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astralaffairs · 5 years

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Hiiii! If you’re taking requests for the drabble prompt lists you reblogged, would you mind doing “I don’t remember our hello kiss being a hello makeout. Are you threatened by my friend?” with our boy TJeffs? I love your writing. I’ve probably read and reread chapter 4 of FOTP more times than I can count. 😊

aw omg this is so sweet!! this got too long so i had to use a “continue reading” and i edited the prompt just a lil for the flow of the writing ;)

___________

You didn’t think having Alex over would be a problem.

It was a Friday evening, long after your classes had ended, but your workload never seemed to stop. You and Alexander were old friends from undergrad, and both of you staying at the same university for law school was a pleasant coincidence, as he had always been your favorite and most effective study buddy–hence, why you were currently slumped on the couch in your apartment, textbook and notes strewn across the floor of your flat, flashcards in your hand with your legs slung over Alex’s lap.

You groaned as he continued to read off court cases that had long since begun to blur together.

“Hold up. Wasn’t Madison your roommate last year?” you asked with a knit brow, and Alex just rolled his eyes, amusement etched into his features.

“Definitely not the one who went against Marbury in 1803.”

“What’s the difference?” you whined, digging through your scattered notes for some semblance of organization.

Alex gave a teasing grin. “Well, for starters–”

The beginning of Alex’s monologue of clowning you was cut thankfully short by the sound of the door to your flat opening.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You heard Thomas’s tired voice before you saw him, craning your neck with a smile as he walked in.

“Hey, T.” You met his eyes as he began to shake his coat off, and he left his things by the door, eyeing Alex warily as he went toward the adjacent kitchen. “How was TA-ing?

“Worse now that you’re not an undergrad.” He sent you a sly grin, winked, and you rolled your eyes. He hesitated, though, glancing to Alex. “And how’ve you been doin’ with…” A slight pause broke his sentence; it was clear how carefully he was choosing his words. “Studying?”

You raised an eyebrow when his eyes narrowed in the very slightest, and you risked a glance toward Alex, who looked equally tense. The shift in the atmosphere was obvious, but you couldn’t quite explain what caused it.

“It’s good,” you said slowly, shifting on the couch as you shuffled your notes into a pile. “By the way, this is–”

“We’ve met.” It was Alex who cut you off, addressing you but with his annoyed gaze fixed on Thomas. Your eyes widened.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You swallowed. “How did–”

“We had classes together in college. Same major,” Thomas abruptly interjected, jaw clenched. Your eyes widened further; you had rarely seen him angry, and you couldn’t imagine what about Alex’s presence had him to worked up. He finally broke Alex’s stare, addressing you directly. “Didn’t know this was who you meant when you said you were havin’ Alex over.”

“Didn’t know Jefferson was your roommate, either,” Alex scowled at you. You were certainly caught in the middle of a much longer standing feud, and didn’t seem to have a way out. Thomas scoffed.

“Her boyfriend, actually.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism apparent across his face. “Funny,” he drawled, “She never mentioned having a boyfriend.”

Thomas turned to you, eyebrows raised, gaze accusatory. “Oh yeah?”

You simpered guiltily, praying that the atmosphere would soon lighten. “It never came up.”

He folded his arms, his jaw set and shoulders tense. His expression had melted once again into one of simple annoyance, and his gaze shifted to where your legs rested in Alex’s lap, eyeing how close the two of you were sitting, curled up together under your classwork. The beat that passed had the animosity in the air weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“Well don’t get too excited, Hamilton,” Thomas said humorlessly, breaking the momentary silence. Alex raised a brow. “Last I heard, you were a girl from criminal law 101.”

“But you’ve heard about me?”

“Actually,” you interjected meekly, “She goes by Lexi now. Different person.”

Alex pursed his lips, and it was then that you realized the pads of his fingers from the hand he had resting on your knee had begun to dig into your skin. You withdrew your legs from his lap wordlessly, and could see Thomas’s shoulders relax as you closed your textbook and left it on the coffee table beside you, discarded your flashcards and turned to him instead.

“Anyway, what happened in class today?” you asked, desperate to change the subject. You rested your head and folded arms on the back of the couch. Alex stayed quiet, instead choosing to bury his head in your constitutional law textbook. “It’s governmental philosophy on Fridays, right?”

Thomas hummed noncommittally. “That’s the one. Nothin’ too exciting went down this week.”

You furrowed your brow. Despite the timing of the class, he usually came home with at least sixteen stories about the undergrads. God had inviting Alex over been a mistake.

You bit your lip as he rummaged through your fridge. “What about–?”

“I’m gonna go to bed, sweetheart.” His voice was still gruff, an edge to his words that wasn’t intended to be aimed at you. That had your eyebrows shooting toward your hairline. You pushed yourself off the couch, Alex glancing up as he felt the cushions shift, and walked back around toward the kitchen where Thomas stood.

“Thomas, it’s hardly eight,” you said, arms folded but voice soft as you met him before he turned down your hallway. He didn’t meet your gaze.

“’M tired. It’s been a long week.” You took a step closer to him, the fact that Alex still sat behind you far from your top priority. You could feel Thomas’ shoulders relax as you rested a hand on his bicep, reaching up to brush a curl away from his face.

“You sure that’s it?” You cast a fleeting but pointed glance at Alex, and Thomas didn’t pretend to hide his glare nor suppress his scowl.

“Just had lots to do. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You were far from convinced but didn’t think Thomas was really trying to convince you. He and Alex clearly had some sort of fraught history that you weren’t sure you wanted to dig into.

“Okay,” you said softly, looping your arms around Thomas’ neck, and his hands ghosted over your waist to your hips. “G'night, T.”

You pushed yourself up to his level to kiss him before he went off to bed, but after a moment, it became clear that he’d had a different idea. The moment your lips touched, his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and a hand came up to cup your jaw. His teeth sank lightly into your bottom lip, and you gasped against his mouth as he sank his fingers into your hair. His touches were slow, gentle, and intentional – the pad of his thumb brushed against your cheekbone as the kiss went on for longer than it needed to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a hunch as to why that was.

You didn’t mind though; the affection was always welcome, and you could smell the cologne and rain that still seeped into his clothes and hair. While his touch was soft, it remained demanding, and you relaxed in his grasp. He pulled away much later than he’d needed to. You hadn’t intended anything more than a chaste kiss, your actions tentative with how worked up he appeared, and were left stunned as he rested his forehead against yours, hands still on your waist.

“Night, babygirl.”

Your heart was still pounding as he walked off, reeling from how Thomas appeared more strained than you’d ever seen him. What was going through his head?

“Any chance you’ve learned by now what Marbury v. Madison is?” Alex’s voice broke your musings, smile tense. You sighed heavily.

“Couldn’t tell you.”

________

It wasn’t two hours later when Thomas emerged again from your bedroom. He’d spent two hours tossing and turning, hadn’t even been tired but needed an excuse to retreat to your room. It took him nearly two hours to work up the nerve to kick Alex out. (After all, it was his apartment, too. Why shouldn’t he have a say in who was hanging around at all hours of the night?)

What he saw upon entering the living room wasn’t quite what he’d expected, though. There you sat, just one light on above you so you could see your notes, the scattered papers collected and shuffled back into your binder.

You heard his footsteps before he could say anything, though, turning in your seat to face him.

“Morning, babe,” you teased, your voice gentle. “Sleep well?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, though a smile had begun to grow on his lips. “Not exactly.” You frowned, took a sip of the tea you’d brewed for yourself.

“Aw, what’s keeping you up?”

“Come to bed, sweetheart.” He leaned against the back of your couch, arms folded as he looked down at you. You pushed out your bottom lip in a mock pout.

“Not even gonna answer my question?”

“Can’t sleep when you aren’t sleepin’ with me,” he admitted with a grin, coming around to join you on the couch. He rested a hand on your knee. “C'mon.”

You grinned. “I already kissed you goodnight; what more do you need?” He scowled at that, and you sat up to pull him closer, snuggled against his side. “Speaking of which, I don’t remember our goodnight kiss being a goodnight makeout before now.”

You looked up at him with a brow raised; you could feel his body tensing under yours. “And what about it?” he asked bitterly.

“Are you threatened by Alex?” you asked bluntly, and his jaw ticked, an arm looping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Do I need to be?” His stare was expectant, and you pulled yourself into his lap with a small frown, arms wound around his neck to pull him down to you.

“Of course not,” you said softly, your nose brushing against his, and his lips ghosted against your cheek.

“You sure about that?” he asked, and before you could protest, continued, “The two of you were lookin’ awful cozy before I got here.”

You pulled back in the slightest to look him in the eye. “Never, Thomas. I’ve just known Alex for years. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

Your gaze was pleading, your tone firm, and he pulled you in for another soft kiss. “Not sure he sees it that way,” he murmured as your head dropped to rest in the crook of his neck.

“Hey, if I knew you two had a history, I never would’ve brought him here,” you reassured him. “Don’t worry. I’m yours.”

“Damn right you are,” he huffed as his lips met the underside of your jaw; his teeth scraped against the soft skin and he nipped at your pulse point. “Gotta make sure Hamilton knows it too, hm?”

