding our future.

Name: Eleanor Mirabelle Mangkoedimedjo Maiden Name: Schuyler Other name(s): Laila Mulyati Place and Date of Birth: Batavia, New York, August 11, 1928 Parents: Lucas T. Schuyler (Adam Sutansyah) and Ana L. Schuyler (née Lahaije); Rosminah Sutansyah Grandparents: Pieter Lahaije and Johanna Lahaije (née van der Maas); Thomas E. Schuyler and Eleanor C. Schuyler (née Thompson) Sibling(s): Coralea Schuyler and Miriam van de Plaas Spouse(s): R. Prabowo H.L. Mangkoedimedjo Children: Matilda E. Willem and Philomena K. Develsbourne

Prologue

Maastricht, the Netherlands 1932

Gerrit Beuling was a tall, thin man with a long swan’s neck and a protruding Adam’s apple. His long, auburn hair went to his shoulders, and was combed back. He trudged along the brick road in that humid summer with a wooden case under his right arm, and he carried with him a manner of expectation.

He stopped when he came to a narrow alley with a stone staircase that led to a wooden door to its left. He cautiously made his way through, up and in, passing by one grimy corridor after another. He arrived half panting at a room at the end of the corridor, covered with faded ruby-colored floral wallpaper and adorned with fine furniture. He placed his case down and took off his coat. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and took a deep breath.

“I don’t understand why you’re wearing a coat like that in such a hot day.” Said Madame Lahaije. She was perched upon a crimson chaise-lounge by the window in a severely outdated, purple buttoned up dress that seemed to betray her own words to the young painter.

“For presentation, of course. And I put a lot of my things inside my coat pockets.”

Madame Lahaije sneered. “A gentleman never puts things inside his pocket. Unless it’s money, of course.”

“Are you ready, Madame?” He asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Do you think this dress is fine?” She asked, adjusting the stiff collar of her dress.

“It’s beautiful. But what a dress to wear in such a weather.” He answered. He was happy with the ironic echo.

“For presentation.” She replied, reassuringly. “Let us adjourn to the other room, shall we?”

She rose up slowly from her seat and walked to the other room as if Gerrit wasn’t even behind her. The other room was a brightly lit, white-paneled alcove at the side of the building that faces the garden, and beyond the horizon lies the countryside. She then proceeded to sit upon a blue, velveteen chair and pointed Gerrit where to sit. Gerrit opened his case, and laid out a set of watercolor paint on a table next to a wooden easel. He placed a canvas upon it and looked at his subject.

“Am I good enough?” She asked. “Of course.”

Madame Lahaije looked at the boy sitting across her.

‘So young’, she said to herself.

She carefully combed a few strands of loose hair from her teased grey crown and adjusted her collar.

There were a few minutes of silence.

“Eh-hem.” The lady cleared her throat to break the awkwardness. “Getting impatient are we, Madame?” Asked Gerrit. “No. I understand this will not be fast work.” “Are you sure you’re comfortable in that dress?” Her eyebrows went up and her eyes squinted. “Would you rather I take it off?” Gerrit bit his lips. “My apologies.”

“You know,” she uttered, her face building up to a slight smile “the last time a man said that to me was my husband, asking me about my wedding dress on our wedding day over 50 years ago. We didn’t have a conventional wedding, you know. My family had disowned me for running off with a man twenty years my senior, and he didn’t have any family left, so it was a few friends and the servants. I remember the dress was white and was very tight. I hated being in it but I looked good in it. Pieter said to me 'Johanna, are you sure you’re comfortable in that dress?’, because he heard me gasping whilst my bridesmaids were closing up my corset. He must’ve thought I was choking or something. It was a humid day, much like this.”

Gerrit’s eyes didn’t turn from the canvas. “You must’ve looked beautiful.” “It was a hundred years ago.” “Oh, I don’t know. You’re still beautiful now.” Madame Lahaije was not one to take compliments or responded to them, but enjoyed them altogether.

“Don’t you have a girl, Gerrit? How old are you now, 27?” “28 this October. And no. I don’t have that much interest in courting girls.” “Do you like the boys, then?” She asked mockingly. Gerrit made no response.

“My daughter must be around your age now. I wonder if she’s married.”

“Don’t you keep in touch with her?”

“She hates me so. She lives in America. Ran away 5 years ago.”

“Why does she hate you?”

“Ah, who knows, schaadt. Us mothers do what instincts tell us to. At the end of the day, it’s still a stab in the dark to assume whether or not our children like us. At one point, they will hate you.”

She continued. “I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but she was an accident. I didn’t plan on having kids with Pieter, but then we did. And not long after she was born, he died, which is when I started the business. I made deals with a few men in some places. I took in homeless girls and groomed them. Of course, I am no Saint for turning them into prostitutes. But at least it provided food at the table for them and a roof over their heads and mine, ja?”

“I suppose.”

There was more silence. Madame Lahaije scratched her right eyebrow half-unsure, wondering if the painter will find it annoying that she’s moving around, but there was no response from him. She looked as stiff as a sculpture, like a purple tulip turned upside down, frozen in winter. She was in her mid-seventies then but retained the outline she had in her youth—a dark and well-pronounced outline that emphasized her bones and her heavily-lidded eyes. In her youth, she was a great beauty, though she never thought of herself that way.

Eventually she asked Gerrit ‘normal’ questions—of the weather, of recent happenings in town, and of the interesting stories that happened in her brothel, for instance, the girls who became pregnant would be sent to the abortionist, and those who choose to have the baby will be sent away. She also told him of men who trespassed the boundaries in treating the girls and how often she had to march into the bedrooms and pull them out by any of their parts and kicking them out to the streets. Gerrit nodded and gave some short responses. Madame Lahaije simply went on and on. It was just the way she talked.

“But I do miss Ana sometimes, you know.” Madame Lahaije uttered, wilting a bit. She was talking about the bad economy a few seconds ago. “How can I help it? She came out of my mangy twat and she’s the only family I have.”

“Such are the ties in blood.” Gerrit said.

Madame Lahaije turned back to concrete. “I was turned away by my own mother, left at the backdoor of an orphanage like a grocery delivery.” She said coldly. “The family that took me in, the van der Maas bunch, was more than kind. But I rebelled. I ran away with the painter and never saw them again. I was disowned. So what? I’ve been disowned the minute I crawled out of my mother. I couldn’t stand being locked up in the house.”

“But,” She added. “thanks to the education that they provided, I turned into the woman I am today. I am no idiot like the tarts I employ, who can strut but everything they hear on the right come out of their left. I keep a close eye on my accounts and I know of a great deal about literature, economy, and politics. So I am grateful, I suppose. If I weren’t a lady I’d have gone to war.”

Gerrit smiled.

“My adopted father was a timber businessman. The mother did nothing but groom her daughters, which included me, into fine ladies every single day from the minute she wakes. The brother was, oh, a handsome gentleman. He followed in his father’s footsteps. He died, however, a good six years before I fled. Of cholera.”

Her head was straight and poised, with her eyebrows way up on her forehead. “He was my first love.” She uttered, and continued. “Mother van der Maas was a strict woman, unlike her husband, who was very much at ease. She was the only sort of mother I ever had, and I was 9 when they adopted me. My need for a mother had rotted years before I met her. Such a shame, no? Nevertheless, I pleased her need for a daughter. Her real daughters, Maria and Nelia, were skittish little things. Very fragile. And so Mother van der Maas took a preference for me. Can’t imagine how she felt when I left them. Mustn’t be like what I felt when Ana left. I remember, I caught Ana leaving with a suitcase in one hand, down by the foyer. I say to her, ‘Must be so easy to leave all this behind’. Well, I thought it, but I did not say it. I simply acted as…a figure of authority, if you must, to this young girl, whom I knew I will never see again or hear from again. She said nothing and left hurriedly. “

There was a silence for a few moments.

"Ah, well.” She shrugged. “I guess I was never meant to be a mother.”

Gerrit smiled.

There was a silence for a few moments.

Gerrit suddenly rose up. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll continue again tomorrow.”

Madame Lahaije was somehow a bit surprised at this but felt settled. “Fine.”

He draped a white cloth over the canvas and packed his things into the case.

“Same time tomorrow, then?” “Yes.” Answered Gerrit.

Gerrit approached Madame Lahaije, and gave her his hand. Not for a handshake, but for a kiss on her hand. She let him. The kiss was swift, and almost felt like a knife.

“Thank you, Gerrit.”

Gerrit smiled and walked away.

There, in the silence, Madame Lahaije looked out from the window, to the meadow just beyond the house a few miles away.

“What are you thinking?”

---------------------------------------------

The Past

Batavia, New York - Bandung, the Dutch East Indies 1924-1945

The best thing she did was pretending that she wasn’t hurt.

Eleanor had always been a woman with such pride and stubbornness; even when she was a little girl, her mother Ana would chide her for sassing back. Her poor old mother didn’t want to be harsh on her, because her own mother was draconic to her. Ana had three children, but Eleanor, the youngest, stopped becoming her child and became her daughter when she was just six.

Oh, how Eleanor reminded her so much of her own mother. Even when Eleanor was named after her paternal grandmother, her temperament was quite similar to her maternal grandmother, a proprietress of a Maastricht brothel that Ana had abandoned out of spite at the turn of the century.

Before we go to Eleanor, we must learn of the stock that she came from; Ana was born Ana Louisa Lahaije to Pieter Lahaije and Johanna Lahaije (née van der Maas)

Just twenty-one years old back then in 1924, Ana sailed for six days from Hoek van Holland to the shores of America on a migrant ship. As far as she was concerned, she never had a mother, only a cold, leering phantom that she used to see at the other end of a dinner table. It was the prostitutes that worked in her brothel that became Ana’s mothers: Fleurtje was a great cook, Trienke taught her how to sew, Lotte gave great advice, and Madeleine sang songs with her. Johanna Lahaije only did three things for her throughout her life: she gave birth to Ana, she criticized her, and she let her leave. Johanna had caught her leaving with a suitcase at dawn and said nothing. She stood atop the staircase with her claws on the balustrade and she stood by as her daughter, like a deer caught in headlights, fled for the so-called Land of Opportunities. Of course, it was easy to assume that Johanna never loved her. Who knows, right? People tell you ‘I love you’ in different ways.

She had settled in New York and was married into a rather affluent Boer family, the Schuylers. She had married their youngest child, Lucas Schuyler. Her in-laws were the personification of Great White Hunters, who were ‘adventurers’, so to speak, along with their business ventures that took them around the world, while Lucas helped his mother at home and studied architecture in Cornell. Ana became a seamstress and found clientele in the sprawling metropolis, and gave birth to three daughters: Coralea, Miriam, and Eleanor. The Great Depression struck and though they did not suffer too much, the marriage between Lucas and Ana had cracked beyond repair from arguments regarding money to the spoiling of the children.

Lucas, envious of his father and brother’s adventures, decided to leave for the Dutch East Indies, having heard of the nation’s struggles for independence from the colonials that Lucas descended from. Ana refused to go, of course, since she did not drag herself all the way from Europe just to sail to some godforsaken land at the edge of the world. Much to her chagrin, Eleanor went along with her father. She enjoyed hearing the tales she used to hear about her grandfather and uncle, and she wanted to be an adventurer herself. They said goodbye and little Nortje was none the wiser. To the end of her days, she had always been her father’s child.

Eleanor was so proud of herself and her father. She had heard about the Emerald of the Equator from her father, a land so rich and green—filled with opportunities much heartier than the selfish aspirations of America—and thought of her future and the nation’s. One would think that a New York gal would be used to the urban ways, but even her days on her grandparents’ farm was nothing compared to the years she spent in this new land, and she fit right in with all the things other ‘expatriates’ couldn’t stand. They changed their names, too, and their religion. They settled in Bandung and became Muslims, thus Lucas and Eleanor Schuyler became Adam Sutansyah and Laila Mulyati. Mama Ana was not there to reprimand her for sassing, but instead it was Ibu Rosminah, a Sundanese lady so delicate and earthly one would think she was a fairy of the forests. When wartime came and the whites fled, Laila’s family stayed in support of the nation’s independence. The family did not approve of this. She didn’t care. Laila Mulyati did not care.

---------------------------------------------

Bandung and Kuningan, Indonesia 1945

Laila met her husband, Raden Bei Prabowo Mangkoedimedjo, in Bandung. Bowo was a neighbor’s pen pal and of gentry birth, and he was instantly head over heels with the dark-eyed Laila, as if a personification of the girl in Panon Hideung herself. They married just as Indonesia gained independence and had twin girls in the following year. Laila was just eighteen when she had babies and it was not easy. Motherhood was something foreign to her and she had to learn it by herself. As nice as Ibu Ros was to her, her volatile relationship with her biological mother was enough to leave her incapacitated when it came to motherhood (mothering, on the other hand, is a different matter altogether). Still, she tried her best. She really did.

---------------------------------------------

Kuningan, Indonesia - Boca Raton, Florida 1975

Philomena had graduated from college. Her twin sister Matilda did not stick with her as planned and decided to settle and breed with her high school sweetheart. Philomena did not have the patience to be an egg-brooding hen. She had expressed to her friends that she wanted to leave as soon as possible, especially from her Moes’ smothering. She had chosen to study Sociology at the University of Indonesia and stayed at a boarding house there. That never stopped her mother from dropping in from time to time all the way from Kuningan. She allowed Moes to smother as she pleased because she wouldn’t have to use her own money to buy food when she’s visiting, but it is quite exhausting to allow yourself to be smothered for years and years. Moes overheard this exchange (being the devil incarnate) and the next morning, she told Philomena she is to stay with her Aunt Coralea in Florida for a year.

Philomena was stunned, of course, and before she knew it she was in her aunt’s little condo in Boca Raton. The stay did not prove futile, as she became engaged to Southern aristocracy in the two years she was there. They had two wedding ceremonies; one in the US and one in Indonesia. Moes had a dance class to teach (she taught traditional dancing to the young ladies of Paterosari), so she did not see Philomena off on her day of departure. She hugged Moes goodbye at the door and left. Philomena was none the wiser.

Would you feel hurt telling your child goodbye as she became your daughter?

---------------------------------------------

Batavia, New York 1988

Ana’s three daughters came back to New York. Ana had experienced a series of illnesses and was bedridden, so of course they had to settle the estate. When their father left for Indonesia, their paternal grandparents ‘adopted’ their mother and left her the land. The land had been divided and sold throughout the years, and by that time, it was just a small but beautiful piece of land that had been the last home of Ana Schuyler. Her daughters were no longer little girls then. Coralea never married and became a landlady in Florida, so she knew the details of the estate business better than her sisters. Miriam knew next to nothing, having jumped from relationship to relationship and marriage to marriage, hoping that she’d at least get some of her mother’s jewels. Her husbands had always been Dutch men, and Ana refused to visit her in the Netherlands.

And then there’s Laila. She had grown so much from that little girl she saw leaving on a ship with a flowery hat. Still Ana chided her for her sassing even when Laila had two children and four grandchildren by that time, but the years had mellowed them to the point of the interaction becoming in jest. In Laila’s eyes, Ana saw herself, and for the first time, Ana understood her.

She came home as Eleanor. She thought it was the least she could do. She had such pride, that woman.

---------------------------------------------

Kuningan, Indonesia 2012

Matilda had died then, of emphysema and lung cancer. Her husband Hugo had disappeared years ago with no explanations, which sent her spiraling to instability. They had four children, and even their children were affected by Matilda’s thunderous descent. She had manic depression, apparently, and Moes remembered she saw the patterns in her own family—the aggression, the moodiness, the pitfalls of depression. It was harder for her to see her daughter suffering than to see her dying, though both practically ripped her apart. Still, she did not show it. Everyone was amazed at her strength.

By the time she was a widow, she had been many things and seen many things. She was involved with revolutionary women’s groups in the past and had joined efforts with other women to fight for the women’s cause in her town—and she understood her privilege as a descendant of colonials. In wartime, she volunteered as a nurse and eventually became one of the most senior members of the Indonesian Red Cross. She hinted, at one time, that she was a spy for the Indonesian rebels, and she defended her medical station from the Dutch with guns blazing. Of course, nobody ever found out if those things were true, but it made interesting conversation in her dance and exercise classes, knitting classes, and bird watching group.

Philomena had buried a husband and divorced two husbands by that time, and she had nothing left to stay on. She had been married long enough to her archeologist first husband to see the world. She had performed in nightclubs, cabarets, and theatres from Las Vegas to Paris. She had discovered a type of lizard in Brazil that was named after her, she had lived through the frigid winds of Siberia eating only dried food, and she even visited the elephant matriarch that killed her Grandfather Thomas in Tanzania. She had a trunk full of pictures, two trunks of knick-knacks, and a lifetime of memories to bring home when she decided to move back to the little town of Paterosari in Kuningan.

For forty years or so, she never stepped foot into her home country. Moes never allowed her, you see. It was always ‘I’ll come over to Atlanta to see you’ or anywhere else Philomena was staying in the US. Philomena never understood why. She never really understood why she was sent off to live with Aunt Lea back then and why, for forty years or so, she was not allowed to return home. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t a communist connection forbidden to enter Indonesia because of the New Order’s restrictions (though her mother was probably closer to that), so why isn’t she allowed to come home?

It was 2012, and as she walked through the front garden of her house in Kuningan, laden with ferns and devil’s ivy, she decided that this was her last stop. It was as if she had always been there all this time. It was as if she were there just yesterday. Moes greeted her as any mother would, and soon began her readjustment from her worldly past life to her current, more provincial condition. Could it be that Moes was afraid that if her daughter returned home, she would never want to leave again? That she would stick by her dear old mother just to please her? That she would give up her exciting life in the great world beyond for the guilt she felt over leaving Moes?

Philomena never knew, not even when Moes died many years later. She did believe, strongly, that all this time she had been on the longest leash. She and her sister Matilda were her mother’s first and only children. As much as she struggled with motherhood, Moes was fiercely devoted to her children. A lot of this was lost in translation, Philomena supposed, which is why she wanted to leave. Perhaps Moes felt that she did not want Philomena to stick by for her sake. She did not want Philomena staying with her while dreaming of another life, while wondering what could be or what could have been.

Perhaps Moes loved her too much for that, so she allowed herself to be ripped apart for her flesh and blood to be happy. She did live that life, so she did not wonder about what could be or what could have been because she had been, and now it’s over. Philomena thought of how unlucky it is that children cannot choose their parents and how most of the time, it is parents that choose to have children. In retrospect, she was quite thankful.

