#daveed diggs is his face claim by the way

[carewyncromwell]

“Everybody's been there, everybody's been stared down By the enemy, Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing -- Bow down to the mighty... But don't run...stop holding your tongue! Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live; Maybe one of these days you can let the light in... Show me how big your brave is! Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out! Honestly...I wanna see you be brave With what you want to say and let the words fall out Honestly...I wanna see you be brave!”

~“Brave,” by Sara Bareilles

x~x~x~x

For my next installment in my Valentine’s Day series where I focus on each of my MC’s with someone that they care about, I’m going to do something different again for my MC Anastasia “Ana” Read and focus on her relationship with her beloved stepfather, Bradley Pinkstone!

After Ana’s mother Bonnie divorced her father John Read, Bonnie -- being the sort of person who’s unable to be on her own -- dated several other men in rapid succession. Unfortunately none of those men were much in the mood to “share” their new girlfriend with her daughter from a previous marriage. Not only was Ana a constant reminder of Bonnie’s relationship with “the ex,” but she also was a socially awkward, chubby little girl who would cause weird “accidents” whenever her mother’s boyfriends were over. Ana would claim she never meant to do anything wrong (and honestly, how could she have done those things anyway, one might think -- no one can make a glass shatter from the other side of the room), but she nonetheless took the blame onto her shoulders and, in response to those boyfriends’ active dislike for or avoidance of her, soon learned to hide away in her room whenever they came over. After all, none of them came to see her, and none of them wanted to -- so it was probably best that she just stay out of the way. And she thought things would be the exact same way when her mother met and fell in love with Bradley Pinkstone.

Ana had heard plenty about her mother’s new fiance before meeting him, but it was only after she received her Hogwarts letter that Bonnie -- looking oddly nervous -- told her that Bradley would be coming over to have dinner with them. Ana dreaded the prospect: she just knew something was going to go wrong. All of the weird things that had happened to her mother’s old boyfriends had to have been her fault, after all -- what if she messed everything up for her mum again, just like she always did? And sure enough, not long after the bright-eyed, curly-haired man in the obnoxious yellow-diamond-patterned pants named Bradley Pinkstone had entered their flat and walked over to Ana as if to offer her a handshake, part of the floor disappeared out from under him, making him trip right into a side table and send several knick-knacks crashing to the floor. Distraught and ashamed, Ana bolted out of the room and up the stairs, even as Bonnie tried to call her back. Ana slammed the door of her room, locking it behind her, and then huddled up in a miserable ball on her bed, dead-set on never coming out again.

You can imagine Ana’s surprise, therefore, when her bedroom door swung open, unlocked, to reveal Bradley Pinkstone standing there, a small smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted gently.

Ana flinched, but didn’t answer. What could she even say? Should she apologize? How could she, without explaining that what had happened was her fault? Witches and wizards weren’t supposed to talk about their magic, right?

Noting the girl’s nerves, Bradley entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him, and slowly migrated over toward her bed in the same manner one might approach a scared animal.

“That...wasn’t my smoothest introduction, was it?” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve fallen flat on my face plenty of times figuratively, but never literally.”

Ana hugged her knees close to her chest. She hated him standing over her -- it made her feel even smaller and more pathetic than she already did.

Bradley tilted his head to the side and considered Ana for a moment, his expression becoming more serious.

“...I know it wasn’t your fault, Anastasia.”

Ana looked up at him, startled.

“Those sorts of things happen, when you’re feeling an intense emotion,” said Bradley sympathetically, “and what you did was easily undone. The floor’s been put right, everything on the side table’s fixed...even my pride will recover eventually.”

He gave a bright white grin.

Ana stared at him, very confused, as she absently let go of her knees. The way he was talking was so matter-of-fact, so nonplussed. It was...well, bizarre.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes twinkling.

“Would you like to know a secret?” he asked.

Ana’s throat was too tight to speak, but she gave a small nod.

Bradley reached into the back pocket of his yellow-diamond-patterned pants and slid out a long stick made of ebony wood with an intricately carved, gold-encrusted hilt for her to see.

It was a wand.

Ana’s gray eyes grew very, very wide.

“You...?”

Bradley tucked his wand back into his pocket with a white smile. “Yep -- I’m one too.”

Ana was stunned. Her mother’s fiance...was a wizard? So he...he knew everything? About the Wizarding World, about Hogwarts, about...how to do magic? ...Was that what he meant, by everything being fixed? He’d been able to undo what she did with magic?!

Her posture was still slightly guarded as Bradley lowered himself down onto the bed next to her.

“This is why your mother and I decided it was time we meet, before the school year begins,” he explained. “I hadn’t known you had magic when I met your mother...I couldn’t tell her about me being a wizard, thanks to the Statute of Secrecy, so I had to act as if I was non-magical myself. Admittedly I don’t like to use magic as much as many wizards do. There are many non-magical methods that work just as well if not better than magical ones. And there are many advancements people who don’t use magic have made that witches and wizards are still woefully ignorant of.”

He gave Ana a small wry smile.

“But...well, Bonnie would talk about you sometimes on our dates, and some of the things she said...well, it reminded me of Jasper and Preston, when they first started showing signs of magic. My sons,” he added, upon seeing Ana’s confused expression. “They’re both quite a bit older than you...but they went to Hogwarts too. Preston just graduated, actually. I’m sure Jasper and he will be really happy to tell you all about Hogwarts. And after you and Bonnie move in, I can always help you with some spells over the summer. Normally you shouldn’t do magic outside of school, of course, but the Ministry won’t punish you if you’re in a house that’s already filled with magical signatures...”

Ana could hardly believe what she was hearing. Of all the people in the world her mother could’ve decided to date, she’d somehow managed to meet a wizard? Not only that...but he actually wanted to help her with her magic?

“...Why...”

Bradley raised his eyebrows. “Hm?”

“...Why do you care?”

Bradley blinked in surprise. Ana knew her question had come out more harshly than she meant, so she tried to backpedal slightly.

“I mean...thank you -- for putting right what I did, but...I’m not your kid. You don’t even know me. I mean...”

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap.Everything she said kept coming out sounding rude, despite her best efforts.

Bradley, however, didn’t look the least bit offended or hurt. Instead his eyes looked a bit sad.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t know you. But, for what it’s worth...I think I’d like to.”

Ana looked up at Bradley, whose face had grown a bit more gentle.

“Let me tell you something, Anastasia -- I’ve lost a lot of people in my life...many people I loved dearly. I even lost my mother when I was about your age. It hasn’t been easy to bounce back from any of that...but one thing I have learned is the value of loving the people in your life, as best you can. We Pinkstones...aren’t the most popular in the Wizarding World, for our stance on magical and non-magical integration...so family is very important to us. And if your mother and I are going to be married, then you will be my family. And that means I’ll do everything I can to love and protect you -- because that’s what family should be.”

He tapped his heart with his fist lightly.

“I know I’m not your father, nor do I ever want to replace him -- but I’d love to learn more about you from you, rather than just from your mother. As nice as it is to hear about how bright and imaginative you are...I’d love to see that for myself.”

Ana stared at Bradley for a long, long moment. Her gray eyes were still guarded and faintly nervous, rather like a stray cat hesitating before letting someone pet them for the first time. Then, after a very long silence, she nodded mutely. Bradley smiled.

“To start with...what are these books here you’ve got lined up on the bottom shelf?” he asked curiously. “They’re perfectly organized by number...I assume they’re volumes of something?”

Ana nodded.

“They’re manga,” she mumbled. “Japanese comic books.”

Bradley’s eyes lit up. “Really? May I?”

Ana nodded again, and he bent down to slide one of them from the shelf and look at the cover, which depicted a blond, blue-eyed girl with a blue-skirted white jumpsuit, a red-ribbon choker, and round red barrettes in her hair buns.

“‘Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon,’“ he read off the front cover.

He glanced from Ana to the book and back and his smile grew brighter and larger still.

“...Ahh, so that’s why you’re wearing a red ribbon around your neck -- you’re dressed as this character today!”

Ana looked down at her lap, her cheeks flushing as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her blue skirt self-consciously. “Mm-hmm.”

“That’s brilliant,” said Bradley brightly. “Oh, Jasper is going to be thrilled -- he’s quite a fashion icon himself. He’s into the ‘Gothic Victorian subculture’ -- from what I understand, it’s a fashion movement that celebrates both period clothing from the late 1800′s and early 1900′s, as well as the darker Gothic aesthetic. Jasper has quite a collection of top hats and waist coats.”

Ana perked up slightly. “...So your son likes to dress up too?”

“Yes,“ said Bradley. “He comes by it honestly, really -- I don’t know if your mother told you, but my sons and I work in a theater, in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Jasper’s the most ‘stage-oriented’ out of the three of us: he works as an actor and stage-combat choreographer. Meanwhile my younger son, Preston, works in our tech department -- he’s a master of special effects. Though that’s partially because he likes to cheat and make some of the stage magic a bit more literal than it probably should be.”

Despite a mild attempt at disapproval, he was smiling mischievously. Ana felt her shoulders loosening a bit.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a stage manager,” said Bradley, “so I do a little bit of everything. Casting. Marketing. Settling disputes. Putting right what goes wrong.”

Ana shifted over slightly to better face him. “I guess with magic...doing that’s a bit easier, huh?”

“Sometimes,” said Bradley. “But magic isn’t always like how people who don’t use magic depict it, in stories. There are limits to what magic can do -- just as there are limits to what people who don’t use magic can do. Magic is just like any other talent you might have, in the end...like fencing, or mechanics...”

“Or writing?” asked Ana.

Bradley grinned. “Absolutely. It’s something you have to practice at and constantly refine, in order to be good at it...but once you have mastered it, you can be capable of amazing things. Once that happens, though, you then have a responsibility to use those talents for the benefit of others.”

Ana’s gray eyes were very bright as she nodded in agreement.

“‘You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed,’” she said softly. “‘You’re responsible for your rose.’”

Bradley quirked an eyebrow in interest. “Which book is that from?”

“The Little Prince.”

“I’ve yet to read that one. Would you recommend it?”

Ana bit her lip in amusement. “Well, it’s a children’s book...but the man who wrote it ended up writing it after escaping France, when the Nazis took over. I have a biography about him.”

She got down on her hands and knees to reach into the corner of one of her other bookcases, take a white-covered paperback off the shelf, and hand it to Bradley. He took it and turned it over to read the summary on the back.

“‘From a master biographer, the life story of the daring French aviator who became one of the twentieth century's most beloved authors,’” he read aloud.

Bradley’s grin grew a bit broader. “I must say, you have quite an extensive library. Might we exchange book recommendations, once I’ve finished with this one?”

Ana’s face at long last burst into a smile too and she nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.”

[writers-block246]

Hi!! I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could make a fluffy Daveed Diggs one shot where the reader and Daveed is dating and the whole Hamilton cast is super supportive and protective of them and maybe where she gets hurt during the show and the whole cast is worried and Daveed is takes care of her and is just really worried about her 🥺💖

Thank you so much! The support is appreciated :) Sorry it’s a little short, I used this request to try to get back into writing again. I hope you like it!

Notes: italics are thoughts and emphasis

Y/N- your name

————————————————————————

You knew you had messed up. Right before your foot hit the ground you had a dreadful feeling, and sure enough, the jump that was supposed to be graceful and perfected, ended with a sprained ankle that you hopefully concealed from the audience.

Well, at least it’s the last show of the night.

Half-limping backstage, you locked eyes with Daveed, and you could instantly see the worry shining in them. He rushed toward you, quickly cradling you in his arms.

“Oh shit, baby. Are you okay?”

You gave a pained smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. I think I might’ve sprained my ankle though.”

Lin, who was passing by on his way to the dressing rooms, abruptly spun on his heel and turned to face you. “What? You’re hurt?!,” he exclaimed. At the sound of this news, the rest of the cast began to titter, worry for your being taking over the room.

It took him less than a minute to begin fretting over you, calling for Anthony and Jasmine to help maneuver you into a side room. The couple helped you settle into a chair, while Daveed went in search of some water and Tylenol. You couldn’t help but giggle through Lin’s incessant questioning of if you were comfortable or not.

He laughed shyly. “Am I being too much?”

Jasmine and Anthony were sent into a fit of giggles. “Maybe just a little,” Anthony replied through a bright smile.

“Thanks, though, you guys. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I really don’t, you thought. They’re so caring.

“Oh, watch out, your boyfriend might get jealous,” Jasmine teased.

The man in question chose this moment to walk through the door, Tylenol and water in hand. Noticing everyone’s eyes on him, he looked at the members of the room with a questioning look.

“Did I miss something?”

The three of you burst into laughter at the confusion in his tone, though yours had a slightly painful tinge to it. Daveed picked up on the sound immediately, and remembering what he had been previously doing, quickly made his way to your side to give you the items in his hand.

“Here you go, darling. I’m sorry it took so long.”

Swallowing the pills, you gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. And it’s no big deal, I just appreciate you guys taking care of me.”

Anthony wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Aw, now you’re making me all emotional.”

You punched him playfully in the shoulder as the rest laughed.

Jasmine gave you two a fond look. “For real though, you two are so cute. You make a good couple.”

You met her eyes bashfully, thanking her quietly. Daveed took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Checking his watch, Lin said: “Well guys, we better get back out there. Y/N, take it easy, and Daveed, feel free to stay with her as long as you need.”

You smiled at Lin’s kindness, thanking him once more for his help. He headed out of the room, Anthony and Jasmine following behind him.

“And don’t be getting up to anything R-rated in there you two!” Anthony called over his shoulder.

Stifling a laugh, you pulled Daveed into a hug, burying your face into his shoulder.

His large hand made its way to the small of your back, rubbing slow circles there. Sighing, you closed your eyes and relaxed into his hold. He pulled you closer and pressed loving kisses to any skin he could reach.

Pulling back a little, he said: “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Your heart melted at the worried look in his eyes, and you nodded, pulling him back to you. “I’m fine, though I could use some more cuddles.”

“I think I can do that,” he chuckled. Stroking your hair soothingly, he buried his face in your neck, nuzzling you softly.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to begin drifting close, Daveed’s comforting smell and warmth surrounding you.

Before sleep claimed you completely though, you felt Daveed shift.

“So, just to be clear, we’re not doing anything R-rated in here?”

-Admin Cheyenne :)

[valwrite]

empty lighter; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: it’s fascinating, the things people leave behind in our lives. memories, possessions, scars, emotions. over the course of his life, daveed had collected so much from people who he’d left behind. but all he has left of her is a lighter and a broken heart.

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive content, way too many cigarettes.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 11.4k

author’s note: ah! it’s finally here! my first ever oneshot on this blog. hopefully, you guys enjoy reading it. is it the best writing in the world? no. but it doesn’t matter, i’m so proud of myself for actually getting back into writing, to the point where i was able to start and finish an 11k word fic. i’ve edited this over 10 times, so if there’s still an error in it, i’m going to cry. feedback, likes and reblogs are 100% appreciated!

December, 2015

Sweat was in the air and, with it, a scent one would hardly call enjoyable. With his behind comfortably sat in a cushioned bar stool, the man done his best to ignore the scenery of the busy club: the ever moving mass of bodies on the dance floor; the headache inducing remix of California Girls, which the evening's DJ was playing for what felt like the millionth time that night; the sight of his best friend hitting on some poor unsuspecting girl just trying to order drinks for herself and her friends. Instead, he focused on the drops of condensation and the pattern they left behind as they dripped down the side of his glass.

The speakers began to play yet another remix. Daveed rolled his eyes and welcomed another sip of his drink, this time not returning the glass to the counter top until the caramel liquor was all gone. The burning feeling was familiar and anchored him down in reality, a bitter yet accepted reminder that, once again, he found himself in the same situation he'd been in for over a year: alone, while being surrounded by sweating bodies. Sat at a bar, his friend off chasing some nameless girl and nothing but his loneliness, which only grew with each breath he drew, to keep him company.

His friend, Rafael, made eye contact with him and beckoned him over. So he stood but made no attempt to approach and discover whatever plan Rafa had in store for him. He knew the blonde haired man just a little too well at that point. He knew that the man was desperate to get his friend back to the state he'd been in four months prior, where every night was a thrill and an opportunity to get tangled up in some sheets with a pretty stranger and some pain numbing lust. In Rafa's weak defense, he had no idea what had switched in his friend to revert him back into a self pitying mess. He hadn't bore witness to the scene Daveed had stumbled upon all those months ago, a scene which sent him rapidly spiraling back to the rut he'd been stuck in the first two months after the break up.

Daveed shook his head, his wilder than usual curls bouncing from side to side as he focused on getting his mind off of the break up, off of the ring store, off of her. He couldn't afford another night of wasted tears. He headed in the opposite direction of Rafa and found himself breathing fresh air for the first time in hours as he stepped out on to the busy New York street. A car honked in the near distance and the street lights just about matched the neon lights which had lit up the club but Daveed felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Clubs had always been a part of his social and professional life yet recent events had left him feeling claustrophobic inside them. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't like that this was his social life again. Nights spent in clubs, mornings spent with uncaring strangers, afternoons spent in regret and nausea. Where had the nights of home cooked meals gone? The mornings he'd spent shielding his beloved from the harsh light of the rising sun? The afternoons where it didn't matter what wasted the time away, all that mattered was the hand clasped tightly in his and the woman it belonged to? He wanted them back.

Daveed wanted her back.

He'd been so consumed in his own thoughts that, when he finally focused in on his surroundings again, he was only a block away from his apartment and the club was long behind him. He figured he could text Rafa once he got inside, he'd understand why Daveed walked out. He probably already knew. A shy voice calling out his name caught his immediate attention and Daveed paused mid step. The voice seemed familiar, comforting, adoring. His breath caught in his throat and he swore he was dreaming. It took a moment or two for him to turn around and face his pursuer.

Disappointment burst forth inside him but he had to conceal the drop in his smile, especially when he noticed the young girl who was smiling at him with a gleam of excitement in her eyes and a familiar logo printed on her black t-shirt. He hadn't been dreaming, just delusional.

The fan was kind enough. She'd shyly asked him for a picture before gushing over how excited she'd been at one of last week's shows at the theater. Her brief mentioning of clipping. had meant more to Daveed than anything else she'd said, which he knew was a little selfish of him but he couldn't help it. Clipping., unlike the current Broadway show he was a part of, was truly something that was his to own. Sure, there were two other guys involved along with him, but the words he spat and the emotions and meanings laced within them were all Daveed's. To have it gain praise was a direct boost to his ego.

With a happier feeling installed in him, Daveed found himself unlocking the door to his apartment. He didn't bother untying his laces, his shoes simply being kicked off and left near the front door as he made his way into the familiar apartment. He ignored the state the place was in and dropped down on to the comfort of the leathered loveseat, finding some form of tranquility in the disorganization of his own belongings. It somehow made the place feel closer to home. Despite the fact he'd been staying there since pre-production of Hamilton, Daveed still felt disconnected. Not just to the apartment but the whole city. Perhaps, he felt too loyal to the Bay area to allow himself to get too comfortable with living on the east coast. More likely, it had to do with the fact she wasn't there with him, like she was supposed to be, like they'd both agreed.

Engraved in his mind was the memory of Y/N 's face, lit up with glee as she strolled in and out of the different rooms of the place, her voice rising in volume as she ranted and raved about all the ways they could set up the apartment- their apartment, a first of many homes together; god, just thinking of it brought a smile to his face and a dizzy feeling to his head-, and her list of all the ways they could spend any free time they could get: the little cafes they could visit, the monuments they could see, the streets they could walk. He could so vividly remember pulling her into his arms, his lips confidently claiming her own against them. He held her there for their own little infinity, one hand fisted in her hair, the other splayed out against her lower back as her own softly grabbed at his jumper and held him down to her, as if he'd ever dream of leaving her. Her soft laughter had echoed off the walls as she pulled away. He couldn't stand having his mouth off of her and settled with peppering kisses down her exposed neck whilst she jokingly accused him of just wanting her to shut up. He didn't even know how to begin to explain how far from the truth that was. That, in reality, he'd just felt such a desperate need to have her against him because he wasn't entirely sure if she was real or if the life and relationship they'd built together had been nothing but a cruel dream of his. She was too good, her love was too good and he, a man who's career was built off of his eloquence and mastering of word play, was at a complete loss for words when it came to loving her. Heavy breathing and discarded clothing was the way he'd chosen to express his love that evening, breaking in their new apartment. The very same apartment where their relationship would come to an abrupt end no more than two weeks later.

There was a pain growing in Daveed's chest, which he could only imagine was a side effect of his shattered heart attempting to continue beating. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He already knew it was Rafa before he even looked at the screen and answered the call.

“Hey man!” Rafa's cheery voice burst through the speaker and Daveed pulled the phone back from his ear, not having expected the volume of his friend’s voice or the questionable Cotton Eyed Joe remix in the background. “Where'd you go? I got a couple girls here that were looking forward to meeting you!”

“Yeah, I... I'm meeting Oak early tomorrow, got some magazine the cast is doing a shoot for.” In his own defense, Daveed wasn't lying. There was a photo shoot and he was meeting Oak in the morning but that wasn't the reason he'd left.

If Rafa knew his friend was evading the truth, he thankfully kept it to himself. “Ah, so the princess needs her beauty sleep? Your loss, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop wasting your time on me and go enjoy yourself.”

“Have fun with your face masks and beauty creams! Oh, and Daveed?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't try shaving yourself tomorrow, leave it to the professionals. Don't want any nasty cuts on that precious face.”

Having hung up, Daveed carelessly flung his phone down on to the couch and watched it bounce once before laying flat on it's screen. The walls of the apartment were beginning to suffocate him, so much unfilled and unused space now suddenly feeling like it was caging him in, mocking him, taunting him with every echo of his own breathing that bounced off the walls. There was an itching in his lungs and his fingers had began to fiddle with themselves.

