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nomnomsentourage · 4 years

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you must know by now I only do these when I see a lot of potential in something that had a great concept but could've been executed better, so. here's my take at a WBB movie rewrite!

SKIP this post now if you haven't seen it or scroll very fast if the read more doesn't work lol

- the movie starts more or less the same, with the flashback dream, the bears waking up, and them rushing through town. when they see Nom Nom at the poutine stand, he acknowledges Grizz nervously, clearly not annoyed or indifferent, but unsure about associating with him in front of so many fans, given their differing reputations. hurt by the dejection, the bears try to prove their worth

- ...and inevitably screw up, but it's clear that whatever they do is... probably not that big of a deal, some harmless antics, and the humans are just blowing their grievances out of proportion on sole account of them being bears, as is seen to be the case throughout the show. Trout gets called in, and they're thrown into the van, only to be busted out by Charlie. they (someone especially) tell him how grateful they are to have a friend like him, especially since he snuck all the way through the city just for them, something they know must've been difficult for him. he mentions that it was nothing - he knows how terrifying it is to be hunted down for no good reason, and that they would've done the same for him, too. they get the idea to lay low in Canada for a while, when Chloe, Tabes, Lucy & Darrell call them on Panda's phone. they tell them their plan, and while both parties are heartbroken and infuriated, they agree it's the best decision for their safety, at least for now

- after confronting Trout in rage, the girls & Darrell band together in the official Bears Protection Squad: organizing public events, handing out fliers and shouting passionately through megaphones to spread awareness of all the kind and wonderful things the bears have done for them over the years - easing Chloe out of her shell and supporting her as she tried to fit in and succeed at school, standing by Tabes in her passion for justice and helping her with the rangers and Kirk, lending Lucy a hand with her competitions and babysitting Clifford, and even saving some poor old shmuck's dream of running a mousepad store, not to mention his wedding. they may have been outcasts alone, but together, they became a family. despite it all, the people are unconvinced; the gang know they need to think of something bigger, something more impactful

- the next part plays out the same - the bears hit the road, singing their cute lil' song and getting stopped at the checkpoint, crashing down the hill and landing at the internet animal rave. they're almost kicked out, until the other animals realize their collective solidarity and let them stay the night

- Chloe & co flip rapidly through phone books, run through the streets, going from door to door looking for anyone and everyone from the bears' past who can vouch for their innocence. Tom, Griff and Isaac, Chloe's relatives, the Poppy and Ivy rangers with Zhao, Ranger Martinez, Dr. Clark, Mr. Sacher, Professor Lampwick, Mrs. Lee, the mailman, Wyatt, Nate, Kazumi, even Karla and Yana hear about their deportation and chime in to help. disappointingly, their efforts still go unheard. but they don't give up; they dedice to kick things up a notch

- Grizz has a tonally dark and distressing nightmare about the overwhelming responsibility he feels over keeping his brothers safe, and they just barely escape in the van

- the Protection Squad, aiming to get the support of someone with cultural power and influence, storm Nom Nom's mansion, with Tabes very politely using her strength to press past security (though Farmer is pretty compliant), and ask for his help with the campaign. in Nom Nom fashion he assures he wants nothing to do with them (he doesn't even know who they are, and he's late for some celebrity party anyway), but they pull out some good old Emotional Manipulation using everything they've heard about how the bears helped him, and how he'd probably have been dead if not for Grizz. he's not happy about it, but he knows they're right, and asks what he can do

- after finally making it to the Canadian border, the bears get turned down; maybe there's some legal thing with them being outlaws or some meta joke about how animals don't need passports, but talking ones do. exhausted and frustrated, Panda lashes out at Grizz, upsetting Ice and delivering that brutal line about how they're 'not even brothers' and it was just some 'story they made up to make themselves feel better.' after a silent moment, Grizz chokes up - he's humiliated in himself, for spending so many years trying to protect the people he saw as his family, only to fail miserably, and not even do a good enough job for Panda to consider him his real brother. broken, the two decide that maybe they'd be better off alone - Panda where he can make the right choices for himself, and Grizz where he can't hurt anyone any more. Ice, terrified, tries to pull them back together, even pulling them to the ground at one point to stop them from leaving, but they push him away, and head out on separate paths to find shelter from the rain