---------------------------------------------

The Future

She would remember, as she lay dying many years later, that she had many names. Eleanor, Nor, Nortje, Laila, Ibu Mangkoedimedjo, Oma, and Moes. All her life she had been known by these different names, and different people called her these different names in different situations. She had learned the pain of having dragged one’s ass from one place to another and the cognitive dissonance of having several names. She was no stranger to ambiguity and ambivalence. She reassured herself, in the silence of her cold bedroom, that it was never anyone’s fault. The broken hearts, the damaged consequences, and the wounded egos—all of them are inevitable in any sort of relationship.

The children were born into this world and they were never theirs to keep. Soon they will build dream after dream, and some dreams are ruined by their parents, parents that they did not choose. Is it their fault? Of course. As adults, they are obliged to be responsible for their actions. Anyone who says otherwise is a goddamn idiot. But then again, there are many ways to say ‘I love you’, and a lot of these things could easily be lost in translation. Does it matter, then, whose fault it was at that point?

At some point, the little eggs must leave the nest, and at that point, they were no longer eggs. What restrains someone from running towards their loved ones who are about to depart as they wave from an airport gate, a train station, behind the fence of an ivy-laced garden, or a wooden door? What difference would that make? Would that keep them at your side for another day? For what purpose?

It is rather difficult to think how hard it was for one to uproot oneself to another place, only for your offspring to come back to the place that was left behind. After all that hard work? What difference would it make?

Well, at one point, one must’ve breathed a sigh that could not be helped. As the world turns and turns you long for it to stop, for you to sit comfortably in your chair without the hours robbing you of your loved ones. You ask whether or not generation upon generation of guilt, of pain, of hurt, of joy, of laughter, and of love was worth all that trouble all your life.

At least she had lived her life then, and most importantly, at least she had come home.

#paterosari #indonesia #dutch east indies #indo belanda #words

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red-and-blonde-moved · 4 years

Note

I really liked the song 'satisfied' from Hamilton but I can't listen to it anymore since I know the whole Angelica and Hamilton romance evidence is so little it's practically fanfiction. At least that's what I heard. Do you have strong opinions on the song?

Strong opinions it putting it *lightly*

To start: it's one of the best songs in Hamilton it slaps so hard ok, all my complaints are with the story of the song not the actual song, there's only one Hamilton song I genuinely can't enjoy anymore (what did I miss) and the rant about that one is for another time.

Okay people reading this probably already know satisfied but just so I can use a point of reference for the story for people to refer to I will explain it.

It's set after helpless, the song where Hamilton meets Eliza and they fall in love and get married, satisfied is a retrospective of Angelica Schuyler's perspective on the night and her feelings, most importantly: that she was in love with Hamilton and gave him up for Eliza out of a sense of duty for her family.

Let's get the obvious out of the way: by the time satisfied happened, Angelica had been happily married for 7 years, she had several brothers, and historically there is basically no basis that she had any feelings for Hamilton and any speculation towards that is literally based on a single comma after "my dearest, Angelica" which is.... Insane.

Please pause to seeth over the heteronormativity and sexism of making a woman's story arc entirely about being in love with a man she had absolutely no historically verifiable feelings towards.

Okay so you say "but Dan, Lin wanted to have a song about duty and leaving someone you love for the betterment of the people you love despite your own selfish desires, it's important! It comes back up later in the Reynolds Pamphlet!" To which I say: it wasn't necessary in the slightest but hey, let me humour you.

Characters have borrowed each others leitmotifs a lot in the musical so you could change the singer of satisfied and have Angelica sing it later and also you could have the ghost of a character singing this motif during hurricane and Reynolds Pamphlet to show Hamilton's history of cheating on his lovers.

You know we're talking bout John Laurens by now I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, Satisfied is absolutely useless, it's historically inaccurate and it's narrative purpose could be done so much fucking better if FUCKING LIN had made Satisfied be sung by John Laurens!!

John Laurens is generally agreed upon to be an actual lover of Hamilton's, a lover who Hamilton cheated on when he got married to Eliza, you would have the same meaning of duty because Hamilton only met Eliza because he went to the Winter Ball while Laurens was off doing his Duty fighting to protect Charleston, and singing "you will never be satisfied" at Hamilton pleading for Laurens to love him even when he is married? Like can you really honestly tell me that wouldn't be the best.

In the workshop version of Hurricane there was the line "the man who would have told me not to do it is in the ground" while Laurens sings a motif that was cut about stopping and contemplating your actions, in the official hurricane there are the motifs "wait for it" and "history has it's eyes on you" and can you really tell me Laurens adding "you will never be satisfied" to that wouldn't be glorious?

What about the Reynolds Pamphlet where Angelica tells Hamilton "you will never be satisfied" ? Imagine Laurens standing on the balcony and looking down on Hamilton and harmonizing with her, calling back to the fact that Hamilton has done this before and he has never been satisfied.

It's also just a better use of the word satisfied? Like "you have never been satisfied with just one lover" is a much better use of that motif than "I will never be satisfied without you and you supposedly will never be satisfied but considering you seem pretty satisfied with your wife rn that might just be a baseless claim"

Also politically, while any actual fan of Hamilton who's paid attention for five seconds knows that Laurens and Hamilton were gay, casual viewers of Hamilton as well as people who think "lams" is just the Hamilton fandom shipping random dead guys instead of a historically based relationship probably do not and never will.

By making satisfied about angelica instead of Laurens, Lin erases the fact that one of the founding fathers was queer and in turn makes the actual people talking about this relationship seem like crazy shippers, I've seen actual people argue that anyone "shipping" lams is just a crazy fujo and while I agree the Hamilton fandom is rampant in homophobic fetishization it actively discredits the discussion of queer history.

This is all the fault I assume, of Lin not researching further than a single biography on his Musical, I may be wrong but I'd like to assume he didn't actively erase a queer relationship intentionally because I like enjoying one of my favourite musicals sometimes.

It's really just a small part of a larger issue in Hamilton where the clear fact that it was based off an incredibly biased source means that a lot of the characters are glorified/villanized/erased and it leads to a lot of Racism/sexism/homophobia just based on the popularity of Hamilton.

Tl;dr Satisfied is sexist and heteronormative, it should have been sung by Laurens and would have been so much better if it had been, the consequences of erasing Hamilton's queerness have actual homophobic effects on people trying to learn and educate people about the Laurens-Hamilton relationship, and it all happened because Lin didn't research properly.

#gay talks #Hamilton #lams #i have fucking feelings #I'm so mad over the better use of satisfied i came up with #that sounds amazing

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hollywooduniversityalumnus · 3 years

Text

5. headhunter

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Another day, another lecture.

Thomas paced in front of his students, having abandoned his stance before the lectern more than half an hour ago. With only fifteen minutes left until class ended, and still much to cover, he spoke at a slightly faster speed than usual. He doubted his students noticed; most of them had packed away their notebooks already and were distracting themselves with their phones held in their laps.

Fools, he thought. Do they think I don’t know what they’re doing?

He didn’t have time to raise hell for their insolence; he had a meeting to attend. So, as much as he hated letting things slide, he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

“The more credited ‘writers’ a film has, the worse it will be. The sheer number of revisions a screenplay must go through to rack up six, seven, eight writers . . . it’s appalling!” He rubbed his temples with his fingers, as if trying to erase the memories of his time trying to – and ultimately passing on - play script doctor for an action-adventure franchise that had employed no less than eight writers to cobble together the final, nonsensical storyline that effectively alienated large droves of the franchise’s fans.

Checking his watch, he mentally cursed at the time before heading right for his desk.

“Remember, your papers on prewar and postwar experimental cinema are due next class. Any submissions sent in later than precisely nine o’clock in the morning will be deducted points. None of you could stand to lose any points, if the grades so far for this class this semester are any indication. Class dismissed.”

Thomas turned his attention to packing up his things and hightailing it out of the lecture hall. Yet, beyond the rush of feet moving towards the door and mindless chatter about what people’s plans for the evening were – did I ever consider Wednesday nights party nights in college? he wondered briefly – he could hear a few distinct voices among the din.

“Since when does Hunt check with you before he does something?” he heard Ethan Blake say.

He paused in the middle of stashing away his laptop.

After a pause, Miss Schuyler said, “I just meant . . . don’t you think he’d tell the class before-”

“Are we really discussing this in front of him?” Miss Sinclair stage whispered.

He lifted his head to find the three students still standing by their desks, looking directly at him. Upon capturing his attention, they started at being caught and leapt into extremely unnatural stances: Ethan Blake rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while staring pointedly upwards, Miss Sinclair focused intently on the palms of her hands, and Miss Schuyler . . . was still looking at him, but had pasted a terrifyingly wide smile on her face.

He glanced again at his watch. He truly didn’t have time for this.

Rolling his eyes at the trio, he headed straight for his office to grab his jacket and keys. Then, it was off to the inanely named restaurant where he’d be meeting the faculty recruiter of Southern California University’s film school.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Don’t you think he’d tell the class before ditching us in the middle of the year?” Margot asked. “He isn’t the type to cut and run. I just know he isn’t! We can’t let him leave!”

Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “You’re awfully emotional about this news.”

Margot glared at him over the table grill of Grilling Me Softly, a Korean barbeque restaurant that opened twenty minutes away from the university. Their platters of pork belly, lemon-and-herb marinated chicken, chadolbagi, and bulgogi had arrived, and it was her turn to do the cooking. She tweaked with her hair, which she’d pulled up into Sailor Moon-like buns to keep the long locks from enticing the flames.

The sight of her with metal tong poised in the air and her glare piercing him from across the circular table had Ethan quickly changing his tune.

“It’s good that you care,” he backtracked. “I just . . . if there’s any professor who would evoke that kind of response from me if there were rumours of them leaving, it would be, like, Moriyama. Someone with a heart.”

Addison, who was already digging into her portion of their wild mushroom japchae starter, nodded, cheeks bulging with food.

“He did defend me in my hearing, or have you forgotten?” Margot picked up a few pieces of meat from each plate and dropped it onto the grill, reveling in the satisfying sizzle and steam that instantly came out upon contact. “He’s not so bad.”

Addison dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin. “Okay, but how are we going to convince him to stay?”

A body slid into one of the seats next to Ethan so suddenly that the agent nearly leapt from his. Crash, smiling broadly, immediately reached for a bowl of soft rice and egg, chopsticks at the ready in the blink of an eye.

“Convince who?” he asked.

“Jesus, Crash,” Ethan said, pressing a hand over his heart to calm it.

“We’re convincing Jesus?”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Where’s Lisa? Didn’t she give you a ride here?”

Crash, around a mouthful of egg, mumbled something about paparazzi. Margot craned her head around just in time to see her pink-haired friend arrive, settling into the seat beside her while keeping her gaze focused on one of the booths in a corner of the restaurant.

“Hey, Lisa,” she said, turning the meat over with precision.

Lisa wrangled her hair into a high ponytail, securing it with an acid-green scrunchie that clashed horrendously with her outfit and made Addison mentally weep at the fashion faux pas. She finally tore her gaze away from the corner and shot them all a look.

“Hunt’s here,” Lisa said.

Margot’s eyes widened. “Here? In a place called Grilling Me Softly? There’s no way.”

Ethan snickered. “I feel like he’d disintegrate before he’d set foot in a university student hangout, much less one with a punny name.”

“Maybe it’s another man who wears a suit every minute of every day,” Crash suggested.

“Uh, this ‘university student hangout’ is more expensive than our usual fish and chips or burger joints,” Lisa pointed out. “Still, isn’t it strange? And who is that woman he’s with?”

Margot’s cheeks flushed at the mention of a woman.

Not that she had any claim on him whatsoever. She wasn’t even sure of her feelings for him anymore. Sure, they had . . . something, but it wasn’t clear what it meant to him, and she didn’t want to act like a fool for him if he was solely focused on being her instructor.

Maybe he’s a friend now, she considered. He’s done some friendly things. He’s held his umbrella over me, drove me home after the date auction, and comforted me on the movie set. He didn’t have to do those things, but he did.

He also kissed me, she reminded herself, and she quickly busied herself with replacing the meat on the grill with new slabs, distributing the cooked pieces to her hungry friends.

Meanwhile, with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, Ethan maneuvered his head until he caught a glimpse of the professor sitting in the corner booth. He squinted at the person he was seated across before turning back to his friends, a mixture of awe and shock on his face.

“Penelope Locke,” he said in a hushed voice. “Headhunter for Southern California U.”

Lisa’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Like an assassin?”

“Who would eat dinner with their assassin?” Ethan replied.

Crash smiled. “I would, just to say I did.”

“You wouldn’t have survived-”

“Guys.” Margot turned her attention back to Ethan. “A headhunter, eh? So he really must be considering leaving Hollywood U.”

Her stomach twisted. Though the smell of the sizzling beef and pork belly was intoxicating, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to eat any of it knowing that Professor Hunt was sitting across the room possibly planning his escape.

And then the dak kalguksu she ordered came, and her stomach untwisted itself in anticipation of the noodle soup she’d been craving for weeks.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Across the crowded restaurant, Thomas tasted the plum wine Penelope Locke ordered for them both and sighed. It wasn’t scotch, but it would tide him over until he could get home and have a few fingers from his favourite bottle before bed.

The woman sitting across from him knew his game already, but still pitched him on an open faculty position at SCU Cinematic Arts. But mostly, she kept her expression serious, even when they endured the forty-five minute “meeting” with mostly small talk and occasional glances at the paparazzi waiting for . . . whoever was important enough to be present and photographed at a place called Grilling Me Softly.

Eventually, the bill arrived. Penelope tucked a credit card into the black leather booklet quickly and handed it back to them. Thomas polished off his wine before slipping out of his seat.

“Thank you, Penelope,” he said quietly.

“Anything for a friend.” Penelope’s face was carefully blank as she added, “The paparazzi was a nice touch. They’ll hear about this meeting in no time.”

“Perfect.” He pulled on his coat. “Though I admittedly didn’t plan that part.”

He turned his head to survey the room, searching for the person who had attracted the photographers outside like moths to the table grill’s flames. A shock of pink hair that he usually saw in a bedhead disarray caught his attention, and he groaned internally at noticing that Miss Schuyler and her entourage (including the celebrity in question, Lisa Valentine) were stuffing themselves with near-reckless abandon.

“Do you know them?” Penelope asked, tilting her chin towards the group.

Thomas grimaced. “Yes. I’ll admit I’ve never seen them eat before. It’s . . . rather disturbing.”

Penelope laughed. “Good thing we arrived when we did. They might bankrupt this restaurant yet.”

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

The week after his meeting with Penelope, Thomas settled behind his desk in the lecture hall as his Hollywood 101 class filed in slowly. He had already laid out the grading rubrics for the students presenting their midterm projects that day. And, as the presentations began, he immediately regretted staying out a little later than usual the night before, catching up with an old colleague who had since become Hillview Film Academy’s recruiter.

Seriously, Thomas thought, Lance’s continued attendance at this university is inconceivable. Who does a midterm presentation on “glossy, tangle-taming hair masks for the modern male model”?

When it came to Miss Sinclair’s presentation, however, he was admittedly impressed by the line of men’s business suits she had come up with. Though he felt she should have cited a more recent point of inspiration than Mad Men or Sex and the City, he marked her accordingly, noting the special craftsmanship and detail-conscious care that she had put into every suit on display.

I wouldn’t mind wearing the gray one . . .

Clearing his throat authoritatively, he spoke up. “I’m surprised at your drastic change in artistic direction, Miss Sinclair. I hope you have defended your decisions in the accompanying write-up.”

Miss Sinclair nodded.

Thomas checked his list. “Finally, Mister Yamaguchi.”

Spencer Yamaguchi grinned, already making his way to the door. “All right! I’ve got it all set up in one of the auditoriums. It’s a one-man show about a plucky hero, who struggles with his-”

“Save it for the show, Mister Yamaguchi.” Thomas sighed as he looked at his neatly organized desktop. “And in future, please inform us beforehand if we are to move locations for project presentations. That goes for all of you.”

Grumbling, Thomas picked up his rubrics and laptop and herded the class to the auditorium. While they settled into their seats, Mister Yamaguchi disappeared behind the red velvet curtains that obscured the stage. Among the murmuring of the students waiting for the show to begin, Thomas could hear a microphone check and a five-second snippet of music being tested on the sound system.

The lights went down.

The curtains came up.

A spotlight turned on, illuminating a backdrop of two-dimensional high-rises and streets edged with trees and parked cars.

And the song that had begun to play as part of the sound system check began and continued as the protagonist appeared.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Welcome to The Many Adventures of the Amazing Arachnid Boy!” crowed Crash from where he dangled from the ceiling, parallel to the stage. “I’m your host, Arachnid Boy himself, and this is the story of . . . me.”

From behind her, Margot could hear Professor Hunt snort. Hearing such an undignified sound from him made her smile.

The hip-hop beat kicked in, and Crash began climbing a cardboard skyscraper, freestyling about his new superpowers without stumbling over his words. His dark red leather jacket had an iron-on spider-shaped patch on the back, and he turned around to show the audience it as the song slowed down for a melancholy bridge.

“No one knows my pain, no one knows the strain,” Crash sang, “on my mental health, gotta be so stealthy . . . I know I seem witty, ‘cause I fly above the city, but when I stop, I can’t stop, I won’t stop . . .”

The beat kicked back in, and he jumped around and immediately leapt to the next cardboard building with exuberance.

“I can’t risk someone getting the drop on me, finding out my identity, putting the serenity of my family at risk . . . ya hear me, villains? Take a shot at me, you’d better not miss!”

As Crash’s show continued, Margot snuck glances over her shoulder at the professor. He seemed more shocked than anything else, and his pen was moving at lightning speed over the paper he had balanced on a clipboard.

Hopefully those are good notes, she thought.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

After Mister Yamaguchi’s self-insert rip-off of an existing superhero defeated its archenemy, the Emerald Elf, the audience around Thomas jumped to its feet in raucous applause. Thomas brought his hands together twice before returning to his notes, jotting down some last-minute observations – rhymed “city” with “litty”; did the Emerald Elf need a self-deprecating R&B solo? – and then ushering the class back into the lecture hall.