Daveed wasn't a particularly anxious person. Yet, anxiety was swelling in his throat and he ashamedly knew why. With his head hung low, Daveed blindly reached for the square packet and the cylinder lighter and headed straight for the balcony door. Opening it, he allowed the outside world to infiltrate his senses once more and it stole away some of his loneliness. The noise and lights and traffic were all a sign of life beyond his own, evidence that he wasn't truly alone in the world. Any loneliness he faced was product of his own creation, an isolation he'd comfortably settled with.

He hadn't put his whole life on pause. No, Daveed wasn't that careless. He woke up every morning and walked out the front door, prepared to face the day with as earnest of a smile as possible. He'd laugh with friends, speak with fans, give his all in his performances. But the feeling of longing would never truly leave him. Rafa could see it, most of the Hamilton cast too. They all knew there was an unspoken part of Daveed that was in denial of her absence. They could see it in the way his eyes never lingered much on beautiful women; in the way he kept her picture in his dressing room; in the way he still carried his part of their matching keyrings. But, what else could they do other than be there for him? She'd walked out with his lifeline and had left nothing but a Daveed shaped shell, hollow and devoid of life, just waiting for the day she walked back into his arms. He was pathetic. Foolish. Selfdestructive.

And so painfully in love with Y/N, even though it no longer seemed fair to feel that way.

The metal handrail was cold to the touch as he let his hands run over it, his eyes gazing down at the active nightlife below. His hands robotically opened the packet and out of it he pulled a cigarette. The nicotine stick found itself resting between his plush lips. The lighter was sparked up, the cigarette set a light and an inhalation of sweet smoke was taken. He'd always felt smoking alone was one of the most solemn of experiences. A couple more drags were taken before he became fixated with the lighter in his hand. He lit it up just to watch the flame dance, not a care in the world for the wasted lighter fluid. It didn't take much longer for his treacherous mind to drift towards the empty lighter inside his sock drawer and, most importantly, the memories attached to it.

A younger Daveed, freshly off stage and with sweat drying into his skin, had pushed past the drunken messes and the grinding pairs to escape for a breath of fresh air and a cigarette. Standing up in front of a crowd was a thrill, truly, but Daveed was still shy at his core and the hyperawareness of his own performance brought on a stress only nicotine could soothe.

The exit had taken him out into a back alley. The bass of whatever song was playing indoors could still be felt but the street was thankfully pretty calm, no one else there but another smoker and a couple making out further down from the door. A few steps out into the alley and he stopped, bending his right leg at the knee to perch his foot back against the brick wall as his hands occupied themselves fishing out a cigarette.

“Shit.” A curse escaped him as the realization hit that he'd forgotten to bring a lighter with him. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and huffed, a hand running through his curls. Maybe he wouldn't be getting that stress reliever that evening after all.

“Need a light?” Daveed nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, his foot slipping off of the wall and his back straightening. When his eyes landed on a girl, who was wrapped up in an oversized jacket and had her arm outstretched with a blue lighter dangling between her fingers, he was certain she hadn't been there when he'd stepped outside. Egotistically, he wondered if she'd perhaps followed him. Stupidly, he wished she had.

Daveed caught himself before he could stare at her for too long, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her face down to the lighter she was still offering. With gratitude, he took it from her grasp and put it to good use. Seconds later, his lungs were filling with poison and his face with relief. Turning his attention back to her, he found the girl already staring at him. Unlike most, she didn't avert her gaze in shame of being caught. She only focused more intently on him, a ghost of a smile presenting itself on her features. “Thanks, uh, pretty lucky you came out here.”

“If you want to label me following you as luck, then sure.” The calmness of her voice, the way she shrugged so nonchalantly, the way her side was resting up against the wall and her eyes were shamelessly trailing over him were a hypnotic mixture strong enough for Daveed to nearly miss the words she'd spoke. Had he missheard or had she actually followed him? Freaked out would be the normal response. Flattery is what took it's place in Daveed, though. “That was quite a performance, very... lively.”

“Yeah,” A chuckle escaped him and his free hand shot up to rub the back of his neck. “that was one of our tamer crowds, believe it or not. Glad you enjoyed it.”

“I never said I enjoyed it.” The smile had slipped from her face, visually punctuating her words. Then, much to Daveed's relief, she broke out in a fit of giggles and the friendliness in her voice had returned. “I'm only messing! You were amazing but, honestly, the other two of your group are the unsung heroes. They really held it down.”

Daveed wasn't about to deny her statement, knowing fine well just how vital the two men were to him. If he were the ink, they were the paper he wrote on and the pen that encapsulated him. Her praise for them only made Daveed enjoy her company more.

From there, the two continued to partake in casual conversation: her asking about how long clipping. had been a thing, him asking her about her studies and the cold air of the night slowly urging the two to stand closer and closer and closer. There was laughter in the air and comfort in their bones, almost as if the two had been lifelong friends catching up and not two strangers meeting in a back alley. Daveed had long finished his cigarette and he knew his friends would be wondering where he'd disappeared to but he wasn't ready to walk away from the conversation, from her, and so out he pulled another, perching it between his lips. He hadn't had the chance to ask for her lighter, she'd beat him to it and sparked it up. He bent at the knee a little as he leaned down, both of them sharing eye contact whilst she held the flame to it. This time around, Daveed offered the cigarette packet out to her, hoping to repay her in some way.

“I don't smoke, but thanks.”

“You don't smoke, but you carry around a lighter?” His head tilted off to the side and a cheeky grin overtook his face. “You're kinda weird.”

“And you're a charmer, aren't you?” She rebutted, though no offence was really taken. “You're not the only smoker who forgets to bring a lighter. My boyfriend has a habit of doing it, so I carry one around for him.”

The window of hope inside of his mind was shattered by one simple word. Boyfriend. Of course she was taken. She was the kind of girl who you met in the morning and were in love with come the evening.

“Anyways,” Her voice interrupted his disappointment. “you distracted me from the reason I followed you out here!”

“Yeah? And what reason was that?”

“My friend thinks you're hot. Well, no, actually, I believe the exact words she used were "If he can rap that fast, I wonder what else he can do with his tongue. I don't usually climb trees but I could make an exception if the tree looks like him."” She'd used air quotes to signal just what her friend had said and, for the first time since the two had met, Daveed felt bashful. He hadn't expected her to say such a thing, even if it was just mimicking her friend.

“And you wouldn't happen to be this friend?” Daveed teased.

“I prefer my men on the shorter side, thank you very much." Her tongue darted out at him and he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone stick their tongue out as an insult. Maybe in third grade? "My friend wants your number, though. And also wanted me to subtly convince you to invite us to come sit at your table but I'm really too tired to be subtle so, please just invite us.”

They'd returned inside not too long after, together, and off she'd gone to grab her friend to drag her over to Daveed's table. And while her friend was beautiful and flirting with Daveed the whole night, he found himself staring over at the girl from the alley every chance he got. He'd watched her do shots with Jonathan, watched as she and Rafa competed in a thumb war, watched as she'd knocked back a shot as her forfeit for losing. At some point in the night, Daveed had asked for her name and, at another point, she'd told him it was Y/N. And when he finally stumbled back into his own bed that night, his eyes staring up at his ceiling as he flipped the blue lighter in his hand, he thought of her.

Wetness dropped onto his hand and tore Daveed away from the memory playing on repeat in his mind. A single tear sat atop his hand and, in the other, a finished cigarette. Stubbing it out, he dropped the bud into a nearby ashtray and centered himself. Tears stung at his eyes and his breath was shaky but he was determined to push through and talk himself out of a full on breakdown.

Hours later, when sleep was finally coming for him and the warmth of his duvets embraced him instead of her arms, his wandering hands reached deep inside his drawer and pulled out the blue lighter as his eyes slipped shut and his mind drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

A blaring song and a loud buzzing noise woke Daveed up in a startle. He sat up, eyes still half shut and the duvet slipping down his naked chest. The noise persisted and he realized it was his own ringtone, playing from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He cursed under his breath when he stepped out of the bed, his foot landing on something uncomfortable before eventually meeting the soft carpet and giving him the leverage to reach the bottom of his trousers, dragging them over to find his phone screen lit up with Oak's name painted across the screen.

“What do you want?” Daveed was never a morning person and had no shame in this, especially when his sleep was interrupted.

“Good morning Oak! How are you? Oh I'm fine Daveed, how are you?” The overly chipper voice of Okieriete birthed a groan out of Daveed as he dropped back onto the bed behind him.

“It's too early for this, dude.”

“It's ten minutes away from being noon!”

“I rest my case.”

“C'mon man, we were supposed to be catching a ride together to head to the shoot. Now our car is ten minutes away and I arrive at your doorstep to find you're not even awake, never mind ready.” Oak's words were followed by a series of knocks, which Daveed could hear through the phone but also coming faintly from outside his bedroom.

“Shit.” Realizing that, amidst the flurry of pity and nicotine, he'd forgotten to set his alarm, Daveed begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, tired legs with muscles stiff from sleep carrying him all the way over to the front door of his apartment, all the while Oak berated him over the phone and knocked away at the wood. Twisting the keys, Daveed pulled the door open at last and found Oak stood there, fist raised in mid knock.

“You look like shit.” Oak proceeded to brush past him and, after closing his front door again, Daveed followed the man to find him with his hand knuckle deep in a tub of peanut butter.

“Please, make yourself at home.” It was no more than a mutter under his breath but Oak had heard it and responded with a peanut butter coated middle finger.

The crappy coffee maker was switched on and Daveed went back into the messy bedroom. He'd just pulled some sweatpants over his legs when he heard Oak calling out to him from the kitchen. Slipping one of his t-shirts on, from his ever growing collection of Oakland attire, he made his way back over to the man and the freshly brewed coffee- which, without a doubt, was not going to be warm enough nor sweet enough- only to find his friend had abandoned the jar of peanut spread and instead was flicking through his mail. Despite this, a sip of underwhelming caffeine was more of a priority than questioning Oak.

“Who's Raquel and why is she inviting you to her wedding?” Now that, that was certainly more important than coffee.

Dropping his mug back onto the counter with almost enough force to shatter it, Daveed dove forward and ripped the envelope out of Oak's hands. Just like he'd said, inside of it was a wedding invitation from one Raquel Castro. The very same girl who'd once sent her friend to ask for his number. The very same girl who'd helped him plan out his first date with her best friend. The very same girl who'd been sneakily finding out what Y/N's ring size was only two months before his world came crashing down.

Given the memories he'd recalled the night before, part of Daveed couldn't help but think this invitation was more than a simple coincidence. A week after the break up, Raquel had called him. She'd been angry and accusatory with her words but it stemmed from her own confusion and inability to comprehend why things had ended so hastily between him and Y/N. Daveed couldn't understand it himself either. The call had ended up being the first thing to make him smile in his new found singleness. The two had maintained frequent contact from there on out, casual texts sent between them both just around once every month, Raquel had even taken a trip into New York with her fiancé and stopped by one of the Hamilton performances. But this invite, it had to be some sort of sign from the universe, a sign involving Y/N. Unfortunately, Daveed had not a single clue how to interpret this sign.

It took him a total of nine days to RSVP for the ceremony, playing out the pros and cons of his attendance. The fact Y/N would likely be there was the only pro that was also a con, and vice versa. Maybe he'd find some closure or, at the very least, answers to the questions he'd had on his mind since the day she'd slammed the door shut on their love. More likely, he'd spend the whole night alone at the singles table, nursing some old whiskey and watching her dance the night away in another man's arms.

January, 2016

This time, the DJ seemed to be enamored with some niche European techno music and Lin, a sweating mess on the relatively small dance floor, had become his number one fan. Next to the dancing maniac were the so called Schuyler Sisters, Jasmine and Reneé were busy taking turns dancing with the long haired man whilst Phillipa was losing herself in laughter between videoing the lot of them. Scattered along the club were the rest of the cast and crew. In fact, most of the people Daveed held closest to him were there, all banding together to celebrate something they had in common: him.

For them, it was the celebration of his 34th birthday. For him, it was a pity party for his 2nd birthday in a row without Y/N by his side.

He'd made a vow to not be bitter that night and focus on being grateful for what and who he did have in his life. Thus far, he'd done a good job. For the first night out in months, Daveed hadn't spent the night sat at the bar alone. He'd danced with friends and done shots with strangers and flirted with beautiful women. But it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. All of his friends were there with their significant others whilst he was there with his bottle of champagne.

Tilting the bottle back, Daveed welcomed the bubbled drink in and gulped several times before dropping it back onto one of the many tables they'd all occupied. Just as he made the decision to stop thinking about her, destiny or the universe or whatever higher being was out there decided it was time for his birthday present.

He could hear the group of girls long before he could see them. A ruckus of screeching and slurred words was approaching and, from the neon bracelets and the sashes draped across scantily clad chests, it was clear as day to him that a bridal party had just entered the building, and they were far from subtle.

His curious eyes found themselves scanning over each girl of the bridal party as they filtered their way over to the other side of the VIP lounge. They were a sea of nameless faces, hooting and cheering like a bunch of frat guys on a night out and, as easy as it would be to find them irritating, Daveed couldn't help but chuckle and enjoy the fact that other people were having a great night. Until his eyes drifted to the back of the group.

At first, it just felt like a coincidence. A dress, laced with familiarity and the color red, which he was sure he'd seen before. But, then again, there were tons of red dresses in the world. Then, the girl looked up from her phone and Daveed felt the wind get knocked out from beneath his feet. Clinging to the table in front of him for support, he watched her smile at her friend.

It was the kind of smile he used to pull from her, whilst they were both spread out on each end of the sofa and a terribly romantic movie playing in the background of their happiness. He'd cheesily recite lines from the movie to her and revel in the way he could still make her blush, even if she hid it with a cringe. And when he'd agree to stop, he'd always tell her he loved her. No cheesy lines, no big words or unrealistic speeches that took place in airports. Just a flat out, honest, sincere “I love you”. Y/N would just smile and he'd already know she loved him back, no words needed.

“Wow buddy, you alright there?” The distinguishable voice of Anthony Ramos cut through Daveed's reminiscing yet his eyes never left her. He was frozen in time, hyper focused on each gesture she made. Most of all, he was desperately trying to spot the ring on her finger. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Daveed bit back a comment about the ghost being from his past, of a life he could have had. Grabbing a half filled shot glass, he threw it’s contents down his throat, not even grimacing as the liquor stung his nerves. “I'm great. Just tired. S'been a long day, y'know?” His words were a little more unsteady and slurred than he would have preferred but Daveed was sure he'd sounded convincing enough.

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Anthony chanted enthusiastically over the music, gaining a few glares and side-eye glances from surrounding tables. He truly was the human equivalent of a beagle: energetic, kinda short, great with kids. “Let's go do some! Shots always work great if you're feeling tired.”

“How 'bout you go order us some then, Ant?” Daveed said, at last tearing his eyes away from Y/N and her red dress. “I'm just... Gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Daveed would have felt bad for lying to Anthony, he really would have, but he just needed a breath of fresh air. And maybe a dose of poison in his lungs. Out of everyday in which he could have ended up in the same city, in the same club, in the same section as Y/N, of course it had to be the night he'd sworn off thinking about her. How cruel fate seemed to him, not allowing him a break from sorrow.

The January air had a chill to it when it embraced Daveed as he stepped out on to the small balcony, which was really just a metal enclosure that looked as if it was violating some kind of health and safety code. The club music was still audible but it was playing in sync with noise of the city. A siren was ringing in some distance. He placed his vice between his lips, ready to light it up when-

“What's the birthday boy doing out here all alone? Not throwing a pity party, I hope.”

Daveed jolted and watched as the cigarette, now having slipped out of his mouth, fell to the balcony floor and dropped through the metal caging. Biting back a curse, he finally noticed the black satin and a familiar head of blonde hair. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Yet again, it hadn't been long since she'd come to see Hamilton. “Raquel!” His enthusiasm was honest, as was the care he put into the hug he pulled her into.

“If only everyone was this excited to see me, the world would be a better place.” Raquel exclaimed, drawing back from his embrace and cautiously leaning against the handrail, tilting her head down as she looked over the edge. “Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.” A sheepish smile appeared. “But, hey, at least Y/N can no longer claim that I enable your smoking!”

Daveed realized then and there that it was no coincidence that Raquel had come up to him. Sure, it was his birthday, and sure, they were friends. But Daveed had been blatantly staring at his ex, her best friend, and clearly he'd been caught. If if weren't for the calming nature of her voice or the way she looked at him with equal amounts of kindness and pity, Daveed would have walked away from the conversation before it could even begin. But, it was too late now.

“Remember that trip we all took to Cancún? Where she threw the cigarettes you bought me in the bin?” For the first time, Daveed was sharing memories of her with someone else. For months, his reminiscing had been silent, not unnoticed but not shared either. It was almost like he'd been in mourning for so long and, now, he was finally ready to start celebrating the life he'd lost.

“How could I forget? She still owes me ten dollars.” Raquel laughed and he followed, even if he didn't find any humor in their conversation. His was an empty laugh. “Oh! Right! I actually needed to talk to you about something!”

“I'm all ears.”

“It's about the catering at the wedding. I know you're Jewish but I can't remember if you're kosher. Just in case you want us to mark anything non-kosher at the reception.”

“Ah,” Daveed nodded, silently appreciating that she'd even taking the time to ask him. “Don't worry, I'm not that strict about it. Honestly. Thanks for asking though.” By then he'd drawn and lit a cigarette, this time managing to not drop it. He let his eyes scan over her and he found himself unable to stop the small smile which took over his face at the sight of her bridal party wear. “The wedding isn't until August, isn't it a bit early to start up the bachelorette party?”

“This isn't my party, Diggs.” She rebutted, bumping his shoulder with her own as she stole a sip from her champagne flute. “It's a friend of mine's. That's actually why we're in New York.”

They didn't need to define who we was referring to, Daveed knew it was Y/N. If it were even possible, his heart stuttered over a beat. The question was at the tip of his tongue, longing for him to just get it over with. Rip the band-aid off, open up his wound and let it bleed out. Is it her wedding? Somehow, the answer seemed scarier than the question. “Seems everyone's getting married off then, huh?” Like a coward, he never asked.

“What about you, mister Broadway? Any lucky lady in your life?” Surely she knew the answer, considering he hadn't added a plus one on to his wedding reservation.

“No, uh, been too busy. Shows 'n stuff, y'know?” He said, not even convincing himself of his own excuses. And, from the pitiful look she was giving him and the hand she'd placed on his forearm, Raquel wasn't believing him either.

“Have you talked to her, at all? Since things ended between you guys...” She paused, as if searching for the right way to word things. “I just think you guys at least deserve some closure. Your relationship didn't even properly come to an end. One day, you guys were together, the next, well, you were over. Two years of building a life together can't just stop all of a sudden.” Daveed remained silent and Raquel took this as a sign to keep talking. “Sorry if you think it's not my place to say all this. I've been trying to tell her for months now to talk to you but she just won't listen. Not even when we came to your show.”

That had spiked his attention and his eyes widened. His show. The theater. Hamilton. She'd been there, somewhere in the mass of the audience. In anger, he wished he'd spotted her. In pain, he wished she'd have let him know. Now here was their friend, her friend, asking him to talk to her and get closure for them both. Even if it hurt him to think that Y/N was suffering, it hurt him more to think of them truly being over. And that's exactly what closure meant. The end of things. Daveed wasn't ready for her to become a part of his past yet. Besides, last time he'd seen her, Y/N seemed to be doing just fine, with or without closure.

Both of his hands were full from the tray of beverages in to-go cups he'd been sent to purchase for the cast, meaning Daveed had to shoulder his way out of the corner cafe, all the while cursing the fact he'd ever agreed to take part in the childish game of rock, paper, scissors. He'd drawn rock and wound up losing to the rest of the cast's papers. Laughter had echoed as he walked out the theater with a list of everyone's order.

A frustrated sigh escaped Daveed as he lowered the trays onto an outdoor table. Sitting unevenly on the pavement, the table wobbled. Those short three seconds had Daveed near crippled in panic as he watched the drinks shake, some almost toppling over completely. Luckily, they all stayed up right and he wasn't about to find himself buying a whole new order.

“C'mon, c'mon, hurry up.” He muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against the side of his legs, eyes staring down the street with a desperation to spot the familiar face of a fellow Hamilton cast member. He'd texted the group-chat just about ten minutes ago, someone should have been on their way to help him carry the order back.

The blaring of a horn had Daveed looking up from his phone screen. An elderly man was cursing out some taxi driver as he crossed the road, stick waving in the air as unfiltered words fell from his lips. Maybe, if Daveed hadn't stared at the scene before him for so long, he would have never noticed the jewelers directly across the street from him.

Maybe he would have never noticed a man and woman inside the store. Him, with his arm around her shoulder, and her, with her eyes fixated on the display of rings in front of her, and both with smiles brighter than any collapsing star. He watched, throat dry and limbs heavy, as the attendant in the store helped the woman slide on the ring. The engagement ring. She nodded, just one nod, and that's all it took for Daveed's world to implode. Of course, the couple were completely unaware of the heartbreak they were causing as they waited for the ring to be wrapped and bagged. The man had eagerly pulled out his credit card, as if he couldn't wait a second longer to purchase it, and the woman welcomed the bag into her waiting hands, like she was desperate to return the ring to it's rightful home: her left ring finger.

It was selfish, Daveed knew that, but he'd been hoping Y/N was just as torn up by their break up as he still was.

Instead, she was engaged. To another man, another future.

“There you are! God, this place was further than I expected.” Daveed turned his head to see one of the ensemble members, Ariana, approaching him. She smiled and he done his best to return the gesture. “Alright, what ones am I carrying?”

“Oh. Uh,” He blindly grabbed two of the sets of drinks, offering them to her. “these ones. I got the rest.”

“Okay! Let's go, pretty sure poor Leslie is gonna pass out from exhaustion if he doesn't get his dose of coffee soon.” Daveed hesitated following her and, instead, stared back over at the other side of the street. He found the store was now empty of customers and Y/N was no longer there. “Hello? Earth to Daveed!”

“Huh?”

“You okay there? You were just staring off into space for like, 2 minutes.”

“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed the ball of emotion pent up in his throat and walked over to her, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him to look back. It just wanted to torture him some more. “Just,” He sighed. “thought I saw someone.”