- the moment they're separated, Trout reappears and captures them all - they can hear each other's cries, but can't do anything to help as they're each brutally caged and sent to the deportation site. Panda, still in his cage next to Ice Bear and about to be flown or shipped off, has flashbacks to the time they met, triggered by the similarly perilous situation he finds himself in now. he thinks about how much pain they'd all been in - Grizz after losing his family, Panda after living in isolation, Ice after being sent away by Yuri - and how important it was to them that they stayed together after that, how much it healed and comforted them to be around people who knew what it was like to be alone and lost and outcast, but did everything they could to support and nurture each other. it reminds him of the promise they made, not just from Grizz to them, but them in return too, to protect, care for, and remain brothers with each other for life

- spurred into action, he calls out to Ice, asking him to forgive him for the fight and, now more than ever, call upon his awesome littlest brother strength to bust them out. they break free and rush to the now dejected and lifeless Grizz, who makes no effort to free himself from his cage, hopeless and resigned. they have to act quickly before the guards show up, so they ramble tearfully through a list of all the reasons they need and appreciate him, all the ways he's helped them over the years, and all the ways they should've been helping him, too. he might sit at the top of the stack, but as far as they're concerned, he's their sturdy floorboards, their safety net to fall back on, and whether or not he always succeeds, it means so much to them to have someone they can always go. they affirm their willingness to be there for him by opening his cage, and, after Grizz finally lets loose the waterfall of tears he's been holding back the entire time, they embrace

- they break the other bears out, and they charge Trout's forces. they take him down, keeping the speech about his unjustified intolerance and sadistic exploitation of those he sees as different to him, and the fire starts. Panda calls the fire brigade for help, but it's unclear whether they'll make it on time, or whether there'll be enough vehicles to get everyone out safely

- meanwhile, the support have taken to the streets once again. people are ready to dismiss them once more, until they see Nom Nom with a scowling army of internet animal celebrities amongst them - he calls the cityfolk idiots, one for making such a big deal out of such tiny and harmless nuisances, two for being so cold to the bears he owes his life to, and three because. he's literally a bear too! well, marsupial. what he's trying to say, the others chime in, is: why are animals only celebrated in society when they can be made into some kind of tokenistic, pop cultural sensation? why is deviation from the norm only acceptable when it can be exploited for human's enjoyment? why do they have such low tolerance to animals living among them when their buildings are literally built on what used to be their natural habitat? if this is what his fans are like, Nom Nom agrees, then he doesn't want to be famous any more

the crowd is quiet. just then, Chloe gets a call - it's from Panda, showing him in a panic, begging for help as the flames engulf the trees around him. she shows the video call to the crowds, yelling that the bears need their help, and that if they have any common decency they'll do what's right and lend them their hands. slowly, one by one, people from the crowd emerge, dialing the fire brigade to send in more trucks and helicopters to help at the scene. after some tension, uncertainty and one last bout of Trout fuckery, they get all the bears out and put out the fire

- the ending is much the same - people crowd to admire the bears' bravery, and while many others remain unconvinced about their presence, they know that those who care will always be there to use their voice to speak up in support of justice and equality. (I don't want to erase Murphy from the conversation and pretend his arch wasn't a flaw in the movie, so maybe there could be an alternative where he resigns from his position and takes to spreading awareness, although I'd rather leave the specifics to someone with better knowledge and insight.) the bears' friends - Chloe, Tabes, Lucy, Darrell and Yana all rush to embrace them, tearful and delighted that they're all okay, Nom Nom shows up to apologize and take a selfie for his timeline with them, and Charlie embraces Panda, warm and relieved

the bears return home, the rest of the bears integrate into society, and a montage of them finding their places and families is shown as the credits play

#we bare bears #we bare bears the movie #wbb spoilers #wbb movie #spoilers /#long post

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melanshi · 6 years

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What Remains

Animatronic August Day 8- Return

Characters: William Afton/Scraptrap, Michael Afton, Lefty/the Marionette

Notes: HAPPY 4TH ANNIVERSARY

Warnings: Child abuse, swearing

“You may not recognize me at first, but I assure you, it’s still me.”

Michael barely had a second to take in what remained of the Spring Bonnie mask before his father’s remaining hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him out of his chair. A quip about having to pay for the shirt if it was ruined spawned in his mouth, yet it died before it reached his tongue.