“Our presenters for next class are Miss Valentine, Miss Stone, Mister Ortega, Miss Perez, Jayden, and Miss Schuyler. The remaining students will be presenting the following class. Until then, class dismissed.”

As Thomas unlocked his laptop to begin inputting grades, he sensed someone sidling up to him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who might be approaching him.

“Hello, Professor,” Miss Schuyler said softly. Her bag was already slung over her shoulder. A quick glance to the door indicated that her friends were leaving her behind; he almost wished he could call them back in, to make sure that whatever it was she had to say was said in front of witnesses.

After the Fairy Kingdom Formal, he’d felt odd whenever he so much as looked at her. He wasn’t sure what to make of the new sensation. He worried that it meant something. But it couldn’t, could it? She was a decade younger than him. She was his student. It couldn’t be-

She told you about her childhood, he reminded himself. She confided in you. It’s not love. It’s you worrying over how she lived when she was younger. That’s all.

He wanted his thoughts to stop right there, but they kept coming anyway, like a second inner voice had joined the conversation to argue a different opinion.

You knew it was her at the masquerade. You spoke with her. You danced with her. You kissed her.

Stop.

You took care of her when she was hungry, cold, and sad. You slept in the same bed as her.

It meant nothing. It was nothing-

You drove her to her dorm after Chris Winters left her in the aquarium. She told you she thought you mattered to her, and you lived off that feeling for days after.

Stop-

You held your umbrella over her. You helped her get to her ride home with little incident.

That doesn’t mean anything-

You like her.

Stop-

You might even love-

“Professor?”

He blinked and found himself staring up at a very concerned Margot.

“Are you all right?” She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “I was just . . . did you like Crash’s musical?”

He felt a bit dizzy. “It was interesting,” he said slowly.

“Good interesting?”

He cocked his head to the side, which didn’t help the vertigo. “I always find it fascinating when students suddenly decide that their passions have changed, Miss Schuyler.”

And, though she was an admittedly talented actress, Margot did not hide her nervousness. “Oh, yeah. I see how that could be interesting.”

“Might you know anything about Mister Yamaguchi and Miss Sinclair’s newfound passions?” he asked, mostly to see her squirm.

There, see? he told himself. I revel in making her uncomfortable, in treating her just like all my other students. This “love” theory is absolute bull-

“Maybe.” Her eyes widened comically. “I mean. Um. That’s all. Bye.”

She sped-walked out of the hall, and Thomas took a minute to gather himself before turning back to his laptop.

Sifting through his notes, he took extra time with Miss Sinclair and Mister Yamaguchi’s rubrics. They had both delivered impressive projects, ambitious if a bit contrived, but if her reaction was anything to go by, Miss Schuyler had something to do with their sudden fascinations in suits and musical theatre.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

He can’t leave. He just can’t.

Margot had been standing in the main building of the university with her friends, rehashing Lisa’s surprise operatic performance as well as her own avant-garde film she directed, when she saw him hurrying towards a clearly marked administrator’s office. Though his stride was purposeful, and he attracted attention wherever he went due to his being Thomas Hunt and all, something about him radiated the energy of a man who did not want to be seen.

Before knocking on the door, she watched the professor take a deep breath.

And then he stepped through the doorway and out of view, leaving her to draw her own conclusion.

“I hope we did enough to convince him to stay,” she said quietly.

Lisa placed a hand on her shoulder. “If my rendition of Pavarotti didn’t convince him, I doubt anything could.”

“He did like your film, Margot,” Addison said reassuringly. “He didn’t trash it or anything!”

“Sad how that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Ethan lamented.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

The first class after the midterm project presentations was mostly silent. Thomas had planned it that way; after hearing some of the most illogical projects from this class, he wanted a break from them in a way that still kept them on track with the semester work. He was playing a series of short silent films on the projection screen while he finalized the midterm grades, and apart from some minor whispering – another thing he’ll temporarily turn a blind eye to, as he simply did not have the energy after faking so many recruitment meetings the past ten days – it was peaceful.

“Any word about Hunt’s job situation?”

Or not.

Before Miss Sinclair could reply, Thomas cleared his throat.

“Miss Schuyler. Care to share with the rest of us what you were about to ask Miss Sinclair?”

He’d never seen Miss Schuyler’s cheeks so red. They almost suited her, drawing attention to her high cheekbones-

Stop.

“Not with the rest of the class, no, Professor,” she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Then perhaps you will share it with me . . . after class. My office.”

She nodded, turning her attention back to her worksheets.

And, as he similarly went back to his own work, he fought to keep the grin off his face.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“You wanted to see me?”

He leaned back in his chair, setting his arms on the structured arm rests of his chair. “I know what you and your friends have been doing. Don’t play dumb. Miss Sinclair designing suits, Mister Yamaguchi doing a musical, Miss Valentine singing opera.”

She winced. “I guess we were kinda obvious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Extremely obvious.”

“Did it work? Are you gonna stay?”

Was he imagining the eagerness in her voice? The hope that permeated those questions, as if she wanted him to remain at the university, to continue being her professor? He worried he was projecting, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that made him feel . . .

Made him feel.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

She shook her head hard enough that her earrings clacked against her neck. “No. No, I – don’t leave.” She caught herself and added, in a much less emotionally wrought voice, “In my opinion, anyway.”

He looked at her, taking in her slightly trembling hands.

She looked at him, noting the curiosity in his eyes.

Desperate to know what the other one was thinking, but afraid of what they might be thinking of, they stared for a long moment in silence, trying and failing to read each other simply from body language.

Finally, he said, “Then it’s a good thing I was never planning on leaving anyway.”

She let out a sigh – of relief? he wondered – and sunk into the chair opposite him. Instantly relaxing into his own seat, he watched her take a few calming breaths before looking back at him with a new question burning in her eyes.

“Wait, so if you were never planning to leave, then why did you meet with those admins from other schools?”

He smirked. “For leverage during salary negotiations, obviously. I only do it when I feel it’s necessary, and this past year has been quite trying, particularly due to some students.” He looked pointedly at her, and she feigned shock.

“Crash’s musical was ingenious,” she argued.

“Stan Lee’s estate is on its way with a lawsuit as we speak,” he said dryly. “Dr. Seuss could – and has – written better verses.”

“Those are fighting words, Professor.” Margot’s eyes twinkled. “Crash could write The Cat in the Hat, but Dr. Seuss could not write ‘Emerald Elf Hates His Emerald Self.’”

#thomas hunt #thomas orson hunt #only fools fall for you #hollywood u #fanfiction

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esmiblood90irisglimmer · 5 years

Text

Say No To This (Eliza Version/Role-Reverse)

Disclaimers: LONG FANFIC!!!

Theodosia POV

Another warm summer night engulfed the city NYC where I began yawning and realizing it was already past ten o'clock. Deciding to wrap things up by going through one last files one last time before going home. Knowing Aaron would be worry sick that I stay longer at work than I’ve intentionally. Oh well, at least I can have my handsome holding me in his strong arms. Just thinking about me make me blush and giddy all shyly, which I know it’s stupid for a grown woman to be acting like a teenage girl again. Hey, that’s love for you especially being married to the man or women you’ve been for more than a decade. It’s a magical experience when you created the wondrous memories as a married couple. There’s going to be ups and downs and which is part of life and you just have to accept it. Even when you’re in complete denial. Which I could say for a certain I know that writing completely non-stop at the office next door.

You see, my old friend my dearest Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton is working her ass off to the brink of exhaustion. I worry about her but knowingly how stubborn and hard headed she can be sometimes. I often worry about her physical and mental state. I hope she doesn’t scare me like last month when she was buried alive under all those paperworks. That woman is seriously gonna give me a heart attack one these days. Anyway, as a good friend basically the mother friend of our group. I always tend to check up on her before leaving the office. Knowing that her answer will be that she’ll be spending another night here at the orphanage. I wasn’t going to argue with her about it but still at least take one day off. Then again it has taken her husband almost a decade to finally take a break from work. Well, like wife, like husband as some may say.

I see her with papers scatter around the desk with multiple profile of some the new orphanages we receive from other states. Lightly knocking on the door which caught Eliza attention which she given me her usual soft smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Burr. Is there anything you need?” she asks

“No, I’m letting you know that I’m heading home now. It’s already past ten o’clock so Aaron is probably worry sick about me”

Eliza chuckle lightly before understanding that Aaron is a bit overprotective of me but in a cute way. Deep inside her heart she was longing for the company of Alexander but he and their children were at Upstate. Apparently, visiting her father until catching up with Lafayette mid-way through the journey to South Carolina. They wanted surprise John with a visit of their own unannounced. I can understand her loneliness but she made the choice to stay behind for the orphanage and for me. We share our goodbyes before taking my leave as I left the door to be locked. Since I didn’t want any strangers or psycho manic having the intention to murder my innocent friend. Anyway, during my walk on the way I notice a tall male with a noticeable black eye. I whine on the inside feeling that he either got it from a bar fight or from his wife.

Domestic abuse isn’t uncommon sadly and seeing the abuse victim walking toward to our orphanage is heartbreaking but brave as well. What weird about him is that he’s wearing a large black hat with a long black coat. Perhaps to cover the bruises and the scars he received from his spouse. But that one thing stood out from his outfit was a tight red shirt that would grasp on his muscular chest. Ignoring my appearance despite me waving at him to be polite but I didn’t care. He continue to walk toward the direction of the orphanage before looking at the window in which located Eliza office. It made my heart skip a beat just for a moment but there wasn’t I couldn’t do since I’m off work.

Walking away from the scene as I pray deeply that this doesn’t become that I think would lead to. I hope that Eliza doesn’t do something stupid that would cost her marriage. Then again, our Lord works in mysterious ways than beyond our imagination. I simply shrug and ignore the tangles of knot that bewling with one gut to another.

Theodosia Sr

There’s nothing like summer in the city.

Someone under stress meets someone looking sexy

There’s trouble in the air, you can smell it

And Eliza is by herself....

I’ll let her tell it

Eliza POV

I was left alone in this semi-huge orphanage just by myself working on each of the children files. Just the ones that I’m assign to but that wasn’t enough. By that, I mean the only ones here are the servants on night shift. They look after the kids making they’re sleeping peacefully. Or looking after the ones that were deeply sicks and so they manage their medication from here and there. Sighing to myself out of despair as I thought about my darling Alexander and my friendly Lafayette. They decided to go Upstate in order to visit my father since the children dearly misses him. Along with the midsummer is when they’re going to visit Laurens in South Carolina since it been so long since they last met. Mulligan is going to meet on the middle part of the journey since it would be nice to create a surprise visit for John. It’s nice to know that they all have each others but Angelica and I are separated from miles apart. Not to mention...I lost Peggy from the war after she was shot..from a signal gunshot wound. Sacrificing her life for an innocent child that had nothing to do with it. Except being a daughter of a sl....I can’t bring myself to say it. But yes, that event change me and Angelica a lot especially toward my father who clearly cherish her since she is one of his beloved daughters.

Leaving behind her husband and beautiful son behind but we still visit them but enough of the depress thing. I harshly rubbed my eyes as I been here at my office for a week. Brushing my fingers into my semi greasy hair and thought I should go home as well. Packing my things up as I thought about Alexander just holding in his arms. As we share the bed we slept in together. Or having Lafayette just escorting me around the city while trying to make me laugh. His corny jokes somehow manage to make me laugh from here and there. Just would’ve been nice to have one of them here by my side. Until I heard a knock from downstairs.

Eliza

I haven’t slept in a week

I was weak, I awake

When I’m alone in my room, sometimes I stare at the wall

Longing for Lafayette, Missing my Alexander

I heard a knock on the door, I knew it wasn't my husband That’s when Mister James Reynolds walked into my life He said:

Walking downstairs before opening the door to see a tall man with a large black hat and long black coat. Quite an odd outfit but I brush it off. I notice the black eye on his face which aches my heart. Knowing that this black eye must’ve come from his abusive spouse. I offer him some tea as we discuss in the living room before introducing himself to be Mr. James Reynolds. Which he announce his reasonings of why coming to the orphanage so late at night.

James Reynolds

I know you are a woman of honor

I’m so sorry to bother you at home

But I don’t know where to go

And I came here all alone...

Eliza:

He said...

James Reynolds

My wife been doing me wrong

Beating me...

Cheating me...

Mistreating me...

Suddenly, she up and gone

And, I don’t have the means to go on

I felt extremely upset to know about this poor going through an abusive marriage. Not to mention that he has a young daughter only about five years old. Wondering how could I help this man and his daughter as well. Giving me the facts that she comes and goes from three days to weeks, lead to months from on end. Decided to give him some extra crash that I’ve stock away in her desk drawer. Pulling out approximately about thirty bucks which is quite a lot back then. Thirty bucks could’ve equivalent to like a hundreds. Then again it’s the 1700s, so it wasn’t an issue trying to store a few extra cash. Giving, Mr. Reynolds the money to see that he’s very grateful that anyone would loan him such a large amount of money. Wiping the tears of joy away before leaning his arm to hold onto. Well, I didn’t see a problem for a woman to escort a find young man home.

Eliza:

So I offered him a loan, I offered to walk him home, he said

James Reynolds:

You’re too kind mam

Eliza

I gave him thirty bucks that I have stock away

He lived a block away, he said:

James Reynolds:

This one’s mine, mam

Surprisingly the the orphanage isn’t that too far off from where Reynolds live at. Then again, he live only a block away so it was only a short ten minutes. I would stand outside just letting the kind man to enter inside his house safe and sound. Hopefully, his wife is either asleep or isn’t home at the moment which brought a tight knot in my stomach.Then, i could go home and take a long hot bath and probably take the day off tomorrow. Since I haven’t slept nor bathe in a week. So, I probably smell very sticky which isn’t very ladylike of me. Turning away as I started to walk in the direction of where my home was. About to take my leave I felt James hand grabbing my own with a light blush on his face. Veryly confuse, as I didn’t prepare myself of what was about to happen next.

Eliza:

Then I said, “well, I should head back home,” He turned red, He led me to his bed Place me between his legs and said:

James Reynolds:

Stay?

Eliza:

H...Hey...

James Reynolds:

Hey...

Not even knowing what just till the last second is when I’m between Reynolds legs. With his arms around my waist as I lay on top of his bare. Apparently, I must’ve believe that he unbutton his red shirt during the time I went blank. Feeling my entire body heating up and my face turning into cherry red. Wasn’t sure how I magically escape from the grasp of his arms but that wasn’t the case. As a married woman and Reynolds being a married man shouldn’t doing something so sinful. Not to mention, I have Alexander and can’t let myself be the one to break his heart. Reaching toward the door but before getting the grasp on the knob. Reynolds held me from behind just my heart accelerating and my body hitting once again.

Feeling his lips just leaving butterflies kissing across my neck to the my bare shoulders. Barely knowledge that this man has strip my dress off my body. Leaving me in my closet and others underclothing just leaving me to shiver. Turning me around as I face this man in the eyes but adirmating his bare chest. Lightly breathing heavily but soon I mentally slap myself. Telling myself that I have a husband and children nevertheless. This devilish man has this sinfully smirk as he place his chest just feeling his heart beating.

Eliza: That’s when I began to pray:

Lord, show me how to

Say no to this

I don’t know how to

Say no to this

But my god, he looks so helpless

And his body’s saying “hell yes”

James Reynolds:

Whoa...

Eliza:

Lord, show me how to

Eliza/ Ensemble (Aka the fandom): Say no to this

Trying to put my dress back on and get the heck out there but Reynolds has other plans. Holding me closer to him as our lips were just meter aparts just barely brushing each others. The grids in my mind were grinding wildly just telling me “Get the hell out of there”. But I couldn’t feel my body, didn’t have the courage to pull away. That wasn’t the case...I didn’t want to push myself away from this find man. Turning my face away for a moment. Until, I felt him lifting my chin up just meeting my gaze to his before leaning. His lips against my own just made everything I have thought just few out the window. Before he lead me to the once again.

Eliza: I don’t know how to Eliza/ The fandom Say no to this Eliza: In my mind, I’m tryin’ to go The Fandom: Go! Go! Go!

Eliza: Then his mouth is on mine, and I don’t say…

Throughout the entire time I spent with this stranger of man just letting him pleasure. Just forgetting Alexander, Lafayette, Angelica, the kids. Basically just everyone I’ve ever knew as he and I done it in his bed. At his house, where his wife could’ve walk in on us but I didn’t care. I was alone and longing for companion. But my mind is screaming me with rage literally scolding for doing a cruel act. Letting myself get involved in adultery that I’ll soon regretted later on.

The Fandom:

No! No! Say no to this!

Third POV

Unaware by his wife adultery with another married man, Alexander Hamilton a proud father and helpless husband. Smiling happily while looking at the pendant that his late younger sister- in law, Peggy gave to him. It was originally a birthday gift but the widely woman decided to give this little gremlin as a wedding. Chucking by the memories of the late Peggy but blush while smiling a little. It was a picture of him and Eliza on their wedding day which brought warm memories to him. That day brought heartbreaks to both Lafayette and Laurens. As the French general has fallen deeply in love with Elizabeth Schuyler but given her up for his brother. While John is in love with his best friend but was already marriage and have a daughter of his own. Still, they wanted to see this Caribbean immigrant keeping a beautiful smile while basketing his love for Eliza.

The Hamilsquad has finally reunited after being seperated from the war for far too long. Which has been nearly a decade or more since the four men last saw each others. Apparently, Burr is suppose to meet up with the others at Lauren house but wasn’t able to at the last minute. As his daughter has gotten ill which is terrible for a child to be sick during the summer. Anyway, nearly getting side tracked as the four males were playing around with the children. Dancing with them, playing with them, and etc. As the children run around Alexander pull his pendant. Staring at the picture at his beautiful as he felt helpless once again after all these years during their marriage.

Alexander / The Fandom:

Helpless!!

(Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey)

Looking into your eyes

And the sky’s the limit

(Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey)

I’m helpless

(Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey)

Lafayette saw his brother smile weakly while spinning around like the lovesick puppy that Hamilton is. Walking away from the immigrant as the French male heart tighten a bit knowing fully well that Eliza will never be his. He has come to terms with it but still heartbroken after all these years. Now, married with another woman in France with children of their own. Yet, Lafayette still loves Eliza and that would never change. Even that meant marrying someone else. As one brother is smiling happily with hearts flying around him as the other brother was staring out the window. A single tear rolled down his caramel skin before brushing it away in order not to let others know.