“Thomas,” you whined into his shirt, and you could feel his grin against your neck. His grip on your hips tightened as he held you against him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he hummed, and you squirmed in his grasp, “You won’t even have to mention bein’ in a relationship. Hamilton won’t try a thing.”

You showed up to your classes the next Monday in a not-quite-high-enough turtleneck in the sixty degree weather and with several pounds of concealer lining your jaw.

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chenfwdw · 3 years

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sustinentiae-blog · 7 years

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Letters

My darling Thomas, They say that most women don't recall childbirth, stating that perhaps the trauma the mother goes through is too much for the mind to cope with. I recall your birth as clear as any other day, every agonizing moment until those first blissful seconds I was able to hold you in my arms. You screamed and cried with a voice so loud, I knew that no power on earth or heaven would silence you unless you wished it. How little you've changed and how proud I am of you for it. I watch you from a different place now, as I watched over you as you grew. I see the man you have become, and I could not have asked God for a better legacy. So full of love and hope, always looking for the best in others. I only wish your father could see how you will change the world for the better. I am sorry that you are left to continue to grow with such a cold hand to guide you. Remember that I am with you, always. Even as I lie here, waiting for that final sleep, and you are sleeping beside me, I will always be here for you. My darling boy, my greatest love. Never let yourself think that this illness was your fault, never blame yourself that I am gone. Be brilliant, my son. Be brave. I will see you again, one day. Whether it be in the brilliance that lies beyond our living world, or in a future existence at a time long off from now. I love you. I love you with all of my heart. ~Your mother, always.

#Letters starters #open for any thomas #reincarnation or ghost au #Your pick #Maggie Hamilton

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thebulletinhamilton-quotes · 5 years

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#4 and #5 for sentence starters, Hamburr

# 4 - “I hate you so much———stop looking at me like that!”

# 5 - “You should hook up with them. You two are make all of us frustrated and we don’t appreciate it.”

A/N: YO THIS IS GONNA BE SUPER SHORT AND SWEET CAUSE I GOT LESS THAN 5% on MAH PHONE. @crackerqueen-ineedsleep

“I have you so much———stop looking at me like that!” Aaron Burr, third year law student, shrieked at Alexander Hamilton, second year law student. The two were fighting for some other weird reason.

An argument ensued and before Burr realized it, Alexander’s fist was in his face. Immediately, they were kicked out of the library on suspension for causing “undue harm” and “reckless behavior” in a “safe space”. Alexander and Aaron were sent to the dean to “discuss” their differences. That ended in disaster with Alex punching the financial advisor.

It hasn’t been a good day, Aaron mused to himself. It seems like it’s gone bad to worst. He thought to himself. At least, when he gets home he can see his cat, Theo——

“Burr! Hey!”

Jefferson. A frenemy of sorts. Hates Alexander as much as Aaron does. They have their differences, Thomas is partial to flattery while Aaron is not. For the most part, he and Thomas get along to a point. Unlike some people, he can’t help but muse to himself. Some people are just.... his thoughts trail off as he listens to Thomas’s wildly inaccurate tale of him, his girlfriend, James Madison and his girlfriend have a, fun time. Yet...

“Aaron.” Thomas clasps a hand on his shoulder. His gaze is unnerving, making Aaron feel on edge and defense. He can’t help but show his annoyance: “What is it Thomas?” He asks with a slight annoyance to his voice.

Thomas shows his canines as he grins. “Listen,” He begins to say while looking up at Aaron.

“You should hook up with Alexander. You two are making us all frustrated and we do not appreciate it.”

...

A/N: Let me know what you guys think! MY INBOX IS OPEN! :)

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philtatoshetairos · 5 years

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Blog updates

//Hello hello!

This isn’t a surprise to anyone ever, but I would like to formally introduce the Black Sails muses I added to the page (bios still lacking, pls be patient): Thomas Hamilton, Max and Jack Rackham.

If anyone wants to plot, IMs are always open. The BS fandom is small, but all of these characters fit perfectly with any historical muses from the early 1700s/piracy era.

Where are my ancient history rper buddies at btw? Alex is LONELY.

Also I want to add a new verse for Lestat, something that combines elements from QoTD and PL. Instead of resurfacing in the 80s, he wakes up in the early 2010s, plenty of social media for his rockstar career and we can ignore all the mess that happened in the 90s. Anyone interested in redoing canon is welcome <3

For any other muses/verses/plots, feel free to drop a message or just leave a comment saying you’d like a starter, come write with me even if I’ve been slow af

#//we be attention seekers here #come love us #[voices inside of my head] ooc

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enz-fan · 5 years

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‘Split Enz On The Road’ story written for ‘Rip It Up’ magazine by lighting director, Raewyn Turner. Circa 1982.

“SPLIT ENZ – ON THE ROAD STORY

Raewyn Turner has been lighting director for Split Enz since 1975. She painted the cover for Frenzy and last year at Dennis Cohn Gallery exhibited drawings in her show entitled ‘On The Road Again’. Raewyn has written for Rip It Up, about behind-the-scenes- staging the 1982 Time And Tide tour of New Zealand.

Six months in a leaky boat and that story nears its end for the second time in two years, as Split Enz round the bend on their last lap of touring, finishing in New Zealand. The past five months have been a variety show, the star hosts mingle with us, briefly, from their conveyer belts, flanked by the extras who are directed to have walk-on and bit parts for the day. The many famed and fabled buildings and cities roll on the big rollers past the car windows, and lots of people pass us, in a hurry, to and fro, people with different accents, different smiles, clothes, lifestyles. While we sit and stand, walk and work, moving from car to aeroplane, airport to motel to theatre, the big rollers roll in the world’s projection room, on to the screens, which are our windows.

Split Enz, the audience, the judge, in the van with the video sensurround windows. The selection committee. In a chartered plane, seated in rows until a kind man appears and opens the exit door, ushering us into another windows room. We sit there, breathing in the muted greens and browns and admiring the blue sky, until we’re told to get out and into another room, where soft musak whispers that life is a breeze. Water flows from taps, milk is instant non-dairy whitener, food is but a phone call and an hour’s wait away, all-night television to lull to sleep, air comes from an air conditioner.

10.00 am on Monday, August 16 in Melbourne, and the band are making a film clip, ‘Never Ceases To Amaze Me’, that Noel has worked out with the director over long phone calls from Darwin. It doesn’t finish until 6.00 pm. Last night at the same time, the band had just come off stage, completing the last date of their Australian tour, an ‘Under-18s’ show in Melbourne.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 17

Melbourne, 7.00 am. Grant Thomas, the tour manager, dutifully makes wake-up calls and in six homes scattered over Melbourne, the entourage is busily preparing and packing to make the flight, leaving at 10.00 am to Auckland. 9.00 am we’re at the airport, tired and grizzly, only to learn that the plane has been delayed for five and a half hours. Back home for some more sleep, while the road crew opt to stay at the airport and busy themselves making badges to display their membership of an exclusive social club – the crew’s very own ‘Split Enz Sports And Social Club’ – crew only.

The same day, 10.30 pm, ‘arrive Auckland and proceed to Hamilton, going by the itinerary. Oops. Noel has left his bag at the airport, so we have to double back. Check into hotel, and the band settle for some sleep while I go down to the Founders Theatre to set up for the first show of the NZ tour. The stage set, which has some technical peculiarities, has to be explained and put up and the special effects projectors babied out of their case and wheeled around. Although the lighting plot was sent over a month in advance, the rigging, cabling and colouring of lamps takes forever on the first set up, so we do all but focus tonight. 6.00 am we call it quits and go back to the hotel for a few hours’ sleep. Laurie Bell, the production manager works on, there are many details to be taken care of before the stage and sound people begin work at 9.00 am.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 18

Sound check is early, everyone expecs the first show to be difficult because of the new, unfamiliar NZ equipment – PA, foldback and lights. The Finn elders arrive, Finn cousins playing with the beach balls backstage.

The dressing room is newly painted and most of the band find they have severe headaches the next day. But battle dress donned, they take the stage with enthusiasm and anticipation, because it’s great to be on home soil. The audience is quiet, polite and serious. It’s been a whole year since Split Enz toured NZ and they’re playing new material, working hard. There are a few technical difficulties, but only minor ones. Back to the hotel for some hot chocolate with friends, before retiring.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 19

1.30 pm. Wake up, and Eddie and I go down to the theatre to work on improving our computer programmes (Eddie’s synthesisers are digitally controlled and store many different sounds in computer memories). Computers and synthesisers are relatively new developments and computers, like humans, were not designed for the rigours of the road. Just as Eddie wanders around his hotel, wondering where he is and what he is doing there, these computers become similarly vacant and he is often to be found in a state of panic, trying to reprogramme his sounds minutes before a show. The lighting desk computer is but 120 channels of memories which can be reprogrammed for particular lighting scenes or progressions of lighting changes. However, it too has a habit of becoming vacant, or worse, storing more than its share, which means it could reveal the total lighting show at the press of one memory button.