“If she doesn't want to talk, then there's no reason for me to do it. Maybe it's just better for us both if we keep to ourselves.” The reality was that Daveed didn't think he'd be able to get through talking to her even if she did want to speak about it. Not when he'd spend the whole time staring at her hands, at the rock resting on her finger, at the pledge of love and fidelity she'd given to someone else. “So, how's wedding planning been treating you? You excited to just get it over with?”

“A hundred percent!” Raquel laughed and he relaxed, thankful for the fact she'd let him change the topic of conversation. “Don't get me wrong, some of the planning has been fun. Cake tasting? I highly recommend it. And I've got her learning salsa for our first dance. But, yeah, venue planning and the cost of it all has been a bit of a bummer. I'll be glad to never have to do that again.”

“Salsa? Great choice, bring a little flavor into the whole traditional wedding dancing.”

“Yeah! Fuck swaying side to side awkwardly, I'm putting on a performance! It's been a messy journey, planning everything. Even just something as simple as seating arrangements, who the hell knew it was such a process to organize all that crap?” She threw her hands up, the remainder of her champagne sloshing inside of the glass. “But it'll be worth it when I walk down the aisle with her. We're gonna put all other brides to shame in our dresses. Shit, sorry, all I talk about recently is the wedding! You can tell me to stop if you want.”

“It's fine, no worries. You're happy, it's nice.” He felt a tug at his heartstrings all of a sudden, very aware of the fact of how much had changed since the two had first met. It really did fill him with joy to see her so happy. “You deserve it, Kelly.”

“You know I hate being called that, David.” The two old friends laughed in unison after she lightly kicked him with her heeled foot, not even hard enough to leave a scuff on his jeans. “It's crazy, you know, that just about four years ago I was trying to get in your pants. And now I'm a few months away from getting married! To the love of my life! I mean, she's honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, D, you have no idea.”

He had an idea and it was somewhere else inside the busy club, wrapped in red and the familiar scent of coconut- it had always been her favorite - but he wasn't sure he was allowed to speak about her like Raquel spoke about her fiancé. That was reserved for someone else now. He also held back on pointing out the pitiful fact that it seemed people who pursued him would wind up engaged afterwards.

At some point, they both went their separate ways, back to their respective groups. Daveed eventually threw caution to the wind, a fresh wound on his soul after having seen Y/N urging him on. Every drink he was handed ended up down his throat and, somehow, Lin managed to rope him into dancing to the shitty music with him. They all danced, cramped together in the limited space like canned tuna. When the last song was played, when the last drink had been poured, when the last cab had been hailed, a very intoxicated Daveed found himself stumbling into the apartment of a stranger wrapped in red. The fact she smelt like sweat and lavender was the only downside.

If he hadn't drank so much or gotten so reckless and careless, perhaps his phone wouldn't have been left abandoned among glitter and emptied glasses in the deserted club, it's screen lit up with two notifications:

00:49 am (+81) 03-3***-****: happy birthday, d. i'm glad to see you're having a fun night!

02:18 am (+81) 03-3***-****: you're wearing my favorite shirt of yours.

August, 2016

The sun setting over the horizon burned at Daveed's tired eyes as he stepped off the plane, thankful to be home yet dreading the next day. The whole flight over he'd practically gone through the works of all possible emotions he could feel towards his impending future. Excited, saddened, nervous, happy, frustrated, nervous again. Every possible scenario had played through his mind, ones where the two did not speak, others were they done nothing but speak and one, shamefully, where they done something but it was not speaking.

The wedding was one sleep away and he was no more prepared to be in such close proximity of Y/N than he had been the night of the club or the day on the sidewalk.

His dad had picked him up from the airport, lending him a hand with his limited luggage and pulling his cherished son into a warm hug. The whole drive back to his father's home had been filled with playing catch up, Daveed sharing stories of his cast mates and his father telling him about his new hobby of coaching a local junior basketball team. Daveed was grateful for his dad not asking about Y/N. If it had been his mother, all intentions pure and caring, she would have began to question him on the matter the second he was strapped in to his seat and unable to escape.

His parents had always liked Y/N, that was for sure. And, while it had been a blessing during their relationship to see his mother dote over her like she were her own daughter or to witness her beat his dad at guitar hero, it had become a curse when things had ended. The way things ended did not make matters any better. His own mother had given Daveed the silent treatment for a whole two days after he explained to her how things had gone down.

He fell asleep that night, his bag opened yet not unpacked, in the guest bedroom of his father's home. A belly full of pizza and beer, mind full of worry and doubt.

Hours later, after a shower, a shave and a shit ton of stressing as he pulled on his suit, Daveed found himself parked outside the venue. Finding a parking space had been stressful enough but it was nothing compared to the on-going battle between him and his crooked tie. It had only hit him that morning just how long it had been since he'd had to tie his own tie, too accustomed to his new normal of having a stylist dress him for most formal occasions. Before that, he'd had Y/N.

A few months into their relationship, when he finally felt confident enough to meet her parents, she'd went out of her way to learn exactly how to tie a tie and she'd wordlessly done it for him that evening, his hands too shaky and his nerves too on edge. From there onward, he'd purposefully mess up only to have her stand so close, where he could comfortably lay his hand to rest on her lower back as she worked away at sorting the piece of cloth around his neck.

“That's as good as it's gonna get.” The quiet of his car was filled with his disappointed voice as the less crooked tie stared back at him through the rear view mirror. Despite his words, he gave it one last tug and stepped out of the car.

He hadn't expected to be recognized by so many familiar faces. He probably should have expected some though, these were people who'd been friends to him once upon a time ago. To add tension to an already tense situation, everyone that felt the need to come up to him was dancing around the fact things had ended between him and Y/N and that was why they'd stopped talking to him.

“It's been so long since I've seen you! I've just been swamped with work, you know? And, New York! You were on Broadway. How's Broadway? Must be exciting to be on Broadway!” They'd all have the same excuses to avoid the obvious: they were Y/N's friends first and they'd be hers till the end.

Daveed wished he believed it when he told himself he didn't mind that.

The venue of the ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful and, now sat among (luckily) unfamiliar faces, Daveed took the chance to fully appreciate the scenery.

It was being held within a greenhouse, and in almost every inch of the place there was a strike of greenery. The surrounding walls were made up solely of glass windows, serving as a source of natural light. At the end of the aisle, where the exchanging of vows, crying of happy tears and giving of rings would be taking place, was a beautiful water display, with water so fresh looking it appeared drinkable. And the air? It was smothered in the scent of life: blossoming buds and flourishing flowers and ripening fruits. Splashes of red and yellow, of blue and lilac, of pink and orange effortlessly added more class and detail into the green venue.

If the venue was breathtaking, the ceremony was heartbreakingly tender.

The two teary eyed brides had walked down the aisle with the person they'd chosen to give them away and, by the time they were both facing each other at the makeshift altar, Daveed could already see a stray tear falling down Raquel's cheek. At that, he smiled. And stayed smiling throughout the whole ceremony. Until it came to Raquel's vows.  At some point in her big proclamation of love, she began speaking about how her and her bride had first met, about how she hadn't even realized she was being hit on by her and how, when she was asked for her number, Raquel thought she'd just wanted to be friends. She spoke of how two dear friends of her's told her she was being asked out on a date, not just to hang out as friends.

For the first time during the ceremony, Daveed finally looked directly at where Y/N stood in front of the other bridesmaids. He watched as a stray tear slid down her cheek, one she quickly tried to brush away, and her hands tightened around the bouquet they were wrapped around. His own eyes were welling up with tears in just a few seconds. While they weren't the only two in the room carrying tears in their eyes, they were the only two who's tears were made up of missed chances and broken promises and pure, untamed sadness. After all, they’d been there to witness the first meeting of the brides. They’d been together then and now, they were further apart than the stars above.

He'd told himself he'd just steal one last glance at her, remember her as she was next to the altar, all dressed up and looking beautiful albeit sad. His eyes lifted. And there was Y/N staring right back at him, a couple more tears already having fallen from her eyes. The eye contact never wavered between them both and, for the first time in a while, Daveed felt like he was actually being seen for who he really was. And when she smiled, he fell apart.

A tear finally escaped it's cage but Daveed made no attempt to wipe it away.

One luxurious meal later, and quite a few drinks from the open bar, Daveed sat in the very same situation he'd predicted. At the singles table- which was pretty depressing given who his company for the evening was -, with some girl he'd met about an hour ago talking his ears off about her job which he hadn't even asked about, a drink he’d been nursing for half an hour in his hand and his eyes hyper-focused on the dance floor. Taking another sip, he drowned out the stranger’s voice and watched how Y/N laughed at something her dance partner had whispered in her ear. 

This was how Daveed had chosen to enjoy the reception: playing a game of “Guess Who’s Marrying The Love Of Your Life?” with every man who so much as approached her. He was thankful her duties as maid of honor kept her so busy, she’d yet to have the chance to notice his incessant watching. 

Deciding he’d spotted the fiancé of his kryptonite- the man she’d been dancing with for just over twenty minutes, who she’d been sat next to during the meal, who seemed to make her laugh just as hard as Daveed once had - he pushed back his chair, straightened out the jacket of his suit and headed for his destination. 

Heavy footsteps, fists clenched, breathing erratic, Daveed stepped out into the fresh air and made his way over to the concrete railing of the balcony, a balcony far more sturdy and well designed than the one he’d stumbled onto back in January.

The silence and lonesomeness wrapped themselves around Daveed like the softest, warmest blanket on a winter's eve. For the first time since he'd arrived at the wedding celebrations, he'd found a window of peace for himself to take a moment and breathe. Recalling the conversation he'd shared with Rafa before he left for the airport- in which Rafa had been hyping him up and reassuring him he'd enjoy more than regret attending -, Daveed had to admit to himself that he was proud of how he'd done so far. Maybe not in the past hour of self pity with a side of substance abuse, but other than that he'd held himself together pretty well.  He'd congratulated Raquel and her official wife, even sharing a dance with both of the women; he'd rekindled friendships, once he and they managed to push past the original discomfort of not having spoken in so long; he'd met some interesting strangers with fascinating stories; he'd ate some of the most lucrative meals he'd ever tasted and bore witness to a demonstration of pure love.

He was enjoying himself.

The only thing that made the evening unpleasant was when he'd finally zeroed in on Y/N and her smile; and the way the lights were making her eyes sparkle; and the way her dress was draped over her skin effortlessly.

The alcohol was beginning to take an effect on him, his mind becoming a little resentful towards Y/N. He'd never once hated her, even if it had been she who'd called quits on them, but he couldn't help blame her now for his situation. How was it fair that she got to move on with her life while he still could barely sit in the same room as her and keep his eyes from watching her every move, her every gesture?

“Shit.” Daveed huffed out over the sound of crickets and the muffled sound of the celebratory music, just as his lighter gave up on him and decided it would not be lighting up the cigarette for him this evening.

“We need to stop meeting this way.” He hated the way the resentment left him with as little as seven words. “People are going to start calling us predictable.”

Sure enough, when Daveed spun on his heel to face the balcony doors, there she was in all her glory, arm stretched out and lighter in hand. He wondered if she carried it around for her new man. Out here, her eyes were a lot less sparkling, her dress a lot less light, her smile a lot less wide but Daveed didn't find her any less ethereal. He never did.

“Uh,” She'd cleared her throat and Daveed felt embarrassment creep in. Here she was, perfectly composed and unaffected by him, whilst he was just as nervous as the day they had their first date; the day he'd first told her he loved her; the day he asked her to move to New York. “thank you.” He plucked the lighter from her and hit the clipper.

“No problem.” She took a sip of the glass in her hand and approached him more, till they were stood in parallel, shoulders an inch away from brushing, staring off into the dark abyss of the night that lay past the grounds of the vibrant wedding. “I see you got stuck sitting next to cousin Delia. On a score of one to ten, how bad is your headache?” Why was it so easy for her to joke around with him?

“Probably a solid seven. She talks a lot but at least there's never time for awkward silence with her.” He pulled in a drag and held back a groan when not even the nicotine could untense his muscles. “The ceremony was beautiful, you must be so happy for Raquel.”

“Yeah.” She sighed dreamily, head turning back to look at the balcony door, as if she were remembering just how beautiful indoors was. “I'm so glad everything went smoothly, they were both so stressed during the planning but it turned out exactly how they wanted.”

“They're lucky to have each other.” Why couldn't he see her engagement ring? Was she hiding it from him, out of pity? Did she know he was hung up on her? Daveed had spent so many months missing her only to resent the time he was spending with her. Stood on that balcony, hardly any space between them, Y/N had never felt further away. “So, how've you been? Like, work and shit.”

“I've been... good. Yeah, good.” There was a pause and they stood in silence, her staring off into space, him staring at her face. “I took the job, in the end, so there's that. Moved to Japan, got to have some new experiences and make new friends. Tried Sashimi, realized I do not like Sashimi. Oh! I got to watch cherry blossoms bloom. Just, yeah, I've been good.” She didn't tell him what he'd wanted to hear about. “How about you?”

“I've been great. Honestly. Work has been on the up and up since the show opened on Broadway, I’ve got some acting jobs lined up. Done some photo-shoots, made more music. Every night, there was another celebrity in the crowd. I mean, the President invited us to perform in the white house. I've been great in other parts of my life too, made some incredibly interesting friends.” Is everything Daveed wishes he said.

Instead, he said this: “Awful. I've been doing shit, for a while now.”

“D.” He couldn't help but hate the fact she called him by that. “I don't think we should get into this at Raquel's weddi-”

“Then when, Y/N?” Oh, he had not meant to sound so confrontational. Unfortunately, the little voice in his head that made up his ego was enticing him to keep going. “Ten years from now? Fifty? Oh, or should we do it at your wedding? I can't put this off any longer, alright? I'm miserable and,” He tried to compose himself, eyes squeezed shut and hands shoved in pockets. “and it's your fault. So no, we're having this conversation. You don't get to just meet someone new and act like what happened between us meant nothing, whilst I'm left frozen in a time where a reality TV star isn't our President and you're mine. Ok? I need to move on but I can't if we don't get closure.”

“It's my fault? Meet someone new!?” She was using the same tone of voice she'd used that night, when the fight to end it all first broke out. “Daveed, you ended things between us, not me. Or did you forget?”

“Weird, I don't remember breaking up with a guy named Daveed and slamming the door shut on my way out.” He stepped back, dropping the wasted cigarette into an ashtray. “But I remember you doing something along those lines.”

“Well, do you remember the part where your girlfriend told you she'd just been offered her dream job and all you had to say was that you two needed to break up?”

“The job was in Tokyo!”

“Oh! So, it was okay when I made the sacrifice of moving to New York with you but you couldn't just deal with some long-distance dating?”

“What did you want me to say, Y/N?” Up until then, their voices had been rising in volume but this time Daveed was softly spoken. “I was happy for you. But I also realized how much things wouldn't work between us. Between Broadway and you being all the way in Japan and the time difference, when would there be time for us?”

“If you really want something, there's always a way.” Y/N said, resting her back against the balcony ledge. “Maybe you just didn't want us, enough.”

“You didn't have to leave though.” He followed suit, back against ledge and feet crossed. “Yeah, I messed up and said something I didn't mean out of fear of losing you, but you didn't have to take my advice and actually walk out the door.”

“How was I supposed to stay after that? It stung, D. I thought you had more faith in us. But you weren't wrong, I guess hearing you say we'd have to break up made me realize just how much the job change would really effect us both. I think we both played our part in ending things- Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” One second, Daveed had been quietly reflecting on her every word. The next, spilled champagne was seeping through his white shirt.

“It's, uh, fine. No worries. I'll just go try get this off me.”

“Let me help!”

As a man, Daveed was shocked to see just how perfectly clean and nice smelling the female restroom was. Everything seemed to sparkle in the light. He had traded leaning his back against the balcony banister for leaning it against the counter top of the sinks, his own hands wiping at his shirt with paper towels Y/N was handing him. She'd quickly and carefully dragged him into the toilets and stripped him of his suit jacket, all the while apologizing again and again for having soaked him.

Surprisingly, he didn't care.

“You can be honest with me, you know.” He glanced at her before refocusing on his shirt. They'd been talking lightly, of things that held no real value but were preferred over the discussion on the balcony. “You can tell me if you found someone new.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing, really. I just, I saw you. A few months ago. You were getting fitted for an engagement ring with some man at your side.”

“Do you mean my cousin? Who was planning a proposal for his girlfriend?” He could see the amusement on her lips as she handed him another paper towel. He felt his heart rate pick up. “My turn. Why didn't you answer my text? If you were doing so bad, wouldn't you want to talk it out as soon as possible?”

“Text? What text?”

“The one I sent you on your birthday? We were in the same club but, I don't think you saw me.”

“Oh, I saw you. I think you were all I saw that night.” He instantly regretted what he said. “I mean, I lost my phone that night. Haven't seen it since.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Silence kept them apart for the rest of the time. Eventually, Daveed decided his shirt was as dry as it was going to get. Then, he felt it. Y/N, without missing a beat, reached up and adjusted his tie. Both their breaths caught in their throats. The silence between them became tension. In a matter of seconds, everything was turned around, literally. She was hoisted up on the counter and he was stood between her spread legs, his hands on her hips and hers going back and forth between running through his hair and gripping on to his damp shirt. They were doing their best to keep quiet, swapping moaning out for heavy breathing.

Daveed was struggling to think straight, between the familiarity of her skin and the scent of coconut, it was as if they'd spent no time apart. Suddenly, anyone else he'd slept with between their break up and now hadn't really counted and this was the first time he was being touched in years.

When it was over, he was speechless and she was incapable of not speaking.

“Okay, so, um, I'll sneak out first and then you just, wait in here for five minutes. Then slip out. That way, no one has to see us both exit the bathroom together. Okay, great catching up, see you when I see you. Bye!”

By the time he came back to his senses, he was stood alone in the female bathroom, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie discarded on the floor. He shoved it into his back pocket and slipped on the jacket of his suit, not bothering to even discreetly leave the toilets. Luckily, no one noticed him.

Returning to the event hall, he instantly began his search for Y/N but he failed to spot any sign of her. Had she vanished into thin air? Had she even been there?

“If you're looking for Y/N, she just bolted out of here like the floor was on fire. Pretty sure she called a cab but you didn't hear that from me.” He turned to find Raquel staring at him, a smile on her face. “Stop wasting time on staring at me and go get her, lover boy.”

Daveed did not need to be told twice, his history with running track kicking in as he raced out of the hall. He sped down the corridor, dodging any oncoming guests before he burst out of the doors, stepping out into the fresh air. He could see her in the distance, standing with her arms around herself as she shifted from side to side.

“Y/N!” Daveed yelled out as he ran over to her. When she made no attempt to move away from him, he felt hope begin to rise in his soul. “Why'd you leave?”

“Daveed, we don't have to do this. In fact, we shouldn't do this.”

“Have coffee with me.”

“D, I don't-”

“One coffee, that's it. You can even get it in a to-go cup. Y/N, it's just coffee, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage.” He loved the way she was struggling to hold back a smile. “So, what do you say?”

August, 2020

The world from his garden felt calm, peaceful, as if everything wasn't falling to shit in the midst of all kinds of disasters.

It was the middle of the night and, no matter how hard he tried, Daveed couldn't sleep. Even after having more or less quit a few years back, he could tell there was only one thing that was going to calm his nerves. So, creeping out of bed cautiously, he'd reached into his bedside drawer and grabbed the little packet he kept hidden beneath his socks. Maybe it was just the recent times taking a toll on him, quarantine beginning to exhaust him, but Daveed had been feeling more stressed out than ever.

He sighed, one hand rubbing at the sleep in his eye and the other trying to light up his cigarette. Then, he noticed the blue plastic and a whispered “Fuck.” escaped from him. If he'd considered heading back indoors to find his functioning lighter instead of the empty one, it didn't matter because the cigarette and it's packet were plucked away from him by smaller hands.

“You shouldn't be smoking, D.”

“I know, I know, it's bad for my health. Just, a little stressed.” He welcomed the way she wrapped her arms around his waist, molding herself into his side as he wrapped his own arm around her shoulder. “Better now that you're here.”

“Hmm.” She hummed sleepily, squeezing her arms around him some more. “You're so warm. Like, a human hot-water bottle.”

“Just say I'm hot, I already know you're thinking it.” His lips rested on her forehead and the scent of coconut consumed him.

“Why did I agree to marry a man with an ego the size of the Statue Of Liberty?”

“Because that man's love for you is the size of Mount Everest.” He soothingly rubbed her back, feeling himself finally wanting to fall asleep. “Plus, he has really good hair.”

When he fell asleep that night, it was in the same way he'd fallen asleep for the past few years, and how he wanted to fall asleep every night that remained in his time alive: with her between his arms. He'd gone from being as useless, soulless as an empty lighter without her by his side to now, where he never had to worry about not being able to spark up again. He had Y/N and he wouldn't let anything change that. Not distance, time, health, anything.

[itsclydebitches]

Never seen the musical Hamilton (big fan of Daveed Diggs though), but I saw someone go off on how terrible he was. How the musical glories a slave owner and all that. How should we go about telling stories of our history The musical is mostly POC and seeks to retell this story for a modern audience. Is that right? Should we glorify our founding fathers who were kind of shitty people. Or do we support this reinterpretation by the very minorities who weren't even considered human back then?

People tend to use the term “glorify” and the similar “romanticize” without understanding what those words mean. They’re used as catch-all terms for “Thing I don’t like” because it’s understood that (like “problematic”) they’re hot-button words that immediately make people wary. That’s the point. If you say, “Hamilton romanticizes slave owners” that sounds so damning that most people will accept the argument at face value. Those three words do the work for you because if a story is romanticizing/glorifying a Bad Thing or the story is just all around problematic... I don’t want to be the one to defend that. Those terms are useful for shutting down conversations before they’ve even begun. 