Alexander/Lafayette

Will she ever be satisfied?

(Down for the count,

And I’m

Drowning’ in them)

She will never be satisfied

Back at New York is where both men were unaware that Eliza is sleeping with another married man. But also growing mutual feelings for him as well. As Eliza woken up from his bed in shock and disgusted with herself for letting this happen. Trying to break it off and made sure this was a one time only moment. Well ain’t that fantasy that Eliza suddenly ask for too much. As the guilt and regrets will arrive years later and she won’t even how the affair being leak out. Though she didn’t care and immediately left the house luckily, no one was around to started ridiculous gossip. Heading straight home to take a bath and sleep hopefully this is the final counter she’ll have with Reynolds. Or so she thought.

Eliza: I wish I could say that was the last time I said that last time. It became a pastime A month into this endeavor I received a letter From a Mrs. Maria Reynolds, even better, it said: Maria: Dear Madam, I hope this letter finds you in good health And in a prosperous enough position to put wealth In the pockets of people like me: down on their luck You see, that was my husband who you decided to Eliza: Shhhh—

A month past by and her affair with Reynolds continue and escalated to him spending multiple night at her house. As they slept on the same bed that she with her darling Alexander. No matter how many time she wanted to call this affair off. Reynolds always seduce her back into his arms by that charming and charismatic attitude of his. Those methods always make her legs jelly and wobbling. It lead them to exchanging tiny little love letters from here and there. Until one day, at her office Theodosia brought her letter which was sent from Mrs. Maria Reynolds. Feeling her blood run before locking the door. Reading the telegrams which is promptly by none other than Reynolds wife. Claiming that she knows about the affair and herself as well. A large lump began to form in his throat as she continue reading the paper. Feeling that dark presented behind Eliza back just feeling Maria mocking her for sleeping with her own husband.

Yet, that not even the worst part.

Maria: Uh-oh! You made the wrong sucker a cuckold So time to pay the piper for the dress you stripped And hey, you can keep seeing’ that piece of shit If the price is right: if not I’m telling your man

Straight up blackmailing the young wife that if she doesn’t pay in the correct. This other wife would spill the details to her Alexander. In pure anger, she races out of her office but not without leaving confuse looks on her coworkers face’s. Nearly running toward Reynolds house as she proudly let herself to slam the door shut harshly. Racing toward upstairs as I saw James right before myself as I proceeded to slap him hard across the face. Shock but also hurt by this reaction as Eliza shove the letter in front of the man’s face.

Eliza: I hid the letter and I raced to his place Screamed

“How could you?!”

in his face He said: James No, Mam!!

Eliza:

Half dressed, apologetic. A mess, he looked

Pathetic, he cried:

James:

Please don’t go, mam!

Not caring if this man was even half naked or half dress in front of her. This affair is officially over but Reynolds grabbed Eliza’s hand. Not wanting to lose of what they have during the entire period of summer. Pulling herself away from this man with a look of anger spreading on her expression. Whimpering on the inside as Reynolds never saw this side of Eliza before. She was so kind and thoughtful toward him. Never forgetting her generosity to donated a large sum of money just for his daughter Susan. Holding Eliza in his arms once again but this married woman firmly pushes herself out of his reach. Tears were streaming down his face before on his knees. Betting this kind hearted woman to not leave him alone with his wife. Despite not knowing either he was serious or was all of this an act.

Eliza:

So was your whole story a setup?

James:

I don’t know about any letter!

Eliza:

Stop crying

God damnit, get up!

James:

I didn’t know any better

Eliza:

I am ruined...

Frantically pulling her hair while her own tears flooded her face. Realizing that consequences of what this affair leading to. This could ruin an entire innocent happy marriage and another marriage leading to a divorce in court. Both of them panicking as Maria has full control of them especially Eliza. Since she did indeed fallen trip into their spider webs of lies. The married man tries to persuade to stay with in his arms. Work before and show work again. Doesn’t need any other woman but her at the time being. Even it may cost him his life. Holding her into his arms once again while wiping her tears away with a soft touch.

Eliza / James:

Please don’t leave me with her, I’m helpless

(I am helpless—how could I do this?)

Just give her what he wants and you can have me

Eliza:

I don’t want you

James:

What?

Eliza:

I don’t want you

James/Eliza

Whatever you want (I don’t...)

If you pay,

You can

Stay!!!!

Eliza wanted to pull away but didn’t have the strength nor the energy to do so. Letting Reynolds cherish her one last time. Clinging onto him before letting the small kisses into full on make out. Which them on the bed once again. Just like how the first night when they first met. Eliza feeling regretful but yet a bit satisfied about this affair. Not sure why...she didn’t even know her self. They just want the pleasurable moment for one last time.

Eliza

Lord, show me how to

Say no to this

I don’t know how to

Say no to this

Cause the situation is helpless

And his body screaming “hell yes”

Lord, show me how to

Say no to this

Eliza/James

How can I say not to this?!

Eliza:

There is nowhere I can go?!

When his body on mine I do not say

Sharing a kisses from here and there from the lips, neck, and other sort etc. James notice a matching pendant around Eliza neck. Open by itself to see the man that Eliza is currently married to in made him freeze for a moment. Just staring at the picture on the day on this woman married her husband. Shaking lightly before shutting it quickly just wanting to get this over this. That picture suddenly began mocking him. Feeling this affair might put a tired on Eliza marriage with Alexander. Which he praise that doesn't happen. Which it's rare to have this emotions that he never had before.

Still both Reynolds and Eliza mind were screaming at them.Telling these two adults that “NO! This isn’t right” basic stuff. That both of them knew but decided to ignore it.

Eliza/James/The Fandom

Yes (Yes!)

Say no to this!

No!

Yes (Yes!)

Say no to this!

No!

Yes (Yes!)

Say no to this!

No!

Yes (Yes!)

Say no to this!

After this finally orderal, Eliza slowly and shamefully getting dressed as Reynolds lay in bed. Not looking at each others seem to be the best choice at the moment. Eliza wiped a few tears feeling so dirty and disgusted with herself. Her actions. Hopefully that she can put this in the past. And forget that it ever happen in the first place. Pulling out two envelope from the pocket of her dress. Both fill with crash.

Eliza:

Say no to this...

I don’t

Eliza/James:

Say no to this

Eliza:

There is nowhere I can go

The fandom:

Go, Go, Go

Right before her stood Maria Reynolds at the doorway with a little girl by her side. Apparently, this is their daughter that James mention before. Wearing a beautiful red dress that seem to share the same color and color of her husband shirt. Having a smug look on her face full aware of what just happened since this bedroom. But she could care less since its the money she need for a lawyer during a divorce court. But sweet little Eliza doesn’t need to know about that.

Maria:

So?

The other married woman sigh in defeat as she place the two full envelope on Maria hands. About thousands dollars in total. Looking down as the child stare at in confusion and curious of what was happening. But her innocent must be protected and so for that. The deed has been done and all of this affair is just hush hush. Racing out of the house in a rush with tears threatening to leave her eyes. Returning back to the orphanage in an hour as Theodosia, Martha, Dolley didn’t notice her return. Until hearing you close the door to her office and locking it. Her back was press against the wood before sliding down as she held her knee tightly. Tears spring down to the fabric of her dress before quietly whisper to herself.

“Nobody needs to know”

Nearly given up writing this fanfic but I made myself to finish. But yeah.. hope y'all enjoy

#hamilton #hamiltrash #Hamilton fanfic #Say no to this #elizabeth hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #John Laurens #Lafayette #Hercules Mulligan #romance #affair #drama #guilty #regrets #james reynolds #Maria Reynolds #Role-Reverse

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kian-bera · 5 years

Text

The Trailed Laments

That night was long, cold, bitter. Arguments were had and words were thrown that shouldn’t have been said. Alexander grabbed the door handle glancing one last time back at his wife who was on the floor sobbing in front of the fireplace. He watched Philip walk downstairs and hug his mom.

Walking out, he would leave everything behind. He could come back, it wouldn’t be easy though. After everything that has happened, Eliza wouldn’t take him back so easy. He longed for the days when they first met. When things were simple, and laughs were had at the tiniest of things. Alexander stepped out into the freezing cold snow with only his shoes, clothes, and a thin jacket. He watched his breath in the air as he wondered what he could possibly do.

”Are you ok?” Eliza asked trying the hide the fact she was trying not to laugh. Alexander had fallen into ice cold water.

“I’m f...fine.” Alexander answered shaking his ginger hair and coughing up water. “Just soaking wet and freezing.”

Alexander gave a small laugh and watched as steamed fog up the windows of the other houses on the road. A party was being held at one home, but he couldn’t possibly intrude. He thought about visiting Eliza’s parents then realized, Philip Schuyler would kill him. Alexander had no friends. Not any that were living or in the newly made America.

He then thought of one person who might let him stay at their place of residence. It was Hugh Mulligan, surely his old friend would lend him a bed. Alexander began the trek to Oyster Bay in the freezing cold. Nearly a foot of snow was already covering the ground. More was falling making the visibility harsh. Of course Hugh couldn’t have stayed in New York City. Alex knew he had a long five hour trek ahead of him.

Before Alex knew it, everything was white. A blizzard had set in. He was in the middle of nowhere without a soul to call out to. He sank into the snow,letting the white blanket take his life away. He smiled at the thought of seeing John again.

Alexander woke up what seemed an eternity later in a warm bed wrapped in warm blankets. He tried to sit up, but soreness set in so he fell back and laid there. Glancing around, he didn’t recognize the room he was in nor the people in the paintings on the wall. All he could do was pray to God they would still be friends when they found who he was.

“Well I didn’t think Colonels got sick?” Eliza joked sitting next to him with some soup. He had fallen ill after falling into the river.

”And I didn’t think winter could be this cold, I guess we were both wrong Miss Schuyler.” He replied trying to laugh.

Alexander snapped out of his memory as soon as he heard the door creak. He saw a young boy about the age of ten standing in the doorway.

“E...Excuse me Sir…...are you awake?” He squeaked. Alexander had never seen a young boy look as frail as this one did. That’s saying a lot as he went through a hard war.

“Um yes I am. May I ask where I am?” Alexander asked the skinny child in the door.

“Nowhere special I’m afraid. It’s just myself and my mother. Oh this is the um the Thomas household. My father Colonel Samuel Thomas died during the war.” He glanced down at his feet sighing. Alexander could tell he was upset.

”What in the world are you doing buried underneath all the papers?” Eliza asked walking into his tent.

”Well since I’m an aide de camp, I am responsible for sending letters to wives, sisters, brothers, and so on that their loved one has died in battle. I’m currently writing a wife, well now widow that her husband died yesterday. He was a good man. One of the few men of whose these letters I can be personal about because I actually knew.I'll miss Colonel Samuel Thomas.” Alexander peered up at Eliza who was silently crying. “Dear don’t cry.” He stood up and hugged the delicate women in front of him.

”How could you possibly sit here day after day and write these letters?” Eliza asked crying into his shoulder. Alexander rubbed her back.

“Sadly it’s just the worst part of war.”

“Ahh yes I knew your father well. In fact I was actually the one who had the hard job of writing your mother that he had died.” Alexander sighed trying to sit up again. He asked himself how he didn’t recognize the man in the painting above the mantle.

“Oh well, would you some dinner? You’ve been unconscious for about three days now.” The Thomas boy told him. .

“Three days?” Alexander began to hyperventilate, but regretted it as soon as his chest began to burn.

“Sir, please calm down.” The young boy ran over and hopped in the bed with him, gently hugging Alexander. Alexander relaxed, feeling the arms of the small child around him. His presence formed a small circle of calmness to Alexander.

“SAMUEL!” A voiced called from the bottom of the stairs.

“YES MOTHER!” Samuel yelled back.

“IS OUR GUEST AWAKE?”

“YES MOTHER!”

“WOULD HE LIKE DINNER?”

“Would you like dinner sir?” Samuel asked Alexander again.

“I would like that very much Samuel.” Alexander replied to him ruffling his ragged hair. The child reminded him of his own boys at home. The ginger looked out the frosted window only to see feet of snow. He couldn’t possibly make it home in that.

“YES MOTHER, HE WOULD LIKE DINNER!” Samuel called. Alexander was helped from the bed and was given a cane to help with his sore muscles. Samuel popped up on his other side to help him down the stairs. As soon as he stood on his own, he felt like collapsing. Everything in his body felt weak like his bones were made of soft feathers. Clutching the cane and Samuel, Alexander slowly made his way to dinner where Ms.Thomas was setting three plates of chicken on the table.

“Thank you Ms.Thomas.” Alexander told her as he was helped into the chair by young Samuel. He admitted to himself that the help was much appreciated.

“You’re welcome Mr.Hamilton.” She replied sweeping a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. He slid his eyes in her direction and for a quick second thought she was the one of whose relations started this whole problem. She quickly shook his head realizing many people have blonde hair. Not just her.

“This looks delicious Mrs.Schuyler. I thank you for letting me dine with yourself and your lovely daughters this evening.”

“Well Colonel, it was the least I could do for not letting my daughter freeze to death last winter on the way to her Aunt’s.” Alex glanced across the table to see Eliza blushing. Angelica was silently teasing while Peggy elbowed her for teasing Eliza.

“It could’ve happened to anyone, I’m just lucky it happen to have been your daughter.”

“Mr.Hamilton, would you like to say Grace?” Ms.Thomas asked. Alexander shook his head nodding yes. “Dear Heavenly Father above. Please forgive us of our transgressions and bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.” Two echoed Amens chorused from the table and they began to eat.

“So where am I Exactly?” Alexander asked gingerly poking the chicken.

“You’re in Manhattan dear.” Ms.Thomas told him before sticking a piece of chicken inside her mouth. Alex went silent and ate the food in front of him. Once it was finished, he stood up grabbing the cane and taking his plate to the sink. Not being able to make it back up the stairs, Alexander sat down on a couch in the parlor. Little Samuel came running in and plopped down next to him.

“So Mr.Hamilton, how did you end up in the storm? Were you fighting off a mean old ugly animal?” He asked laughing. He grunted pretending to be a bear.

“How about we go up to bed and leave Mr.Hamilton be. It’s already past your bedtime little man.” His mother suggested patting his back and guiding him towards the stairs. Alexander watched the young lad slip up the stairs smiling and skipping. Ms.Thomas then sat across on the other couch.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get here Mr.Hamilton?”

“I guess you don’t keep up with gossip huh.” Alexander told her.

“No, I don’t. Gossip is crazy and absurd.” Ms.Thomas replied.

“Well, about three months ago, my wife was away at her parents house with our children and her sister. I stayed behind because I had work to finish. If I hadn’t finished it, I could’ve lost my job. In the result of this, a young woman came knocking on my door one night. She told me how her husband had been beating her and abusing her. She asked for help. So I gave her some money and agreed to walk her home. Well things just went downhill from there. An affair happened, and now a few years later my wife and everyone one else has found out.”

“Years?”

“Yes years. It’s crazy that I hid it from my wife but, I mean, I couldn’t let her know that I had an affair with another women. I mean look what happened now that it happened. I’m here, and I’m sick. I could I ever make this up to her. Eliza will never take me back.” Alexander sat on the couch sobbing into his hands. Never would he believe he could reach a point this low, where he was left weak and vulnerable. If his enemies ever found out about this evening, he would never hear the end of it.

“Mr.Hamilton, would you rather have your wife find out after you die, or now while your living? At least now while your living, you have time to make up for it. To amend your wrongdoings. Do you think I’m pretty Mr.Hamilton?”

“W..What?” Alexander asked choking on sobs.

“Answer my question, do you think I’m pretty?”

“I..I mean...I mean I guess.” Alexander was taken aback by the question.

“Good.” Ms.Thomas got up and walked over to him sitting next to him. She sat down and laid her head on his shoulder. “That’s exactly the answer I wanted to hear.”

“My bedroom is right through here.” Maria told him blushing.

”I really should be getting home. It’s late, and something tells me it’s going to rain soon.” Alex replied.

Alex smiled at her and blushed. Ms.Thomas slapped him.

“Snap out of it. You are bad.” She got up shaking her head before walking off to the kitchen.

“Ms.Thomas I’m sorry. I didn’t mean too.”

“If you want me to continue cooking and providing medicine for you, you better learn better. Good night Mr.Hamilton.” She nodded her head at him and walked up the stairs. Alexander nodded back and sat by the fire in the parlor.

“Alexander, you’re...you’re telling me you had an affair with a woman ten years younger than you, WHILE I WAS AWAY AT MY PARENTS HOUSE!”

”Im sorry Eliza! I don’t know what out to say.”

”I say, get out of this house. I don’t want to see you anywhere near this residence. I don’t care whether you built it or not. You are a bastard! I wish I had never met you. Maybe I should have married some rich man like my parents wanted.”

By the time the fire had died, Alexander had made his way slowly upstairs to his bed. When he awoke the next morning he felt a small body curled up inside of his. He opened his eyes and saw Samuel in his arms. Alexander smiled and longed for his own boys.

“Good morning Samuel.” Alexander giggled. The small boy looked up at him and smiled up at him. Alexander had never noticed how green his eyes were before.

“Good morning Mr.Hamilton. I had a bad dream last night. I hope you didn’t mind that I came in and curled up with you.” Samuel told him.

“Of course not Sam….Can I call you Sam?”

“Of course Mr.Hamilton.”

“Call me Mr.Alex, something tells me we are going to be getting acquainted very well over the next few days.” The small boy nodded and smiled up at him.

“BREAKFAST!” Ms.Thomas called from downstairs. Samuel hopped out of bed, while Alexander took a few minutes. Once he was up, he grabbed the cane and followed Samuel downstairs. Ms.Thomas had breakfast set out for the three of them. He thought he would never be so happy to see hot tea, yet here he is. Sitting down, he went straight to his tea and gulped it down. Ms.Thomas giggled and offered him another glass. Alexander just giggled and nodded a yes.

“How did you sleep Mr.Hamilton?” Ms.Thomas asked him.

“I was out as soon a so hit the pillow, in honesty, I actually don’t even remember walking upstairs.” Alexander ate the eggs in front of him and nodded a thank you. He went to retreat to his bedroom but Ms.Thomas called him back to the parlor. She shut the door.

“You want to get better yes? Your muscles are sore yes?” She asked him.