The sound crew have been working all day, trying ti iron out the creases in last night’s sound.

Ed and Noel go off for a walk into town, looking for water pistols. The Ed Water Pistol Collection has swelled to number 120 over three years.

Soundcheck, dinner – Noel enthuses over the six veges – back to the paintstricken dressing room an hour before the show, to put on the ‘cossies’ (costumes), paint the faces, discuss song lists, tell a few jokes, wet the whistle (or sip a lemonade), do armstretches and leg raises, eat some peanuts or whatever is offering in snacks. The show goes ‘averagely well’ (probably ‘very good’ in another’s words), but we have our own rating system.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 20

6.00 am, get up and drive to Auckland. The car breaks down on the way, but is fixed by a kind mechanic, free of charge. We feel that this could only happen in NZ. The production crew have been waiting outside the Logan Campbell Centre since 8.00 am, but the truck doesn’t arrive till 10. They begin work frantically and irritably, but still able to make light-hearted jokes, and the stage set slowly appears.

Meanwhile, Noel has gone to visit his folks. Tim and Neil arrive in Auckland with theirs, to spend the day together. Nigel, being the most boring (he is aware of the fact) member of the band, has experienced nothing of any interest whatsoever since arriving in NZ, not on this day, except for a sleepy interview with Colin Hogg. Eddie visits his sister and his friend Paul Crowther and they spend the rest of the day babbling about synths.

Backstage in the dressing room the champagne arrives – a greeting from the record company. The band have another of their ‘average’ performances, the crowd was ecstatic but the band are tired. The sound men aren’t feeling happy, so they make plans to spend all day tomorrow on improvements, to further dampen the echoes.

Back to the White Heron, now affectionately known as the Red Herring (no offence meant), for a few drinks with friends in the Carriage Bar. This is the first piece of glamorous living I’ve experienced for about a month or more – other people might call it just having a drink – but it means a lot being able to have the luxury of changing from work clothes to casual and being with friends.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 21

1.30 pm. Wake up and with Noel and Eddie go to Parnell Village where we have breakfast with Noel’s folks, who are in Auckland for both shows. A flying visit to a friend strapped in traction in hospital and it’s on to soundcheck and an early show.

Nigel has spent the day sleeping, jigging and walking, his three favourite pursuits. Neil and Tim are having dinner with their folks at the table over from us. They bribe the resident pianist into playing ‘Feelings’ as an after-dinner tribute to the band. (This song was on the top of the list for singing at the top of one’s voice while bumping along in a van through North America.)

SUNDAY, AUGUST 22

9.00 am. Depart the hotel for the airport, 9.55 flight departs Auckland for Palmerston North, without breakfast.

Tim feels detached from everything, and so opts for the hair-of-the-dog treatment, which will see him through until the end of the performance. The drinks backstage in the dressing room are there to be a starter motor, to kick a tired man into action. It’s an early show again, and it feels good to commence the performance about an hour after soundcheck. It’s still early enough to relax afterwards over dinner and watching TV.

MONDAY, AUGUST 23

10.30 am. Bags are being loaded into five cars, room bills are being paid, and we’re off to Christchurch. It’s a day off, everyone is anticipating what they’ll do, and probably they’ll do nothing. We’ve taken all the back seats in the plane and Ian Magan’s (tour promoter) Air New Zealand voice (fondly remembering “Ladies and gentleman, have you seen this?” on flights to London) booms from three seats away. Tonight he has promised the entourage a free dinner.

Eddie and I miss the free dinner – we’ve been invited to his brother’s house. This is one of the advantages of this job – seeing family and friends in all corners of the world at least once a year – where distance and fares would normally prohibit this. The visits are, however, usually too short and sweet.

The band enthuse over the selection of old cars in ‘perfect condition’ being driven around Christchurch, reeling off the makes as we drive around. Austin, Morris, Zephyr, Vanguard… Tim’s been after a Studebaker and is delighted to hear that people in the entourage have spotted three so far. Back home the Split Enz Club boasts a green FJ Holden (Neil’s), a black Mark II Zephyr (Tim’s), a pink Morris Major Elite 1963 (Eddie’s), a 1950 Black Triumph Renown (Noel’s) and a brown 1954 Fiat station wagon (Nigel’s).

Today Noel went shopping and got the costumes drycleaned. Nigel went for a five-hour walk along the Avon, Neil joined the road crew for a trip to the snow, there they used big plastic rubbish bags for sliding down hills and threw snow at each other.

Tim stayed in and did an interview, then cruised around, went for a walk, I think. Ed, Clark Flannigan (Polygram Records’ man on tour) and I finally got ourselves away from the hotel and went swimming at the QEII pool. It’s the first day of the school holidays and Ed and Clark get swallowed up in the crowds queuing for the hydrotubes. Clark can do 50m overarm in 35 seconds, he tries out the high diving board, but Ed and I only manage the lowest. End of day off.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 24

7.00 am. Get up, shower and down to the Christchurch Town Hall by 8.00 am. It’s a beautiful day, warm with blue, blue skies, the smell of blossom, cold air and woodsmoke, peculiar to NZ.

The stage set is constructed quickly and looks good. I’d anticipated, with sinking stomach feelings, that as far as equipment and organisation of technical details go, the NZ section would be the worst and most difficult of this six-month tour (probably because it has previously been that). However, there have been vast improvements made in the expertise of the hired technical personnel and in the equipment to be found here since we toured last year. It has taken a lot of hard work to elevate it to this level, and although the equipment is different to the systems currently available in Australia, this in no way makes for a compromise situation.

At 10.30 am, I offer to get the food – three dozen donuts, one dozen cream buns, three dozen filled rolls, a bag of apples. We work on until 4.00 pm and soundcheck is at 4.30. After a while, the band drift into playing their oldies, searching for the perfect replacement for ‘Hard Act’, which they’re sick of.

The band are tired. After five months of constant touring and only two weeks off in the period – no weekends – they are finding it hellish to think clearly and with enthusiasm about their shows. They want to try a new set, a different way of playing particular songs, but the energy somehow keeps being channelled the same way. They shone for the Auckland shows and will probably shine for the rest, but they try to break out of their feelings of exhaustion and automatic gear.

Tonight’s performance is once again good, although lacking the fire that the band are striving hard to produce. The audience is enthusiastic. The band and crew and managers return to the hotel bar, where we tell each other jokes until the small hours, winding down for sleep after a long day.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 25

8.00 am. Woken by chainsaws, jackhammers and the noise of concrete being made in a wheelbarrow. These are quite regular occurrences in hotels where we have stayed, so I drift back to sleep. But Eddie has had enough and has decided to move over to the posh hotel, where Tim and Neil have recently moved, to escape the noise. The hotel is twice the price and offers a complimentary morning newspaper, but we prefer the squat NZ motels, having spent too long in high-rise hotels, with Coffee-Mate (powdered non-dairy whitener) for ea milk.

Soundcheck at 4.30, still the search for the perfect song replacement. ‘In The Wars’, ‘Jamboree’, ‘Under The Wheel’ and a few others are fiddled with and discarded.

Tim, Neil, Eddie and I drive off for dinner and discuss our fatigue and the artistic value (or not) of the song produced under pressure of having to be sold by a record company. The issue of touring arises and they talk about giving it up in Australia and NZ for two years, except for the occasional ‘spectacular’ – an alternative that would provide opportunity for lots of ideas to be exercised. Or perhaps they’d like to do a film, taking a year off to make it and write songs, using that period to develop their musical ability as individuals.

Showtime, the crew are lying around on couches drinking coffee and the first band are pounding away. Eddie is in the dressing room playing his other favourite song, ‘Loving You’ by Minnie Ripperton, accompanied by Neil singing. He breaks away into Chopin.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 26

A day off for some, but the three lighting technicians leave Christchurch at 9.00 am and arrive at Invercargill at 7.00 pm. (The truck has a sleep and they take turns at driving.) The rest of the crew fly down at 11.00 am and spend the rest of the day in the hotel’s spa pool. At 8.00 pm, Laurie, Glen (the set and projects man) and three loaders unpack the truck, having first to remove a fleet of five city council vans that were parked across the stage door. Glen gets to work putting up the stage set and is back at the hotel by 11.00 pm.

Tim, Neil, Clark, Eddie and I have made plans to drive to Akaroa for some fish and chips and scenery, but Eddie and I spend until 2.00 pm buying second-hand furniture for future use, by which time Clark isn’t to be found. The free day has just about slipped away. We make rearrangements with the cars and Tim and Neil go to Akaroa. Noel, Eddie and I take a drive that meanders along a peninsula beyond Lyttleton, and we end up driving along a tractor path up a mountainside. The green pastures, trees in blossom, the mountain and valleys, we can’t wait to settle back here and enjoy the countryside. Tim and Neil return with tales of spectacular scenery, quite in awe of the beauty of the countryside. Neil, in surprise, says it’s always so much better than he’s remembered. Of course, all this talk about ‘nature’ crops up in our conversations especially after a few months on the road, staying in orange and purple hotel rooms. At the same time, the touring lifestyle has another advantage – it provides the blinkers and forces a total commitment to work.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 27

9.00 am. Wake up call from Grant, we move quickly and tiredly into the day.