Thing is though, Hamilton doesn’t romanticize the founding fathers. To romanticize/glorify something is to present it as unjustifiably good, to idealize it unrealistically and work to make it more appealing than it actually is. That doesn’t happen in Hamilton. Putting aside the work Lin did reclaiming that history and retelling it for a cast made up almost entirely of people of color, the story itself acknowledges all the flaws these men had, including the horrors of slavery. Though not the centerpiece of the show, it’s far from ignored. Laurens is working to end slavery. There’s a refrain about “Are we free?” as it applies to the war and the answer is continually “No” because others are still enslaved. Jefferson’s perception that he “can’t believe that we’re free” is looked down upon. He’s explicitly called out by Hamilton in the cabinet battles, reminding the audience that most of his holier than thou attitude stems from the boost slavery gave him: 

A civics lesson from a slaver, hey neighbor Your debts are paid 'cause you don't pay for labor “We plant seeds in the South. We create.” Yeah, keep ranting We know who's really doing the planting

That’s in no way romanticizing! Despite how staggeringly negative this is, some people seem to want a heavy-handed disclaimer. Like Lin should pause halfway through the show, speak directly to the audience, and go, “Hey, everyone. I just wanted to take a moment and remind you that slavery is, in fact, very bad. I know the show has been sending that message from the get-go and that we’re a cast of those most impacted by that legacy, but just in case it wasn’t clear: none of us support that the founding fathers did this.” 

The founding fathers were absolutely shitty people. You know what’s beautiful about Hamilton? It shows them being shitty people. I could give you a laundry list of times in the show where they’re depicted as both flawed and truly horrible. Again, not glorifying. The viewers may choose to glorify them in fic/art/conversations/etc. despite all the work Lin did, but that’s not the fault of the show. It’s likewise not his fault if people are unable to tell the difference between romanticizing and acknowledging accuracy. Meaning, real life isn’t like a cartoon. The bad guys we see around us - like the founding fathers - are not going to be mustache-twirling horrors with no redeeming qualities because we find that simplicity comforting. Evil people are charismatic. They’re intelligent. Witty, humorous, kind to so many others provide they’re the “right” kind of person... Writing Thomas Jefferson as the kind of guy you might want to be friends with isn’t romanticizing, it’s accurate. And it’s really important to acknowledge that. Racists aren’t villains hiding out in some super evil lair just waiting to commit hate crimes. They’re the friend you grew up with and love to death... who is also now going to Trump rallies. It’s your brother who is great to you but talks shit at the dinner table every night. It’s your upstanding boss, pillar of the community, beloved by all... who is using that power to get away with heinous things. It’s important to acknowledge - and teach - that this is what racism looks like and it’s something Hamilton does beautifully. Part of the point is to create that discomfort. The feeling of, “Wow! I love Jefferson in this. He’s so cool, charming, funny and - oh fuck yeah he’s got slaves, shit.” Because that’s what real life is like. The racists aren’t going to come out on stage spewing their rhetoric so you understand precisely how horrible they are from the get-go and never, ever have to acknowledge that there are parts of their personality you really like. They’re the Thomas Jeffersons of the world: charming you in the morning and raping his slave at night. 

To acknowledge that isn’t glorifying him. Hamilton the story is explicitly anti-slavery while likewise acknowledging that the founding fathers were complex human beings who, yes, achieved some great things even while they did other, truly horrific things. To deny that is to teach that racists aren’t anything like that person in your life who also did this great thing... even though they are. Hamilton didn’t shy away from that and it’s a story that expects a certain level of critical thinking from its audience. Frankly a pretty low bar of, “We’re a group of minorities forcibly taking this narrative for ourselves and using it to comment on these issues... that is in no way the same thing as glorifying those issues.” It’s basically fanfiction with Lin (the fan) taking an incredibly offensive canon (history) and going, “I’m going to reclaim this as best I can without, you know, totally erasing what I was given.” It’s also like fanfiction in that it is fiction. Hamilton takes a great many liberties with history because that’s what art does. It’s not a textbook. To claim that anyone who enjoys the Hamilton version of Thomas Jefferson is a bad person is like saying you’re a bad person for liking Darth Vader, or Hannibal, or any other bad guy given a sympathetic twist. The acknowledgement, “Just because I like this horrible person in a story doesn’t mean I agree with them...” applies to Hamilton too. We’re not discussing the historical figure here. We’re discussing a semi-fictional amalgamation Lin created for a broadway show. 

Is Hamilton perfect? Of course not. No story ever is and if we tear all two hours and forty minutes of it apart we’ll undoubtedly find something objectively “problematic” because that’s just how creating art works. But overall I think the show did an excellent job of getting its - complicated - messages across. Those who are #cancelhamilton aren’t paying attention to what Hamilton is: a reclaiming of white supremacy, a commentary on the malleability of narratives (that is, what narrative does America normally spout about how great this country is?), and an acknowledgement of the complicated face of racism - among other things. Again, if people are reducing that to “You made me like a slave owner character therefore you’re romanticizing him” that’s not the fault of the text. 

[charming-charlie]

Home Again

Title // Home Again

Pairing // Daveed Diggs x Fem!Reader

Warnings // Smut, implied sex

Summary // After a long day at work, there is only one thing on Daveed’s mind.

Word Count // 1102

It was another long day. Your boyfriend Daveed was busy on set, which left you all alone in the tiny apartment that the two of you share. There is nothing wrong with that. You got used to the alone time and you know his schedule is long. Still, not seeing him for three days at a time is hard which is why you are not expecting him to come home.

And yet you hear the door open and at first, you panic, but you know better. You know exactly who it is, although he is home a little bit earlier than normal. Still, you walk over to greet him and see him shuffling out of his denim jacket, which he just left as a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing home so early?” you ask. He turns to look at you. He smiles.

Every time he smiles, your heart leaps a million feet in the air. It is that very smile that can light up a room, make anyone feel instantly at ease, and it is just overall very comforting to look at. His smile actually makes you smile in return.

“I missed you too much,” Daveed says as fluidly as ever. If there was one thing he is, it is definitely charismatic. “Everyone will be fine without me for one night.”

You nod and bend down to pick up his jacket that he seemingly neglected on the floor. You grab the garment, stand straight, and turn to put it away. But you did not get very far. In that very moment, Daveed grabs you by the waist and pushes you against the wall in the hallway. The portrait of the two of you rattles as you drop the jacket. Your hands push against the wall and you could feel his breath against your neck.

“Like I said,” Daveed mumbles against your ear, “I missed you.”

You groan as he held you in place and you wish you could see his face. You want to see what he is doing, what face he makes, where his hands are going. Instead, your instincts rely on touch alone and right now, Daveed’s hands move around your frame. You think he is going to hug you and maybe he is, but his hands are occupied by the hem of your shirt. His fingers trace the bottom of your shirt and they hook in place.

Very slowly he moves his hands up your body, bringing your shirt along for the ride. Your breath hitches at the back of your throat. You are afraid to make any sudden noises and scare him off or end this too early. You struggle to keep it together, but he can tell. He sees the small trembles running up your back. He seems the way your arms raise themselves in the air, allowing him to remove your shirt completely. He sees what he is doing to you and he loves every second of it.

You don’t ask any questions. You go with the moment. You missed him too.

“There was a lot of talk tonight,” he mumbles against your ear. Right now, his hands slide down your sides, where they land on your hips. His fingers graze over the feeling of your jeans, hook themselves through the belt loops, and tug against the restraints intimately. “A lot of talk about significant others. Summer plans. Upcoming holidays and vacations. I stood there and just…” he leaves little butterfly kisses against your neck and his hands move to the front of your jeans. Before you could even blink, he unfastens the button.

Your palms arch themselves against the wall and you feel him moving behind you. You feel him breathing against your ear, his lips against your neck and shoulders. A chill ran up your spine once he undid the zipper on your jeans.

“Daveed,” you say as your eyes close. Your fingers curl tightly against the wall and he backs away, but not by much. He kneels behind you, grabs your jeans and pulls them down. His knees reach the floor and he carefully picks up one of your feet, then the other, in order to pull your jeans off your legs completely. His hands ride up your calves, gripping your thighs when he raises to his feet again.

You are standing there, your back against your man, in nothing but your bra and panties. His hands roam around your body and grip your waist in a hunger. He spins you around and you face him. That million-dollar smile remains on his face. Finally seeing him before you, you waste no time. You can’t tease him like he is doing to you. The need for him is far too great to continue playing games.

You grab his shirt, a simple gray t-shirt, and pull on it until he bends down enough for you to practically rip it off his body. His hands rest against the wall, one on either side of you which locks you in place. Not that you wanted to go anywhere, not with this gorgeous man standing before you.

You are going to say something. Your mouth parts to let some words slip by but he is quick. He claims your mouth with his own in a sudden kiss that sends all your nerves in a frenzy. You grab onto him. You wrap your arms around his neck and he effortlessly picks you up. Your legs have a mind of their own as they latch around Daveed’s waist. He pushes you against the wall, the portrait of the two of you shifts and slips unevenly.

He carries you into the bedroom. You know exactly where he is going even though you are deep in the sensual kiss. He lays you on the bed, kicks off his pants, and he crawls on top of you. Your hands run over his arms, his chest, everywhere within reach.

“You missed me that much?” you ask. He nodded. His smile shines bright as his fingers case over your bra strap and trace the cup. “I’m going to need some proof,” you grin.

“Oh, so it’s like that,” Daveed laughs. His hands work themselves around you, tracing your bra clasp. He leans down and kisses you once more and you fall deep into it again. Your arms pull him down on top of you, your hips pressing into his own. The bulge behind his boxers is hard to ignore. It may have been a few days since you last saw him, and you two are going to make up for lost time.

[itslocsdiggs]

Thirst Trap

Daveed Diggs x reader

Teacher AU

Word Count:1.7k+

A/N: I just woke up one day and decided I had to add this to the teacher AU  series. Imagining Daveed as my workout, post workout. And then @iknowthekoolaidflavor provided the #thirsttrap selfie as inspiration and some very sensual sentences. Many, many thanks! Stay hydrated and do what makes you feel comfortable at the gym *winks* Yes, please imagine him with that sexy Snowpiercer beard

You're running on the treadmill enjoying your workout playlist and the next minute, you hear a voice which is more than music to your ears.

"So she does other things besides read”, he teases, “Hi, (Y/N)"

Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you stutter surprised, “Hi, Dr. Diggs. Oh, so you do wear other clothes?”

He's clad in a red muscle tank, some loose basketball shorts, and some ugly black and neon green sneakers. They still look new. It's a definite shift from his puritanical and serious work attire. You kinda want to burn his sweater vests. Or make him gag you with them... You decide not to torture yourself with whether or not he's wearing underwear.

“Ever the polite and blunt one, aren't you, Ms.(Y/N)? But please, outside of class call me Daveed.”

Does he let the other students do that?

The look on your face prompted him to say, "our secret," he attempted a cute little wink.

You giggle and smile.

You're still running and notice that he's staring at your heaving chest. It's a little much, to say the least. That stare made your blood run hot. Am I sweatin’ too much?

Even though he's equally sweaty. Oh, God I wouldn't mind being half naked and sweaty with him. You smile whilst pausing the machine. Your mind goes blank seeing him lick his lips out of the corner of your eye.

Oh my gosh, he's checking me out, too. What do I do?

He tips his water bottle towards the weights beside you, "is that taken?"

“No, no you're good here, sir."

He smiles, “Tough habit to break, huh dear?”

You don’t get a chance to see the exact weights that he picks up, but from the looks of it, they seem pretty heavy. He took his time curling one arm, then slowly dropping the weight. He curled the other arm and repeated the process.

You watch shamelessly as his biceps bulge each time he would lift the weights. The sweat dripped down his brow and collected at the low neck of his shirt. It clung to him and you couldn’t help but continue to stare.

After three reps, he puts the weights back in their respectful place. He caught your gaze and smirked.

“Are you alright (Y/N)? Be honest”

“I really like seeing you outside your work clothes”

“You wanna show me?” he grins as he quirks his eyebrow.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

“I won't be your professor forever," he puts his hand on your arm, "Meet me in the locker room in five minutes. If you don't come, I'll understand."

You finish your circuit and grab your bag trying not to look eager, and walk straight towards the locker rooms, no looking back.

Opening the door makes butterflies erupt in your belly. It's empty, save for one person tying up their shoes leisurely. You give them a withering stare, and they're scared enough to leave quickly.

Hearing the door shut, Daveed emerges and says, "I figure we could save water and wash away our workouts together."

“Sure,” you reply only half listening because he's got a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his treasure trail is a thin, wispy patch of curly hair.

Taking a few strides to close the gap you initiated a kiss. Daveed pressed his warm mouth against yours with equal fervor until you were lightheaded and he held you tightly for support. After a moment he pulled back biting his lip, his eyes saying way more than he could at that moment. You felt the flood begin.

"Please, please undress me," you gasped.

He made quick work of removing your t-shirt, bra and spandex shorts. Then he tugs off the towel, and you try not to stare at him for too long. It was nerve-racking enough living out your fantasy. And he met every expectation.

You turned on the faucet. While the water warmed up, you stood behind the spray hugging him and stroking his soft, plush beard. He tugged the elastic band from his hair and placed it in the soap dish.

You trace the contour of his body, breathing ragged now. You're touching him softly, as if a hard scrape of nail might make him disappear. Every muscle in his body is as tight as a bowstring. He rubs your back and massages soap into your skin and it felt so good.

Your head was still light and coupled with his careful attention between your legs, you felt like you were floating.

“Damn, Y/N, you're so wet. Do I excite you that much?"

"Mmmm, yes sir."

"Well ever since you fell into my office to discuss the plays, you've excited me. Fuck, look down, baby. This is all for you."

Okay, he's big.

Yeah, there’s no way you’d kneel on the tile floor, so you bend at the waist. It’s tight space in the stall, but somehow you made it work.

Daveed groaned and put one hand on your shoulder while the other fisted your hair. He relaxed against the shower wall and lightly pistoned his hips into your face. His grunts and moans were disguised by the rushing water, which was good because it would be a guilt free rendezvous. Daveed gasped and pushed your shoulders.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), come up here baby.” Daveed had his hands on your waist pulling you up and close to his body, as if the water hadn’t already turned you into a prune.

“Let’s make this quick, please? I’m getting a little cold,” you say as a shiver runs down your spine.

Daveed shuts off the water in response. He rubbed his tip and whispered, “I wanna take my time with you. Jump, baby.” You did, securing your legs around his waist. He firmly gripped your hips and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing it, and resting your head on his toned shoulder trying to keep yourself together.

You had enough lubrication so he slid in easily, though he was a bit of a stretch. It felt like he was wrecking your pussy, and you were glad to let him do it. After a few quick thrusts, he had you feeling warm again. It spread all over and left you pliant. Daveed turned so that your back was against the wall. The wall was cold, but you stayed put arching your back when he resumed his strokes again. He whined your name repeatedly under his breath as you bit and sucked on his neck. Nothing would stop you from claiming him with the fever he made you feel. Swiping your thumbs over his sensitive nipples made his breath catch in his throat. Daveed bit his lip and increased his pace as you continued to tease and pull them.

“Oh, God,” he growled.

His hands came around and wrapped under your thighs thrusting even deeper. You whimpered and gasped pressing your lips to his throat. As you rocked in time with him, Daveed pressed his thumb in lazy circles on your clit. You felt your stomach tighten and he started to hum as he drew out the last of his energy.

Daveed squeezed your thighs and groaned loudly as he came. You followed suit moaning and scratching your nails down his back. He held you a few moments more kissing you between staggered breaths. As you reluctantly prepared to stand again, he rubbed his thumbs into your hips. You wore a dopey grin impressed that he was able to hold you with no strain for so long. He moved to hug you from behind.

“Now we can shower, I guess.”

You giggled, “that wasn’t it?”

He shook his head pressing a soapy hand between your legs washing you up, softly massaging you. He made you sore, it was the least he could do. He made sure you were clean all over and he allowed you to do the same for him.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he reached out of the stall, grabbed his towel and stepped out. He came back quickly with a towel for you and you accept it smiling sheepishly, cheeks burning.

“Hey, why are you getting all shy on me now?”

He took your hand and led you to where you’d originally been.

“No reason. Just can’t believe I did that, with you,” Dr. Diggs cooed softly in response and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Have you got me all out of your system now, your fantasy of me wearing something different?”

He pulled on a clean shirt. “Shit. Can you wear that to class?” you say ogling him again and crossing your legs.

He chuckled to himself, “There’s my answer.”

You both dress quickly, stealing glances every so often. The locker room remained empty.

“I have it on good authority they would enjoy it just as much as I do,” you chirp.

“Nah, baby. I’ve gotta dress professional. Keep some secrets, for you.” He winked at you again

Ugh, guess I’ll just have to keep the memory.

“I wanna see you again”, he leans against the locker as you’re lacing up your shoes.

You hesitate. If this became obvious, you did not want to get you or Daveed in trouble.

“What a coincidence we were alone this time. We could meet at my apartment. If you’re worried about getting caught you could be my work study assistant. Extra tutoring, whatever you wanna call it. But I want to be with you.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Okay, you drive a hard bargain. We can do this,” you bite your lip, “But I still want our office meetings to discuss the books.”

“Of course. Among other things. Let me take you out. Theater, jazz, dinner. I’ve heard you love to eat.”

He stood there before you with a grey muscle tank, his shorts, sneakers, and both gym bags in his grip. A complete contradiction to the nerdy professor who lectured in Theater Lit two days a week. But he was such a gentleman, reminding you that he was so much more than just your professor.

He thought you were beautiful and someone that always kept up with him the class discussion. Time and time again you showed that you were an amazing student, and all-in-all you were an even more amazing person. Daveed had a genuine interest in you and he was willing to take the risk. As he left the locker room, he caught the soft smile on your lips and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to find you.

[aion-rsa]

The Good Lord Bird Episode 3 Review: Mister Fred

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This The Good Lord Bird review contains spoilers.

The Good Lord Bird Episode 3

It’s right there in the title. This week’s episode is all about Mister Fred—including how you must remember to call him Mr. Douglass at first meetings. His rather puffy reaction to “Fred” likely took some viewers off guard, but imagine if Onion had called him what he was taught by Old John Brown: Frederick Douglass, the King of the Negroes.

Indeed, it is with that lofty title that Daveed Diggs’ swaggering and delightfully subversive interpretation of Fred is introduced. When we meet him, the energy Diggs projects is decidedly more virile than the typical Ken Burns pop culture image. In his first scene, Douglass is delivering one of his most famous speeches: “What to the slave is the Fourth of July?” Yet as presented in The Good Lord Bird, this is less the revelatory re-contextualization of American pride through the prism of American hypocrisy than it is a headliner playing a greatest hit.

Soon we learn all that pomp and pomposity is but the tip of an iceberg where Douglass is concerned. On this show he’s presented as many things: a dandy, a man of vanity, and also one of the greatest minds of his era… at least when he isn’t focused on his apparently very open marriage. One can almost sense the glee building among the writers and director when they frame Douglass’ home life as a ménage à trois between himself, wife Anna Murray (Tamberla Perry) and German immigrant Ottilie Assing (Lex King). And if you missed the heavy implication, it’s soon explicit when they’re both soon making out with Douglass and competing for his nocturnal visit on the same night.

Obviously this depiction of Douglass is meant to throw viewers off as readily as Ethan Hawke’s boisterous turn as Old John Brown. And there is even something winking about the casting of Diggs, who’s most famous for playing Thomas Jefferson as a preening peacock in Hamilton, which earned him a Tony. There he played an affable hypocrite whose dark side is truly repulsive (and somewhat glossed over), given he was a humanist and an Enlightenment thinker who made profound progress for the rights of white men while keeping, and abusing, Black slaves all his life. Now Diggs plays a former slave whose hypocrisies are also not quite so wholesome as the grade school history book presents.

And that is, again, one of the most satisfying things about The Good Lord Bird. Rather than coast on the sanitized versions of men who did great things, it revels in their contradictions (even as Douglass’ contradictions are not nearly so tragic as those of Brown’s or, for that matter, Jefferson’s). Frederick Douglass was a former slave who escaped bondage of his own accord at the age of 39. A true self-made American, it was his political savvy and lucid mind that converted many others to the cause of abolition and equal rights before, during, and after the Civil War, including softening some of President Abraham Lincoln’s harder thoughts on Black Americans in the war’s early years.

Yet Douglass was also the most photographed American of the 19th century. He preferred photographs to paintings because he rightly did not trust any white American artist to get his countenance correct, and he knew photos would humanize Blackness to white audiences around the country. But, again, he stood more than any other American in his generation and several after for the laborious process of having his picture taken.

And while it’s merely left in the realm of speculation, many have theorized he did have an affair with German feminist and freethinker Ottilie Assing. We’ll never know for sure, but The Good Lord Bird embracing the possibility, and moral ambiguity, is more than just humorous; it taps into an elemental truth about humanity.

People are messy, history is a record of flawed actors with potentially complicated and sometimes unflattering motives, and progress is never made cleanly or in a straight line. In the age of simplified pop culture that reduces most social battles to good guys in capes versus bad guys in armor plating, actually embracing the messiness of our society is not so much about demythologizing history as it is a reclamation of human nature. Plus, Diggs’ admittedly-too-youthful energy as Douglass is joyous to watch.

How the series gets there is also interesting enough too. The episode begins with the apparent end to the Bleeding Kansas portion of its story. On the run with bounties on his and his sons’ heads, Old John Brown deduces that it’s time to go to the “King of the Negroes” to get his next assignment from God—and perhaps some money to incite a reckoning.

For in one of the show’s best moments, Brown crafts a new Declaration of Independence, one tellingly based on Jefferson’s soaring and empowering rhetoric from 1776… but with the realities of centuries of slave trading taken into account. Brown doesn’t just want to end the institution; he wants to bleed the whole nation the way Kansas has bled.

“We are to light the fuse that will start a great war to end slavery,” Brown preaches. “It will be a war between the North and South, both are guilty, both must share in the sacrifice. Slavery must go down in a tide of blood and carnage.”