“Yes.” Alexander replied.

“Bend over.” Ms.Thomas told him. “Touch your toes.” Alex gave her a strange look, but did as she told him. He bent over and touched his toes. She smirked and ran her fingers down his back. Alex started giggling and Ms.Thomas smacked his back.

“If I was your wife, I would kick you out too.” She told him standing him up. “Now stretch up towards the sky.” Alexander nodded and she came up behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. Alex put his arms down and leaning back against her. Alexander was met with steaming hot water.

“WHAT THE-“

“You are doing terrible at this.”

“What are you doing?” Alexander questioned.

“Do you want something like the affair to happen again?” Ms.Thomas asked.

“No of course not. I love my wife and my family.” Alexander told her.

“Then I’m helping you.” Alexander stood there for a second before realizing what she was doing. The wide eyed expression of his face told Ms.Thomas that he had caught on to her little idea. Alex just stood there blushing and mumbled a thank you.

“But Why should you keep helping me in the first place? How did I ever help you?” Alex asked.

“You were a friend to my husband while he was still alive, that’s how. And that boy in there, he has never latched to another male so quickly.” Alex nodded and sat on the floor doing more calisthenics. Ms.Thomas circled around him while Alexander stretched.

By the time they finished their little exercises, noon had come about. Ms.Thomas has retreated to the kitchen to make dinner while Samuel came in and asked Alexander to read him a story. He shoved a small book in Alex’s hands and begged him to read for him. He smiled at the young boy and patted his lap.

Samuel gleefully hopped up and got in between the book and his arms. Alexander opened the book and began to read. They got about fifteen pages in when his mother called that lunch was ready.

Alexander truthfully wasn’t hungry, but he ate the food anyways not to be rude. After lunch, he carefully helped clean the dishes, while Samuel dried and put them away.

After lunch, Alexander was dragged outside to play catch with Samuel. It didn’t take long for pain to set into Alex’s body, before he collapsed on the ground. Ms.Thomas ran outside. She and Samuel helped Alexander back inside and up to the bed.

Alexander wound up falling asleep and never awoke for dinner. The next morning, he found there was a note card beside his bed.

Dear Mr.Hamilton,

Samuel and I have left for town. I needed more groceries and some fabric for a new coat for the little one. We should be back by lunch time. If not, there is some bread and jam in the cabinet. Feel free to make yourself a sandwich.

Sincerely yours

Sarah

Alexander glanced over to the clock beside his bed and saw that it was eleven thirty. He slowly rolled out of bed and hobbled downstairs.

Several more days passed. It would seem to a normal person, that Alex and been beaten himself. To the only two people that knew the truth, the bruises were statement that he would never be lured by another woman again.

The time came that he would return home, he found that he was actually at a neighbor's house who lived far off the road. As he walked up the lane to his own house, he straightens his back and ran over what he was going to say once more. He ran through scenarios as well, like Eliza slamming the door straight in his face.

The cold, bitter wind began to swirl as Alexander knocked on the door to his own home. The beautiful brown haired woman who he had married long ago open the door with a kid attached to her hip.

“Eliza look please give me five minutes…” Eliza set the child down and pulled him inside and kissed him on the lips.

“I’m so sorry I sent you away. You could’ve died in that blizzard.” Eliza sobbed into his shoulder. Alexander shushed her.

“Elizabeth it’s ok, I promise. I found someone who helped me a lot. Look I promise I’ll never set eyes on another woman again. You my precious Eliza are my one and only. I love you, and only you. Nothing could ever change that.” Alexander told her. Alexander glanced up to see the children standing at the base of the staircase. Alex opened his arms wide and all the kids came running, hugging their father who had been missing for a week.

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 6 years

Text

You Don’t Own Me

*Thomas Jefferson x Reader

*Summary: Thomas Jefferson has never been with someone like (y/n), and he doesn’t know how to adjust to it.

*Warnings: Alcohol, Angst

*A/N: Kind of a song fic based on You Don’t Own Me. This is that idea I had that could work for either Stephen Strange or Thomas Jefferson, and I decided to write it for Thomas. Also, not gonna lie, I was researching stuff for this and ended up looking at Red Bottoms for like a good twenty minutes. (BTW my tuition and the lack of scholarships that I’m getting has me seriously considering getting a sugar daddy fr)

Thomas found himself scanning the people at the event, trying to find someone that was halfway interesting enough to talk to. He’d been coerced into coming to this charity event, his legal partners telling him it was his turn to show his face. As much as Thomas was known as a charmer, he never really enjoyed the events. They were all just boring to him; the people were always the same, the small talk was unbearable, everything just bored him to death. But then he met her.

She was a wild card, a free woman in all senses of the word. From the moment he saw her from across the room, the black dress clinging to her figure enticingly, he knew who she was, and he knew he had to have her. He watched her for a moment, the red lipstick that stained her lips drawing his attention to every word that she spoke, even if he couldn’t hear them. He felt himself being drawn to her, and without even realizing it, he found himself approaching her.

Her name was (y/n) (l/n). She’d first broken onto the scene when she had managed to defeat one of the best criminal defense attorneys in New York City. He’d heard about it because that attorney just so happened to be the partner of his firm, not to mention his best friend. She was a fresh face to the legal scene, having just finished law school and gotten barred, but she refused to be treated like a novice. Even though she was new, she still acted and performed better than some of the lawyers he’d known for years. Caught up in his thoughts about her, he didn’t notice that she was speaking to him. “Hello?” She asked again, this time waving the hand that wasn’t carrying a flute of champagne in front of his face.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized, finding himself flustered at the fact that he already managed to embarrass himself within a minute. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around one of these events before. I’m Thomas, and you are?”

“(Y/n). I’m a junior ADA,” she introduced herself. “Now, would you happen to be the Thomas of Jefferson and Madison Law Offices?” Thomas was surprised, obviously he wasn’t the only one who’d done their research.

“That would be me,” Thomas said with a nod. She smiled, obviously pleased that she’d gotten it right. After all, if she wanted to be the best at her job, she would need to know who the best was on the opposing side. She needed to know who she had to be better than.

“Your partner, Madison, he isn’t too bad of a guy, and he’s one hell of a defense attorney, I’ll give him that,” she said with a small laugh, raising her champagne flute towards him. “Definitely not what I expected from a defense attorney.”

“Well, you definitely weren’t what we expected from a new attorney,” Thomas told her. “If we’d known any better, both of us would’ve been defending that client.”

“And he still would’ve met the same fate,” she said with certainty. Thomas was taken aback by that, unsure of what to make of the woman. Within minutes, she’d already proven every expectation he had of her wrong, and even then he didn’t have many expectations to begin with. She was unlike any attorney he’d met, let alone any woman he’d met, perhaps except for Angelica Schuyler. Everything about her drew him in, even more so now that he’d actually spoken to her.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” Thomas said.

“I know I’m good at what I do,” she replied easily, her red lips now turned up slightly in a smirk. Her confidence only acted as an aphrodisiac, making him hang on to everything she gave him, and want more.

And so went the night, Thomas and (y/n) going back and forth in their conversations. For everything Thomas had to say, (y/n) was able to match him. For the first time in a long time, Thomas found someone who could match him wit for wit, and wasn’t afraid to back down. It didn’t take long for the pair to find themselves on the balcony, looking over the streets of New York as they talked. “I thought Columbia was bad with all of the nepotism and connections. Pfft, if only I knew how much that translated here,” she said, taking a drink from her champagne.

“It’s never a bad thing to have connections,” Thomas commented. She nodded, but he already knew she had more to say on the matter.

“I’ll agree with you on that, but when you’re required to have connections for every little thing you want to do in the city, that’s when it gets ridiculous,” she told him. “I’m not from here, so I didn’t have the first seventeen years of my life to start getting those connections. From the moment I got here, I was already ages behind everyone else.” He’d heard similar things from other people, but hearing it come from her, this woman that he barely even knew, made it different. What was he even supposed to say to that? Even though he came from Virginia, his father had the money and connections to help make his own law firm a reality, so it wasn’t like he was in the same boat as her.

“That’s… a new way of putting it,” Thomas finally said after a minute of silence.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she told him. They fell into a comfortable silence, her being done with her piece and Thomas unsure of what to say next. Once Thomas found what he wanted to say, though, he was almost immediately cut off by someone practically running onto the balcony.

“(Y/n), thank god I found you. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the newcomer said, trying to hide the fact that he was out of breath. After all, the venue was relatively large and he’d probably ran through all of it. Thomas could vaguely place him as someone from the DA’s office, Benjamin something. “Washington wants to talk to you.”

She immediately turned to Thomas, slightly apologetic. “Sorry, I really need to go with him,” she said, already making her way over to Benjamin. Thomas nodded, understanding that she needed to go. After all, Washington was the DA and therefore her boss. If Washington wanted to talk to her, then she had either done really well, or had done something completely wrong. Washington ran a tight ship, with little room for his ADAs to make mistakes.

“I get it,” Thomas said, watching her and Benjamin already leaving. Something inside him panicked, wondering if this would be the last time he saw her. That part of him made him call out her name, and when she turned, he instantly felt like a teenager with a crush. “When can I see you again?”

“I’ll let you know,” she said with a smile before turning back and disappearing into the crowd with Benjamin. Thomas was left standing there, staring after her, for who knows how long. He only snapped out of it when someone came up and started talking to him.

After that night, Thomas found himself thinking about her constantly. Neither him nor his partners had met her in court again, and he found that very little people outside of the DA’s office knew much about her. Though Thomas didn’t let it affect his work in the courtroom, his friends began noticing something off about him. “You know, I know a few people in the DA’s office if you want me to ask about her,” the junior partner of the firm, Aaron, told him.

“What’re you talking about this time, Burr?” Thomas asked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples. He had a bad headache, he couldn’t stop thinking of (y/n), and Aaron standing in the doorway of his office definitely wasn’t helping.

“(Y/n),” Aaron answered. “I heard you asking James about her. I know some people that work for the DA - you know, in case I need a favor or two - that probably know her. I can ask for you.”

“And what’s in it for you?” Thomas questioned, immediately suspicious. While Aaron was a hardworking man and a great lawyer, Thomas never knew Aaron to do anything for free. His suspicions were confirmed when Aaron hesitated slightly.

“You’ll owe me a favor,” Aaron finally said. Thomas didn’t like the sound of it, but after weeks of not seeing her, he was beginning to get a bit desperate. She said that she’d let him know when he could see her again, but it was a bit difficult considering the fact that all they knew about each other were their names and workplaces.

“I’ll let you know,” Thomas said after mulling it over for a few seconds. He would need a second opinion on this, and James was currently out with a cold. Again. Aaron nodded in acknowledgment and left the office, leaving Thomas alone to his thoughts once again. He had a new case he needed to deal with, and he couldn’t let his thoughts of (y/n) hinder that. He opened the case file in front of him, ready to buckle down and get to work.

A few more weeks passed and there was still no contact from her. Thomas began to think that they only had that night, as much as he wished that wasn’t true. Aaron’s offer was constantly in the back of his mind, making him wonder if it was really worth being indebted to Burr just to see her again. Thomas had to admit that it wasn’t the best option, but just as he was about to call Burr into his office, James walked in instead.

“Thomas, I need to go to the DA’s office for a meeting with my client and Hamilton,” James said, looking down at the file in his hand.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Thomas asked. James looked up, a brow raised at the shortness from his long-time friend. “Sorry, I’ve just been stressed lately.”

“I’ve noticed,” James replied. “Anyways I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me. Maybe see if you happen to run into a certain (y/n) while we’re there?”

Thomas immediately became flustered at that, even though he had told James about that night, as well as Burr’s offer. “I- I don’t-”

“Thomas, are you coming or not?” James cut him off, not having time for Thomas’s sudden embarrassment. By his tone, Thomas knew he wasn’t going to ask twice. He quickly stood and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, following his friend out of the office. The entire ride over to the DA’s office, he couldn’t help but be nervous about his impulsive decision. What if there was a reason for her radio silence? Perhaps the time they’d spent at the event had only been an act of politeness.

James could almost feel the nerves rolling off of Thomas, but he didn’t say anything until they reached the DA’s office. “Hey, Thomas,” James said before they parted. Thomas looked over, slight confusion evident on his face. “Relax.”

With that, James left to go to his meeting while Thomas was left to his own devices in the DA’s office. He’d never been here without a real purpose, so he found himself just wandering about, talking to a few people that he knew. As he was talking to Lafayette, one of his other long-time friends, he heard the very person that’d eluded him for over a month now. “Ben, I need that case file on my desk so I can look it over. Can you run over to the precinct to get it for me?” (y/n) said, walking down the hall with Benjamin at her heel. She was wearing a black blazer, a (f/c) blouse, and a black pencil skirt, and looked every bit as gorgeous as she had the night they’d met.

“Sure thing, I’ll try to get it to you before the end of the hour,” Benjamin replied, looking down at his wrist watch.

“Thanks, Ben, you’re the best,” she said, turning and walking backwards quickly so she could smile at him. Thomas watched as she navigated the place with ease, walking into what he could only assume was her office. Thomas quickly said goodbye to Lafayette, going to follow (y/n). Almost immediately after he knocked on the door, he heard her soft ‘come in.’

“Alex, I already told you, I’m not helping with this case just because you have some sort of vendetta against their firm,” she said, not even bothering to look up from her computer.

“Not Alexander,” Thomas said, closing the door behind him. She looked up, quickly standing as she saw that it was most definitely not Alexander.

“Thomas,” she breathed. “Sorry, I thought it was Alex. Speaking of that, isn’t that case James’s and not yours?”

“It is,” Thomas told her. “But James invited me to come with him, and I knew I needed to see you again, so here I am.”

“I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’ve just been getting an entire load of cases and I haven’t had time to breathe, let alone call,” she apologized, sitting on the edge of her desk. Thomas took a quick look over her, trying to find any signs of exhaustion, but she looked the same way she did at the charity event: perfect. He wanted to tell her that, but was unsure if that would be too forward, considering this was only the second time they’d met.

“How were you planning to do that? You didn’t get my number,” Thomas said instead.

“I was actually planning to drop by your office,” she told him, laughing softly. “But with everything Washington has me doing, I didn’t get the chance to. I really am sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Thomas dismissed it, seeing his opportunity. “We can talk more about everything later. Maybe over dinner? Saturday night?”

“Sounds like a date,” she said, smiling.

“Great,” Thomas replied with a smile of his own. “So, what was it that Washington wanted at the event?”

“He actually wanted to tell me that, if I continue working the way I do now, I have a shot at becoming an ADA before the year is over,” she proudly told him.

“That’s incredible,” Thomas told her. Before she could say anything, her phone buzzed on the table beside her, and she quickly picked it up to check it.

“Thank you. And it seems like Alexander and James are done with their meeting, so you probably have to leave soon,” she said.

“I guess I do,” Thomas said. She handed her phone to him, and he looked at her in confusion.

“This way I’ll actually have a way to contact you,” she explained. Thomas nodded, putting his number in and sending himself a text to ensure he got hers. Not even a minute later, James texted him, telling him it was time to go. Thomas left (y/n)’s office, considerably more satisfied than the last time the two had parted ways.

When Thomas met back with James, he could almost immediately tell that the meeting with Hamilton did not go as planned. James, on the other hand, could tell that Thomas had achieved everything he’d hoped to. “You look considerably happier,” James teased as the two men got into the car.

“Shut up,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes at his friend.

“So I’m guessing you can turn down Burr’s offer?” James continued.

“Shut up.”

After that first date became multiple and eventually a relationship, Thomas quickly learned that, while (y/n) did enjoy the finer things in life, she did not enjoy being spoiled. When he tried gifting her with an expensive pair of earrings that he’d gotten for her on impulse, she made it clear that she was not looking for gifts like that. She didn’t like feeling that she was indebted to others, especially romantic partners, and expensive gifts were the worst for her.

“Thomas, I don’t need you to buy things like this for me,” she told him when he tried, yet again, to give her a diamond tennis bracelet. “I have my own money. If it was an occasion or something, I could understand, but it’s not, and I’m sorry, I’m just weird about this.”

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” Thomas said, taking her hands in his. Thomas had to admit that he was slightly confused, he’d never been with someone that didn’t enjoy lavish gifts. It was different, to say the least, especially since he was used to spoiling women with jewelry and clothes, amongst other things. Seeing them wearing things he got them gave him a certain rush that he just couldn’t explain.

That wasn’t (y/n) though. She didn’t want the diamond bracelets, the designer handbags, the things that would mark her as Thomas’s. She didn’t feel the need to be marked as his, just being with him was enough for her, so she rejected every expensive gift he tried to give her.

The boiling point of this disagreement was the first time they went shopping together. (Y/n) needed a new dress for an event Washington and Hamilton had invited her to, and Thomas just wanted to tag along to give his input (and perhaps convince her to let him buy something for her). As they were walking together, (y/n) was telling Thomas the list of shops she was already planning on visiting. Thomas was nodding along, recognizing the shops as high-end designer brands for the most part.

“All I need is a nice, elegant dress,” she said, looking down at the list she made on her phone. “Something that’ll catch attention but not so much so that I’m the laughing stock of the office.”

“You’ll look amazing in anything, I doubt you’ll become the laughing stock of anywhere,” Thomas told her. She just rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a laugh.

“As much as I love the compliment, you should see the ridiculous dresses some of these designers come up with,” she said, pulling him along into the first shop. Almost immediately, one of the store attendants recognized her.

“Ms. (L/n), it’s great to see you again,” the attendant said as she approached the couple. “What type of event are we shopping for today?”

“A cocktail party for work. You know how it is: black, formal, elegant, the works,” (Y/n) said, walking with the shop attendant as Thomas just watched her in her element.

“I think I have something in mind,” the attendant told her, leading her through the store.

After a few dresses (paid for by (y/n)) and stores, the couple found themselves in the Versace store. It was the last stop on (y/n)’s list, and Thomas’s last chance to try to buy something for her. As she was trying on a few dresses the one of the attendants had helped her choose, Thomas went to speak with another on of the attendants. “Hey, excuse me,” he said, getting the attendant’s attention. “Anything that the woman I came with wants, put it on this card.” With that, he handed over his credit card and the shop attendant went off, ready at the register.