Arrive Invercargill and greeted by an over-officious officer on the sidewalk at the airport. Magan has an argument with him and Neil throws him a coin as we drive away. Later, Magan receives a speeding ticket from the same officer.

Stop off on the way to the hotel, at the art gallery for a typical photo of the band posing next to a huge anchor for the local papers.

I go straight to work. The crew, having become accustomed to the equipment, are working very fast these days and focus is early. The set works well in the Civic Centre, because the tiers of balconies tower over the stage, which is shallow and therefore the sail has a steep incline. I don’t have a good show, getting my fingers jammed in the faders, despite a grand performance by the projector operators, Glen and Keith, who are by now quite skilled.

Noel apparently just about falls backwards off his drums, fatigued and the rest of the band are tired. But there are only 11 more shows to do, so they attack each one with enthusiasm.

After the show, the musos’ club is less than hospitable, hassling the band at the door. Eddie, Tim and Neil leave and end up helping Magan, who is hosting a three-hour radio show.

The road crew have busily packed clean socks for the Saturday soundcheck before heading off to Queenstown in search of the thrillseeker jetboats. Bed.

Part two of this feature will appear in next months ‘R.I.U’.”

#splitenz #live/tour #1982

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ashilrak · 6 years

Note

“The king and queen have arranged it – you will be married to the child of the opposing nation so that peace may come to both our kingdoms.”-Jamilton?(I love your writing btw!!)

Thomas did his best to swallow down the lump in his throat. It was useless - nothing he did was going to help his nerves. The frantic energy flowing through him wasn’t something he could get rid of. He just had to make sure that no one else could see it. After all, it was far from befitting of a prince to be seen in such a state, especially over a matter so simple as meeting with his parents.

He smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt as he stepped forward to doors, taking one last deep, calming breath in as the guards opened the doors and announced him.

“Mother,” he said, nodding his head. “Father.”

“Thomas,” his father said, voice as deep and serious as ever. “Thank you for joining us.”

They were in one of the receiving parlors, likely due to an upcoming meeting they had planned, but Thomas couldn’t help but be aware of the extra distance that came with the formal environment. They had other rooms for talks between family and close friends, smaller rooms. Rooms where the cushions were just a little more worn in and Thomas could remember running around them as a child as his parents laughed with each other over tea in the corner.

The sofa he sat on was stiff. These rooms weren’t meant to be comfortable. Meeting with the King and Queen of the nation was not meant to be an experience treated with familiarity. Topics of importance were discussed in this room, not the concerns of loving parents.

His mother cleared her throat. “Thomas,” she started, taking a short moment to pause after his name. “You have recently turned 22. You are no longer a boy.”

Thomas nodded. He pressed his fingers into his thighs with just the slightest more pressure, just enough to keep him focused enough so he didn’t fidget.

“As you know,” his father said. “You have a duty to this kingdom. The plan was to wait until you were older and ideally, we would not have any more of a hand in this than any other parents do. However, current tensions being what they are, we believe it best for you to marry Washington’s son.”

Thomas inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. He had expected this, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

He breathed out.

“I see,” he said. He nodded. “So I am to be wed to Jacky Custis?”

Jacky was a simpering man who hid behind his mother’s skirts the same as he had as a young child. How a strong man like Washington could bear to claim relation was beyond Thomas’ understanding.

His mother snorted. “Absolutely not,” she said. “That boy would gamble and drink his way through the royal treasury within a year if he had his way. This marriage is a part of the treaty, yes, but it was Washington who approached us. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to offer Custis.”

“Then who?” Thomas asked, his curiosity making him sit up just a little straighter and lean forward. “Washington has no sons.”

“Not of his own blood, no,” his father confirmed. “But he has adopted a boy. There are rumors of the boy being a bastard, of course, but there is no evidence to back up such a claim.”

Thomas’ mouth dropped open. He was expected to marry Washington’s bastard? It didn’t matter if it wasn’t proven, if enough people believed it to be true it was as good as.

“Now don’t look like that Thomas,” his mother chided. “Hamilton is said to be positively brilliant, both in military and political matters. Washington wouldn’t have taken the risk he did with the adoption had he not had full faith in the boy. Besides,” his mother’s mouth tilted up into a smirk. “I’ve heard that he has just the most gorgeous eyes ever seen.”

“Mother!” Thomas couldn’t help his affronted tone.

She shrugged. “Your new husband will be arriving within three days’ time. I expect you treat him with the upmost respect. It will work in your favor to have him actually like you, as you will be spending the rest of your life with him. If your inability to be civil is the cause for an outright war with Washington’s kingdom, do not think for one second you will be safe from my ire, or that of anyone else for that matter.” His mother’s gaze bore into him. “You do not want that blood on your hands, my son.”

Before Thomas could think of anything to say, one of his father’s advisors was announced by the guard.

His father clapped his hands together. “Well then,” he said. “We both have our business to attend to. I wish to see you this evening in my study to further discuss this arrangement.”

// royalty au sentence starters // ko-fi

#Ask #Freedomtofrance #Hamilton #Drabble #Jamilton

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bisexualpirateheart · 7 years

Text

Written for @buildarocketboys because we both wanted to see more happy poly bi flinthamilton fic.

Your Laws Do Not Apply To Me

* * *

Saturday, late November, the dark already closing in even though it’s only a little after six.

The shops are busy and James is more than ready to be done and just be home already. He grabs a carton of milk and adds it to the cart. Cereal, bread, cream, eggs, orange juice, bacon. More butter, he thinks and continues strolling down the aisle. At last he finds Thomas in the biscuit aisle, studying a packet of Ginger Cremes with a studious expression.

“Ginger or chocolate?” Thomas inquires.

“Both.” James says.

“Mm, good answer.” Thomas drops a package of each into the cart and they start walking down the aisle together. “Did you get the cream?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all?” Thomas runs his eyes over the rest of the contents of the cart.

James procures the list which he wrote on his phone earlier because he knew it would it be like this if he didn’t. “Wine.” He remembers.

“Why don’t you go get in line and I’ll grab some?” Thomas suggests.

“Would you?” James asks gratefully. The sooner they’re in line, the sooner they can go home.

“Of course.” Thomas squeezes his hip lightly and goes off towards the wine aisle.

James makes his way to the front of the store, already feeling better. It’s not that he dislikes winter, but he’s ready for spring already. He wants it to still be light out when he’s done with work for the day. He wants to have time left in the day, damn it.

He has most of the groceries unloaded by the time Thomas returns with three bottles of wine.

“Here you go, my love.” Thomas says cheerfully. He sets them on the counter.

The cashier smiles at him. “You and your partner are very attractive together.”

James forces a smile while Thomas simply beams at her. “Thank you.”

“That still bothers you.” Thomas observes as they walk out with their bags.

“What?”

“When people simply assume you’re gay?” Thomas unlocks the car and they start setting the bags in the back.

Something flickers in James’s eyes. “No…” He doesn’t want to get into this again; there’s no solving it.

“Or straight.” Thomas amends because he knows it’s not that simple. “Admit it.”

James sighs. “It’s just…you know.” He never means to make Thomas uncomfortable but it’s true.

Thomas sighs as well. “I know.”

And he does, because while Thomas is also bi (and Miranda as well, for that matter) he does understand that out of the three of them, it frustrates James the most, all the assumptions people make when it’s just the two of them, or when it’s James and Miranda together, or the inevitable confusion and generalizations when it’s the three of them. There is always an assumption and either one has to go along with it, or one has to correct someone and it’s exhausting.

He’s lucky and James knows it. It’s rare to meet one person you fit with in this mess of a world. Two is extravagance, pushing the limits of what the universe will give him. Maybe he shouldn’t ask for more, but he still wants more, damn it.

He wants people to know that he’s with the Hamiltons. That they are his. They’re the married ones, yes, but that’s a simple legality. He’s Miranda’s and Miranda is his and he’s Thomas’s and Thomas is Miranda’s and his and she is Thomas’s and and they all fit.

It’s rare and he’s lucky and James knows he needs to accept this but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t still want more.

* * *

“Do you miss having a girlfriend?” Thomas asks one morning while they’re lingering in bed. James has already left for work, getting dressed in a rush for an early meeting before his first class starts. Thomas can still taste the toothpaste on his lips from the quick kiss James had given him.

“What brought this on?” Miranda murmurs sleepily, her eyes not even open yet.

“Nothing in particular.” Thomas’s fingers stroke her shoulder absently. “I just think at times, it stillwears on James…the assumptions.”

“That’s not your fault.” Miranda says consolingly. “We’re both just more used to the way the world perceives us.”

“I know.” Thomas sighs. “I just wish it were easier, you know.”

“I know.” She slips an arm around him, embracing him. “And to answer your question, yes sometimes I miss having a girlfriend, but I don’t assume I will never have another one, you know.”

“Of course, I never meant,” Thomas starts.