The prophesying might have felt on the nose if not for the fact we know Brown will soon die to begin this war—missing the actual cannon fire over Fort Sumter by about one year. This is the real thesis of Brown’s life. Although, I suspect it isn’t the thesis of the series. Hence Brown being a character of almost mythic bombast each week. It came again tonight when he threatened a train’s ticket taker for trying to make Onion go back to the end of the train. In a natural context this could play as ludicrous, if only because while Brown was able to get away with illegal activity in the frontier of Kansas, he’d face unfriendly prosecution anywhere closer east. But in a show that basks in larger-than-life mythmaking, it’s sublime here.

The point is not to just highlight the bigotry in the North Onion will still face; it is to remind us of the status of Brown, and why his brand of crazy is able to earn a reluctant spot at the dinner table of Frederick Douglass. Because if anything, tonight’s episode is about an hour of contrasts.

It’s a funny moment when Douglass urges Brown to visit his house after the old man tries to draw a pistol on fireworks. “Lunatic,” is what Douglass mutters to himself. But as we see them sitting across the dinner table from each other, we understand what draws them together—and pushes them apart.

As presented in The Good Lord Bird, theirs is the age old relationship between political activists and the moderate establishment. They’re both “radical” by the standards of 1856: two men campaigning for abolition, with one being Black. Yet it is the Black man who urges caution, particularly in public, even as he is vaguely aware that Brown is itching for revolution behind closed doors. A revolution soaked in blood.

You see shades of the modern political left, and of every era, in these two men. And on one hand, The Good Lord Bird wishes to side with John Brown. He is, after all, the protagonist. And we know his prophecy of a tide of blood and carnage will come to pass. Onion’s voiceover narration also provides skepticism about Douglass’ reticence. But then Onion is a character who is constantly astonished about this world. Last week it was with awe he admired Pikesville, even as he saw a man pissing on the street. This week Onion is more rightly impressed by Rochester, a community where Black children can play with a ball in the streets.

But he also doesn’t quite understand African Diaspora when Douglass broaches the subject, nor does he seem to give it much consideration later in the voiceover. I’m a bit skeptical as to whether Douglass would be so haughty toward a recently freed slave who didn’t know his name or the term, but Douglass is right to try to broaden Onion’s mind to the fact that their culture and heritage was stolen from them, and they must seek to claim their new one.

It’s also why Douglass is the first, and to date only, Black character who cannot be bulldozed by John Brown’s rhetoric and sense of privilege. Poor Onion is now wearing fancier dresses because Brown cannot be bothered to learn his actual gender, and poorer Bob is being led toward almost certain annihilation, as threatened by J.E.B. Stuart tonight. But Brown’s patronizing assumptions on Black slaves is ultimately what gets him killed in a half-assed revolution at Harper’s Ferry. And Douglass, as a “king,” doesn’t have to put up with Brown’s horseshit indefinitely.

“So now you know what the Negro slave needs,” Douglass cries. “Are you quite finished? As someone who has never lived in bondage, never been owned, never been savaged, never been used to death and then discarded, please do not presume to tell me what a slave will or will not do.”

For once Brown cannot ignore the actual Black perspective. Granted Douglass is also taking a politician’s careful calculations in this moment, reluctant to lobby for money from six benefactors too rich or powerful to be named at dinner—Brown wants their cash in order to pay for a bloody crusade of attrition throughout the South.

But Douglass’ prudence has just as much foresight as Brown’s Civil War fortunetelling. Brown foresees the war that was inevitably coming by this point; and Douglass sees it as well, but in his bones he’s right to likewise notice this madman is going to get himself killed, and is a fool to think slaves will follow him so easily into the grave.

The uneasy tension between political allies with different solutions (and delusions) is at the heart of the episode, which gives it more teeth than the humor of Douglass clearly flirting with Onion, oblivious that it’s a boy on his loveseat while his wife and not-wife are waiting in cold beds.

Onion also revealed certain insights this evening. Up until now, Onion has been fairly passive in his own story. He took the initiative last week to save Bob’s life when the shooting started, but otherwise has survived by making the choice to go along to get along. One might even argue he doubled down on that again when he decided to stay by John Brown’s side instead of taking the secret passage under Douglass’ house—and continuing up the Underground Railroad to actual freedom in Canada.

And yet, for the first time Onion could be called free, because he finally made a real choice: he could stay with nutty Brown or strike out on his own. He may have taken the easier and ultimately more dangerous path, but at least it was his decision instead of Brown’s. In that way Douglass provided the opportunity for real emancipation to Onion, and in so doing gave Onion something Brown is incapable of even understanding.

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That cognitive dissonance in Brown, and his relationship with Douglass, as well as the relationship between all purists and pragmatists, made “Mister Fred” a liberating hour of television.

The post The Good Lord Bird Episode 3 Review: Mister Fred appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/35aEfoH

[newstechreviews]

“So John Brown is crazy?” It’s Frederick Douglass who utters these particular words, in the third episode of Showtime’s The Good Lord Bird. But the question permeates the funny, tragic and profound miniseries based on James McBride’s National Book Award-winning 2013 novel, which debuts on Oct. 4. Brown—the white abolitionist who led an unsuccessful 1959 raid on a federal armory in Harpers Ferry, WV—certainly comes off as quixotic in the few paragraphs the typical U.S. history textbook devotes to him. Of course a scraggly 59-year-old with less than two dozen men backing him up in his effort to arm enslaved people was instead going to be captured and hanged for treason. Then again, did any white person in antebellum America take a braver stand against the barbarism of slavery? If Brown was crazy, what were his executioners—sane?

Few actors could step into the shoes of this real-life walking contradiction: a Christian minister who embraced Old Testament justice, a loving father who sacrificed several sons to his cause, a violent extremist on the right side of history. So let us now praise Ethan Hawke, who co-created the adaptation with Mark Richard (Fear the Walking Dead) on the heels of his career-highlight performance as a priest driven mad by contemporary tragedies both personal and global in Paul Schrader’s core-shaking film First Reformed. He’s clearly fascinated by zealots—characters locked in existential struggles with faith and morality and their duties to a world that falls egregiously short of their ideals. Merciless with enslavers, scarily fervent on the abolitionist lecture circuit and prone to temperamental outbursts on the frequent occasions when his plans go awry, Hawke’s kinetic Brown is breathtakingly patient, kind and generous with his family and followers. If he’s a bit of a holy fool, too quick to trust anyone who claims to share his convictions, then he can also be surprisingly insightful; he perceives the complacency of progressive Northerners and realizes that many, many people will have to die to liberate Black Americans from bondage.

Kevin Lynch/SHOWTIMEJohnson and Brown make an unlikely pair

Like a solar eclipse, Brown burns too brightly to be viewed straight on. McBride (an executive producer of the miniseries) filters him through the perspective of a fictional protagonist: Henry Shackleford (Joshua Caleb Johnson), an enslaved boy who assists his barber father in a Kansas tavern. Brown visits the establishment in 1858, during the Bleeding Kansas conflict—a years-long series of violent skirmishes over whether the future state would permit slavery—and starts preaching abolition. When Henry’s dad is killed in the ensuing shootout, Brown flees with the boy in tow—except he misheard his new ward’s name as Henrietta and believes him to be a girl. The simple burlap sack Henry is wearing doesn’t help disabuse Brown of the notion. “The way he believed, he believed,” the boy explains in voiceover narration that successfully recreates the feel of McBride’s colloquial, first-person storytelling. “It didn’t matter if it was true or not. He was a real white man.” In another misunderstanding, at Brown’s camp, Henry eats a tiny rotten onion the old man has been keeping as a good-luck charm and is nicknamed “Onion.”

It’s Onion who brings out the dark humor in Brown’s crusade—not because there’s anything funny about a vulnerable Black kid who’s just lost his father in the crossfire between two white men, but because the reluctantly cross-dressing boy plays straight man to a well-intentioned, wild-eyed radical who arguably hurts the people he means to save more often than he helps them. And the two characters make a good team. Sometimes they’re both too naive to understand what’s happening around them. But as the seven-part series progresses, we watch Onion absorb information that Brown can’t or won’t internalize, slowly evolving into a savvy young man (despite the dresses he acquiesces to wearing). In a subtle, sweet performance that provides a welcome contrast to Hawke’s holy-rolling intensity, newcomer Johnson depicts liberation as an active process of developing free will, loyalty and the courage of one’s convictions.

While the tense final three episodes cover Onion’s time in Harpers Ferry, the first four unfold as a looser sort of picaresque, in the style of Mark Twain. One standout episode has him traveling with Brown to Rochester, NY, in hopes of securing the support of Douglass, who is portrayed by the prolific Daveed Diggs as a man oozing with self-regard. (Historians will have to judge whether Diggs’ vain, imperious performance is fair to an American hero with a complicated legacy.) As telling as Douglass’ discomfort around the unpredictable Brown is his condescending treatment of Onion; instead of empathizing with the fellow former slave, he distances himself from the literate but unpolished boy, mocking his colloquial grammar.

William Gray/SHOWTIMEDaveed Diggs as Frederick Douglass and Tamberla Perry as Anna Douglass

The show suffers a bit whenever Hawke is offscreen for too long, such as when Onion and his shrewd pal Bob (Hubert Point-Du Jour) split from Brown’s army for a time and our hero endeavors to hide his “true nature” while apprenticing at a brothel. But it’s enjoyable, in its humor, insight and preservation of McBride’s vivid language, even when its narrative momentum slackens. The Good Lord Bird strikes me as a remarkably contemporary slavery story. It’s no simplistic revenge fantasy like Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained, yet its makers also get that viewers shouldn’t have to see constant, graphic violence against Black bodies to understand the institution as an atrocity. At the same time, unlike many recent period pieces—from The Great, where rude 18th-century Russian royals bear striking resemblances to the unfit leaders of today, to Lovecraft Country, with its supernatural take on the pre-civil-rights ’50s—it doesn’t need flagrant anachronism to hold our attention. (“All of this is true,” read the title cards that open each episode. “Most of it happened.”) And why should it? As the last few months have so powerfully and painfully reminded us, when it comes to race in America, the past isn’t even past.

Neither does the show fall prey to the white savior archetype, a trope Henry’s voiceover acknowledges within the first few minutes of the premiere. Righteous though Brown’s motivations may have been, we see his extremism, myopia and poor judgment result in the deaths of innocent characters of all races. Black characters such as Harriet Tubman (Zainab Jah, magnetic) and an unrepentant rebel slave named Sibonia (a brief, fierce performance by Crystal Lee Brown) are painted as more straightforward heroes. The creators’ only departure from realism is in periodically cutting in still shots of individual, costumed Black actors’ faces, as though to counteract popular representations of enslaved people as homogeneous masses on plantations. Viewers are never allowed to forget that every slave was a discrete human being.

Not that The Good Lord Bird wastes much energy on the redundant task of denouncing slavery. Its moral dilemma is more sophisticated. When you know that the society you live in is deeply, brutally, lethally wrong, McBride’s story asks, how far should you go to defend what’s right? The show introduces character after character who puts comfort before justice: a farmer who supports slavery for financial reasons, a future Confederate general (played by former Lodge 49 star Wyatt Russell) trying to dissuade Brown from continuing his futile siege and causing more bloodshed. A lot of reasonable men like them must have killed and died defending state-sponsored chattel slavery in the Civil War. So what if Brown ranted and raved and picked fights he could never have won? As Ray Bradbury once wrote, “Insanity is relative. It depends who has who locked in what cage.”

[schpiedehl]

Reasons I hate the Hamilton fandom

Disclaimer: I’m a mod of one Hamilton fb group, an admin of another much smaller group, have seen the show twice, and a huge fan of many of the actors and creatives, not just the original cast. I am entrenched in the Hamilton fandom and have been for nearly 2 years so all of this comes from personal experiences with the fandom. I do not hate the actual musical and having talked to many folks and made friends through this fandom, I can confirm that it has had a positive effect on many people, especially aspiring actors of color. I had criticisms of the actual musical (reductive view of American history, perpetrates American exceptionalism, bootstraps narrative, not as feminist as fans insist, etc) but I’m mostly just addressing the issues within the fandom not within the media. The problems with the fandom is nebulous and manifold so I’m gonna try to be as thorough as possible here: - for those that don’t know, Hamilton is a show made by POC creatives for actors of color. The casting is not “color blind” it is racially conscious. All leads always, aside from the silly, villainous King George, are intended to be played by actors of color and the much of the fandom absolutely REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS. It ranges from the benign-seeing assertions that Hamilton is colorblind and therefore race of the actor doesn’t matter as much as talent (false, with the underlying belief that a white actor will somehow be better suited/more talented in a role that is literally not written for them) to petulant assertions that one white fan or another will be the first white actor to play x role, to erasing the racial identities of light-skinned black, latinx, and asian actors to fit the manufactured narrative that white actors can and have played principal roles and the show is therefore colorblind. Fans are quick to point out the ambiguous wording of “America then told by America now,” intended to subtly indicate POC, as meaning white folk, despite the continuous assertions by the creatives that this is simply not the case. - whitewashing in fan art. Hand in hand with the refusal by many white fans to acknowledge the fact that Hamilton the Musical is intended for POC, white fan artist almost universally draw the actors-as-characters with lighter skin, lighter eyes, and more typically European features. Lin, who played Hamilton in the original cast, is a Latino man of mixed race heritage with tan skin, black hair, and dark eyes yet fan art of him as Hamilton is nearly always pale, red haired, and sometimes even blue-eyed. Artists will defend this as interpretation and some will even indicate that Hamilton was white irl so this is more accurate but Hamilton irl and Lin were nothing alike and he presence of a goatee in Hamilton Fan art is an indisputable sign that the artist is drawing Lin, not the real life, baby faced Hamilton. Dark skinned actors like Okieriete Onaodowan (Hercules Mulligan in the original cast) are rarely drawn and when they are they tend to be heavily lightened. - characters deemed queer by the fandom - notably John Laurens who was thought to be gay or bi in real life by many historians - is often heavily feminized in fan art, despite the fact neither the character nor the actual figure are ever noted as being particularly effeminate. This is of course fetishization symptomatic of applying heteronormativity to gay relationships. - fans often reject and demonize female characters. This is not universal but many fans have negative reactions to Hamilton’s wife, Eliza (and ignore and/or demonize her in regards to the gay ship of Hamilton/Laurens, despite Laurens having died shortly after Hamilton married Eliza. Hamilton fans believe almost universally that Hamilton was bi irl, which is supported by historical consensus, but the notion of him actually being with a woman repulses much of the fandom. - basically standard biphobia). Fans are also extremely gross about Maria Reynolds. - a separate part of the fandom refuses to acknowledge both the historical consensus of the Hamilton/Laurens relationship and the fact that that musical contains several intentional references to it. I’ve been told many times to keep that “gay shit” out of the fandom. - shipping wars of course. - blind worship of the characters either without regard to their historical counterparts or including their historical counterparts. - slavery apologism. Comparing slaves to modern consumer items and/or farm animals to demonstrate the ubiquity of slavery and/or people’s mindset regarding it. While it is true that people are the product of their time, “everyone owned slaves” and “you cannot judge them by the Norms of our culture” are common silencing/apologist techniques which both lack nuance and perpetuate racist ideals. It also erases the fact that abolitionism and moral opposition to slavery existed not only in post-revolution society but also within the very people who owned slaves. Thomas Jefferson wrote that slavery was the worst evil while simultaneously owning and raping slaves. - I’ve encountered at least one person with a bona fide slavery fetish. That’s not the fandom as a whole but it is worth noting. - abhorrent beliefs are common re: Thomas Jefferson’s relationship with Sally Hemings. - this has basically been covered above but rampant racism is not uncommon in this fandom. You get the distinct feeling that a sizeable portion has never once interacted with a person of color before, based on the ways they claim ownership over the actors, portray the characters, talk about racial issues, etc - speaking of the actors: fans are very gross toward the actors in a variety of different ways. - fans fetishize the fuck out of Daveed Diggs, who played Jefferson in the original cast. Diggs, for reference is a biracial black Jewish man, a rapper, actor, and activist best known outside of Hamilton for his work with clipping., which includes an extremely politically charged afrofuturist space rap opera. Fans tend to do a couple things in regards to Diggs. One, they conflate him with irl Jefferson leading so some really and truly bizarre headcanons and fan interpretations. Diggs himself has no love for irl Jefferson and has - along with the rest of the cast - cautioned fans against romanticizing the real figures, apparently to limited success. More heinously, however, I have seen people claiming ownership of Digg’s body and hair (claiming they would be upset if his cut it, or would stop being his fan even), made comments about keeping him as a sex slave, fetishizing his ethnic features, or even denying his blackness in favor of fetishizing his white, Jewish heritage. I’ve even seen a white woman comment that she wanted to kill diggs’ black girlfriend, skin her, and wear her as a suit to attract Diggs. No fucking joke. Diggs work as a musician is loved by many fans but others reject it as “scary black music.” - this happens with other actors tho not as much as Diggs. Fans have made plenty of comments about Okieriete Onaodowan’s “big black spy on the inside,” for instance, showing further capacity to fetishize black bodies. - for many fans, the original cast can do no wrong. They will go out of their way to justify and forgive anything that can be seen as problematic rather than acknowledging that they can still like a person that has problematic aspects. - or conversely, they gang up on actors on twitter, or tag them in hate/undeservedly negative critique. - replacements and non-OBC casts are largely ignored and several of the actors have been trolled or sent hate simply because they are not the originals. There is also the mindset that no one could ever be better than the original and the show is not worth seeing without the originals which is extremely disrespectful toward the replacement actors. - a large portion of the fandom claims that Hamilton is the only rap they like, or that they don’t like hip hop at all. When the Hamilton mixtape - and album featuring inspired-bys and covers of Hamilton songs by contemporary singers and rappers, was released fans HATED IT, many pointed out that they hated the hip hop sound and the “bastardization” of the music. Many of the songs on the Mixtape were by artists which inspired Hamilton in the first place. - a lot of the fans are just plain cringey. Bad head canons which become more ubiquitous than the actual canon portrayals, extremely forceful when it comes to trying to “convert” people, extremely adverse to any kind of criticism of the musical, history, or the actors, obnoxious at cons, etc. - art theft is rampant - extreme classism re: bootlegs especially - older fans have a tendency to be extremely abusive toward younger fans. Not all young fans are bad but bad memes and stupid references are met with extreme, quick, and unwarranted vitriol.

[mdwatchestv]

Everything I'm Going To Watch In October (Oh God We're All Already Irreparably Behind)

Hi best friend!

I thought doing this was really fun, and brought me closer to you - my core audience. It also helped me organize my TV life (whereas I actually referred to my own blog like an asshole in order to make sure I was watching everything I said I was.  Because this is the brutal honesty hour, here is a quick recap of how I did with September:

American Horror Story: Cult - I've watched three of this so far! Boy golly does this season not know what it wants to be.

Top of the Lake: China Girl - I didn't start this yet in hopes my boyfriend would catch up and watch the first season. Yes, I know he never will, and I'm lying both to you and myself.

Broad City S4- Watched it alllll, because I'm just a relationship girl.

Better Things S2 - Jumping back into this was the best choice I made last month. Thank you employees of FX for pressuring me.

The Emmys - Yeah I wrote a whole blog about it, and i was MORE THAN HALF RIGHT.

Channel Zero: No End House - Actually fun and legit creepy (Scarier than AHS...all tea all shade)

The Good Place Season 2 - No biting.

Gaga: Five Foot Two - You guys I'm worried about Gaga.

Transparent: Season 4- Haven't started, don't @ me. God it's depressing to be a whole season behind on something in 24 hours.

KUWTK 20th Anniversary: KYLIE IS PREGNANT, KHLOE IS PREGNANT, WHAT A WORLD!!!!!

The Good Doctor - Haven't mustered the strength.

Law & Order - Did people not like this? LA + bong bong + 1989 + true crime + Dr. Daddy = good.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine - Yas queen.

Great News - Briggggaaaaa

Will and Grace - So similar to the original series it's eery. For you to decide if that's good or bad.

But now October has come! And with it the arrival of new network shows that I'm not going to watch, programming about ghosts that I'm not going to watch, and Keeping Up With The Kardashians!

Sunday, October 1st-

Ghosted (8:30pm on Fox) -

The title and promos for this show have made me as skeptical as Scully in a cornfield at midnight looking at chupacabra bite marks, but I owe it to Adam Scott and Craig Robinson to at least give it a try. Fox has shown they are able to provide worthwhile comedy (talkin bout chu Brooklyn Nine-Nine) and paranormal investigation seems like a sturdy enough basis for comedy.... Let's just say I'm willing to consider the extreme possibility that there is comedy in the unknown. Maybe the laughs are out there.

Keeping Up With The Kardashians (9:00pm on E!)

 DID YOU NOT HEAR ME SAY KYLIE. IS. PREGNANT.

Monday, October 2nd - The Halcyon (10:00PM on Ovation) 

I barely understand what Ovation is, but this is a British series about a fancy hotel in London during World War II starring fresh-faced youths and Olivia Williams created by a woman. I have bolded all my trigger words in the previous sentence.  Even if this is bad, it will still be amazing. How do you suspect one watches Ovation?

Tuesday, October 3rd - The Mayor (9:30pm on ABC)

 The Mayor is a half hour about a young rapper who semi-accidentally becomes the mayor of his hometown. I thought the promo for this was genuinely funny, and Brandon Micheal (not a typo) Hall was horribly delightful as Dory's ex on last year's Search Party (don't even get me STARTED on my love of Search Party). With a lovable lead, and the even more lovable Daveed Diggs producing, I'm hoping this show will be able to inject some much-needed optimism and levity into political comedy.

Wednesday, October 11th - Riverdale (8:00pm on CW) 

If you are feeling any sort of judgement stirring over this entry it is only because you have NOT YET WATCHED RIVERDALE. Riverdale is Twin Peaks for teenagers, Riverdale is whip-smart dialogue and rock-hard abs, Riverdale is the best cast show on television. I'm not even kidding, this show has my very favorite casting work of any other show. Golden-boy, ginger-haired Archie's parents are Luke Perry and Molly Ringwald. Pretty boy from the wrong side of the tracks? His dad is Skeet Ulrich!!! It is just 100% pure enjoyable. Also did I mention the abs? Archie's abs are crazy.