When (y/n) paid, Thomas could see the small argument that she had with the attendant he’d talked to earlier. Finally, she gave in, and when she walked back to him with her bags in hand, she had a murderous look on her face, only made worse by the tight-lipped smile she gave him. She didn’t speak to him in the cab back to her apartment, nor the ride up in the elevator. It wasn’t until they were safely inside of her apartment with the door closed and bags put down that she finally spoke. “Thomas Jefferson, what did I tell you about buy me expensive things?” She asked in an eerily calm tone.

“I wanted to get those for you,” Thomas replied instead of answering her question.

“Those were two dresses that cost almost $400 each! Do you know how it looked when I argued with the cashier that, no, I wanted to pay instead of my boyfriend? If they hadn’t known me, they would have thought that you were just a sugar daddy,” she argued. “Thomas, I have my own money-”

“And I have my own money too! If I want to spend my money on you, then I should be allowed to!” Thomas interrupted her.

“Babe, I don’t need you to buy expensive things for me, I can do that on my own,” she tried again. “I’ve already told you that I’m not comfortable with people buying me expensive things, especially now that I can afford those things. It’s just a comfort thing for me, okay?”

Thomas stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and humming his agreement. He didn’t like it, but if it meant her comfort, then he would hold off on buying her things. Well, he would hold off on it for at least a little while.

“Damn it, Thomas, I am a grown woman! I don’t need you telling me who I can and cannot hang out with,” she fumed as she walked through the door of Thomas’s. Thomas had gone to get her from work and saw her and Hamilton waiting together. Sure, he knew that the two were friends, their nonstop work attitudes meaning that they were often the first ones at the office and the last ones to leave, but seeing them together, laughing and joking as they were waiting, it was different than simply knowing they were friends.

“I don’t have an issue with your friends, it’s just Hamilton,” Thomas tried explaining. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Alexander, who has been one of my closest friends since I began working at the DA’s office,” she started. “Alexander, who is in a committed relationship with Eliza, and treats me like his kid sister. That’s the Alexander you’re worried about?”

“When you put it like that,” Thomas started sheepishly. She put her hand up to stop him.

“You realize how ridiculous it sounds, right?” She paused to collect herself for a moment. She didn’t want to get into an argument with Thomas over this, especially after the news she’d just received, but they way he’d acted when he walked up to her and Alexander infuriated her. “When you do things like that, it makes me feel as though you don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust Hamilton,” Thomas said. “Ever since I met him, I haven’t trusted him.”

“Fine. With that line of thought, if you don’t trust Hamilton to not make a move on me, do you also not trust me to stop him?” She questioned. When Thomas didn’t respond, she finished. “That’s what I thought. Thomas, I don’t try to tell you what to do or who to hang out with, please allow me that same freedom.”

“I trust you with my life, and I’m sorry for even thinking that,” Thomas said, stepping forward and taking her in his arms. She allowed him, and smiled when he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Forgive me?”

“I’ll consider it,” she teased.

“So, what was that news you texted me about?” Thomas asked, looking down at her. She smiled brightly at him, nearly bouncing in excitement. “I’m guessing it was something good.”

“You’re looking at Washington’s newest ADA,” she beamed. Thomas let out a laugh of disbelief, picking her up in their hug and spinning her slightly. She laughed at his reaction, getting slightly muffled by the rain of kisses he was placing on her face.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Thomas said, finally putting her down and pressing a final kiss to her lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

Another night, another networking event. This time, Thomas didn’t have to watch (y/n) from the other side of the room. This time, Thomas walked into the event with her on his arm, looking every bit the power couple people had begun to know them as. People throughout the New York legal scene were talking about them, one of the top criminal defense attorneys and the newest ADA in Washington’s office together were bound to turn some heads. They were both dressed to the nines, her in a form-fitting black dress and black Red Bottoms (both bought on her own) and him in a black tux.

They made their rounds together, talking to people they knew. (Y/n) was used to drawing attention, being the newest - not to mention one of the youngest - ADA under Washington, but with Thomas that attention was tenfold. It was almost suffocating, having to talk to twice as many people now, but she’d never let that show. Thomas was flaunting her and showing her off, not really giving her space to truly talk to the people he was introducing her to other than responding to what questions they had. Before long, Thomas brought her to someone that she vaguely recognized from the DA’s office. She remembered Alexander ranting about a meeting with him, but she couldn’t really place a name to the face.

“(Y/n), this is Aaron Burr. Aaron, this is my girlfriend, (y/n),” Thomas introduced her. He missed the slight look of disagreement she made before reaching her hand out to shake Aaron’s.

“(Y/n) (l/n), ADA,” she re-introduced herself. She could handle the introduction to the others, especially since most of them already recognized her, but she refused to be introduced like that to the infamous Aaron Burr.

“Aaron Burr, junior partner of Jefferson and Madison Law Offices,” Aaron replied. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. (l/n).”

“I hope they’ve been good things,” she replied. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you as well, from Thomas and people around the office.”

“I hope you’ve heard good things as well,” Aaron said with a smile. Thomas and Aaron then began talking about something from the firm, and (y/n) scanned the room for anyone else she had to greet on her rounds. She spied Alexander at the bar, and when Alexander saw her, he raised his glass to her in invitation.

“Hey, I’m gonna go say hi to someone from work,” she said, putting her hand on Thomas’s arm. He nodded in acknowledgement, so she bid a quick goodbye to the two and made her way over to the bar. She stood next to Alexander, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“So, you and Jefferson have been attached at the hip all night,” Alexander said, taking a drink from his cup. “Are you even allowed to be talking to me right now?”

“Shut up,” she said, rolling your eyes. “You know I already talked to Thomas about that. Where’s Eliza?”

“She picked up shift tonight,” Alexander told her. “What’s it like being Jefferson’s girlfriend?”

“Why, you jealous?” She teased. Alexander made a noise of disgust, making her laugh loudly. “No, but seriously, what’s up?”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of ‘(y/n), Jefferson’s girlfriend’ tonight instead of ‘(y/n), the newest ADA in Washington’s office.’ I thought it was weird, especially since you just got promoted,” Alexander explained. “Also I saw you talking to Burr, so that must’ve been terrible.”

“Not terrible, just awkward,” she told him. “You’ve been listening out for me?”

“Of course, I wanted to make sure no one was talking trash,” Alexander said with a small smile. “I would’ve had to fight them.”

“Damn it, Alexander, you’re supposed to put people in jail, not get yourself in jail,” she laughed.

“I know, I know,” he told her, downing the last of his drink. “I gotta go find Washington, he made me promise to do a check-in before the night was over. See you later, Jefferson’s girlfriend.”

“Fuck off,” she laughed, masking her discomfort. As much as she loved Thomas, she didn’t want Thomas’s name to be the first thing people thought of when they thought of her. She wanted to have her own name, and she knew she had to find a way to make their names separate, especially since they were both part of the legal system. She followed Alexander’s example and downed the last of her drink before returning to Thomas’s side, a smile painted on so no one would suspect she was anything other than enjoying herself.

It was a late day at the office for both of them. Thomas had just started work on a new case, (y/n) was trying to juggle a few cases that were closing, and they both agreed to meet at his apartment when they were done. After finishing what they needed to, they found themselves sitting in Thomas’s living room, eating Chinese food as the television played some random show in the background. Thomas could tell that something was on her mind with how uncharacteristically distracted she was, but he didn’t want to push it. They were both watching the show in comfortable silence, when she suddenly sat up and grabbed the remote, turning the television volume down. She turned to face him.

“Thomas, I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work out,” she said, the apology like honey trying to cover the acid that was the rest of her sentence.

“What? Where is this coming from?” Thomas asked, taken aback. His mind was racing, trying to see what had changed between them, but he couldn’t find anything.

“I love you, and I don’t doubt that you love me, but I’m not what you really want. At least, not what you want at the moment,” she started. Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Hear me out. You want someone that you can spoil with lavish gifts, and flaunt around at events, and that just isn’t me. I’m not just arm candy for events. I’m more than just Thomas Jefferson’s girlfriend.”

“(Y/n), that’s not what I want,” Thomas said, taking her hand in his. “I want you.” She shook her head.

“Thomas, I know you,” she told him, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “I know the kind of person you’re used to being with, the kind of person you expected me to be. I was a shiny new toy for you to put on display, but that’s not who I am, nor who I want to be.” Thomas looked down at their hands, unable to say anything. After all, how could he when the woman he loved was tearing his heart out right in front of him?

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Thomas told her, sounding small for the first time in his life. He was never the one getting broken up with, he was always the one breaking up with people. Even as she was leaving him, she still didn’t cease to surprise him.

“There’s nothing you can say right now,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should leave. Just, think about what I told you.” With that, she released his hand and stood, grabbing her bag from the couch and leaving him alone in his apartment. Thomas sat there with his head in his hands, trying to figure out what she meant.

Then it came to him. Everything she’d said, everything he’d done, it all made sense now. He’d tried to make her like everyone else he’d been with, even if she wasn’t. He’d tried turning her into his arm candy, just like she’d said, while at the same time claiming to care for who she was. She didn’t care for his money, she didn’t care for the gifts, she’d only cared for him, and it’d taken this long for him to see it. The epiphany he needed had come to him, and it came with one more piece: if he wanted to win her back, he had to prove that he wasn’t the same person anymore.

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #hamilton imagine

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kimmyiewrites · 6 years

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Making Waves ~ Chpt 1

AN: I know I feel like I say it a lot but I’m really excited for this fic. It’s a mermaid au that has so much more going on besides pretty tales and ocean cities. I hope you enjoy and can’t wait to hear what you think. Much love!

She was met with a door in her face. For months now she was greeted with the same phrase from George King, owner of Mermaid Lagoon, and a door slammed in her face. It didn’t stop her though. She kept trying each week despite him telling her that, “The mermaids are fine and if they really didn’t want to be here, they wouldn’t have gotten hurt or caught.” That statement didn’t infuriate her any less than the first time she heard it.

Peggy Atwell had a degree in mermaid biology. Yes, it’s a thing, it’s a further concentration in marine biology. She always dreamed of working with a team doing research and helping the half human creatures of the sea but with each marine biologist she reached out to, she always received some elitist answer claiming that they wouldn’t work with someone who believed in fantasy. Mermaids were in fact real and despite the hundreds that have been captured or taken under the pretenses of rehabilitation for entertainment, marine biologist who had been with the science for a long time still didn’t believe in them.

For as long as she could remember, Peggy was intrigued by the ocean and by mermaids. Her mother, Naomi, said that it was because water ran through her veins instead of blood. To an extent that was true. Peggy’s blood never turned red like human’s did when it hit the air. It remained blue. When Peggy asked her mother about it after discovering that other people’s blood was red, Naomi told her it was because water ran through her veins and that reasoning always stuck until Peggy really began her studies into mermaid biology and culture.

Naomi had done everything she could to keep Peggy away from knowing the truth. When she had taken the baby girl in she had made a promise to the parents of her daughter that she would protect her as much as she could. She even went all the way to get a mermaid biologist to help Peggy when she became ill. So Naomi had to lie at least a little. When Peggy started her studies questions began to come up. To keep her promise, Naomi told Peggy that her father had been a mermaid and that’s why she had some traits.

Peggy believed her mother but what she was told was the furthest thing from the truth. Peggy Atwell was actually a part of a well known family in the mermaid world located in the Atlantic. Her real name was Peggy Schuyler and her mother and father left Peggy with Naomi a few days after Peggy was born. The Schuyler’s were afraid for their youngest since they were running from a couple of catchers from Mermaid Lagoon. The mermaid couple came across Naomi’s sailboat and left Peggy with her so they could get back to their other two daughters.

Despite having to keep her mermaid traits a secret, she had a happy life and was now working at the one place that all mermaid activists hated, Mermaid Lagoon. While she was in college she interned with the rehab facility there and when no one else would take her, she was welcomed back with open arms. This time she wasn’t just apart of the rehabilitation team, she also served as a trainer for some of the exhibits. She hated how other trainers treated their merfolk but the ones she worked with always reassured her that she made their stay there worth while.

“Another rejection?” Hercules Mulligan, one of the custodians and overall handy man of the park asked Peggy as she marched by him.

She huffed before letting out a small growl in frustration. She turned on her heel to face one of the only coworkers she could say she was friends with. “I just don’t get it Herc! I have given him evidence that these pools are just way too small for them. There are some mers that have tail deformities because they’ve been here so long and their pools aren’t big enough.”

“He’s not gonna listen to you unless the money starts talking, you know this but good for you to sticking to your beliefs. Just don’t go getting fired, huh? There’s some people around here that would not be too happy to see you gone.” He reached out and gave her arm a squeeze. Hercules really liked Peggy and the merfolk he talked to about her had nothing but good things to say. He was quite serious about her not getting fired. He needed to make sure that things stayed on track and Peggy no longer being here was not a part of the plan.

Peggy sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll let it be for now. I’m starting to sound like a broken record anyway.” She patted his hand with a small smile. “I’m gonna go check on Johnny Boy so I’ll see ya around. Try not to have fun without me.” She pointed at him as she backed away.

Hercules laughed and rolled his eyes. “Because I could have so much fun without you here.”

She laughed as she turned back around to head towards the rehab facility. Mermaid Lagoon was part zoo, part amusement park. Dispersed between the different tanks were roller coasters and other thrill rides that the park’s visitors could ride. At certain times there were feedings, entertainment shows that included tricks, and educational tours. So at each tank there was plenty of standing room and a small seating area. If it was a special show then the mers were transported from their usual tank to the main pool that was in the middle of the park. Seating was set up like an amphitheatre and the seats closest to the pool were labeled the splash zone.

When Peggy wasn’t out in the main part of the park she was back in the rehab facility. The rehab was its own building near the front of the park, off to the side. This is where donations were asked for despite the outlandish ticket prices. The building was basically a large warehouse that had three rows of tanks and a larger pool so that the mers could swim laps and do other exercises that could help get their strength back. Suspended above the tanks were walkways so that the biologists could walk around above the tanks so they could talk with the mers they were helping recover from various injuries. This walkway and even the floor of the rehab had special employee only entrances. The visitor entrance lead to a loft type space where visitors could look down below to watch as employees worked with the mers. In the visitor space there were posters and other interactive screens that told them what was happening down below. The only time visitors were allowed on the suspended walkways was if they were apart of an educational tour.

As soon as John saw Peggy along the walkway he swam up to the top of his tank, crossing his arms over its edge as he waited for her to get closer. He hated being trapped here but Peggy always made it better. It was probably because she unknowingly reminded him of home. She waved at him when she saw him pop up, remembering the day that John was brought into the facility. That day was forever seared into her brain. She had been so scared for him, as she was with every boating accident she worked on.

She was working with another mermaid on tail exercises when Theo, another woman that Peggy worked with in rehab came rushing down the floor screaming Peggy’s name. Peggy hopped down from the platform on the pool but before she could even get a word in, Theo was dragging her down the row towards the direction of the small medical bay they had in the far back corner of the building. This was where they examined each mermaid that came in or if one of their performers fell sick. “Male, looks to be about in his twenties if we were going with human age, boat hit his tail, it’s bad.” Theo stated as she pushed Peggy towards the room where she could get into scrubs instead of her wetsuit.

“Are they trying to stop the bleeding? I need to know vitals and need to have all surgery utensils prepped. We need to keep his tail wet, if he starts to transition that is not going to bode well for him, at all.” Peggy started to give out orders. She was the youngest member of the rehab team and yet when the original lead doctor retired, he had given the position to Peggy. She had shadowed under him and knew all of the procedures they did on the regular like the back of her own hand. There were some people that doubted the doctor’s decision but after watching her work her first emergency surgery, those doubts were quickly erased.

Once she was in her scrubs, Peggy ran to the procedure table. Wet towels were laid underneath him while the team was trying to get him to stop fighting them. “You haven’t sedated him yet?!” Peggy cried, rushing to his side. Theo prepared the anesthesia and waited for Peggy’s order. “Hello, my name’s Peggy and my friend Theo will be giving you some medicine so I can get you all patched up okay? Is that okay?” She had cupped his face and was looking directly at him, trying to get him to calm down.

His eyes had widened when he saw her face. He couldn’t believe that Peggy Schuyler was here, that he was talking to Peggy Schuyler. He had come up to the surface with Angelica and Eliza once when they were trying to find their long, lost sister. They had found her sitting on a sandbar in a secluded part of the beach. The sisters had asked him to draw a picture of her for them and he happily obliged. She didn’t look sad this time. She looked scared but determined. He nodded his head, figuring he would be in good hands if he was in the presence of a Schuyler sister. The last thing he saw before everything went black was Peggy looking over to whom he assumed was Theo.

Peggy jumped into action as soon as his eyes closed. She focused on his tail first, made sure nothing was severely broken before focusing on the bigger cuts along his tail. She performed something similar to a skin graft for the larger cuts and then did a basic stitching for the smaller cuts. The procedure took hours and when she was done they put him in a shallow pool until he woke back up.

The healing process was long but two months had passed and he was showing great progress. The smaller cuts were all healed but the larger cuts were still healing and they were working on getting his tail strength back as well as learning how to swim again with the tears in his tailfin. “Rejected again, huh?” John asked once Peggy had reached his tank.

She sighed and nodded her head. “Herc thinks I should pause my efforts for the time being. Doesn’t want to see me fired.” She rested her arms on the railing of the walkway so she could be at about the same height as John was.

“Well, yeah, there would be a lot of mers not happy if you were suddenly gone.” He agreed with a nod. “Me included.”

Peggy smiled, reaching out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t go making you unhappy now can I? Guess that means I’ll actually listen.” She teased him as she pushed herself from the railing. “How we getting to the pool today? Do I need to get the cart or are you gonna swim?”

“I’m gonna give swimming a go. Just don’t start to freak out if I take a long time. My stamina’s not what it used to be.” John answered her with a small smile.

“We’ll get you there, now get going. I’ll meet you over there.” Peggy waved him off as she turned on the walkway and headed down to the pool. As she walked down the steps to the main floor, she looked up to the viewing area to see if she and John were about to have an audience in his therapy session today. He seemed to always want to try and show off when that happened. There were kids pressed up against the glass with older kids and parents standing back so the younger kids could see what was going on. Peggy gave a smile and a wave before she hit the main floor.