Miranda leans up and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. “I know, darling, I know.” She leans back against the pillow, smiling at him. "It’s just a matter of meeting the right woman.”

“Don’t I know it.” Thomas murmurs, leaning down to kiss her again.

* * *

Miranda had known she was bisexual since she was ten and a girl with glasses and short black hair in her class had asked to borrow a pencil. She smiled at Miranda, and Miranda had thought she had never seen such pretty lips before. She had always liked both girls and boys and it had been a source of consternation and constant problems with her parents so eventually she had stopped bringing people home to meet them. They weren’t appreciated, and they deserved to be appreciated.

She brought Thomas home because it didn’t matter that her parents assumed she was “choosing.” It didn't matter what they thought at that point. She had never thought she would marry a man, but Thomas was different and better and she fell in love.

And then one day she had met an auburn-haired man in the coffeehouse near the university where she taught music classes and her heart stopped again.

Sometimes the universe simply brings people to you and says, ‘here you are, you should be together, but you have to make the effort to keep them, show them they're wanted.'

Miranda likes listening to the universe.

* * *

It’s mid-afternoon, the gray twilight slanting across the windows of James's office. There’s been silence in the room for five minutes now while he waits for the student sitting across his desk from him to speak.

“Eleanor.” James prods. “If you don’t actually talk during your visit to my office, then I need to make my office hours available for other students.” Usually Eleanor has plenty to say during their meetings. She’s one of his best students (His favorite student, if he’s honest.) But something has been going on lately and he’s let it go on long enough.

At last Eleanor sighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s evident.” James says. “Judging from your work you’ve turned in the last few weeks. Now what’s wrong?”

She sighs again, fingers picking at the corner of her notebook sitting on her lap. “So there’s this girl.”

“Ah.” James says, and waits.

“I really like her.” Eleanor says, glancing up and off to the side, nowhere near meeting his eye.

“All right.” James says and waits.

Eleanor draws a long breath and then finally looks up at him. “So if I tell everyone and by everyone I mean my dad, you know, but yeah, everyone, they’ll be like 'so you’re a lesbian now then?'”

“And?” James asks when again the silence grows and grows.

“And I’m not…comfortable with that label.” Eleanor says finally, chewing on her thumbnail.

“Because…” James prompts when she’s been silent again for a while. He resists looking at the clock. Eleanor deserves all his time and attention and Thomas and Miranda will understand.

“Because I still like dick, okay?” Eleanor shoots back and then blushes furiously.

James snorts. “I see. So what’s the problem then?”

“They always want you to choose?” There’s a note of desperation in Eleanor’s voice and James finds himself flinching in sympathy. “They make you choose and I don’t want to, even though I really really like this girl, Professor, and if I thought for a second it was just girls forever, I’d say it in a heartbeat, but I can’t, cause it’d be a lie, you know?”

“I do.” James says, and whatever tone he has now makes Eleanor look at him a little sideways.

“You don’t have to choose.” James tells her, softening his voice just a little. “Society does tend to be unnecessarily confused by bisexuality, but no one can make you choose, Eleanor.”

“And you know this from personal experience, do you?” Eleanor crosses her arms over her chest and sinks lower in her chair.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” James says.

Eleanor sits up straight in her at that. “But your boyfriend!”

“What about him?”

“I mean, you are with Mr. Hamilton, right? You’ll break all the girls hearts if you say you’re not.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Hamilton and I are still very much together.”

“Oh thank christ.” Eleanor says. “But, what do you mean then?”

“For starters, like you pointed out, even if you’re with one partner, it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being bisexual. It just means that’s the partner you’re currently with.” He hesitates. It’s always dicey saying things to students. It’s a fine line, being honest with someone who needs personal reassurance and another saying things of a personal nature to a student that could so easily be misconstrued as inappropriate if they were reported. If it was any other student, he might have hesitated further, but Eleanor would never...and sometimes it's worth taking a risk, to encourage a student.

“Are you saying you’re…” Eleanor pauses, and then almost defiantly, “bisexual too?”

“Yes.” James says after a moment. “I am.”

“So…”

“So I am very happily not choosing.” James says and then, what the hell. “Because not only am I that, but I am also polyamorous.” He wonders if there will ever come a time when he could ever just say that without second-guessing everything. Time would tell, he supposes.

“Do you have pictures of your partners?” Eleanor demands next.

James wavers. And then, what the hell, he’s already in this deep. He takes out his phone and tapes it. He holds it out for her inspection.

Eleanor stares at his background with surprise and delight. “So….”

“That’s Thomas and Miranda and me.” James hears the blatant affection in his voice. No wonder no one is surprised by his relationship. It’s openly nauseating, the sort of thing he would loathe in someone else. “We’re all together.”

Eleanor just gazes at the picture and then she hands the phone back. “Thank you.” She says quietly. “For sharing this with me.”

“You’re welcome.” James puts his phone back in his pocket. “I just wanted you to know, Eleanor….you get to decide what happens in your life. It doesn’t mean it will be easy, in any regard. And other people won’t always like it, but that doesn’t necessarily matter. What matters is you are doing the right things for you, making your own choices.”

“Are you happy?” Eleanor asks abruptly.

James pauses again, honestly considering the question. What would be encouraging, but truthful? What could he say?

He worries about the effects of the world, how the future is going to turn out. So much is discouraging from day to day interactions to politicians being less and less truthful every day…the state of the country, the state of the fucking planet for that matter. But at the heart of it all, he has two people he loves very dearly to come home to and they make the hardships of the world a little easier to bear, and more worthwhile to endure and his sheer existence is more real and more joyous and more wonderful because of them.

“Yes.” He says. “I am.”

“Good.” Eleanor says, finally sitting up. “You should be,” She heads for the door. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” James tells her, a little bemused. “Any time.”

* * *

On the way home he stops and buys a bottle of wine.

Miranda is ensconced in the studio when he gets home. He can hear the sound of her piano, the delicate dance of her fingers upon the keys making him smile. The first time he had ever spent the night here Miranda had played while James had stood behind her and kissed her throat until she turned around and kissed him back.

The piano bench was wonderfully sturdy, James recalls with a faint smile.

He goes to the studio and pauses in the doorway. Miranda is lovely as always, completely lost in her music, concentration carrying her far away, her hair pulled back with little tendrils escaping to drift past her cheeks. She’s wearing one of his thick sweaters over her pajama bottoms and fuzzy socks and James knows exactly how soft it is against her skin.

“I love you to the ends of the world and back.” James murmurs.

“Then where’s my kiss?” Miranda says without looking up.

James laughs. “Here.” he moves to stand beside her and leans down to kiss her. Her skin smells like violets and he breathes in deep, suddenly overwhelming happy.

“Thomas is running a little late.” Miranda informs him, her fingers still moving gracefully over the keys. “It’s all right as that gave me time to finish up with one of my pupils who needed a little extra time this afternoon.”

“Which?” James’s fingers trails down her hair softly.

“Abigail. She’s really coming along. She plays beautifully, and she has such natural talent, of course, but her relationship with her father causes her such stressful periods it’s appalling.” She sighed. “I wish I could just explain to the damn man that harassing her and causing her stress about her talent doesn’t help.”

“I know the feeling.” James kisses the back of her neck, brushing his fingertips down to the collar of the sweater.

Miranda makes a wry face. “We all know that feeling.” She says quietly. “It’s a hard thing to escape.”

Miranda rarely talked about her own family. James knows that she had been glad to get away from them. His hand closes over hers as it pauses on the piano keys in silence.

“Anyway.” Miranda turns to smile at him. “You seem rather contented tonight.”

“I am.” James tells her. “I had a conversation with one of my students today and it just reminded me of a few things.”

“Such as?” Miranda inquires, loving the way the studio light catches the distinctive lines of his face. She loves those lines so dearly, how often she had kissed each and every one.

“That in the end it doesn’t matter what other people think. Oh, it would be nice if they didn’t assume things.” His fingers played over hers gently. “It would be nice if it didn’t bother me on some level, but I have you and Thomas and that’s what’s truly important in the end.”

“It’s not wrong to want to be visible, James.” Miranda tells him softly. “To be seen for who you truly are.” She cups his face in her hands. “I see you.” She says and kisses him.

“I see you too.” James breathes, kissing her back, his arms going around her. In the end, that was enough. To be recognized by the people you love.

* * *

Outside in the drive, Thomas puts the car in park and sits there for a moment, watching the people he loves embrace there through the studio window.

He smiles at the sight of them. It’s been a long day, but it had ended on a curiously optimistic note. His assistant had been late to her shift and then spent the entirety of it, mooning over her phone instead of helping Thomas with his research as she usually did.

“Max. Max. MAX.”

“Hmmm?”

“What on earth is going on with you?”

Max looks up from the page she had been doodling over, instead of checking for errors. “Oh. It’s a girl.”

“Ah.” Thomas says knowingly. “Say no more.”

Max eyes him. “You know how girls make you feel?”

“Yes.” Thomas says in mock indignation. “I know how girls make you feel.” He starts to open his mouth to explain and Max just nods.

“That’s nice.”

“…What’s nice?” Thomas says completely blindsided.