Friday, October 13th -

Lore (Amazon) 

This anthology series from Amazon is based on the podcast of the same name written and narrated by Aaron Mahnke. The podcast consists of creepy short stories that range from mass murderers, to why tunnels make people uneasy. Each episode is beautifully written and delightfully unnerving and if the series is able to capture even a little of the fairytale magic of the podcast it will definitely be worth a watch.

Mindhunter (Netflix)

 If I could choose any career to have that is not my career, it would be FBI criminal profiler. Sadly, I recently googled how to have this job and you need do a lot of stuff I don't want to do first, and there are literally only like five of them in the FBI. Feels like a very similar skillset to casting though tbh. This is directed by David Fincher, it is about the BIRTH of serial killer profiling in the FBI, and it stars beautiful cinnamon roll Jonathan Groff. I have watched the trailer almost every day. I want it so bad. SO BAD.

Saturday, October 14th-

 Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency Season 2 (9:00pm on BBC America) 

Feel what you will (and validly so) about Max Landis, the first season of this show was quirky, clever and funny without feeling overwrought or precious. It handled time travel with mastery, and boasted a host of charming performances. It also had a corgi. And a kitten. I wrote about the first season when I started this blog last year (if you are interested you can read those entries HERE, be warned it may not help you recap the show in any meaningful way). I plan to tackle season two as well, so mark your calendars and the place in your heart that you have carved out for me. Everything is connected.

Sunday, October 22nd - 

The Walking Dead Season 8 (9:00pm on AMC) 

I am locked too deeply in a hateful, but passionate embrace with The Walking Dead to stop watching now. Whether I can summon the force of spirit to write about this season remains to be seen. (If you would like to re-live the agony and ecstasy of season 7, you can read everything I wrote about it HERE)

Monday, October 23rd - 

Scared Famous (9:00pm on VH1)

This is a VH1 reality program starring Tiffany "New York" Pollard, Alaska Thunderfuck and Eva the Diva. Need I say more? I needn't.

Friday, October 27th - 

Stranger Things Season 2 (Netflix)

 Doo doo doo doo doo do do do

As a disclaimer to my ‘why are you not watching’ section, I don’t watch most network dramas being a) I am tired, b) I try and expose myself to as many new shows as possible, c) I am tired. Besides I am already woefully behind on my September shows, and it’s ALREADY October (and I’m behind). I can’t add 22 more hours of TV into this mix. When will I have time to watch Scared Famous!

But before you ask-

Curb Your Enthusiasm - This show is obviously legendary and I enjoyed it in the past, but it also makes me deeply upset and gives me anxiety. I can’t deal with those vibes right now.

The Gifted - The promos for this show claim it is one of the best Marvel series. If it is truly as good as Legion or Jessica Jones you let me know and I will watch it.

Scandal - I loved this show deeply for many years, but ultimately had to consciously uncouple from it. 

Mr Robot- I tried. I couldn’t

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I have no excuse for this beyond laziness.

Jane the Virgin - Same.

I don’t know about you but it feels really good and cleansing to confess all of my television sins to you. I hope it’s just as soul-purifying for all of you viewers at home as well. If you think I missed something let me know, and I will tell you more specifically why I’m not watching it. I will see you all back here soon to talk about DIRK GENTLY! You can catch up! First season only 8 eps!

XO MD

[swan-archive]

so: ya gal viewed a Certain Notorious Play the other night in SF

a little post-mortem, because i just KNOW you all needed another one of THOSE

Michael Luwoye was a wonderful Hamilton. i know it’s catty to rag on LMM’s voice, but really, the sheer DIFFERENCE it makes when you have an actor with a powerful voice in the role. doesn’t even compare. he roared and howled and bellowed and felt like a tiny compact hurricane bursting off the stage. amazing.

- i specify “tiny” because he was VISIBLY SHORTER than both Solea Pfeiffer and Amber Iman. TINY HAM IS CANON

- Luwoye’s act 1 young Ham was maybe the cutest thing i’ve ever seen! he was SO thrilled to meet Burr and SO excited to make friends and SO jazzed to go out drinking and revolution-ing with them, just so desperate to be liked and find a place and make his name. cute boy. excitable boy.

- not to monster au at yall but Luwoye literally SNARLED “call me son ONE MORE TIME” and uuuuhhhhhh it’s all canon, all monster aus are canon now, i don’t make the rules, i just live in fear of them like yall do

- and then the turnaround between that and a more tired, more morally compromised, running-out-of-options Ham in act 2! a really deft character shift and one that was delightful to watch.

- interesting little character moment: from what i’ve heard/seen most Hamiltons jump right back into the game after “Say No To This,” bantering with Burr and bouncing off to the meeting with Jefferson and Madison to Get Shit Done. Luwoye did not play it like this. his Hamilton was visibly wrung out and sick at heart at the beginning of “Room Where It Happens,” answering Burr in clipped monosyllables and not looking at him and standing all stiff and still until he started to mimic Burr’s “talk less / smile more” in an intentionally crude and sorta nasty style. this Ham was not happy to have to take a page out of Burr’s book.

- Luwoye’s “Hurricane” was a powerhouse. the rapped section was this howl of defiance that nearly knocked me out of my seat, Ham standing there and daring God to do His worst and vowing he’d get back up again. ooooooof. intense.

- Luwoye emoted like a MOTHERFUCKER. his break in “It’s Quiet Uptown” was gutting. tears literally dripping off his face.

- this cast seemed...lighter on the Lams than other productions, which was a bit disappointing, but at Laurens’ first verse in “My Shot,” Luwoye did that hilarious deer-in-the-headlights fullbody freeze at him as he had a Strong Gay Moment

Joshua Henry’s Burr felt very different from Leslie’s as it comes across on the cast album/b**tl*g, but in a super compelling way. i think i saw an article that referred to his Burr as more of a “showman” than Leslie’s, and if i’m remembering right, i agree with that description. Henry!Burr was very mobile and raggedly charming, always had a disingenuous wide-eyed smile hitched up, except for...when it slipped. the untrustworthy self-serving mercenary Ham sees by the end of act 2 was very much in evidence here. 

- and his Burr broke SO EARLY! by “Winter’s Ball” he was already visibly/audibly like WHAT THE HAP IS FUCKENING re: Hamilton’s ascent. his “Wait For It” right on the heels of that was so angry. you could feel his desperation as he tried to justify his methods to the audience, and his unspoken understanding that nothing he is doing makes sense. this was a Burr who, on some level, KNEW that his schtick was not going to remain tenable for long, even if he didn’t know the exact nature of his own breaking point. suuuuuuuuuper engaging to watch.

- ahhahahaha and his delivery of the “...Okay,” in “Non-Stop” was HILARIOUS it was like “hmm yes please keep doing this thing where you say nice things about me perhaps”

- ...also, not to be crass, but somewhere around “Non-Stop” i became suddenly and powerfully aware of how his thighs looked in his costume and uuhhhhhhhhhhh. can we just like. get a Yell Heah real quick for Buff Burr? Yell. H e a h

- act 2 Burr spiraled REAL quick. his “Room Where It Happens” was wild-eyed and electric and frantic and by the time they got to “Your Obedient Servant” and TWWWE he was just a WRECK. where Leslie’s Burr gave at least the impression of making a measured choice to shoot to kill, Henry’s was clearly running on fumes and not in control, and it was terrifying and great.

- and not to go too out of order but can i just say, “Aaron Burr, Sir” is kind of a throwaway exposition-y song, but having it played between two black men? REVELATORY. INCREDIBLE. “fools who run their mouths oft wind up dead.” we were five minutes into the play and i was already like ulp

Emmy Raver-Lampman is the great love of my life and she will be my bride one day, even if i have to defeat Daveed Diggs in unarmed single combat for the privilege. i will do it. i will do whatever it takes to know the touch of her hand. are you listening, Emmy? i’m right here. i’m right h e r e

- my favorite thing about her act 1 Angelica was how YOUNG she played her. which, granted, she is a younger actress than Renee/Karen/Mandy, but i thought it was a really powerful interpretation given that Angelica really is only two years older than Eliza, is still not all that old herself when Eliza’s doing her giddy “Helpless.”

- okay. okay, so. Emmy’s “Satisfied.” okay. a YOUNG “Satisfied.” instead of a mature regretful reflection on a decision that had pros and cons on either side, the regret and the loneliness and the love felt incredibly raw and immediate. Emmy’s interpretation was very “yes, i made this choice, and oh my god what if this was IT, what if this was the END what if there is nothing like this for me ever AGAIN, i cannot take it back and i would not take it back but oh god oh god oh god” and it. destroyed. me. she had that flutter in her voice that you get when you’re crying and laughing at the same time at the second “to the groom / to the bride” and holy shit it was devastating

- also: G5 BITCH TEAR OUT MY THROAT WITH YOUR TEETH

- another fun thing about Emmy’s Angelica was how utterly unimpressed she was with every man she interacted with! her teardown of Burr almost felt like an afterthought in how easily it came out. her chemistry with Luwoye wasn’t as immediately sparky as, say, Renee and Javi’s, but their back-and-forth was very banter-y and instantly comfortable and you really got the sense of two people who could have clicked together given the chance.

- her act 2 interactions with Ham were delightful too—at the end of “Take a Break,” the staging has Angelica start to chase after Ham when he leaves all “i can’t stop until i get my plan through congress.” this was not an “i languished in a loveless marriage in London i lived only to read your letters” chase as Emmy played it. it was a “bitch i have been on a boat for THREE MONTHS and if you think i’m gonna just be like oh hahah whatever we don’t need to hang out when i came all the way over here to see your wife and you then THINK AGAIN—” chase. it was Good. her rejection of Ham in “Reynolds Pamphlet” was so complete and crushing too—it was obvious that Ham was not even on her mind, she was there for Eliza.

i expected to like Amber Iman as Peggy/Maria, but i didn’t expect the extent to which she would steal the stage whenever she was featured in a song! she was so lively and read so well from the audience and was just a joy to watch.

- her Peggy was HILARIOUS. where Jazzy’s Peggy in “Schuyler Sisters” seemed more bratty-kid-sister-i-wanna-go-home-i’m-tiiiiiiiiiiired, Amber’s was like “you guys. you guys. we’re going to get mugged. we’re going to get shot. we’re going to get mugged, and then shot, and then murdered for good measure and WHY IS NOBODY LISTENING TO ME FUFKDCHSDKSFKHEJ” and the fact that this came across so strongly when she was sharing the stage with The Great Love Of My Life and could not have rightfully expected to claim any part of my attention is a credit to her

- the faces she was making at every male cast member who came within 2 feet of her were HILARIOUS. THE FUCK IS THIS. THE FUCK IS YOU. this was a Strong Lesbian Peggy for sure.

- and then her Maria! her Maria was magnetic. she played her as complicit but very obviously unhappy about it; whenever she stepped away from Ham as he did one of his monologue bits you could see the tension and nervousness and distaste on her face, but then he’d turn back to her and the mask would snap back up. not to toot my own horn but like...I Have Been Right This Whole Time.

- and then that red dress just draws the eye whenever Maria’s onstage, such that you couldn’t help but seek her out and watch her standing there silently as Ham drove himself over a cliff into the ocean. she was RIGHT THERE for all of “We Know,” standing there under one of the staircases next to Ham as he went off, watching watching watching and UGH it was such a little thing but it was so good.

i was surprisingly not as sold on Solea Pfeiffer as Eliza as I thought i would be? she had some great moments and was overall a strong performer but for whatever reason they never quite added up to a cohesive whole for me. whatever. still gonna marry her

- her “That Would Be Enough” with Michael Luwoye was actually deeply tragic in a way i’ve never seen/heard from any of the other Eliza/Alex pair-ups. these were clearly two people on completely different pages, having conversations right past each other, and that hurt me very deeply as someone who ships the thing. but it was in my mind also very believable characterization! whatever. i wanted to die. TALK ABOUT YOUR FUCKING FEELINGS, CHILDREN

- actually one of my favorite moments of hers was a teeny tiny one in “Take a Break,” during the verse where Angelica is reading the comma sexting letter. Eliza is onstage but out of the spotlight at this point, tidying up, and she’s bent over and closing the piano when they get to the “my Dearest...Angelica.” for a second she raised her head and half looked over her shoulder and i was like OOOHHHHH SHIT because it felt very, like, “Eliza knows about this flirtation but trusts Angelica not to overstep her bounds BUT is still deeply unsatisfied with how it is playing out” and i just. liked it. good shit.

- i think there’s a spectrum of “Burn”/post-“Burn” Elizas; in my mind i look at it as the spectrum of ice Elizas (exemplified by Pippa) to fire Elizas (exemplified by Aubin Wise/Lexi Lawson). Solea’s “Burn” fell closer to Pippa’s on that scale, very cold vengeance and restrained but ugly hurt, but after that song she ran even colder than Pippa’s Eliza. she didn’t break at all in “It’s Quiet Uptown,” not even when Ham did. her air was this frigidly magnanimous “yes. you did this to us. don’t presume to do it again,” and she looked to be the one supporting him as they exited. i don’t know that that’s my Eliza, but it was interesting to watch.

didn’t have super strong feelings about any of the revset/dual cast folks, aside from surprisingly Jordan Donica as Laf/Jefferson! was not expecting to jive on him, given Daveed is such a charismatic actor in both those roles, and he was clearly working hard for the trickier raps, but he was very funny and fun to watch.

- as Laf, he really got across the sheer Badness of Lafayette as a person, in the sense that he was deeply uncool and trying real hard and just. not. quite. making it. he was also very good at the physical comedy bits given that he is built like a man who is half human, half giraffe, and half random bag of pipe cleaners stashed in the back of the crafts closet of an elementary school classroom.

- seriously he is ALL LIMB. he TOWERED over everyone else onstage. A MONSTER. A MISSHAPEN GIANT

- he also played a very slick and menacing Jefferson who was constantly using his height advantage to attempt to intimidate Ham. didn’t work, obviously, but made for some very striking tableaux in the cabinet battles.

Ruben Carbajal had a lovely voice but i believed him more as Philip than as Laurens because HE LOOKED LIKE A LITERAL CHILD. HOLY SHIT. chubby cheeks and petulant pout and all. it was nuts. where is hamilton casting getting ahold of all these FETUSES

- as i mentioned i preferred Anthony’s Laurens but i did enjoy what a fratty little fucker Ruben’s Laurens came off as. like a hummingbird given human form. that was fun.

Mathenee Treco was a good Herc, kinda camp gay dad friend? which was unexpected but fun. his Mads was a little more vital than it seems like other people’s tend to run; he came off as someone who would overreach himself and then break down into coughing. something a little different.

i eh...didn’t particularly care for Isiah Johnson’s Washington. it was a fairly played straight Local Dad Fed Up With This Shit, Just Wants To Go Home And Build A Deck, which like...isn’t wrong, but there could be more, you know? eh. nothing’s perfect i guess.

i think it was @duckbunny who characterized Rory O’Malley’s King George as “bratty spoiled rich child throwing a temper tantrum” to Groff’s “sleazy abusive bf” King George? or maybe that was someone else? anyway i believed it, both because of his very round babyish face and because of his lack of poise compared to Groff’s King. he was scaryfunny. i habitually skip kgiii’s songs when listening to the cast album, so i was pleased to find myself enjoying all of them live. still think either “What Comes Next?” or “I Know Him” could’ve stood to be cut and replaced with...almost anything else to cover the costume change, really, but they’re fun, no big deal.

this has very little to do with anything but the ensemble featured dupes for Carleigh Bettiol, Betsy Struxness, and Ariana DeBose, i wasn’t sure what to do with this information, perhaps you are not sure what to do with it either, we can just hang out and be puzzled together, it’s chill

[iamanoriginal]

Dye For You

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Warnings: Language

Summary: Soulmate AU where your hair color is identical to your soulmates. If Person A dyes their hair blue, Person B wakes up with blue hair. You wake up to a rainbow of colors.

A/N: Whenever I can’t think of a good title I just make bad puns. Hah. Enjoy! Requests are open!

Masterlist

“How long do you think it’s gonna take Oak to get shit-faced tonight?” Anthony asked, looking towards Daveed, who sat at the bar stool next to his own.

The guys of the cast had set up shop at a bar after not getting together for a while, and Oak was definitely drinking enough for the entire group.

“It depends. Under two hours. At least,” Daveed replied, gesturing down the bar where Oak sat, flirting with a bartender under the prospect of getting free drinks. Lin stood next to him, watching on.

“Nah. I think he’ll last. Over 2 hours.” Anthony countered, sipping his beer.

“Really? I don’t believe you.” Daveed narrowed his eyes. “Have you seen him? I’m sure he’s already tipsy.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Depends, what are the terms and what happens if I lose?” Daveed replied, drinking out of his own beer.

“He usually ends up hitting on literally anyone when he’s drunk. As soon as he does, we check the time. If it’s past,” Anthony glanced at his phone. “-11 o’clock, I win. If I do, you dye your hair. Temporary, of course. We have a show tomorrow. At least through rehearsal and the Ham4Ham show. I’m thinking pure rainbow. ROYGBIV. It’ll be perfect.”

“That’s harsh. I haven’t met my soulmate, I imagine this would make them hate me. Hopefully, they won’t care. Whatever. I’ll win. And when I do, you have to dye your hair. Deal?” Daveed asked, offering his hand. He was willing to risk a lot for a simple bet, but it was just who he was. Even if it meant risking his soulmate’s hair.

It was a weird quirk of society. Soulmates had the same color of hair. Whatever changes were made to one party’s hair happened to the other’s. For example, if one person died their hair blue, their soulmate’s hair would change blue as well. This made dying your hair very frowned upon, along with any drastic changes to body appearance.

Anthony stopped, thinking for a minute. “You’re on. Deal.” He reached out, shaking Daveed’s hand. The two turned to watch the storm go down. Oak was taking shots; Daveed was confident he would win.

“I’m going to fucking kill my soulmate when I meet them, I swear. My interview’s today! I’m never gonna get the job now, Sara.” You vented into the phone to your best friend, fingers clawing through your hair. You had woken up to find rainbow colored hair covering your head on the day of a very important interview.

Your soulmate had never done anything crazy, so you were shocked to wake up to a head full of clown hair.

“I’ll be right with you to kick their ass. I’m sorry, Y/N. Want to meet up for lunch after your interview? You can vent. I’ll be all ears,” Sara offered. You smiled. She knew just what to do to make you feel better. She truly was your closest friend.

“Yes. God, please. You know me too well. I have to get going, text me the details?” You asked, pulling on your shoes at the door to your uptown apartment.

“Yeah. See you,” Sara replied before hanging up. You sighed, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. Your usual brown curls were bright rainbow, and even pulled back in the most flattering way possible, it still stuck out like a hawk. You sighed. This was going to be spectacular.

“I can see by your hair that you’re quite the creative one. I’m surprised; your soulmate must care for you a lot if they’re willing to let you do that.” The sarcasm was evident in the woman’s voice as she scribbled down notes, glancing up every once in a while to take in your figure. You sighed.

“Actually, it’s the other way around. I woke up to this,” you gestured to your hair, “This morning. I didn’t have time to fix it, but I plan to do so as soon as possible.” You tried to remain calm, but this lady was ticking off and you could tell by the tension in the air that this was not going well.

She had the audacity to roll her eyes. “For all you know, they’ll just dye it again. This unpredictability is not wanted at this company. I’m afraid we’re done here. It was nice meeting you, Ms. L/N. I assume you can see yourself out?” She spit out, not even glancing up from her computer. You stood, shocked. You managed to shake it off and head towards the door. This company had connections and could easily blacklist you.

“Thank you for the opportunity. Have a lovely day,” You managed through clenched teeth. You exited the building, pulling out your phone. Sara had texted you the address of a cafe a couple blocks away. It was a pretty day, so you decided to walk.

As you walked up the street, you noticed couples that were obviously soulmates. You grimaced, would you ever meet yours? You honestly didn’t know if you wanted to; they had to be crazy if they were willing to dye their hair. It was practically taboo. Most places refused to sell it because of the logistics of it, you were surprised it wasn’t illegal. There were stories of hair dying working, however. Rich kids leaving the salon with a head of rainbow hair. They would find their soulmate very quickly afterwards. You guessed your soulmate was one to do so.

Eventually, you made it to the cafe. Sara sat at a table; she waved you over as you walked in. She smiled sadly as you sat down. She could tell it didn’t go well, it was evident by the frown on your face. “Hey. Sorry, kiddo. Let’s order and you can tell me all about it. Good?” So you did.

While waiting, you told the story of your horrid interview. Sara consoled you immensely, helping you feel a lot better.

“Yeah. Your soulmate’s a dick, whoever they are. Here, let me get a picture. Can I post this?” Sara asked as she snapped a photo on her phone.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.” Sara nodded in return, typing something out before posting it. She showed it to you.

Whoever you are, your soulmate hates you. Woke up on interview day with rainbow hair instead of brown. Didn’t get the job. #soulmate

You nodded in approval. “Perfect. Want to go to the bookstore? I’ve been itching to get my hands on this one I keep hearing about.” Sara nodded.

“Of course. You deserve it. Let’s eat, then we can go,” she spoke as the waiter arrived with food. You dug in.

“I just don’t see why someone would do that. It’s kind of an asshole move,” You complained as you pawed through the book selection, reading summaries.”

“Exactly, I couldn’t agree more. What kind of-” Sara was cut off by her phone. A notification tone went off. She ignored it and began to speak again before it cut her off again. And again. Notification after notification came through, the tone going off again and again. Sara gave you a confused glance before pulling out her phone. She scrolled through her phone, reading. Her eyes darted across the screen as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“What is it?” You asked. She tapped her screen, holding up a finger. She scrolled a bit more, tapping the screen. Her eyes lit up. She looked up at you, grinning.

“The internet found your soulmate. He’s a Broadway star. Holy fuck, he’s cute. Have you heard of Daveed Diggs?”