There was a small platform that was attached to the side of the pool where most of the trainers usually worked from. They were able to jump into the pool from the platform if needed. Peggy climbed the ladder up to the platform just as John swam into the pool. He came up for air and swam towards the platform, pulling himself up on it. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Peggy sat down next to him, toes barely skimming the water. “What happened to taking it easy on the way over?”

“I thought I would be fine but that was a bad thought.” He panted, gripping the edge of the platform.

She rubbed his back and walked him through some breathing exercises until he recovered from his little excursion. She really did hate when she had an audience for her training session with John. “Ready for some exercises?”

John nodded and brought his tail up to the platform, laying down on his back. Peggy did the same thing, lifting her legs in the air, keeping them together and angling her feet out so it would look like a mermaid tail. “We just need to get you a tail already. Those fake ones you humans wear are not the most ideal but I would make an exception for you.” John told her, chuckling a bit.

Peggy laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind when I go through the gift shop again but for now this is what you’re stuck with so c’mon, tail up.” They worked through different exercises before they both lowered themselves into the pool. This was one reason why the mers kept in the rehab liked when they got to work with Peggy. She did all of the exercises with them until she felt like she could just sit back and watch to make sure they were doing things properly. She had talked Theo into doing the same thing but she just showed them what she wanted them to do before she sat back and watched. The others stayed on the platform and practically barked orders.

“You did so great today.” Peggy said as she pulled herself up onto the platform.

“Thanks.” He smiled as he floated on his back around the pool.

Peggy shook her head as she wrung out the water from her ponytail. “Can I trust you to get back to your tank okay? I’d like to check on Angelica and Eliza before I leave today.”

John nodded and went to treading water. “Tell the Schuyler’s I said hello and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You got it.” She waved before climbing down. She grabbed a towel from the table sitting next to the pool and continued drying off as best she could as she made her way back outside to the park. She tossed the towel towards the dirty linen hamper as she passed it and poked her head into Theo’s office. “I’m checking on the Schuyler’s and then I’m headed home. You good?”

Theo looked up from the paperwork she was doing. “Yeah. Just catching up on some stuff before heading out myself. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She smiled up at her friend.

“See ya later then!” Peggy said with a wave as she continued on her way.

The exhibits were decent sized she supposed even if she fought to make them bigger. There really wasn’t much room to swim as mers were used to. They were about two olympic sized pools long and attached to the main pool was a smaller one where the mers could go into. It was a den like area much like with zoo exhibits there’s always a place for the animals to go inside.

Peggy entered the Schuyler’s exhibit through the employee entrance near the back. She pressed the button along the wall that would ring a bell and flash a light in the pool to let them know that she was here. She walked to the edge of where the smaller pool was and sat down, dipping her feet into the water. She didn’t have to wait long before Angelica and Eliza popped up, pushing their hair back out of their faces. “Peggy!” They exclaimed as they swam closer to her. The two older Schuyler’s hated that they had to get to know their baby sister this way but were just happy that they were able to get to know her.

“Hey guys!” She smiled, bending down enough so that she could give them each a hug as best she could. “John also says hello and I still very much got a door closed in my face.” She updated them on all that essentially happened since the last time they talked that day.

“You’ll get him next week.” Angelica smiled, encouraging her little sister to keep fighting for what she believed in.

“That’s the thing. I ran into Herc right after and I think I’m gonna press pause on trying to talk with King. I don’t want to lose my job.” Peggy explained, nervous about the sisters’ response.

Angelica looked disappointed but before she could say anything, Eliza spoke up. Angelica was stubborn and wanted to keep the fight going until the change was made. Eliza knew though that sometimes the best strategy is to wait until the perfect moment arrived for an attack. Besides if Peggy lost her job here then future plans could be ruined. “We don’t want you to lose your job either. We’ve gotta put away the,” she paused momentarily to try and think of the name. It wasn’t coming to her so she continued on, explaining what she was thinking of. “The game that has the red and black pieces and play the game that has the knights but is played on the same board.”

“Checkers and chess?” Peggy asked for clarification.

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s the one. We’ve gotta put away the checkers and starting playing chess.” She nodded confidently, giving Peggy a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Liza.” Peggy returned the smile. “I’m certainly going to try. I’m not very good at chess.” She laughed, pulling her feet out of the water. “Is there anything you two need before I head home?”

“Nope, we’re good.” Angelica said with a wave.

“We’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Peggy.” Eliza smiled, waving as she watched her younger sister leave. She then turned to Angelica. “Are you sure we can’t just tell her? I want to be able to really talk to my sister.”

Angelica sighed. “I know, Lizzy. I do too but you know what Herc told us.”

“Yeah, I know. Still doesn’t mean that I like it.” Eliza sighed and dove back under the water.

#hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #leggy hamilton #lafayette x peggy #mermaid au #hamilton imagine #hamilton imagines #peggy schuyler imagine #lafayette imagine #making waves #kim writes things #here's the queue we started out as friends

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aswithasunbeam · 6 years

Note

Hey! I love your fics soo(get it Soo) much! Could you please make a fluffy A Winter's Ball/a night in Morristown Hamliza fic?I'd really appreciate it.

Ha! I love that! And I’d love to do more fluffy Morristown stories!! They’re one of my favorite things to write! I actually wrote a really long piece set in Morristown over on my AO3 account, which you might not have seen as I haven’t cross-posted here on tumblr. It’s called “A Winter’s Romance” and the overall vib is pretty fluffy, though there is some angst thrown in for good measure :)

Here’s a link and an except from the first chapter, if you’re interested!

[Read on AO3]

February 1780

“Is this your shirt?” Tilghman asked, digging through a pile of clothes that had yet to be laundered. His jacket had been discarded, his breeches were half undone and the shirt he had on had been untucked. All in all, he looked like a disheveled mess, which was unfortunate, as the dancing assembly was to start in less than an hour’s time.

Hamilton looked over at the bright white linen in Tilghman’s hands and shook his head. Not only was the shirt too large for him, but his clothes had all been mended and washed too many times to look that white. “Must be Mac’s,” he suggested as he yanked fresh breeches over his hips.

Tilghman frowned, looking around the room with an intensely puzzled expression. “What’s happened to all my shirts?”

Hamilton tried to stifle a laugh. “Would you like to borrow one of mine?”

“Yours would make me look like a chubby giant,” Tilghman refused.

Hamilton did laugh this time. “Just wear the one you have on, then.”

“This one smells.”

“Well, I don’t know how to help you,” Hamilton said with amusement as he pulled on his uniform jacket. He ran his hand over his chin and considered shaving again.

“I want to look my best. Do you know who just arrived in town today?” Tilghman’s eyes lit up with excitement. Hamilton shook his head, and his friend continued, “General Schuyler’s daughter, Elizabeth. We met some time ago when I was negotiating with the Six Nations. She’s twenty-two, now, and still unattached. She’s supposedly visiting her aunt, Doctor Cochran’s wife, but it’s obvious she’s on the hunt for a husband.”

Elizabeth Schuyler. The name conjured the image of striking black eyes and a warm smile. He’d met the young lady some time ago when he was in Albany trying to pry troops loose from the greedy hands of General Gates. General Schuyler had invited him to dine, although most of his family was away. Elizabeth had been at home, however, and she had more than upheld the Schuyler reputation for hospitality. He didn’t remember the conversation exactly, but he remembered laughing a great deal.

“And you’re hoping to oblige her in her quest?” Hamilton asked. Tilghman had just turned thirty-five that Christmas, so there was something of an age difference, but he doubted it would prove much of an obstacle if the girl was willing.

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Tilghman replied diplomatically. Hamilton took that to be a firm yes. “She’s traveling with Catharine Livingston. Aren’t you acquainted with her family?”

Kitty Livingston’s name hit him like a swift kick to the abdomen. He’d been utterly infatuated with the beautiful heiress when he’d boarded with her family before he’d started at King’s. He’d gone so far as to write her a love letter. She’d rejected him in no uncertain terms. He was still trying to disentangle himself from Cornelia Lott after his disastrous meeting with her father. The prospect of a night with both Cornelia and Kitty made him feel vaguely ill.

“Ham?” Tilghman prompted.

“Hm?” He hummed, pulled from his thoughts. “Oh, yes. I’m very well acquainted with the Livingstons.”

“You wouldn’t mind entertaining Miss Livingston a bit, would you? Just so I might have the chance to speak with Miss Schuyler alone?”

Hamilton met his friend’s hopeful eyes and found himself nodding. What was a bit more humiliation and misery, after all, if it might bring his friend happiness?

~*~

Lively music and a roaring fire greeted Hamilton and Tilghman as they entered the hall where the dancing assembly was held. A table was set up in the corner with what passed for a feast in these conditions: two pots of stew, assorted root vegetables, and a very meager chicken that had already been almost entirely consumed.

“Colonel Hamilton,” Cornelia’s high voice came from just behind him.

He turned and saw that she had been waiting by the door. “Miss Lott,” he replied, bending low and pressing a kiss to her outstretched hand. “You’re looking well.”

“Oh, I’m very well, Colonel.” She gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. “I hope you are, also. I’ve missed seeing you the past few weeks.”

“I’ve been…very busy,” he said vaguely.

She nodded rapidly, clinging on to the excuse like a lifeline. “I thought you must be.”

An awkward pause followed as he searched for something to say. He didn’t want to raise her hopes, and he was still too embarrassed and stung to tell her about his humiliating meeting with her father. And what good would telling her do anyway, he thought; knowing would only cause a rift between her and her father. As he was standing there staring at her, the band struck up a new song.

“Would you like to dance, Colonel?”

“I…” He hesitated. If he danced with her, she’d think there was still hope for them. The only way forward he could see was to break her heart. Being cruel now would be kinder in the end, he told himself. “No, Miss Lott.”

Her whole face fell. She blinked at him, as if waiting for him to take it back, or to explain.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. Then he turned away.

He felt like a monster.

He spotted Tilghman, McHenry, Webb, and Richard Meade standing in a group near the food and he made his way towards them. Mac slapped him on the back companionably when he stopped beside him. Tilghman shook his head. “Poor Polly. Looks as though you’ve just torn her heart out.”

He refused to look back. Plastering the same fake smile he’d been wearing more and more of late, he said, “You know how it goes.”

“Onwards to the next conquest,” Webb laughed.

“That chicken didn’t make for much of a feast,” Hamilton commented, desperate to change to subject. The conversation mercifully turned to dreams of feasts after the war.

Tilghman tugged at his sleeve a few minutes later.

“Mrs. Washington is done speaking with Miss Schuyler and Miss Livingston,” Tilghman whispered, his eyes focused somewhere to the left. Hamilton followed his gaze and saw the two young ladies were standing by the fireplace, speaking quietly to each other.

Hamilton nodded for his friend to go first, and followed a pace behind as they made their way to the girls.

“Miss Schuyler, how wonderful to see you again,” Tilghman proclaimed as they approached.

“Colonel Tilghman,” Miss Schuyler greeted him warmly. “I did not know I’d be graced with your company tonight.”

Tilghman bent low to kiss her hand.

“Might I present Colonel Hamilton? He’s a dear friend of mine,” Tilghman added, gesturing back to him without turning around.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Schuyler when I dined with her family in Albany,” he stated, bowing and kissing her hand as well. When he stood, he found her dark eyes scrutinizing his face. He smiled tightly at her, sure she didn’t remember the meeting. She must have dined with the whole Continental Army by this point, with Philip Schuyler for a father.

He turned his attention to Kitty. “Miss Livingston,” he greeted, bowing to her this time. He then introduced Tilghman, who repeated the ritual.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Tilghman asked, his eyes glued to Miss Schuyler.

Hamilton turned his attention to Kitty. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve last spoken.”

Kitty nodded, her eyes tracking over his uniform and lingering on his rank insignia. “You’ve done well for yourself since then, Hammy,” she noted, smiling warmly at him. “I’m very glad to see it.”

He thanked her softly. Glancing to the side, he saw Tilghman had fully engaged with Miss Schuyler in conversation about her travels from Albany. He smiled and held out a hand to Kitty. “Would you care to dance, Miss Livingston?”

“It would be my pleasure, Colonel,” she agreed. As he lead her towards the dance floor, she leaned in to him and added, “I see Colonel Tilghman has wasted no time in staking a claim for my dear Betsey.”

They shared a smile as they positioned themselves to join the dance.

~*~

His breath created a great puff of white smoke in the frigid air as he leaned against the porch rail. The music from inside was still audible, but dulled by the closed front door. There were torches glowing along the walkway that provided fairly good light, but hardly any warmth. Still, a moment of solitude was well worth braving the bitter cold.

Miss Livingston had quickly found dancing partners, lovely and eligible as she was. Cornelia seemed to have departed the party shortly after their talk. Tilghman was happily monopolizing Miss Schuyler. Everyone inside seemed paired off and content, leaving him free to slip outside.

He missed John. He missed having a dear, loyal companion, someone with whom he could talk and laugh. Someone to drive away his darkest thoughts on these cold, lonely nights.

He may as well get used to being alone, he thought harshly. No man was ever going to consent to having him for a son-in-law. Cornelia’s broken heart would be a warning to him to never attempt to love again.

The music swelled suddenly, then dulled again with the sound of the front door closing. He turned to see Elizabeth Schuyler stepping out onto the front porch. She smiled at him.

“Are you well, Colonel? I saw you stepping outside, and I was concerned.”

He forced another smile. “Quite well, thank you. I was just a bit warm from dancing.”

She nodded, then stepped closer to him, leaning against the rail as well.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she commented mildly, her face turned up towards the sky.

He followed her gaze, looking up at the nearly full moon and the bright stars dotting the dark winter sky. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Though it is terribly cold.”

She laughed. “I’m from Albany. I’m quite used to the cold.”

“I wish I were,” he replied.

“I suppose you never had to deal with these kinds of conditions in the Caribbean.”

He nodded, then his brow furrowed. “Did you recognize my accent?”

“No,” she said simply. She glanced over at him and smiled again. The expression made her eyes sparkle, he noticed. “You mentioned you were from Saint Croix when you dined with my family in Albany.”

He cocked his head to the side, surprised. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s just, I know you must have dinner with officers all the time,” he tried to explain, hoping she didn’t think he accusing her of being rude or ill-mannered.

“That is true,” she laughed. “But you made an impression.”

He laughed as well. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

She gave him a considering look. “I suppose we’ll find out,” she said coyly.

He grinned and nodded.

A companionable silence followed, their attention turning back to the still winter night.

“Did you really come out here because you were warm from dancing?” she asked suddenly.

He looked back at her, and found he wanted to answer honestly. “No. I’ve been feeling a little low of late. And, due to some unfortunate circumstances, I had to hurt someone’s feelings tonight. I suppose I’m simply not in the merry-making spirit.”

Her expression was compassionate. She reached out a hand tentatively, laying it lightly on his upper arm. “I saw you standing out here from the window,” she told him. “You looked…lonely.”

“So you came to keep me company?” he asked.

She nodded as she removed her hand. “You can tell me if I’m intruding.”

He shook his head. “I’m enjoying your company,” he assured her.

She smiled again. A moment of silence followed, before she began to speak again, easily changing topics. “I was speaking to Mrs. Washington earlier. She was telling me about her work with the sick and wounded soldiers, and she promised to take me with her on one of her visits. I do hope I can make myself useful while I’m here.”

“I’m sure the men would appreciate your assistance,” he told her sincerely.

“Is there anything else I could do to help? Mrs. Washington told me you would know best what needed doing.”

He felt a flicker of pride at the compliment from the dear old lady. Considering a moment, he asked, “Can you knit? Sew?”

She nodded.

“We always need hats, mittens, scarfs and the like. And many of the men have clothes that need mending. That would certainly be a help.”

Her eyes dropped to his hands gripping at the railing. “Do you have any mittens, Colonel?”

He looked down at his chapped hands and shook his head. “I had a pair, but they wore out last winter. I haven’t had the chance to replace them.”

“I’ll knit you a pair first,” she said decisively. “From what I’ve heard, your pen is our country’s best hope of winning this war. Whatever would we do if you developed frost bite?”

“I’d be most obliged to you, Miss Schuyler.”

“Speaking of frost bite, I think perhaps we should go back inside,” she suggested. She chuckled as she looked at him. “Your nose has turned bright red with cold.”

He nodded. She turned and pulled open the front door, light and music pouring out. Looking back at him, she made a little motion with her head to urge him on. As he followed her inside, he felt a smile stretching his face again. A real smile.

Well, he thought, that was just…so inconvenient.

#morristown #prompt #a winter's romance #hamilton fanfic #hamliza #ask

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ofcoursetheyrefictional · 6 years

Text

Damned Corsets

"John, you know I can't stand these things, especially with a corset on. Stays are fine, but I'm almost certain these things were made by the devil." John chuckled form the other side of the room where he was dressed and ready for the Schuyler's party. I, on the other hand had made the mistake of getting fully dressed before putting on my shoes.

With the corset and layers upon layers of dress I couldn't even see my feet. "John," I whined again, he walked over, placing a kiss on my cheek.

"Hmm," he hummed in question.

I pointed at the floor where my shoes sat out of reach, "I forgot to put my shoes on." He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying my small moment of helplessness. He got down on one knee in front of me; pushing my skirts up out of his way he slid the delicately torturous heels onto my feet. All the while his hand lingered on my thigh, from the smirk on his face it was only partly to keep the layers away from my feet, the other part was entirely to drive me mad. He was enjoying this.

As soon as both shoes were on he draped the many layers back over my legs and stood up before offering me his hand. "Come on, it shouldn't be that bad."

"Oh, shut it, Laurens. You don't have to wear a corset." I stood up on my own and walked briskly to the front of the house, teasing him. John joined me shortly after.

I had to admit, the party itself was not so much a chore. The Schuyler sisters were, as always, wonderful to visit. We spoke of Common Sense and politics. Peggy didn't seem to enjoy the conversation, but appeased her sisters nonetheless. To add another twist to the conversation Angelica seemed to have snagged Eliza a certain young Hamilton.

As Angelica introduced the two Peggy and I moved away, allowing the them to bond and flirt, but as I watched from across the room it was Angelica that my attention fell upon. Every movement was hesitant and unsure, odd mannerisms for an amazing woman such as herself. She let a sad smile spread across her face as she also moved away.

The night continued on and the discomfort in my torso was increasing, even the good and entertaining company could no longer distract me. My back ached, as did my ribs, but my lungs were screaming. Everything had been cinched and my ribs moved, reducing any extraneous breathing space.