“That you’re bi, right?” Max blinks up at him with quizzical eyes. “So many people are really hung up on that you know, not knowing how to identify, afraid to figure it all out. It can be difficult sometimes.”

“Yes, I know.” Thomas says slowly. He waits a moment. “So this girl, does she return your affections?”

“She does.” Max says with a broad grin. “I think it’s gonna take a little while for things to get sorted..but I think it will be okay.” Her face holds a quiet glow and Thomas can’t find it in him to remind her again that she’s supposed to be checking the papers rather than drawing hearts on them.

“That’s very nice to hear.” Thomas tells her. “I’m glad.”

* * *

Sitting there now in the car, thinking about what Max had said. ‘It can be difficult’ is an understatement. There are so many confusing things to figure out all on your own, and when you add in other people’s ideas of how you’re supposed to be, what you’re supposed to be, it often simply adds to the confusion. Exploring the possibilities just made the world that much more interesting in Thomas’s opinion. The world is so much bigger and more wonderful than people want to believe and he’s happy to share it with his partners. He opens his car door and gets out, whistling slightly as he walks up the pavement towards their home, to the people he loves.

#buildarocketboys #black sails fic #black sails #flinthamiltons #flinthamiltons modern au #everyone is bi #bi poly trio #flinthomasmiranda #james/thomas/miranda #modern au #bi & poly

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queerwalrus · 7 years

Text

I’ve got two shorts I’ve written a bit of and now I’m interested in which you guys would like to see more of - both snippets are under the cut.

I Guess You’re Digging The Show (aka the Hard Knocks AU)

Billy Bones is 100% sure that letting the Hard Knocks camera crew follow him home one day is the worst decision he ever made.

(His family, as genuinely crazy as they are, think it is one of his better choices)

"Billy Bones is a franchise quarterback," declares his head coach, "but nobody bothered to look before us."

Just to one side of the camera crew, Billy flushes a little. He's been with the Jets for three years now - one as a backup and two as a starter, mostly because he took the team to the playoffs after an early injury to the starter before him. He's well liked by his teammates, but he's got a reputation with the press and the fans as being notoriously close-mouthed about his personal life.

He has - reasons for that.

Two days after he arrived in New York, when nobody knew his name or his face, Billy went out to the city, got a little tipsy, found somebody to hook up with, and then had tripped and fallen into a family of actual crazy people.

The show wants him to open up about his life outside of the game. Billy absentmindedly considers what would happen if the team met his family, and thinks it for the best of they don't. He says as much. PR insists otherwise.

"It's your funeral." he tells them, and texts his roommate, who's been on standby all morning for precisely this purpose.

After two short interviews about his college career and a pause, just enough time for John and the others to have made it to their location, another fact occurs to him.

"I'm - well, you should probably know that, you see-" Billy starts.

"That his family are a bunch of flaming degenerate homosexuals?" declaims John from the doorway. He's still got glitter on his skin from last night's performance and he's wearing five inch heels.

"I'm not." says Jack, hand over his heart like he's been personally attacked.

"Jack," says Billy, tiredly, "you have business cards for your cafe that actually in print give your middle name as 'protect the lesbians'."

Jack seems to consider this for a moment. Anne and Max give him identical murderous looks.

"Fair." he says, at length.

"Can you introduce us?" says the producer, a little weakly.

"John Silver, my roommate." says Billy. John does an elaborate curtsey.

"Jack Rackham, owner of the Calico Cafe in Greenwich Village." Jack bows, hand folded neatly over his heart.

"Anne Bonny -" starts Billy.

"The MMA fighter?" asks his head coach.

"Yes." says Anne, making it the end of the discussion.

"And her girlfriend Max." Billy finishes. Max smiles, disarming as ever. Half the people in the room swoon.

"James Flint, professor of colonial history at Columbia." Billy continues. James winks, roguish.

"And his husband, Thomas Hamilton."

Thomas bounds forward to shake everyone's hand, ever the politician. Billy internally crosses his fingers that no one asks any potentially inflammatory questions.

"So how did you all meet?" asks the producer.

Like that one.

"I," says Billy, with the deep gravity that only comes from either celebrating or regretting something immensely in hindsight, "made the abysmal life choice of sleeping with John Silver."

"HEY!" say John and James in unison.

***

Tender Loving Kisses On Your Stab Wounds (aka The Arrow AU)

John Silver stretches his legs out across the cobblestones of the path in Nassau’s main square, and tilts his head back to look at the stars.

“This seems like a terrible plan.” says Max Gold, gorgeous as always in her tight black leather, gold gun strapped to her thigh. Her bike is parked next to them, and her helmet is half-hooked over her knee. She’s sitting forward, ready to run.

“It probably is.” John admits. One hand drifts up to his forehead and pushes his hair back, while the other rests on his knee, letting his thumb rub back and forth across the denim of his tight black jeans. “I’m still going to do it.”

“Are they worth potential jail time?” asks Max.

“Those leather costumes are tight enough that I can tell you they certainly are.” says John, leering in his sister’s direction.

“Size Queen.” bitches Max.

“Jezebel.” John shoots back.

“Jerk.” says Max, not without affection.

“Trainwreck.” says John, in the same tone.

“If this all pans out, I want all the details. You’re taking me to brunch on Monday. With mimosas. And you’re paying.”

John grins.

“Naturally. Now leave me be so our local superheroes can kidnap me for a weekend of kinky, kinky sex.”

Max rolls her eyes, but kisses him on the cheek and straddles her bike.

“Be careful, Johnny.” she says, and pulls on her helmet.

“I’ll make sure they know my safe word.” drawls John, and Max looks unconvinced as she flips down her visor and kicks up the kickstand.

John knows she meant he ought to be careful with his heart, and he hasn’t the courage to tell her he’s already lost it.

He hears them before they reach his bench, two men, quietly bickering, voices saccharine with love, bitter with lust. Their feet crunch across the fallen leaves, marking their progress towards John. He closes his eyes against the possibility that they had bought the police with them.

“Hello, Mister Silver.” purrs the Black Canary. John opens his eyes and looks back at the stars.

“Pretty Bird.” he purrs right back. He can feel the Green Arrow bristling at the nickname, and he smirks to himself. There are no policemen here. If there were, the Green Arrow would be too smug for the nickname to phase him.

“Have you been good for us?” asks John’s Pretty Bird, and John nods.

“Don’t be absurd.” says the Green Arrow, and there’s so much command in that tone that John has to fight his instincts down from sitting bolt upright to a full-body shiver. “There’s not a good bone in his body. He’s a disobedient little shit that we’re going to have to discipline until he submits.”

Oh, fucking hell. John’s not going to be able to walk to brunch with Max on Monday, and he’s going to love every second of the next two days and nights.

“I think he’s perfectly capable of being a good boy, given the right - inducements.” says the Canary. “Shall we test that theory?”

The Green Arrow grunts an agreement.

“Stand up, Mister Silver.” says the Canary. “And then turn around so we can see you.”

John does, and then laughs.

District Attorney Thomas Hamilton smiles back at him, an immaculate and benevolent god in his bespoke suit and black silk tie. At Thomas’ left is returned hero Lieutenant James McGraw Flint, Thomas’ lover and Nassau nightlife icon, looking dangerous in his worn-soft and see through white t-shirt and leather motorcycle jacket.

“No wonder you’re not selling me out to the police.” says John. “Do you think they’ll put us in the same cell block at The Fort, if they caught us all?”

Flint smiles, bright and dangerous.

“The police won’t be involved in this relationship.” he says. “But there’s a definitely possibility this ends with you being ours.”

John shivers a little, despite the lingering warmth of the day.

#my fic #walrus talk #silverflinthamilton

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gayafhamiltrash · 7 years

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Abused lams rp anyone?

So I came up with this decent starter? I don’t know I don’t really get feed back on my writing but I need someone to be John and I really want to do this someone. Here is my starter if anyone is interested

Alexander flinched when he heard the front door bang open. "Hamilton where the fuck are you?" He heard his 'boyfriend' scream from the other room. Alex quickly hid his book and smiled. "I'm in here Thomas." Thomas came stumbling into the room and examined Alexander a scold on his face. "You put on make up to cover up your bruises again. Who did you see today?" Alex shook his head. "I didn't see anyone I swear. You locked the door behind you remember?" Thomas glared. "You can't even see the bruises..." His words were slurred and when he smashed his lips against Alexander's his breath smelled of whiskey. After Thomas finished he slapped Alex hard causing him to fall. While he was down he kicked him in the ribs before falling the ground passed out. Alexander took the opportunity to run. He didn't grab anything or put on any more clothes than he had one which was just Thomas's shirt and a pair of boxers. He ran down the street bare footed and didn't stop until he was in front of his best friend's house. He banged on the door tears streaming down his face. "John! It's Alex! Open the door!"

#Hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #lams rp #Hamilton rp

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junker-town · 5 years

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Bracketology 2020: The NCAA tournament field is suspiciously boring

Geoff Burke-USA TODAY Sports

The No. 4 seeds have been revamped and plenty of newcomers are added to the field in our latest bracketology update.