You adjusted your dress, taking a deep breath. It was a few days later, and tonight you were going to meet Daveed. He had gifted you tickets to Hamilton, the show he was in. After his fans found you, he had privately messaged you, introducing himself and giving you his number. The two of you had been texting nonstop, and you had a lot in common. He explained the rainbow hair, claiming it was a bet. You were still extremely nervous. This was the guy who was meant for you.

It was time. You were already in the theater, and Daveed had arranged for an usher to take you backstage after the show. You still had to watch the show. As you found your seat, practically dead center a few rows from the front. As the show began and some guy came out to sing, you grew increasingly nervous. A second guy came out, singing to the chords. The music was beautiful. Then you heard it.

“And every day while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away, across the waves,” Daveed sang out, taking center stage. He gazed across the audience, eyes landing on you. He grinned at you before continuing.

The show was amazing. He rapped very quickly during Guns and Ships, belting out lyrics. It was even better after the intermission. He blew you a kiss during his debut as Thomas Jefferson, he was very intense during the Cabinet Battles, it was all perfect. You were on your feet with the rest of the crowd applauding as it finished. Tears streamed down your face. Having known little about the show, you were amazed at the creativity behind it all.

As everyone was filing out, an usher appeared before you, smiling. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Diggs has made reservations for you to come backstage. Are you ready?” He asked, gesturing towards the stage. You nodded, following behind him.

As you approached backstage, many actors and actresses greeted you. They all seemed to know who you were.

“HI! You must be Y/N. I’m Lin. Diggs has told me all about you. Did you like the show?” A man you recognized as Alexander Hamilton approached you. You nodded.

“Holy fuck, yes. That was amazing.” You replied. Lin laughed out loud.

“Great. Diggs is in his dressing room, just wait here. He should be here soon. Have fun,” he spoke before winking at you.  He turned and walked towards another cast member. You smiled, leaning against a wall to wait patiently.

Eventually, Daveed appeared through a doorway in regular clothes and glasses. He walked towards you, stopping in front of you. You stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Y/-”

He cut you off by taking your hand and pulling you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around your frame, breathing in as he did so. Eventually, he pulled back. “Hey. You’re Y/N, my soulmate. I’m Daveed. Sorry, that was abrupt. I’m just excited. Did you like the show?”

“Oh my God, yes. It was amazing. Your portrayal of Thomas Jefferson was much better than the history book’s attempt back in APUSH. And holy shit, you can rap,” You gushed, grinning up at him.

He laughed out loud. “Good to know. I was wondering if you were up for dinner? Or we could head back to my place. It’s up to you.”

“I’m kind of hungry, actually,” You stated. He nodded.

“Dinner it is. Ready?” It was your turn to nod. He led you out the back entrance of the theater, out into the cold streets of New York.

“So, do you rap often?” You asked in an attempt to make conversation. His eyes lit up and you knew you had mentioned a passion.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in a group called clipping. It’s experimental hip-hop, but we mainly rap. I love it. The other guys are back in Oakland, which is where I’m from. What do you do?”

“That’s really cool. I’m a journalist, currently in between jobs. I had what I thought would be a successful interview last week, but they turned me down when I showed up with rainbow hair,” You deadpanned, glancing up at Daveed with a grin. He smiled sheepishly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry about that. I feel really bad about it now. At least it was temporary.”

As you talked back and forth, you slowly realized how much of a match you and Daveed were. All throughout dinner, you noted parallels between the two of you. You closed the door to your apartment after he dropped you off with a promise to see you again soon. You opened your phone to see two messages. One from Sara demanding details, and another Daveed.

Thanks for coming. I had a ton of fun. The cast and I are getting together tomorrow for Anthony’s birthday. Invitation has been extended to you. See you then hopefully? I’ll make sure to not make a bet that would result in me dying my hair.

[musical-miranda]

The Mysterious Miranda (Chapter 9)

pairing: lin manuel miranda x reader, daveed diggs x reader

summary: Your cousin Anthony drags you along to one of his neighbor’s infamous parties with his girlfriend, keeping you from a night in. Mr. Miranda, the host, is a mysterious man, but that isn’t the part that gets to you.

warnings: a tad bit of angst, my best portrayal of a 1920s hospital, like one swear word, some really sweet fluffy moments, you’ll probably hate me by the end

words: 3883

a/n: “Damn Rebekah, it took you long enough!!” i know, i know, it took me an awful long time to get this finished, but I am unbelievably proud of it and excited to share it. It hardly resembles The Great Gatsby at this point, but oh well.  

I had to do a ton of research for it and need to thank @digging-daveed for helping me out with ideas, I had no idea where to go from TMM8 until she helped me out. @psychedemigod gave me the idea for one of the cute little moments in here, and @secretschuylersister made sure everything made sense as always. they’re all the best, a million thanks to them. 

Ed Sheeran’s “Happier” helped with some inspiration for the last 600ish words because it was just? Fitting? so listen to that on repeat while you read this if you want. 

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, just shoot me an ask!

tags: @isis278 @21phantasticromances @dvddggs @l-nmanuel @bluesnowyangel @hamrevolution @hell-yes-puns-and-ships @accidentally-impeccable @paintingpetrichors

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part ten

“You’re-I’m sorry, what?” You sputtered with wide eyes after a moment of letting his words sink in.

Daveed slowly approached the bed, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen, and his lips twitched into a sort of smile. “I’m in love wi--”

You held a hand up to stop him from continuing, pursing your lips together before speaking. “I-I heard you, Daveed.” You moved your hand to rub the back of your neck and swallowed the lump in your throat. “What would you like me to say?”

“I’d like you to stop seeing Mr. Miranda.”

For just a minute, you waited for a sign that he was joking but when no such sign came, you laughed out loud at the ridiculous request. “You’re crazy!”

“Excuse me?” Daveed raised both of his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I said that you're crazy, Daveed! Why, in heaven's name, would I leave the father of my child and the man I'm in love with? I may be unhappy with his recent behavior, but I still love him.”

“On account of me being in love with you.”

“Not a chance in hell! My child deserves a father that will love him or her. You've proven that you can't be a good father.”

“Nevertheless, I’m your husband!”

“Then watch me file for a divorce. I won't hesitate.” Your voice had dropped dangerously low as you stared him in the eyes, a fire burning in your own. There was no way this man was raising your child and you would fight to your death for it.

“I won't agree to it,” he bit back.

“Get out,” you snapped harshly, not blinking once as you looked into his dark eyes.

“Y/N-” Daveed’s voice had gone soft but you cut him off. “I said get out, Daveed. Go sleep in a guest room or the couch or even outside. Frankly, I couldn’t care less so long as it isn’t with me.”

For just a minute, he stood stunned in place, eyes locked with yours, but he finally backed down and left you alone with your thoughts.

How did I even get here? You thought to yourself with a sigh.

Daveed claimed to love you, and you wanted to believe him, but he made it so difficult to do that. Everything was a fight with him, from the side of the bed you’d sleep on to the baby you were having with another man.

Of course, you could understand his anger with some subjects, but it was the double standards that upset you the most.

Yes, cheating on him was wrong, but there was no way he would agree to a divorce. Things just spiraled out of control so quickly and suddenly there was nothing left for you to do but leave Daveed.

Even with your mind going a million miles an hour, you were asleep within five minutes of Daveed leaving the room, a testament to how long the day had been.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Daveed’s voice was loud enough to wake you up even across the mansion, making you sit up straight and groan loudly. When his panicked shouts continued for the next thirty seconds, you decided to get out of bed.

You slipped your feet into your house slippers before quickly running off to see what exactly your husband was up to. “Oh my god!” You cried out loudly. Daveed was standing in the kitchen at the stove, which in itself was shocking to you, but what caught your eye was the flame on his left shirt sleeve.

Without hesitation, you ran across the kitchen and shuffled through cabinets, throwing everything in your way on the ground until you found a fire extinguisher. As soon as you had it in your hand, you pulled the handle up and aimed the nozzle at the fire on his arm, spraying until the entire fire was out.

You could barely tell his silk shirt was actually blue underneath the mix of black and white from the ash and fire extinguisher which had you laughing just a bit. “You need to get cleaned up, my dear,” you murmured, taking a step closer to help him get the shirt off.

The humiliation on his face was enough to keep you from asking questions. Instead, you helped unbutton the silk shirt and gently pulled it off, cautious around the burn. You let his left arm rest in front of you to examine the damage, pursing your lips briefly.

His skin was black and charred where the fire burned strongest with a few waxy white spots on it, and the wound stretched across several inches of his forearm. Blisters were already forming on the surrounding skin and the edges of the burn had a black, leathery appearance. There was no blood, but that didn’t change the horrendous appearance of the wound.

“Get me a first aid kit, would you deary?” You called out to the nearest servant wherever they may be, turning the sink on the coldest setting and looking at the burn. “Oh! Call a medic as well!”

Though his voice was shaky, Daveed spoke up as you brought his arm to the cold water. He hissed at the touch but let you take care of him. “You see, I wanted to make you breakfast this morning, darling, to apologize for last night. And all of yesterday, really.”

“Have you ever cooked a meal in your life?” You took the First Aid kit from the servant and sifted through it rather quickly to find something to help out with the burn. “My dear, does it even hurt?”

“Never once,” he admitted as you pulled his arm away from the water. He had to ponder the question for a moment, so you knew the answer before he said it. “I hardly feel a thing.”

Admittedly you didn't know what that meant, but you knew it couldn't be anything good. To distract from the problem at hand, you continued the conversation. “Why exactly were you trying to cook? Haven't we got half a dozen chefs for that?”

Daveed laughed out under his breath and shook his head, his curls bouncing even with the slight movement. “You didn't believe me last night. You see, I wanted to get your attention and show you that I'm serious, darling.”

“Now see, you didn't have to set yourself on fire to get my attention,” you teased, adjusting carefully to lace your fingers with his. “A simple apology would have been enough.”

This got a laugh out of him and you watched the tension release from his shoulders when you held onto his hand. “That wasn't the intention, no, I wanted to show it rather than simply say it. A sort of grand apology.”

“Well, it was certainly something.” You turned your attention towards the blaring sirens of the ambulance as it approached your mansion, leading your husband towards the front doors to meet the two medics.

Since you didn’t look terribly panicked, they decided to start with conversation rather than rushing to the ambulance. “What can we help you with here, Miss?”

“Oh, my husband, he’s burned quite badly! There was a fire in the kitchen which caught onto his sleeve. I put it out as soon as I could, but I didn’t know what else to do.” You took a step closer to show them Daveed’s exposed arm.

A few faces were made as they examined his arm and a couple glances were shared before either of them spoke up. “Well, I certainly believe we should get him to the hospital as soon as possible. You said you’re his wife?”

You nodded your head once in response. “Yes.”

“You are welcome to stay with him in the ambulance then, Mrs…..”

“Diggs.”

Four hours later, you were still at the hospital by Daveed’s side. You were surrounded by a dozen other people in hospital beds, all coughing up storms or puking out their guts, so you were anxious to get home. Every thirty minutes, a nurse named Mary came over to rub a paste over Daveed’s burn that was supposed to help soothe it, and in the time between, you just made small talk.

Around three in the afternoon, Mary was teaching you to apply the burn cream on your own in the hopes that you'd be home sooner rather than later.

It was five in the evening when you asked the nurse where the nearest phone was to make a quick call. You kissed Daveed’s cheek gently before she lead you down the hallway, then you quickly dialed Jasmine’s number. It didn't take more than a few rings for her voice to come through the line. “Jones residence, who's calling?”

“Darling! When did you begin answering the phone yourself?” You let out a soft laugh.

“Y/N! Oh, darling, how are you holding up? Anthony rang last night and told me everything!”

“I'm quite alright, Jas, not to worry! The night was long and didn't end there. You see, Daveed approached me after we had a bit of a row about the night. Well, as it happens, he isn't upset on account of the baby. No, he’s in love with me, Jasmine!”

“Oh, is he now?” You could tell you had gotten her attention. “Tell me everything!”

“It wasn't a problem until he requested I stop seeing Mr. Miranda. He was truly pushing his luck, what with his revolting behavior less than an hour before. But dear, that isn't even where the story ends!”

Jasmine gasped rather loudly, and you could picture her with one hand flying up to her chest in a dramatic manner, causing you to laugh under your breath. “Go on, then!”

“I sent him to sleep in a guest bedroom and when I woke up this morning, it was to him shouting. Well, I went to see what all the ruckus was for, only to see him in the kitchen on fire! Literally on fire, Jasmine!”

“What, in the good lord’s name, was he doing in the kitchen?!”

“Trying to make breakfast for me! My husband has never cooked a meal in his life, and I'm almost certain his sleeve fell into the cooking oil. We’re in the hospital now, have been since just past sun-up.”

“You married a mad man!” She teased and you both chuckled. “Would you like me to visit with Anthony?”

“We already knew that, darling! Though it was a sweet thought. It was an attempted apology since words aren't nearly enough.” You pondered the thought for just a second. “I would quite like that. I couldn't say how long we’ll be, but it very well may be overnight.”

“I'll give Anthony a call once we’re done. Will you stay with Daveed the entire time?”

“I might. I haven't anywhere else to go, really. Anyways, I should get back to my husband.”

“Well, I'll see you around six. Anthony and I will bring supper.”

“Thank you, Jasmine darling. I will see you soon.”

The line went dead just as you finished speaking and you turned on your heels to head back to the patient room after setting down the phone.

“There you are, Y/N!” Daveed called out as you approached closer to his bed.

“Daveed darling, how are you doing?” You took a seat on his right side, resting your hand on his. “Anthony and Jasmine are coming up to visit, I hope that's alright. They're bringing supper as well.”

“My nurse says I could go home tomorrow morning if the burn begins healing well.” He wrapped his fingers around yours, brushing his thumb briefly across the side of your hand. “That's splendid, the lunch here was frankly, quite awful.”

You laughed out loud and pressed your lips to his cheek briefly, pushing a lock of hair away from his eye. “Great! They should arrive close to six.  And how is the pain, my love?”

“There’s still none. It’s a horrendous burn, though, isn’t it?”

“It’s bad,” you admitted softly, but he didn’t cringe at your words and instead started to laugh. “What? What’s so funny?” You didn’t see a reason for his laughter and apparently neither did he, as his response was just a shrug. When it didn’t cease and only got louder, however, you threw your head back in a fit of laughter.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in your laughter and just a moment later, your head was resting on Daveed’s shoulder as you laughed. His hand moved from yours to rest on your head, fingers running through your hair with a grin plastered across his face. If you were completely honest, you couldn’t even remember the last time you and Daveed had laughed like this. It was a nice contrast from the typically tense interactions you had shared as of late, and you weren’t gonna complain about it.

By the time you and Daveed’s laughter had stopped, your stomach was aching from how hard you were laughing, head resting against his chest as he stroked your hair. A few other patients were looking at you with confusion contorted across their faces. You hardly even noticed them, though.

“We should properly discuss last night,” you breathed out after a few minutes of quiet. “Calmly.”

He took in a deep breath before responding. “Look, darling, I care about you quite a lot. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t put up a fight.”

You moved your hand to rest in his again, a smile flashing across your face at the size difference. “I know, sweetheart, I know.. However, that doesn’t change my situation with Mr. Miranda.”

“I know.” He squeezed your hand once. “Why don't you tell me about this Miranda man? I haven't anything else to do.”

“Oh, I'm not sure that's a great idea, dear..”

“He brings you immense joy, does he not?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I want to know about him. How did you meet?”

“If you insist. We met five years ago in Louisville, he was a friend of an old family acquaintance. You see, my family was hosting a ball for some of the soldiers nearby and Lin happened to know somebody who came, so he followed along. That was a magical night. One week later, he began the process of courting me. Well, he was one of many men to do so, as you surely know, but he was different from the rest. A man who cared for more than my beauty and wealth?” You laughed out fondly at the memory.

“My mother and father weren’t fond of him, for he was a poor man, but I loved him. Lin and I were discussing marriage when he was drafted to the war. Though he swore he’d be back, I didn’t receive a single letter in over a year. I met you not more than a year later, and you know the story from there.”

You were surprised when Daveed stayed calm the entire time, not wincing even once. Instead, he had his lips pressed against the top of your head as the rough pad of his thumb brushed across the back of your hand.

“When did you reunite?” His dark brown eyes were full of curiosity, something you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Do you recall the night I came home after midnight in a rushed frenzy? Well, you see, Anthony had taken me to a party thrown by his neighbor. He was boasting about this invitation he had gotten as if it was some prized possession. Poor Anthony had no clue I knew the host, it was a terribly awkward situation I admit. I ran off and made a fool of myself, Jasmine had to drag me by the dress back to him. We danced for some time before he invited me on a date. It had been so long, I suppose he’d forgotten I was married. Well, my original answer was no, but I lost him once before. I couldn’t do it again. The next Wednesday, we went out and, if I’m not mistaken, that’s the night I conceived.”

Though his breathing had quickened, his overall mannerism stayed relatively calm and, if you weren’t mistaken, the corners of his lips were twitching up into somewhat of a smile. “He seems very kind. I want you to be happy,” Daveed admitted softly but started laughing before you could respond. When you looked at him, you saw a lock of curly black hair sticking to his mouth, face scrunched up in a look of disgust through his laughter.

“You’re a disaster! You’ve still got foam from the fire extinguisher in your hair, dear!” You laughed out. You just watched him struggle to get the hair from his mouth for a few moments since his uninjured hand was holding your hand, a grin plastered on your face. “You know, I expect my hair to get in your mouth, but your own? It may be time for a haircut, my dear.”

“My hair does not need cut.” Even though he had a toothy smile across his face, Daveed shot you a glare, so you leaned in to pull the strand of hair out of his mouth, letting your nose rub against his briefly.

“Give me that hair tie then, would you darling?” You motioned to the band around his wrist. He hesitated for just a second before you added, “please.” When he passed it to you, you adjusted your positioning just a bit to pull all his hair into a bunch and wrap the tie around it.

As you moved back into your seat, Daveed caught your lips in a kiss. You exhaled a sort of laugh from your nose but kissed him back softly, making no attempt to break the contact. His hand moved to cup your face in a gentle way that had your stomach turning in the slightest, leaning into the touch.

You were being pulled away from the kiss just as quickly as you’d gotten lost in it when Jasmine rested her hands on your shoulders. “Goodness, don’t sneak up on me like that!” You flicked your head around to look at your best friend, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. Anthony here cleared his throat multiple times, you were far too distracted.” A smirk flashed across her face and you rolled your eyes, stepping closer to Anthony to kiss both of his cheeks in greeting. “How are you doing, Daveed?” He asked.

Daveed looked over at him with a smile, lifting his hand in a short wave, then pulled your seat closer to him so there was space for Ant and Jas. “Quite well actually. It has been a bit of a long day, but Y/N has kept me in good company.”

“Splendid!” Anthony exclaimed. “I brought baked sweet potatoes and tea sandwiches for supper, I hope that’s alright?”

You reached across to the plate in his lap and popped a tea sandwich into your mouth, showing him a bright smile. “They’re fantastic, my dearest.”

He nodded once to you. “Mr. Miranda came by my cottage this afternoon and asked me to relay a message onto you.”

“And what would that be?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“He is terribly sorry for the incident last night and hopes you may forgive him sooner rather than later.”

“When you see him next, you be sure to tell him that sorry isn’t going to be enough this time.”

“Of course.” Anthony shuffled around for a minute before finding a seat beside you, offering a sweet potato to Daveed. He graciously took it and began eating best he could with one hand.

For a few minutes, while you and your husband ate, Jasmine and Anthony sat gossiping about a man in West Egg who had been all over the news lately. Well, Jasmine did most of the gossiping, but Ant did a great job when it came to listening. He seemed deeply engaged in the conversation.

“And here I thought they came for us,” you whispered in Daveed’s ear and let out a giggle, raising your eyebrows when he near choked on his food.

“Well now, aren't you the one that first introduced them?”

“Sure.”

“It seems you've got nobody else to blame then, my darling.” His grin was rather cheeky and you rolled your eyes in response, tracing circles on his shoulder with your finger out of boredom.

“How long will you be here?” Anthony finally turned his attention to the two of you, taking your empty dishes onto his lap.

Daveed mumbled a soft thank you before answering the question. “Tomorrow morning if it begins healing overnight.”

Jasmine’s head flicked around to look at him when he spoke up, showing a sweet smile. “That's fantastic news! Y/N, will you stay through the night or go back home to rest?”

You tilted your head to the side in thought at the question, looking to Daveed. Your mind hadn't gotten that far yet. Hell, a big part of you was still thinking about the night before, so you hoped your husband would have a preference.

When no immediate answer came from him, your shoulders shrugged up slightly. “I suppose it depends on how the remainder of the evening goes. Frankly, I’m not sure I could sleep in this seat.”

You were still absently tracing shapes on Daveed’s shoulder blade where the gown opening left some exposed skin when he leaned his head on your shoulder. “Oh, feel free to go home whenever, darling, I don't mean to keep you bored and uncomfortable.”

Moving your hand from his shoulder, you laced your fingers with his and rested your hands on his leg. “Don't be silly, I've had a splendid time with you. If I do leave for the night, I'll be back before you open your eyes.”

Mary came over as you were speaking to gently rub the cream along his burn once again, but she was gone almost as soon as you noticed her. Daveed pressed his lips to your jaw briefly then turned to talk with you, Anthony, and Jasmine.

The next several hours flew by full of more laughter and fun than you’d had with Daveed over the last year, if not more, and the four of you took turns telling stories. Some were childhood stories such as how Anthony made himself a fool in front of the governor when he was six years old, others were old family tales passed on from Jasmine’s grandparents and their grandparents, telling the rumored story of how their family ended up with so much money.

Of course, the story that got the most laughter of the evening was that which landed Daveed in the hospital in the first place. Both Jasmine and Anthony were folded over in fits of laughter by the time you had finished the story, and when they looked up at you, there were tears in their eyes from it.

It was midnight by the time the pair had left and you were curled up on the hospital bed beside your husband, his right arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling off. You fell asleep with your head nuzzled in the crook of his neck to the feeling of his fingers running slowly through your hair.