William must’ve sensed this. He paused for a brief second, tilted his head curiously. When Michael didn’t say anything, a low chuckle tore out of his throat. Michael found himself flying across the room, without even a hint that he was going to be thrown. He crashed into a pile of boxes, a sickening crack reverberating around the room. Whether it was from him or whatever had been in the boxes, he didn’t want to know.

“This isn’t how I expected our reunion to go.”

Michael dragged his eyes up to his father, noting how each “s” was drawn out, like the snake the bastard was. He snarled.

Scraptrap seemed to ignore it. “Nice mask,” he remarked, taking a step closer.

“Wish I could say the same,” Michael remarked, “but I’d prefer not to lie.”

He slowly made his way to his feet. Or at least tried to. As soon as he moved his weight off his ass and into his feet, his left leg crumbled beneath him. He mentally swore, noting a dark substance begining to stain his pant leg. Seems that crack did come from him.

Scraptrap laughed, a mix of his father’s low chuckle and some new maniacal laughter Michael had never heard before. “So, you fancy yourself a comedian?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see the desk. He’d swore he’d hidden a shock prod in the top of drawer. “No, I don’t.”

The response seemed to almost surprise William. He growled. “Seems to you have a bit of your mother in you after all.”

He began inching towards the desk. “Nah, I get my jokes from your side. From a total joke himself.”

Scraptrap charged with a shriek. Michael paused in place. Closer… closer… Once he could see the veins in his father’s eyes, he lunged, leaping out of the way. Too late to stop, the animatronic slammed into the wall with a painful crash.

Michael groaned as he landed. Despite having no working nerves left, that impact hurt. He slowly made his way to his knees, glancing back at his father. Scraptrap had already recovered and was staring straight at him.

Oh, bloody--

A shriek sounded out and Michael frantically reached for the desk. His fingers missed by mere inches, just as a hand grabbed his ankle. No, no, no, no, no.

Scraptrap pulled him back, ignoring his frantic attempts to catch the edges of the floor tiles. When he could, he grabbed the back of his shirt and hoisted him off the ground. Michael aimed a poorly timed punch at him and missed pathetically.

“Now, now,” William scolded, as if he was still a little kid. “Is that the way I raised you?”

Michael spat at him.

Scraptrap glared at him. He hooked Michael’s shirt on his boney arm, allowing him to reposition his remaining hand to grab his neck. His son’s eyes immediately went wide as pressure began slowly increasing around his throat. His hands immediately flew up to it and began attempting to force fingers off.

“Pity,” William said, his expression almost seeming to change to mocking sadness. “In another life, we could have been a great duo. Father and son. Creators.”

Whatever Michael attempted to say came out garbled through his slowly crushing throat.

Scraptrap chuckled. “I always wondered what would happen if someone injected with remnant lost a vital organ. Such as a head. And a brain. Not that you ever had one to begin with, of course.”

Michael’s struggles were growing weaker and weaker. His clawing was becoming sloppier and sloppier until he gave one final tug at the fingers around his throat, gave one final squeak, and went limp. His head lolled forward, his neck not quite snapped but crushed enough to let his head droop at an unnatural angle. His arms fell to his sides, completely useless. The room was quiet, save for one final drip of whatever substance had been leaking out of his left leg onto the floor. All at once, everything stopped.

William frowned, tilting his head at what once had been his eldest child. Almost as useless in death as he had been in life. Such a pity.

His attention turned to the abandoned computer monitor, still illuminating the room in blue. He approached it slowly. Somewhere, Molten Freddy laughed. He should be able to find the entrance to the pizzeria on here. And beyond that, his next performance.

And what a show he would give.

All he needed was that damn map.

The second his fingers rested on the keyboard, Michael’s head shot up. Before William could react, his fingers grabbed his eye sockets, curling around the inside of the mask and forcefully yanking it up. With a shriek on his father’s part, he was dropped to the floor, landing hard on his broken leg.

He didn’t react. Instead, he found the top drawer and threw it open, rummaging through its contents, never taking his eyes off the robot in front of him. Stapler, notepad, pencil, c’mon, where was it?

Scraptrap turned to him, fury practically bleeding out of his very soul.