Eventually my breathing had become worryingly shallow, coming out ragged and uneven. Angelica, whom I had been trying to pull from her glazed stare from Hamilton and Eliza indeed pulled through, at just the right time. "Y/n, are you well? You look quite pale." I felt pale.

"Angelica, have I told you how much I hate corsets?"

She smiled lightly as she guided me to a chair, "I'm going to find John." She was already turned and walking away before I could utter any form of protest. I was silently thankful, though. my lungs continued to burn and I could feel my skin bruising under the boning.

It only took a minute or so for Angelica to return with John, who was followed by Alexander and Eliza, Hercules, and Lafayette. John knelt down, resting his hands on either side of me. "Hey, y/n," he must have seen how glazed my eyes were, as well as how pale my skin had turned. "let's get you home, love." I tried to shake my head, not that I could tell if I did or not, everything was spinning anyway. "Laf, help me get her up."

They both hooked under one of my arms and helped me to my feet, I wobbled. Lafayette let go and John moved his arm around my impossibly small waist and pulled me against him for support.

Angelica led us out a side door and around to the front, where a carriage had be called and was waiting. Being able to sit down away from crowds of people allowed me to realize exactly how out of breath I was. It felt like I had run around the whole of New York; my chest was tight and my heart was pounding in an attempt to circulate blood. I heard the door close as we started moving. I sat back with my eyes closed and my head tilted back.

"Y/n, let me loosen it." I opened my eyes to see John leaning forward with worried eyes. I scooted forward in the seat allowing him to get at my torso, he pulled away the front panel, revealing the laces that were restricting my every movement.

Almost immediately, he looked over whelmed, but his face shifted. I couldn't breathe properly and he knew it. His determination became evident as he set to work at the bow, tugging at the laces. As soon as the last lace held some slack I sucked in a breath, "I am never wearing that again."

My eyes fell downcast, I hated making scenes, and I made John leave the party early. He removed his coat, draped it around my shoulders, and hooked his finger under my chin. He saw what I was doing, "You're not allowed to do that to yourself."

I lifted my chin from his finger, "John I made a scene, I made you-" My sentence was cut off by a pair of soft lips.

"Stop."

"John, I just-"

"No, stop." The carriage pulled up outside of our house, "Come on." I pulled his coat on properly and wrapped it tighter around myself. He opened the coach door and stepped down before offering me his hand.

We got inside and by the time I had gotten across the house to our bedroom I was already tugging at the laces. In the fervor of initially attempting to loosen the corset the lacing had become tangled, I sat down on the bed in a huff, still tugging at the ribbons. John noticed again.

"Come here." I stood and walked to the other side of the bed where her was sitting. He placed his hands on mine and pulled them away while tugging me closer so I was standing between his legs. He started with the tangled bow, gently moving the loops and strands around each other until the laces hung separately. He then started tugging them from the eyelets.

Relief finally started to reach my tender skin and burning lungs as air was allowed in. My head lulled back as I sucked another breath in. John, chuckled as he pulled the corset away from my now free waist.

I walked towards the closet untying my skirts as I went and, of course, I hit another knot. This time however I had no time to get frustrated, a pair of hands rested on my waist, I let my hands fall away as he untied the rest of the layers.

I pulled the layers off over my head one by one and changed into my nightgown. I walked back to my side of the bed and sat down, pulling off my shoes and stockings.

The bed felt amazing, the cool soft sheets wrapping around my legs as I slid them under the covers. Any remaining pressure in my chest dissolved with one outward breath.

I closed my eyes. I still couldn't get out of my head, I hated feeling like this, being needy I mean. Making scenes, needing help with the simplest of tasks. I run my hands down my face as I feel the bed dip down next to me.

"Love, you have to stop this." I rested my hands on my chest and huffed. "I won't allow you to bring yourself down over something that was not only out of your control but , in all honesty, calling for more of a scene than what was caused."

I rolled my eyes a, "Y/n, do you realize that most girls would have walked to the middle of the room and fainted. Darling, you couldn't breath, that's serious."

"I know, that doesn't change the fact the I pulled you and Laf and Hamilton away from the party." I flipped onto my side so I was facing him. "Thank you though, thank you for being so good to me."

He kissed the top of my head and I scooted close to wrap my arms around his torso, "I love you"

I smiled,"I love you too, John."

#john laurens #hamilton #angelica #eliza #peggy #fanfiction #oneshot #imagine

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katrinapavela · 6 years

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#Black Panther Themes Applied to #Scandal (#ICMABAS)

Black Panther gives us an opportunity to watch a film by and about black people, enveloping ourselves in the warm fibres of its tapestry of topics. Needless to say, the conversations go well beyond the usual fodder about representation and its attending anxieties about the white gaze on black work. I’ve heard a few discussions on the topics of black feminism, black radicalism, hair, fashion, cinematography, joy and pain—all inspired by this one film. I’ve tried to keep my thoughts to myself, or to the group chat, but I can’t anymore. I’m making the time today to touch on a few of Black Panther’s themes that made me draw some (clear) parallels with Scandal. Some of them are ones that I have talked about before. But because Black Panther is a rare, internationally shared moment that distills the themes so clearly, I just have to do a Wakanda edition of I Can Make Anything Be About Scandal (#ICMABAS). This is super spoilerific, so I don’t wanna hear from you if you get spoiled.

A Nation and a People Come to Understand their Place in the World:

In Black Panther, the proud people of Wakanda begin their journey, in the film, with a strong national presence, but it is an insular one. They believe their greatest resource is vibranium, the strongest substance known to man. Sitting on this wealth causes them to hide in plain sight from the outside world, as a form of protection. In the words of Olivia Pope, a woman who falters in living up to the values she implores others to follow: “Sometimes fear keeps us safe; but sometimes it holds us back” (416). By the end of Black Panther, the Wakandans come to understand that they are not just an African nation, but they are part of the African Diaspora. They become black people. And as Black people, free from the scars of colonialism they never experienced, they take up the responsibility of alleviating the pain and suffering of Black people who do have those scars. The film’s end shows us the declaration of this and that they start where one of their own (Killmonger) was deeply emotionally wounded: Oakland, California.

Sometimes we begin to understand who we are by seeing those who so distinctly represent who we are not; or who we do not wish to be. The gap between where we are and where we want to be is more easily traversed when we understand who we are. Without that latter piece, the journey seems meandering and purposeless. The tragic figure of Eric Killmonger evidenced for King T’Challa and Wakandans that they were connected to a Black world outside of their nation, and that true freedom means being able to serve your people to the best of your abilities. This very idea came not from Killmonger, but from Nakia—Wakandan international spy and T’Challa’s person/trusted advisor.

As a friend (@yrisaacs) recently said to me: knowing who you are is the place from which you can do the most good. That applies to yourself and others. Nakia understood this, and T’Challa, being the baby kind that he was, took time to come to see Nakia was right. Two things here: I am reminded of my Fitzgerald and Olivia. Fitz now knows who he is and his (privileged) place in the world. And what is he doing with that? He’s putting it to use to help people—namely Black people (finding missing Black girls, and tackling the criminal (in)justice system which is disproportionately cruel to Black people). Olivia Pope has accomplished great things in deceptive and untruthful ways because, ultimately, she doesn’t know where she’s going in life, because she doesn’t know who she is yet. In my preamble to S7, I remarked that the poster of Olivia Pope on a bench, overlooking Washington, DC gave me the impression of Olivia searching for her proper place as a Black woman in the nation. Olivia has sided with the Republic, again and again, to her own detriment and disengagement precisely because she does not know who she is, and is probably afraid to uncover. She is lost and can’t admit it. And in the gap of a loss not dissimilar to Eric Killmonger’s, an overzealous dedication to an abusive nation becomes a stand in for what is actually missing: a grounded sense of self. The identity, which Olivia’s father, Rowan, has emphasized, has failed her. Killmonger, too, was failed by fathers—both N’Jobu and T’Chaka. Olivia will not understand her place in the nation until she reconciles with the black feminine presence (preferably her own mother, Maya), perhaps starting in the upcoming HTGAWM crossover wherein she will interact with three generations of Black women: Analise Keating, AK’s mother, and Michaela. In both Black Panther and Scandal, the absence of the black maternal figure is strategic narration.

Disappointing Fathers & Absent Mothers

Another theme that looms large in both Black Panther and Scandal is the failure of fathers and the absence of mothers. These related issues produce lost children whose disengagement masks a profound search for true connection. My dear friend and scholar, Schuyler Esprit (@thatmaroongirl ) introduced me to Pauline Hopkins’ work in 2013, noting her influence in Shonda Rhymes’ style of drama. In Jill Bergman’s treatment on the trope of the motherless African American child in the novels of Pauline Hopkins (1859-1930), she notes that motherlessness is a motif that runs through all of Hopkin’s novels. Bergman (2012) asserts that the motherless trope resonates for African Americans dealing with the profound loss of having been abducted from a motherland, and the ensuing familial fragmentation that occurs as a result of slavery. For African Americans, post-Reconstruction, this results in alienation from a country in which they reside, but are not loved. Furthermore, it produces a profound longing for the missing maternal figure, which can manifest as a desire to connect with a literal lost parent or heritage (of the motherland).

Both Olivia and Eric Killmonger are left motherless, as children, and in the care of their fathers. We do not know the circumstance under which leaves Killmonger motherless. Olivia, however, is lied to by her father, at the age of 12 that her mother is dead, when in fact she is taken prisoner by her father as punishment for betrayal (308). Olivia is soon sent off to an expensive European boarding school and never lives with her father again (301, 306). This is effectively a double abandonment. Eric Killmonger, too, is abandoned by his father (N’Jobu) through his murder at the hands his brother, King T’Chaka. The reason for N’Jobu and Maya’s death/”death” are ostensibly the same: protecting a nation by punishing the individual betraying it. In the case of both children, their own family members are to blame for their abandonment. Neither family provides any true consolation for the loss these children experience.

The Scars of Disengagement

The childhood abandonment increases the sense of alienation for both Killmonger and Olivia well-into adulthood, where it has metastasized. Born N’Jadaku, he becomes Eric Killmonger, and wears the evidence of his scarred childhood on his literal body. The scars are supposed to resemble tribal markings, but they are effectively empty in Killmonger’s case, as each represents the death of someone at his hands. All of it done to reach Wakanda to exact revenge for his father’s death. In Olivia’s case, as is for many women, the scars of her childhood pain are all internal. On the outside she radiates ‘bad bitch’, but that flawlessness has always been a deflection. The disengagement comes off as aloof coolness, but that too is armor. It keeps people from getting too close.

But T’Challa does eventually get close enough to see Killmonger. Having defeated Killmonger for the soul of Wakanda and path to freedom for the rest of the diaspora (the battle takes place in a futuristic, underground railway!), T’Challa sees the extent to which Killmonger is damaged by what his father, King T’Chaka did. T’Challa tries to save Killmonger, but he baselessly assumes that this help comes in the form of bondage, and instead chooses death, citing his kidnapped ancestors who jumped overboard instead of facing a lifetime of bondage. I wondered if he chose to stick with the dependable pain that he knew, rather than being made vulnerable, which accepting help requires.

Death is a way out of bondage—a fate seen as worse than death. This theme has popped up on Scandal repeatedly since Olivia was kidnapped in the 4th season. At that time, one of her captors told her “There are many things far worse than death” (410). The time in bondage, however brief, has returned an Olivia who has become increasingly alienated from the people and relationships around her. Each ensuing season has seen this compounded. She, like Killmonger, mistook help as a form of bondage (509), choosing instead to hold on to the familiarity of her fears through the death of a relationship. Both these characters see vulnerability as a kind of bondage.

Black Feminism as a Check on Toxic Masculinity:

One of my favourite things about Black Panther is the balance of the masculine and feminine. Perhaps because of the absence of colonialism, and the European Enlightenment ideas upon which it operated, Wakanda is not a society dominated by patriarchy. There is a king, but T’Challa’s visit to the spirit world to reunite with T’Chaka revealed there were female Black Panthers, too. There’s also Okoye, the General of the Dora Milaje—the best warriors in the land. And there are female members of the king’s counsel, including the Queen mother, Ramonda. Female leaders of tribes. The best engineer in the land is a 16 year old princess, Shuri. And the person who shows the king the future of Wakandan leadership is Nakia. Every single one of these women is different, and what’s more none of them believe in a self-reliance that alienates love or other relationships. Community and country are important to them, but so are individuals. Black women play pivotal roles as fully formed humans who lead. It’s a film white feminists should study.

I bring up the role of Wakandan women not just because they are sovereign beings and equal citizens, but because there is a clear point being made in the film with regard to how T’Challa and Killmonger treat these women. The contrast in treatment aligns seamlessly with each man’s political philosophy on the liberation of Black people. Earlier I wrote about the strategic absence of Black femininity in both Olivia and Killmonger’s life. T’Challa, by contrast, is surrounded by women (his mother, sister, Okoye, Nakia, etc). He loves, respects and values their counsel, especially as he is finding his footing as a new king in the wake of his father’s death. Meanwhile, Killmonger, who doesn’t grow up with that influence, is seen with a girlfriend, whom he soon kills when she stands in the way of his mission. Having arrived in Wakanda, he disrespects, chokes, or kills Wakandan women. Killmonger may have had a point, but his overall philosophy of liberation was fucked up. Killmonger’s was a toxic masculinity that ultimately consumed him and obviously harmed those around him.

“Masculinity without the combination of the feminine is weak. It is all bravado. It is not true power. It is anger without control. That’s the message [of Black Panther] to me”–@rodimusprime, TBGWT

Toxic masculinity has all but consumed and ruined the life of Olivia Pope, too. Olivia has been questing to find out what true power is, and along with the way she has increasingly adopted the primary model of power in her life: that of her father, Rowan. His is a toxic masculinity that reads power in terms of domination and violence, particularly toward black women. Black women whose names end the letter ‘a’ have had their lives ruined by Rowan. He separated is wife Maya from Olivia for over twenty years. Before Maya, we learn he had a paleontologist girlfriend who he seemed to love. Her name was Sandra. She ended up dead, shot in the head by Rowan. And now Olivia has adopted so many of her father’s traits, including a disregard for things deemed ‘weak’ or ‘feminine’, except the cut of her clothing. She threatens people’s children to get what she wants. She kills lovers to teach a lesson and maintain her power. She lies to the people who, somehow, still love and care for her, to prove she can outsmart anyone. The adage ‘hurt people hurt people’ is completely true in this portrait of generational abuse in the Pope family. And the absence of the Black mother (as well as any black female friends) is a key to understanding how the toxicity of this type of masculinity, which masquerades as Black power, is ultimately weak and unsustainable. It is disengaged and alienated. It has no friends or intimate relationships, even of the non-romantic kind. It is lonely and fragile.

What will save Olivia from becoming Killmonger (because Rowan is already Killmonger and can’t be saved. I feel this in my bones.), is a change in her understanding of her own power. She will have to draw on a feminine source for that. The relationship with Fitzgerald is a source of feminine power, as Fitz himself represents masculinity that embraces the feminine . That is the balance that attracts Olivia to him, but that relationship will not succeed until Olivia sees possibility and power in the black feminine presence—in someone who mirrors that for her so that she can see it in herself. The Olivia we have at present is someone stomping around with a lot of hurt and insecurity inside. She has not truly embraced her inner ‘bad bitch’ because that comes with understanding vulnerability as a necessary part of life and love.

The Master’s Tools

“For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.”—Audre Lorde (1979)

Olivia is not Killmonger, but I see some of the same pain inside them, and the same misguided ideas about power, which are aligned with the masculine. Killmonger’s plan to fight oppression by arming Black people around the world was untenable and dripping in the same violent domination colonizers use to put people in bondage. But, you know, it sounded cool. I guess. When was the violence supposed to end? When the oppressors were overthrown, then what? Killmonger is an extreme example of Black patriarchy-masquerading-as-black-radicalism. And it’s why it cannot lead us into the future.

The true radical, to me, in Black Panther was Nakia. She is the one who thought that Wakanda could show the rest of the world what it meant to provide aide. After all, Wakanda was not a nation which had made itself rich off the backs of oppressing people and stealing the resources of their countries, only to turn around to offer pitiable aide and blame them for their own poverty. So, for Wakanda to help Black people around the world, from a position of love for those people would be radical indeed. In a white supremacist world, loving black people is a radical concept.

Vulnerability as True Power: The Importance of the Heart & Governing

Speaking of loving black people as a radical act, I want to conclude by talking about the heart shaped herb and its relationship to strength and power. When T’Challa undergoes the ritual to become king, the other tribes are entitled to challenge him. He has to prove he is worthy of the crown, through their agreement. T’Challa is stripped of his Black Panther power before he fights for the crown. This means he has to make himself vulnerable as a man (not a super hero) to prove his worthiness as leader. This is a contrast to how Killmonger conceives of leadership and power. Later this idea reinforced when the heart-shaped herb restores T’Challa’s panther powers. When he enters the spirit plane to consult his dead father, T’Challa asks T’Chaka if he will make a good king. T’Chaka tells him that he will be challenged because “you are a good man, with a good heart. And it’s hard for a good man to be king”. It was then that I understood why the flower, which provides strength, is shaped like a heart. The combination of the delicacy of the flower and the heart shape, both associated with the feminine, are conveyed as sources of strength and power. It reminded me of another character who’s a good man with a good heart:

“Weakness is our strength. It’s what makes us human. It’s where our compassion lies.”—Fitzgerald Grant (211)

The ‘bit of sweetness’ Maya saw in her daughter, Olivia, is something the daughter sought to eradicate, thinking doing so would make it easier to rule her “empire”. But to eliminate vulnerability makes one a tyrant. It makes one less of a human. Wakandans understood that. At one point Okoye tells Killmonger that his heart is full of hate, and so he cannot be an effective leader. A good leader needs heart because they must understand the struggles of the people they are leading. I think Olivia is, underneath it all, a good woman with a good heart. Someone emotionally browbeaten by fear, trauma and years of emotional abuse that have led her to cope through addiction. Unlike Killmonger, I don’t think she’s given up on life or love. She just has to work at embracing vulnerability and her full potential as a black woman. It’s the key to seeing new possibilities in life, as the Wakandans did.

What themes did you guys see?

#Black Panther #black panther review #scandal #i can make anything be about scandal #olivia pope #icmabas

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