[mercuryze]

Change Things

pairing: Daveed Diggs/Reader, Lin-Manuel Miranda/Reader

word count: 1897

warnings: angst, infidelity, mention of alcohol, mention of sexual relations, manipulation

summary: She wished she could have saved Daveed from the pain she had caused him.

She should have known that only chaos would come with this new job. The two were a package deal. She wanted to blame her work, her boss, and the world for ruining the beautiful thing she had. She needed a scapegoat more than anything, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to throw anyone under the bus. (Y/N) knew that it was all her fault; the only one who could take responsibility was her and her alone.

If she could go back and change things, she would start at the fourth day that Jasmine had called in sick. As the “Peggy/Maria” standby, (Y/N) was scheduled to go on in Jazzy’s place. Between rehearsals and the previous shows she had been in, the actress was used to the physical affection that was in the second act. On that fourth night, however, her better judgement seemed to be absent. She was beyond hyperactive as Peggy, but that wasn’t much of a problem. Since Margarita’s character was younger than Angelica or Elizabeth, (Y/N)’s demeanor was acceptable.

If she could go back and change things, she would fix how she acted during intermission. (Y/N) was usually the first person to change costumes. That left her twelve minutes out of the fifteen they were given. She had light conversations with Daveed and Carleigh- those were the two people she was closest to. She knew both of them like the back of her hand. (Y/N) ruffled Daveed’s hair, believing him to be much cuter than when he had his little ponytail.

She liked to think that his hairstyles represented his moods. When it was loose, Daveed seemed to be more bold than he usually was. The man was more reserved when his thick locks were all tied up. (Y/N) adored his hair. She braided a small portion of it (with much difficulty!) and knowing Daveed, he’d most likely forget about it. Thomas Jefferson walked out on stage with a braid in his hair that night.

Seven minutes left. Daveed had left to take a phone call, and Carleigh had struck up a conversation with another ensemble member. (Y/N) wandered around backstage, anxious for the next number she’d be in. She needed to get all of this energy out. Her portrayal of Maria wouldn’t be as it was supposed to that night. (Y/N) was an incredible actress, but she often let her moods infect her performances. Alexander Hamilton’s mistress wasn’t meant to be too bright and happy.

If she could go back and change things, she would prevent herself from entering Lin’s dressing room. It took three knocks before the door swung open. (Y/N) looked Lin up and down and admired the green costume he now wore. It suited him. She carefully watched as he wet his lips, the corners of his mouth tugging up to form a smile. Cute, she thought to herself.

“Miss Maria Reynolds.” He greeted her and welcomed her inside the small room. She gratefully stepped inside and took a seat by the vanity. Her eyes followed her co-star around as he grabbled a water bottle and brought the rim up to his mouth.

(Y/N) giggled and ran her fingers through her hair. “Mister Alexander Hamilton. Better start wrapping up. There’s five minutes ‘till we’re on.” She brought one of her legs over the other as she leaned forward and grinned at him.

He matched her joyful expression and leaned against the wall. “Six minutes left, actually.” He retorted with a gentle chuckle. The young woman watched intently as he crossed his arms over his chest. “But, yeah, I’m all ready to go back on.” Lin added.

“Mm, no, last time I checked, we had five minutes.”

At this, Lin pushed himself off of the wall and strolled across the room in order to pick his phone up off the table. He flashed the screen, which displayed the current time. (Y/N) noticed his phone wallpaper was an old picture of everyone in the company. She guessed that it had been taken on opening night. “Six minutes left,” She snorted, finding it funny to see a man use a cell phone while dressed in period clothing. “-just like I said! Honestly, Lin-Manuel, you should really work on your listening skills.”

The pair spoke and laughed together for another two minutes before their fun was interrupted by a stagehand barging in and reminding them of the time. (Y/N) stood with an irritated huff and smoothed her skirt. “Alright, I’ll go blow dry my face for a bit. This new lipstick they bought me won’t dry.”

“And that matters because…?” Lin pondered aloud as he took a few steps toward the dressing room door, meaning to open it so his companion could step outside.

Before she made her way toward the exit, (Y/N) grabbed a baby-wipe off of the vanity and squeezed it between her forefinger and thumb. “It matters because…I wouldn’t want to leave a nice red mark on your lips. I think Eliza would notice if her husband is wearing a lip shade that she doesn’t own,” She joked and grabbed onto the collar of Lin’s costume with her free hand. “Yanno, kinda like this.”

If she could go back and change things, she would have stopped what happened next. It happened too quickly- neither Lin nor (Y/N) fully realized what had happened. The actor was stuck in a sort of awe-induced trance, and the actress seemed to be running on autopilot. Her lips moved on their own. Lin didn’t couldn’t react. Before he had the chance to, a baby wipe had replaced (Y/N)’s mouth on his own. It was wrong; they both knew that.

And yet it still happened.

“Like I said: wouldn’t want to leave a nice red mark on your lips.” With that breathy comment, the woman clad in scarlet swiftly left her cast member’s dressing room and promptly ran into another one of her fellow actors.

She beamed at the man whose hair and heart she had grown fond of.

“Miss Maria Reynolds.” He mimicked the words that Lin had uttered only moments before. If there was any small amount of guilt that had bubbled up in her gut, she didn’t notice it in that moment. Daveed continued. “Good luck out there, babe, and don’t enjoy it too much.” It was an obvious joke, because there was no possible way that (Y/N) would even look at another person the way she looked at her boyfriend. Her eyes were always filled with a strong sense of adoration when he gazed into them.

“Good luck to you too, honey. Love you.” She bit down on her bottom lip as Daveed pressed a kiss to her forehead. The feeling of his lips lingered for a second or two even after he had pulled away. The small twinge of an emotion unknown was hastily repressed.

The rest of the second act ran smoothly, save for the number depicting Alexander Hamilton’s torrid affair. Every affectionate moment in the scene seemed more passionate than they had ever been. That fact had to do with (Y/N)’s strange mood on that day. Although her rendition of Maria Reynolds was more giddy than it should have been, it was also fiery and truly conveyed how scandalous the on-stage situation truly was.

She noticed the wariness in Lin’s eyes during their number. It came across as caution or even…restraint? She wished she could read his thoughts. His grip on her waist would tighten at times, a detail that (Y/N) payed close attention to. Of course all his movements were in their blocking, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but misinterpret them. The young woman had a beyond brilliant mind, but she wasn’t always the clearest of thinkers.

If she could go back and change things, she wouldn’t have lied to Daveed. Everyone had planned to go out to dinner after the show. Lin claimed to have been feeling under the weather and opted to go straight home after that night’s production. (Y/N) didn’t want to let him go.

She had made up an excuse and lied about needing to stay late. With an unforced smile, she stared straight into her boyfriend’s eyes and declared that she needed Carleigh to show her some steps that she had supposedly missed. (Y/N) prayed that Daveed hadn’t heard Carleigh when she, too, had cancelled on the big dinner plans and gone home.

He bought it, and bid his girlfriend goodnight with a big kiss and a promise to call her in the morning.

To say she rushed to Lin’s dressing room after changing out of costume was an understatement. Luckily (or unfortunately, in this particular situation), she had managed to catch Lin right before he had left the theater. Even after being in a musical that was over two hours long, (Y/N) still held an energetic behavior. Like everyone else in the company, she too had asked herself what had caused this mood. There was no clear answer.

If she could go back and change things, she’d stop herself from manipulating Lin. Lin…the poor man had too weak of a hold over his emotions. He often let them consume him and influence his actions. (Y/N) played off of that. She enticed him. His lust gained the upper hand that night.

After a few drinks, he was a complete mess. The young woman noticed he was a very tactile person. He liked to touch. She let him. What she did to Lin was horrible and selfish and she should have stopped herself while she had the chance. (Y/N) laughed while it was all happening, thinking their rather steamy night to be ironic. As the actors for Maria Reynolds and Alexander Hamilton, the two should have known not to let history repeat itself. Maybe this was meant to happen.

If she could go back and change things, she wouldn’t have brought him home with her. Daveed broke his promise of calling (Y/N) in the morning. Instead, he hauled himself all the way to her apartment with breakfast- her favorite. She had previously given him his own set of keys to her home. She should have anticipated how easy it would be for someone to catch her in her sick little game.

If she could go back and change things, she would have come up with a better explanation. A better apology.

If she could go back and change things, she would have taken the hint and stopped trying to call Daveed. She quit soon after.

It was a difficult process. (Y/N) knew that Lin was stepping down as Alexander soon anyways, but the tension between him and Daveed would still be sharp until then. She prayed that things would be alright with Lin and his own family.

She stopped talking to most cast members completely. Carleigh was probably the only one she normally spoke to, since the bond between the two couldn’t be broken easily. Not even if (Y/N)’s infidelity was thrown into the mix. (Y/N) needed support, and Carleigh understood that. It would be too embarrassing to sit under everyone else’s judgmental eyes. Everyone knew.

If she could go back, she would do so in a heartbeat.

If she could, she would.

[falselysettos-blog]

How To Break The Heartbreaker {part 2}

Daveed Diggs x Reader • Warnings: probably swearing somewhere, ALSO HSM CREDIT TO MY CHILDHOOD THANKS FOR HELPING ME WRITE LMAO • Authors Note: thanks for all the love on Part 1! I STRONGLY SUGGEST READING PART 1 BEFORE READING THIS OR ELSE YOU WON’T UNDERSTAND IT! I also wrote the final line of this part before I wrote anything else lol • Step 8: break his heart You didn’t know where to begin at this step. Had you not been so attached to Diggs that you might have been able to do this easily. Hell, anyone BUT Diggs would have satisfied you. But the heartbreaker had found a new way to break your heart, and it wasn’t intentional. He’d made you fall in love with him. And it broke your heart into pieces, because now you had to break his heart, which would hurt you ten times worse. You were praying, hoping that God might send you a divine intervention, and that you wouldn’t have to break up with him. Even better, find a way to stay with him. You should have known to be careful what you wished for. ~ Your friends were slowly beginning to decipher that your intention was not at all to break up with Diggs, but to STAY with him. They hadn’t figured out the extent of your impromptu plan, but they knew for a fact that you had abandoned the previous plan, which was aggravating them. The only reason you were getting this attention was so that you could finally put Daveed Diggs in his place. The only reason you were now getting popular was because someone needed to stand up to his mouth. But to their anger, you were being charmed by his words, and they sensed something bigger growing inside of you. Love isn’t something easily demolished. Which is why they had to stop it before it got to be too much to handle. ~ The plan was in place, ready to be executed and put into play. Your friends didn’t realize, at least then, how much this plan would hurt you. And how much the so-called “cold hearted asshole” Diggs would be hurt as well. ~ You laughed as Diggs let down the roof of his convertible, wind whipping in your face as you sped down the street to your house. He had made a random stop to your house, asking if you’d be interested in going to see a movie with him. Cliché as it was, you couldn’t help but swoon whenever he talked to you or acknowledged your presence, and this was no exception. You could hardly pay attention during the movie as you were too busy focusing on the fact that Daveed Diggs was holding your hand during the duration of it. He would run his thumb along the outside of your hand, making you both simultaneously melt with love and sob in sadness, knowing that even though he was here with you now, he wouldn’t be yours much longer. You had to find someway to end it, but every time you made up any sort of plan, your heart would hurt so much that you’d immediately shut down said plan and push it off until the next week. Your friends were impatient now, claiming that this had been your plan all along and that you were just looking for fame and popularity. In truth, you were just too helpless to do anything but fall more in love with the heartbreaker. You had to figure something out, and quick. You didn’t have any idea of the plan that your friends were setting up, and for the time being, you were perfectly content to be Diggs’s next “victim.” ~ Today was the day that your friends decided to end any and all relationships that you shared with Diggs. They came to school, fully prepared to ruin somebody’s life that day. They began Step 1 as soon as they saw you leave Diggs’s side for class. They took their chance. “Hey Daveed!” He recognized them vaguely as your friends, so he gave them a friendly smile. “Hi. You’re Y/N’s friends right?” They nodded. “Listen, we have to make a movie for our film class, and we wondered if you’d help us by being one of the actors in it.” Diggs’s ego was being weighed visibly, between shooting the movie or being with you. His ego won out. “Sure. When do you want me to help you?” They grinned, knowing they had him now. “This afternoon right after school?” “Perfect. See you guys later.” He waved, and walked off to class. Your friends smiled smugly amongst one another, knowing that the first step was now completed. ~ “Hey. Is this where I’m supposed to meet you guys for the movie?” “Yeah, come on in. You ready?” “Yeah. Why’s she here?” He gestured to the redhead standing between the girls, looking quite satisfied as she held herself in a pose that signified an I’m-better-than-you attitude. “This is Alexis. She’s gonna be your love interest.” Diggs glanced around the room, an eyebrow raised. “Love interest? You’re using my ex-girlfriend as my love interest?” They all giggled, as if something were obvious. “Of course, silly. This movie is about love!” He started backing out of the room. “If you’re going to have someone be my love interest, why can’t you use Y/N?” They all laughed. “Because it’s about Y/N! It’s a surprise for her birthday!” Diggs visibly relaxed, and smiled uneasily. It couldn’t hurt, right? “Yeah, anything for her. Let’s do this.” ~ “Now, you two are going to kiss.” Diggs shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Y/N.” The girls pouted, looking at him. “Come on, Daveed. It’s for Y/N, she’ll love it if you’re in it. Please?” He shook his head again. “What if she gets mad at me? I don’t really want to lose her…” The girls rolled their eyes. “Oh come on. You don’t think we didn’t ask Y/N first? She thinks this is for a school project, and she said it was okay as long as it was for strictly homework.” Diggs breathed a sigh of relief, and surrendered to Alexis as she attacked the lips that you thought had belonged to you. ~ “Thanks Daveed. We’re all done.” As soon as he was clear, he was off and running out of the building, towards his car so he could pick you up for an impromptu date. He loved surprising you, randomly showing up at your house while you were in a sweatshirt and leggings, comfy but unattended too. Diggs thought it was cute whenever you looked comfortable and he loved to play with your hair when it was messy. “Ugh, another one?” He smiled at you, and gestured to the car. You yelled towards your mother’s general direction that you were going out, and hopped in the passenger seat of Diggs’s car, speeding into the night with your newfound love driving you. ~ “How could you? I can’t believe you’d do that to me!” You cried as you yelled in Diggs’s face, pain and sadness spreading through your body with each word you spoke. “What are you talking about Y/N? What’s wrong?” ~ You had been in film class, bored out of your mind as you watched the movies your classmates had made. You perked up when your friends began presenting, specifically because you had heard the Diggs was in it. You waited patiently for the movie to begin, but once it did, your heart dropped to your stomach. “Y/N L/N. A sweet person, who doesn’t deserve what they are about to see.” They clicked onto the next frame, and your throat closed up as your tears began flowing. Diggs had Alexis, his ex, pinned up against the wall of a classroom, kissing her as if the world depended on it. Your world came to a sudden stop, as if it were confused on what to do next. You felt numb, as if the love in you had been sucked out and thrown away, along with the pieces of your now broken heart. There was an audible gasp throughout the room, and you felt every person in the room’s eyes on you. You looked down at your lap, tears falling silently as you soaked in the new information. You should have known, you should have known that nothing good comes from dating Daveed Diggs. ~ “I thought you loved me!” You wept, as Diggs attempted to calm you down. “It was just for the movie! They told me they told you!” You scoffed as your sadness turned to anger. “Yeah sure, like I’d believe the heartbreaker! You just cheat on me because you got bored, and you just want someone else! You know what else, Diggs? The problem is, I never loved you. This was all a setup, for revenge!” You lied through your teeth, not wanting to be one-upped. Not this time. Diggs needed someone to take him down a peg. Diggs’ eyes flashed betrayal. “What are you talking about?” “You broke Alexis’s heart, I wanted revenge! I plotted this whole thing to get you to fall for me, but I never planned on this! I never planned on falling for the heartbreaker!” Diggs looked broken. “You mean you played with my heart, and then planned to break it?” His anger wasn’t there. There wasn’t anything that displayed rage, just sadness. Hurt. Betrayal. He turned away, so you couldn’t see the tears in his eyes, and began to walk away. “So you’re just going to leave?” You said, barely acknowledging the guilt you felt in the pit of your stomach. Diggs turned back to you, the remorse in his eyes making you stop short of your next level of anger. “You know, Y/N? I may know how to break hearts, but you broke the heartbreaker.”

[yes-thatwritercass-blog]

phantom, mimi, maria. lin x reader

Shitty first post with a shitty title on my writing tumblr! Let’s go! 

Words: 1184

Waiting around the theatre for the next showing wasn’t exactly exciting for any of the actors, but it did lead to exciting antics with the current Phantom of the Opera crew. You were known for ambush serenading everyone with any and every song that came to mind. Even better, you filmed most of the encounters and posted them to your twitter, letting fans request songs and victims.

Speaking of, your next request was to your Phantom, James. You convinced Rachel, your alternative for Christine, to film your performance of ‘Say No to This.’ The camera began rolling as you got into a ‘seductive’ pose against James’s dressing room doorway. When he opened the door, he rolled his eyes but failed to hide his amused smirk.

“I know you are a man of honor,” You began, “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, but I don’t know where to go. My husband’s doin’ me wrong, beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me. Suddenly he’s up and gone… I don’t have the means to go on.” You swooned slightly, letting James catch you.

He laughed a little and skipped to the part he somewhat knew from being driven around with you, asking you in an angry tone, “How could you do this?”

“Oh, no, sir,” You crooned out, yelling out as James dropped you on the floor. Rachel threw up a thumbs up.

“That was amazing!” She said, helping you up.

“Yeah, yeah, now go. I kinda have to have a disfigured face in a few hours.” James shooed you and Rachel out of his room.

“So, did you get all of it?” You asked Rachel, grabbing your phone out of her hands to check out the video.

“Of course. Not like it’s my first time recording your crazy shit,” She pushed you lightly, laughing. “Now what’s going to be your caption? ‘I’ve been bat-shit crazy over the musical for a month but I’m too scared to buy tickets because then I’ll meet my celebrity crush’?”

“Hardy har har.” You deadpanned. “I’ll figure it out during hair and makeup. Speaking of, do you mind going to get Angel? I don’t wanna get up.” You batted your eyelashes and Rachel threw a pillow at you but still went to find your wig-handler.

And figure it out you did. Finally tweeting before places were called, you weren’t able to check your phone until intermission, when you noticed it had even more notifications than usual. When you found the cause, you squealed out loud.

@Lin_Manuel retweeted your video. @Lin_Manuel: Can I get @(Y/T/N) to be Peggy/Maria every night? Because, let me quote The Reynolds Pamphlet, ‘damn.’

Oh my god. You had to respond!

@(Y/T/N): @Lin_Manuel Too busy being Christine lately, plus I def can NOT play that role like @JasCephasJones !

A reply came instantly, but not from who you expected. @JasCephasJones: @Lin_Manuel @(Y/T/N) Lin I demand you get (Y/N) tickets now so I can meet her and hug her and let her know her vocal range kills me!

@Lin_Manuel: @(Y/T/N) @JasCephasJones What do you think I’m doing?

The calling of “PLACES!” made you jump, and you rushed to get to your place for Masquerade and shook off the shakiness of two of your favorite actors tweeting about you.

Meanwhile, Lin was freaking out in his apartment, frantically texting any and every one who was involved in seating. Then, when a ticket was secured for you, he switched to texting people who could possibly have your phone number. Lin almost (okay, maybe he actually did) yelled in happiness when a friend of a friend who was an understudy for one of your friends a couple of months back still had your number.

He sent a text trying his best to be cool. He failed.

From: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hi! This is lin, like from hamilton? You probably know that considering you tweeted me and sung my song ha. Anyways I have a ticket for you to see the show this wednesday. It sounds creepy but i promise it’s not i looked on a website and saw you don’t have a show that night but if you have plans that 100% okay and i’ll make sure you can get in another night

From: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Anyways that’s a long message. You’re performing now so you’ll see this later bye

And you did see it later, right before you were leaving to stagedoor. Squealing out loud, you made sure to send a text back, stopping what you were doing to get ready for signing playbills.

To: HamiBabe That so works! I can’t wait to see you :)

You and Lin text back and forth for the next three days almost constantly. Your celebrity crush was turned into an actual crush almost too easily. The crew found it too easy to tease about it and James and Rachel both claimed they were responsible for your first relationship since you first began getting noticed on Broadway.

However, you were so inexperienced and had no idea what to wear. Would it seem to stuck up to be causal fancy? Would it seem like you didn’t care if you went completely casual? Why was dating so hard? Well, not really dating. Not dating at all, actually. You finished getting ready trying to shake the disappointment when you realized that.

The theatre was magnificent. You passed it everyday on your way to work but you were often late so it wasn’t like you ever really took in the theatre. It was stunning and you would probably would never get over New York.

Your seat was amazing and the show deserved something more than just a standing ovation. It seemed the cast was told you’d be here and where you’d be, as when Daveed made his entrance, he winked and blew a kiss to you. When it was over, a security guard came over to you and lead you backstage to meet the company.

Jasmine was the first one you spotted and she rushed to meet you. “I love you!” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. A blush spread quickly over your cheeks when she laughed.

“You have no idea! I actually watched tapes of you as Mimi for Maria,” She admitted.

“No way! That was ages ago. RENT was my first big role,” You laughed. “Can you keep a secret?” You made her pinky promise before telling her, “I’m going to go back to RENT as Maureen next month!”

Jasmine’s month hung open for a second before the others seemed to notice you. Daveed Diggs was the next to greet you, yelling your name loud enough to catch the attention of Lin. Phillipa asked for an autograph and you agreed only if she would sign your playbill.

It took a while, but eventually, Lin and you were left alone as the others went to stagedoor. “So-” You both began at the same time. “You go first,” you insisted.

“Well, I know it’d be hard with scheduling but maybe you’d like to go to dinner sometime?” He asked shuffling his feet a little.

“I’d love to.”