Tape roll, paperclip, keys…

He took a step forward, raising the boney arm, the sharp end gleaming in the flickering light of the computer monitor.

Gum wrapper, eraser, mousepad…

William shrieked. And Scraptrap jolted forward.

Shock prod.

Michael’s hand wrapped around the handle of the object and he tore it out of the drawer faster than even he knew was possible. The bone was only a few feet away from his face. He hit the switch and dodged, striking out at the same time.

The shock prod made contact.

William screamed, his entire body igniting with electricity. Beneath him, Michael watched through his mask, the boney arm just barely missing his face. With no contact made, William’s balance was thrown off and he went tumbling into the metal desk. It too was quickly consumed in the shock, almost seeming to amplify it instead of just conducting it.

Michael didn’t stop. His neck was crushed. His leg was broken. And yet he didn’t stop.

William stared down at him, eyes wide in horror. Michael met the gaze. The two remained like that for a moment, simply staring. Father and son. And then Michael shoved the prod further into his suit, allowing it to embed itself in it.

He himself scrambled backwards watching the scene in front of him, breathing heavy breaths he didn’t need. His hand went up to his neck and came back with a dark substance, the exact same liquid collecting on his pant leg. He numbly wondered what it was.

His success didn’t last for long. Scraptrap reach down and wrenched the prod out from him, throwing it across the room, still active and buzzing. He turned to Michael, his fury almost visible. Michael’s eyes went wide and he frantically attempted to scramble away.

“You should’ve stayed dead, Mikey,” Scraptrap hissed, his voice oddly calm, yet anger poisoning the edges of it. He took a step forward, enjoying his son’s terror as he watched him. He was going to enjoy this.

“You should've stayed dead too.”

Both men froze at the distorted yet familiar voice. Michael tilted his head, attempting to see past the animatronic in front of him. His unnecessary breath hitched in his throat.

William was rooted in place, his eyes wide and staring blankly ahead. Although he was trying not to, it was obvious that he was quivering.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Afton?” the voice said. “Are you afraid?”

He didn’t respond, yet everyone in the room could tell that what once had been pure unbridled rage was now replaced by unending terror.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t move, although it was unclear whether it was from his fear paralyzing him or from refusal.

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of me?” The voice suddenly laughed and the two men were thrown back to when they’d last heard that laugh, in the middle of Freddy’s backroom, mixed in with metal parts and plastic eyeballs, where she’d been playing as her father worked.

William snapped out of the memory. He shook his head. No, he wasn’t afraid of her.

“Then face me, Mr. Afton.”

This time he did, turning almost as slowly as possible, waiting until the last minute to see her. Or what she’d become.

He found himself face to face with none other than an unknown black bear. The bear tilted his head, observing the scene before him. He looked at the remains of the beings once known as William and Spring Bonnie. And he looked past him at what remained of Michael Afton.

Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, the bear opened his mouth in what could possibly be a smile.

Through his teeth shone the brilliant white eyes of the Marionette.

“Welcome back, Mr. Afton.”

#animatronicaugust2k18 #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton #william afton #springtrap #lefty #marionette #mel writes #/child abuse #/abuse #i still got 15 minutes until tomorrow let's GOOO #also #kick his ass mari i got yo flower

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benwvatt · 7 years

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interrupted

This is for @quantum-oddity because she’s a huge reason I even got into Hamilton and I hope she sees this and it can cheer her up in some way! Also, thanks to my wonderful beta @beliza-fryler for proofreading and finding mutual love in OUAT/Enchanted/Hamilton with me ((:

Fandom: Hamilton

Characters: Alexander Hamilton, Eliza Schuyler, Washington, Adams, Jefferson

Rating: PG-13??

Genre: Angst, then fluff

Warnings: Fighting in a relationship, mention of periods

Word count: 2.7k

As the age-old grandfather clock in Washington’s oversized office ticked hopelessly, Hamilton fidgeted more in his seat. The meeting had been estimated to be one of the longest ones of Washington’s term, encompassing both the cabinet and any invited guests involved in the political world, but it had only been forty-five minutes and Alexander was already a little stir-crazy.