While “balanced” and “unpredictable” have been the two adjectives used the most when describing the 2019-20 college basketball season, I’m going to throw in a third, far more contradictory one to describe the race for the NCAA tournament bracket’s four No. 1 seeds.

Boring.

For the fifth week in a row, the same four teams hold down the regional anchor spots, still in the same order the Selection Committee announced Feb. 8, first applied here seven days ago:

The 23-1 Baylor Bears, No. 2 in the NET, ranked first overall and placed in Houston’s South regional.

The Bears’ closest Big 12 rivals, the 22-3 Kansas Jayhawks, fourth in the NET but boasting 10 Quad 1 victories, seeded second overall and placed in the Midwest regional in Indianapolis.

The WCC-leading Gonzaga Bulldogs, 26-1 and the NET’s third-ranked squad, anchor the West regional in Los Angeles.

Finally, the nation’s lone undefeated team, the San Diego State Aztecs, 25-0 against Division I opposition and atop the NET table. As the fourth overall No. 1 seed, they’re assigned to the East regional in New York.

And you could argue that the stability of the top line is creeping into the two line, as the Duke Blue Devils, now atop the ACC standings, and Dayton Flyers, 23-2 and a perfect 12-0 in Atlantic 10 play so far, have cemented themselves as the bracket’s fifth- and sixth-ranked teams.

Mike Carter-USA TODAY Sports

Look for Maryland to make a serious push toward the top line over the season’s final weeks.

But the two teams ranked immediately behind Duke and Dayton are positioned to chase both of them down and potentially pass San Diego State on the top line. First, the Maryland Terrapins moved to 21-4 overall and seventh in the NET after Saturday evening’s thrilling road victory over the Michigan State Spartans. That was the Terps’ eighth straight win. Bolstering their case, Maryland’s final five games (after Tuesday’s visit from Northwestern) are all set to be profile-boosting Quad 1 contests. Then there are the Florida State Seminoles, also sitting at 21-4. Leonard Hamilton’s club has only lost to Duke and Virginia (both on the road) since the New Year, and their most difficult remaining game, against Louisville, comes in Tallahassee. However, the weakness of this year’s ACC might limit the Seminoles’ ceiling, a deficiency reflected in their NET ranking of 15th — eight spots lower than Maryland. However, if FSU can win the ACC tournament title? That result could be a game-changer for the ‘Noles.

But once you get away from the top two seed lines, the boredom suddenly vanishes and this season’s trademark wackiness returns with a vengeance.

Jeremy Brevard-USA TODAY Sports

WYD, Louisville?

Three of today’s No. 3 seeds lost two games over the last week. Louisville lost its spot on the two line after dropping back-to-back road contests to Georgia Tech and Clemson Tigers. The Seton Hall Pirates fell to the Creighton Bluejays, now a four seed, in a thriller in Newark on Wednesday, then dug themselves too deep of a hole at Providence on Saturday. Then there are the West Virginia Mountaineers, who failed to score in the final five minutes of Kansas’ midweek visit, then lost by 11 at Baylor on Saturday. This week’s new No. 3 seed, the Villanova Wildcats, were the exception, as they defeated Marquette in Big East play, then finished off a 4-0 Big Five campaign by defeating Temple on the road.

Villanova replaces Auburn, who drop to an all-new four line. While Bruce Pearl’s team was able to avenge an earlier loss to Alabama on Wednesday, Saturday’s 85-73 loss at Missouri wasn’t a great follow-up. Creighton, an Oregon squad that swept past Colorado and Utah, and Penn State, winners of eight in a row, fill the remaining places in the top 16.

After today’s full bracket and rundown, I’ll take a look at the cut line and explain why one of this bracket’s new entrants finds itself somewhat safely above the fray.

Note: New entrants are marked with an asterisk (*) and arrows indicate a team’s movement up or down the bracket.

Full seed list

1. South Region (Houston)

St. Louis, Missouri (Thu./Sat.)

1. Baylor (Big 12) vs. *16. Robert Morris (NEC)/Norfolk State (MEAC) ↓8. Illinois vs. 9. Rhode Island

Tampa, Florida (Thu./Sat.)

↓5. Butler vs. 12. Yale (Ivy) ↓4. Auburn vs. 13. North Texas (C-USA)

Albany, New York (Thu./Sat.)

↑6. Ohio State vs. 11. Virginia 3. Villanova vs. 14. Colgate (Patriot)

Greensboro, North Carolina (Fri./Sun.)

↓7. LSU vs. 10. Oklahoma 2. Maryland (Big Ten) vs. *15. Austin Peay (OVC)

4. East Region (New York)

Sacramento, California (Fri./Sun.)

1. San Diego State (MW) vs. 16. Montana (Big Sky) ↑8. Xavier vs. ↓9. Texas Tech

Omaha, Nebraska (Fri./Sun.)

↓5. Kentucky (SEC) vs. ↓12. Northern Iowa (MVC) ↑4. Penn State vs. ↓13. Stephen F. Austin (Southland)

Albany (Thu./Sat.)

↑6. Arizona vs. *11. Cincinnati (American) 3. Seton Hall (Big East) vs. 14. Hofstra (CAA)

Greensboro (Fri./Sun.)

↑7. Michigan vs. ↑10. Wichita State 2. Duke (ACC) vs. 15. South Dakota State (Summit)

2. Midwest Region (Indianapolis)

Omaha (Fri./Sun.)

1. Kansas vs. *16. Prairie View A&M (SWAC)/Saint Peter’s (MAAC) 8. Houston vs. 9. Saint Mary’s

Spokane, Washington (Thu./Sat.)

↑5. Michigan State vs. *12. Furman (SoCon) ↑4. Oregon (Pac-12) vs. 13. UC Irvine (Big West)

St. Louis (Thu./Sat.)

↓6. Iowa vs. ↓*11. USC/ETSU ↓3. Louisville vs. 14. Winthrop (Big South)

Cleveland (Fri./Sun.)

7. Wisconsin vs. *10. Georgetown 2. Dayton (A 10) vs. 15. Bowling Green (MAC)

3. West Region (Los Angeles)

Spokane (Thu./Sat.)

1. Gonzaga (WCC) vs. 16. North Florida (ASUN) ↑8. Rutgers vs. ↑9. Florida

Sacramento (Fri./Sun.)

5. Colorado vs. ↑12. Vermont (Amer. East) ↑4. Creighton vs. 13. New Mexico State (WAC)

Cleveland (Fri./Sun.)

6. Marquette vs. ↓11. Arizona State/Richmond 3. West Virginia vs. 14. Wright State (Horizon)

Tampa (Thu./Sat.)

↓7. BYU vs. ↓10. Purdue ↑2. Florida State vs. 15. Little Rock (Sun Belt)

Rundown

Bids by conference: 10 Big Ten, 7 Big East, 5 Pac-12, 5 Big 12, 4 ACC, 4 SEC, 3 AAC, 3 A 10, 3 WCC, 2 SoCon, 22 one-bid conferences

Last four byes: Purdue, Wichita State, Oklahoma, Virginia Last four in: USC, Arizona State, ETSU, Richmond First four out: Arkansas, Indiana, Alabama, Utah State Next four out: Stanford, VCU, NC State, Mississippi State

Lowest-ranked NET at-large: Virginia (55) Highest-ranked NET exclusion: Alabama (36)

New today (7/68): Austin Peay, Cincinnati, ETSU, Georgetown, Norfolk State, Richmond, Saint Peter’s Leaving today: Arkansas, Indiana, Murray State, NC Central, Rider, Stanford, VCU

Bracket notes

Placing the No. 4 seeds in today’s bracket was a challenge, as Creighton cannot play In Omaha over the first weekend and the Bluejays also had to be separated from Seton Hall and Villanova. To preserve the appropriate amount of balance between the regions, I put Creighton in the West and Oregon in the Midwest, when the two could have been placed in their natural regions.

There are some truly spectacular potential second-round matchups here: Auburn-Butler, Villanova-Ohio State, and Maryland-LSU in the South; Oregon-Michigan State, Dayton-Wisconsin, and Louisville-Iowa in the Midwest; Creighton-Colorado, West Virginia-Marquette, and BYU-FSU in the West; Penn State-Kentucky, Arizona-Seton Hall, and Duke-Michigan in the East.

But some of those matchups might never happen because of stacked first-round pods. Both Butler and Auburn would be pushed in their projected opening matchups, against Yale and North Texas. Ohio State would need to get past 2019’s champs to reach the Round of 32. Iowa and Marquette would both need to defeat dangerous First Four winners. Colorado and Kentucky would face potentially tricky No. 5 vs. No. 12 games, while Penn State is paired with a Stephen F. Austin squad that won at Duke.

This week’s top-two Elite Eight matchups would likely start in Los Angeles on Saturday with Gonzaga and Florida State meeting for the third straight year, then a Kansas-Dayton Maui rematch in Indianapolis. Sunday’s doubleheader would tip off with Baylor and Maryland in Houston, followed by San Diego State-Duke at Madison Square Garden.