The founding fathers had been called into a meeting in order to discuss possible future American presidents, after Martha had suggested the idea with a twinkle in her eye. Everyone knew she missed Washington while American leadership took a toll on his health. Some nights Washington left the office only a few minutes before Hamilton did, walking into the parking lot and barely retaining his honorable composure while he got into the car.

While at the meeting, Washington retained a commanding presence at the head of the table, watching like a hawk as Adams and Jefferson debated loudly and without restraint. Hamilton felt uncomfortable not speaking up when so many of his colleagues were, especially when Jefferson could usually elicit a brash response from Hamilton just by opening his mouth. Honestly speaking, Hamilton couldn’t envision himself as the President. He knew he wouldn’t fare well under that much pressure and judgment, with every failed move maximized and every success undermined.

Only a few minutes earlier, Adams had quietly announced he would run for president after Washington left, resulting in a loud scoff and a mutter from none other than Thomas Jefferson. Both Washington and Hamilton remained silent while Jefferson stayed seated and began to poke fun at Adams.

“As if you could get there. Why don’t you complete your vice-president checklist first?” Jefferson may not have hoped to run for president yet, but he could only laugh at the prospect of a man such as John Adams becoming a future American leader. “As of right now, I believe there’s only one thing on it. It reads ‘do something with my life’”.

Adams tried to stand up taller and reddened. Breathing deeply, he started talking before he stuttered over his words multiple times and his phone rang (quite loudly too, as the marimba ringtone resounded above the disputes of the meeting) just when he had begun. Awkwardly, Adams excused himself from the room, insisting that his wife Abigail was on the other end and she was despondent over news of their son and his misbehavior.

After Adams had left, Washington looked uncomfortably around the large office, seeing men filled with the craze of competition and a roomful of polarized opponents. “Well, with John out of the room, we may as well take a break. Please leave the room for fifteen minutes and return afterwards. I do hope you can behave better when you reenter, for the sake of yourselves if not for this nation,” he announced, in hopes of calming the room.

Hamilton breathed a sigh of relief as he clicked number one on his speed dial and called Eliza. She was the only person keeping him grounded in the political hurricane of confused shouts, allied teams, and complicated demands.

“Hello? Where are you?” Eliza sounded upset and forgotten behind the false tone she had adopted after being a Senator’s daughter for years.

“Betsey, it’s me.” Alex was delighted to hear her voice after a difficult day at the office.

“Of course it is.” Eliza’s voice on the other end of the line reflected a cold, physical distance standing between the Hamiltons. “Why aren’t you home?”

“Washington wanted –”

“What else does he want?” Eliza’s coldness was irregular, and Alex began to pace nervously in the hallway.

“Excuse me?” Alexander hoped she wasn’t serious.

“What hasn’t he taken from us already?” Eliza sounded empty, the only reason she was being so confrontational. On any other day, she would carefully approach the subject before asserting that President Washington and the job he provided for Alex was hurting the Hamiltons.

“Just let me finish,” Alexander snapped. He hated being interrupted; it meant he was being walked all over. “Washington wanted to discuss, between everyone, the possibility of any of us running for president.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of running,” Eliza was drained of her normal kindness today, and only the exhausted, unamused words were left.

“And why not?” Hamilton was tired, and he certainly didn’t need the one person he depended on to discourage him even further.

Truth be told, Hamilton knew he didn’t want to be president. He preferred having a job to support his family, not to tear him away from it. With that in mind, however, Hamilton knew that his demanding work as a treasury secretary had kept him awake and away from home for weeks now. He hit the home button, checking the calendar app while Eliza shouted discouragements against his possible presidential term. Alex knew he’d already heard every one of her complaints and – yep, right on schedule – it was her time of the month as well.

After checking the calendar, Hamilton tapped on the green, flashing bar to return to the call at the top of the screen and pressed his cell phone to his ear.

“And another thing – you don’t even listen when you are home! Sometimes I think you should just get your own place so we’d quit bothering you from your real work.”

Eliza meant the last sentence sarcastically, but Alexander could feel it jolt in his bones. He shivered without cause. Leave it to Eliza to remind him of long nights when he returned to a lonely apartment, wallpaper peeling and bills piling up.

With Mother dead, Father gone, and Alexander desperate to live for just one more morning, Hamilton knew those years well. Isolation became the only thing he could depend on for so long. When he had next to nothing, Hamilton had singled out his sole option between the human need to fight or flight. There was no running away when there was nothing to leave behind.

Alex shook the image out of his mind, picturing his home and family, but nearly hung up as Eliza’s voice angrily droned on. His ears burned in frustration and his knees locked in defense, ready to bear the burden of a long lecture. James Hamilton, his late father (or so he hoped), had taught his son all too well.

“Anyways, I’m sure Jefferson’s done arguing by now.” Eliza remained firm in her anger towards her husband as she jumped to a seemingly obvious conclusion.

“How did you –”

“He’s Jefferson.”

Although Alexander would have ordinarily found the remark funny and perhaps even endearing, today it only annoyed him. He hated it when she interrupted; it meant she thought she was right.

Alexander felt as if he had dealt with enough of his wife’s loud complaints. He’d called expecting a greeting and was met with discourse. It was time she heard an outburst from him. “I’d say goodbye, but you don’t deserve it,” he retorted, trying to hang up and missing the button pathetically.

“I’d say farewell, but I really hope you don’t.” Eliza’s voice was clipped and sarcastic as she ended the call. Silence replaced the shouts in Alexander’s head.

Hamilton, for the first time in years, felt speechless. It was as if his conversation with Eliza had stolen all of his good intentions and crafted phrases, twisting them into ugly surges of emotions he had bottled up for too long.

There were still four minutes left until Washington’s meeting began again, so Hamilton sat down outside the grand doorframe and fidgeted with his phone. He had nobody to turn to; all of his colleagues were here at the office, and his family would take Eliza’s side. Alexander even debated on whether or not to text Angelica, but the eldest Schuyler sister would likely usurp Eliza in anger and frustration.

Finally, he settled upon music. Alex hit play on a movie soundtrack written by Lin-Manuel Miranda (dubbed the king of writing in the Hamilton household, which Alexander disproved of). Without any earbuds, he lamely turned the volume down and held the phone close to his ear.

One song later, Hamilton walked into the meeting room and began to speak. Jefferson and Madison groaned preemptively, knowing how long Hamilton’s speeches could stretch. They had often begged him to apply the term ‘less is more’ into his writing, but Alexander always refused.

“Washington, sir, I do not plan on running for president. I am content in my current position as treasury secretary and I’d very much like to remove myself from this meeting. May I?”

The words sounded foolish coming out of his mouth. The argument with Eliza sapped his knowledge and replaced it with defensiveness. Hamilton couldn’t feel anything but the weight of last night, spent typing away in his office until 4 AM. Alexander spent two-and-a-half hours dozing off on his mousepad, while Eliza had spent the night alone. Nobody but his family could heal this hurt, a raw wound born from Alex’s own selfishness that Eliza had worsened.

Hamilton trudged into the parking lot, hardly awake and turned off to the wandering thoughts of what his coworkers would think. On the way home, he stopped at a pharmacy for pads, pain-relievers, and flowers. Alex hoped Eliza still liked daisies, because he couldn’t find any of her favorite sunflowers on the sterile store shelf. Pulling into the driveway, Alexander felt ashamed of himself. He swallowed a headache pill without any water to dull the pain.

Eliza was laid out on their bed, curled up in Alex’s old Kings College shirt and crying a little. She looked faded and more upset than she had been on the phone. Alexander felt as if he was seeing her up-close, more so than he had in the last three months. Her face was tired, with faint laugh lines crossing around her mouth, and Alexander knew she didn’t laugh as much nowadays.

Alex coughed and Eliza rushed over to greet him. He supposed it was a reflex, because she stopped abruptly before throwing her arms over him and giving him a kiss. Was it normal to miss someone who was right in front of you?

Eliza rolled her eyes, remembering why she was angry, and sat down at the edge of the bed. An old episode of Friends played on their television, and Eliza was clearly more focused on Ross and Rachel than she was on Alex.

“I’m sorry, and I’m a fool, and I’m here for you,” Alex murmured, knowing years of political writing didn’t help construct an adequate apology. He didn’t need to make any revisions or read over his work in his head. These were rough drafts of what he felt.

“I’ll bet you are,” Eliza said. Her words were defiant but her voice shook in the air.

“I brought you stuff,” Alexander offered.