Welcome Georgetown, ETSU, Richmond and Cincinnati!

Thomas J. Russo-USA TODAY Sports

Georgetown somehow won at Butler on Saturday, despite missing two key players due to injury.

There are three new at-large entrants in today’s bracket and a new American Athletic Conference leader, the Cincinnati Bearcats, filling a fourth such spot. And while the Richmond Spiders, completely new today, and East Tennessee State Buccaneers, who first entered the projected field in Friday’s bubble update, sit just above the cut line, today’s fourth newcomer, the Georgetown Hoyas, find themselves as the top No. 10 seed. This is particularly impressive since Patrick Ewing’s squad was the ninth team out on Friday.

The Hoyas’ rise illustrates how narrow the margins are near 2020’s cut line and how quickly things can change this season. For starters, Saturday’s impressive, unexpected win at Butler was Georgetown’s second top-20 win. Plus, recent improvement by two of the Hoyas’ non-conference opponents, SMU and Oklahoma State, have resulted in Georgetown picking up two more Quad 1 wins, moving their record against that group to 5-9. And with the Hoyas’ NET now ranking 46th and their profile lacking any truly bad losses, it’s no surprise they made a quick jump to relevance.

It’s a similar story for Richmond, which edged out Alabama — despite a loss in Tuscaloosa — an Arkansas club that’s lost four straight and an Indiana squad that’s just won once in its last six outings to secure today’s final at-large. While the Spiders recorded a dominant home win over archrival VCU on Saturday, it’s their work away from the Robins’ Center that’s boosted them above their power-conference competition. Sure, Chris Mooney’s team defeated Wisconsin in the Legends Classic before Thanksgiving, but it also has a 7-2 record in true road games, highlighted by a 69-61 victory on the home floor of the Atlantic 10’s second-best team, Rhode Island. On the other hand, Alabama is 3-6 in true road games, Arkansas 4-5 and Indiana a woeful 1-6.

Of course, things could very well change for Richmond — and several other teams — by the time Friday’s bubble update arrives. In the meantime, you can check out my nightly TV previews on Blogging the Bracket and listen to my bracketology interviews on the College Basketball Coast to Coast podcast and SB Nation Radio’s Pushing the Odds with Matt Perrault.

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buildarocketboys · 7 years

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11: "Have you seen - /oh/"

You didn’t specify what fandom/pairing you wanted this for so I went for Black Sails. This is technically Silver/Flint/Thomas but it’s mostly Silver/Thomas. It’s sort of a sequel to this piece.

Crossposted to ao3

Fuck. Where was thefucking trowel?

In his previous life, Thomas Hamilton had not been a mangiven to swearing. He had, however, found a small amount of satisfaction incursing over the past ten years, and it was a feeling that did not come to himeasily in those days, so he held fast to it. A tiny act of rebellion which, aslong as it remained inside his head, would not even warrant punishment.

The trowel was, apparently, nowhere in the garden. He cursedunder his breath now, for he needed to plant these seeds before midsummer’s dayif they were to have enough food for the coming winter, and that time was fastapproaching.

Not in the main room, which was used for anything andeverything, from cooking to eating to relaxing (as far as three men batteredand broken by the years and the cruelty of the world could relax – mostly theydrank and played cards), though Thomas turned out the big chest in the cornertwice.

Not in the room that he and James shared, most of the time,although James had been splitting his time more and more between his and John’sroom, which was the next place Thomas had to look.

Knocking on the door, John answered with a cheerful, “Comein!”, so Thomas pushed the door open and entered.

“John, have you seen- oh.” He stopped abruptly when he sawJohn before him in a state of undress. He was completely naked apart from apair of drawers (which, if Thomas was being honest with himself, did little tohide what was beneath). He was rubbing some sort of ointment on his amputatedleg. Thomas took him in, looking him greedily up and down, twice, and thenswallowed and averted his eyes in embarrassment. Although James was spendingmore time with John at night (although he always crept back to Thomas in themorning, with a kiss and a whispered apology, which Thomas insisted wasn’tnecessary), they had not yet discussed the possibility of all three of themtogether. He had no idea if either James or John would want that at all, andThomas was loath to bring it up (although it featured in his fantasies quiteoften) when the two other men were only just beginning to heal the damage donebetween them.

John, however, had noticed Thomas’s appreciative stare andraised an eyebrow to himself, straightening his back and puffing out his chestso his body was displayed at its best, positively preening for the other man.

Thomas huffed out a laugh. “I was looking for my trowel,” hesaid helplessly, as if that would explain the look he has just given John. Johnraised his eyebrows at him disbelievingly, but merely said, “Of course.Although I don’t think you’ll find it in here.”

“No,” said Thomas, clearing his throat, still not looking atJohn. He turned to go.

“Thomas?” said John before he could make good his escape andrelieve himself of his frustrations in the privacy of his room. “Would you helpme with this?” he asked, indicating the ointment in his hand.

Now it was Thomas’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

John explained quickly, “I mean, I can do it myself, ofcourse I can, but James usually helps me out, only he’s been a bit distractedthe past few days,” Thomas knew why that was, although he had no idea if Johndid. It was Miranda’s birthday on midsummer’s day, so James was spending moretime out alone than usual. When he was here, he was distracted and distant.John continued, “and there’s a bit round the back that’s a bitch to get at.” He shrugged helplessly. “Will you?”

“Of course.” Thomas nodded, smiling. Sexual frustrationaside, he was touched that John trusted him enough to touch his leg. When hehad first arrived (battered, bruised and dirty), he had allowed Thomas to patchhim up and clean his wounds, but he had flinched when Thomas had gone near hisbad leg, so he had left it well alone.

Since then, Thomas hadn’t been close enough to John to needto touch his leg, but this made it clear that it was not only with James thatJohn had made progress.

Soon, John was lying back on the bed and Thomas wasmassaging the ointment into his stump. John kept sighing and groaning andsaying things like, “Oh yes, right there,” which was very distracting, not tomention inconvenient. Thomas thought conversation would distract them both fromhis growing arousal.

“So what does it actually help with, this ointment?”

As conversation starters went, it wasn’t the most inspiring,and John opened one eye and looked up at him as if to say, “Are you beingserious right now?” Seeing Thomas appeared to be so, he sighed. “It soothes thejoints, mostly. And the lesions I get from wearing that thing all day.” Heindicated the peg leg on the floor.

“Does it hurt?” asked Thomas, concerned. John wore thebloody thing all hours of the day except when he was in his room, it seemed toThomas, and if he was hurting himself for either of their sakes, Thomas washaving none of it.

“A bit. Sometimes – ah – sometimes a lot,” he finished asThomas rubbed the ointment into a particularly sore spot. He grimaced up athim. “But you get used to it.”

“Hm,” said Thomas, unhappily.

“That’s enough,” said John, pushing himself into a sittingposition. “You don’t think I should wear it, do you?” It was said almostaccusingly.

Thomas shuffled back, looking embarrassed. “It’s not that Ithink that you shouldn’t wear it,” he said carefully. “I can see how it can be-useful. Just- if it’s hurting you, maybe you should wear it less.”

John huffed, but smiled up at Thomas uncertainly.

Thomas carried on. “I mean, if it’s me you’re worried about,you needn’t be. I’ve seen you without it now. There’s no shame in it.”

John smiled again, tightly, painfully. “It’s not you I’mworried about.”

Thomas furrowed his brow, confused. “James? But then – you saidhe helped you-”

“In bed, yes. It’s different in bed with him.” John smiled suggestively, and Thomas found himselfchoking back a laugh as John’s gaze darkened again. “But I’m not ready to bewithout it in front of him outside the bedroom, yet.”

Thomas nodded, understanding and not understanding.Sometimes he forgot just how much James had changed in the years they had beenforced apart, how he had hurt people and been hurt in return, including by thisman sat in front of him.

“So this?” Thomas dared to ask, indicating the two of themand the spark so clearly between them. He knew he shouldn’t ask, with John inso vulnerable a position, but since he had shown Thomas he might be interested,he couldn’t help but pursue it.

John shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I’m not bringing it upwith him. He’d probably kill me.” Thomas snorted. “Or at least throw me out,”he amended, glaring at Thomas reproachfully. “You might have better luck withhim, though,” he said, hopefully, and Thomas detected the unspoken question.

“Are you asking me to bring it up with him?”

John nodded and shrugged.

Thomas sighed. “I’ll try. When he comes back to us.” Theyboth knew he didn’t mean physically. John nodded in understanding. “I can’tdeny I feel like it would really complete our setup here.” Thomas offered him asmall smile, fragile in the making and hard-won.

John smiled back. “Until then, then, amigo,” he said with a little quirk of his lips, and Thomas grinnedand left the room.

A few days later, when midsummer’s day had come and gone andJames had come back to them again, much to both Thomas’s and John’s relief,Thomas turned to James in bed as the latter closed his book and set it down.

“We need to talk about John.”

#black sails #thomas hamilton #john silver #silverthomas #silverflinthamilton #black sails fic #james flint #my writing #anon #asks #fanfic #Anonymous

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