Eliza turned to face him. “The great treasury secretary Alexander Hamilton uses the word ‘stuff’ in conversation with a mere pedestrian like Elizabeth Schuyler? He must be dumbing himself down for her.”

Alexander winced upon hearing her words, attacking the man he had worked so hard to become. She rarely used her full name unless something important was at stake. “Look, Betsey, I’m so sorry.”

The laugh track from the television halted as Eliza pressed the mute button, her hands trembling slightly. Turning her eyes to the ground, Eliza noticed a cheap plastic bag hanging from her husband’s thin fingers. “What for?”

Betsey only used this tactic when there was too much to apologize for all at once.

“I’m sorry for working late again. I know I haven’t been home very much, and the days I have come I’ve dropped into bed after you’re asleep and I’m gone by the time you wake up. It’s not fair to you, or to the kids, and it hurts everyone around me,” admitted Alexander, with a touch of exhaustion in every word.

He hated leaving his family like this, collateral damage of his own work ethic.

Eliza’s face softened and she walked closer to Alex. “Oh, I know.”

She motioned for him to sit down next to her on the flowery bedspread and rested her head on his shoulder. Alex smiled softly and rested his head upon hers, putting his arm over her and muttering. A natural writer, Alexander sometimes couldn’t help himself and dictated what he felt aloud.

“She is forgiving, erasing, loving, holding you close until your burst seams seal enough to keep you together. She cares too much to lock you out, choosing to slip you a spare key under the welcome mat. She is the best of wives, the best of women, the best of everything I know.”

Alexander spoke sparingly, not needing pages and pages to express how he felt toward his wife, but it was enough. Eliza traced his cheek with her finger and turned to him, throwing her arms over his shoulders slowly.

“What stuff did you bring?” For the first time in hours, her grin graced the room.

Alex blushed and crossed his fingers. “Um, I assumed it was your monthly, because I checked the calendar app and everything, so I, uh, stopped at the pharmacy on the way home to get you stuff to help and I hope you like it all because they had all these different colored bags of pads, and they didn’t have sunflowers so I got daisies and I got the medication, I think, but with the changing medical world today, you never know.”

His tirade of a sentence rambled on and on, but Eliza waited until he was done and pressed a hug to his chest. She knew he hated being interrupted; it meant nobody was listening. Alexander’s chest heaved as he took a relieved breath.

“Okay, first of all, I am on my period.” Eliza was used to telling Alexander, after being married for years and having told him even when they were dating. “It’s just that…well, mine came late this month.”

Alexander didn’t know how to react. He and Eliza had become distant anyways as a result of his work, so he just said he was sorry. Eliza’s eyes shone when she smiled back at her husband.

“I never really told you, but I was sick the week my period was supposed to come,” Eliza admitted, knowing that Alex tended to overreact whenever any of his family fell ill. The Hamiltons knew it went back to his mother’s yellow fever, and usually dealt with illness on their own.

“And?” For once, Alexander didn’t know how to connect the dots.

“Well, I was throwing up and my period was late, so I just jumped to conclusions.” After having a few children, Eliza was used to the warning signs. “So when my period did come yesterday, I was kind of disappointed. I know we already have a few kids, but I was just…hopeful. And I realized that I was ready for more kids while you’re still running around, yelling at Jefferson and pulling all-nighters like you’re still in school.”

“You’re ready for more kids?” Alex’s voice resounded in the bedroom, surprised and unsure.

Eliza shifted uncomfortably on the bedspread, biting her lip. “Yes?”

“I’m with you.” Alexander may have been shocked by the news, but he was ready for change in his life. “’ll make time, I promise. I can come home earlier, and ignore Jefferson, and even write less.”

Eliza’s eyes softened as she smiled, her hand twisted nicely in his. “You’d really do that? What about Washington? And the presidency issue?”

“I never really wanted to be president anyways,” admitted Alex, grinning at his wife. He loved the easy contentedness that their talks inevitably came to. “Now, can we just stay here and watch?”

There was a time and place for everything, and the Hamiltons knew it. Alex liked the ring of laughter in their room that day, as the curtains fell over the dying light from the windows and Eliza fell asleep on him. Alexander said goodbye to empty parking lots and exhausting commutes home. He welcomed the satisfying days to come and breathed a sigh of relief. Betsey was all that he would ever need.

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