Tag: yes

Silver: Sells his best friend into slavery. Robs an oppressed people of their choices. Lies to the woman he loves. Tells her it’s for her own good. Treats that woman like a child incapable of making good decisions. Keeps huge, life-changing secrets regarding his best friend’s husband from him despite having multiple opportunities to say something. Uses an enslaved gay man as a bargaining chip against that man’s SO.
Me: Does not approve of any of this and feels uncomfortable with shipping Silver with the people he hurt.
Someone: You just don’t like Silver because he’s in the way of your ship! He didn’t do anything WRONG! You should be SAD for him!
Me: Looks into the camera like I’m on The Office.

Do you ever think about how Flint & Hamilton were in their 30s when they met meaning that while they had no problem finding bedfellows they both had probably long given up on the idea of finding True Love and then they did cause I do and aaaaaagghh

knownoshamc:

aaaaaagghh indeed! 
I think Thomas wanted to find someone to really fall in love with, more than James did. Thomas was more than okay with his sexuality, he had things figured out in life. But who would want to be involved with a lord, when so much was in the line? It is one thing to be a lowborn and have a homosexual relationship, and another with one of the most famous men in London. He had of course some relationships, but they didn’t last.
James on the other hand, never even considered settling down with anyone, I think, or falling in love or finding true love. He had his career to focus on.  I am not sure if James even believed in that sort thing, in soulmates and in everlasting love. He thought that love, like everything else, was fleeting. And of course, he was in a big denial about his sexuality, so that didn’t help. James had his very short relationships, that didn’t matter to him much, probably just with women.

Do you ever think how rare that was? To find each other the way they did? to fall in love, to love each other so much? I cannot believe it’s canon that Thomas called him “My truest love.” like…more romantic than Jane Austen, I tell you that. How their love changed James for the better, how much he grew during their relationship, how happy they both must have been, being with each other, dreaming of the future….and then it was so brutally taken away from them. :’)

PS Let’s also point out how important their relationship is for lgbt+ okay (in comparison with other shows) ?? 1. you can always find love, not just a young person/teen. 2. non-straight relationships can be really healthy and not full of betrayal and drama 3. HAPPY ENDINGS. NO MATTER WHAT, YOU CAN HAVE YOUR HAPPY ENDING

What’s your fav part of the reunion? You can separate it into fav James part and fav Thomas part if you would like.

jamesflintmcgrawhamilton:

i????? can’t answer this question?????? i mean HOW CAN I PICK JUST ONE THING FOR EACH OF THEM????? when there is so much to choose from????

  • the way james’ face changes from ‘this is bullshit’ to ‘oh – oh my god is that – iT IS!! THAT’S THOMAS!! MY THOMAS!! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!! EXISTENCE HAS MEANING AGAIN!!‘ 
  • the way james just stops paying attention to oglethorpe removing his manacles – you get the impression that he would literally have dragged oglethorpe along behind him if he hadn’t been unchained right that moment 
  • the way james fucking gravitates towards thomas, like he’s helpless not to go to him 
  • the shot of james walking towards thomas from above 
  • the way thomas has dropped the shovel 
  • thomas’ look of incredulity – like ‘this cannot be happening’ 
  • the way thomas’ face breaks into a smile as soon as he recognises james
  • thomas just throwing himself at james, with no doubt at all that james still loves him 
  • thomas’ fucking laughter – he’s so fucking happy
  • the contrast of this happiness to his expression just before he spots james – cos let me tell you, he looked fucking pissed in that moment 
  • the way thomas squeezes his eyes shut when james cups the back of his head and then buries his face in james’ neck
  • james’ hand!! in thomas’ hair!! 
  • the way james fucking clings to thomas 
  • james trying to keep his eyes open but he just can’t through the tears 
  • the expression on james’ face – the sheer fucking joy of it all 
  • the way thomas is comforting james as he cries 
  • the look on thomas’ face just before he pulls away for THE FOREHEAD TOUCH 
  • THE FOREHEAD TOUCH 
  • THE WAY THOMAS HOLDS JAMES’ HEAD AND STROKES JAMES’ EARS WITH HIS THUMBS 
  • the way thomas takes his time, doesn’t dive in for the kiss right away
  • the smile on james’ face just before thomas kisses him; the way he finally looks at peace again
  • thomas having to bend down so he can kiss his smol pirate husband 
  • james deepening the kiss 
  • the way they’re still hugging as the camera pans away 
  • thomas still comforting james 
  • i just
  • everything about this scene is fucking miraculous 
  • how can you expect me to pick just one thing 
  • i mean it’s just not realistic anon 

Thomas and Abigail meeting? (Possibly even a before and after where he meets Abigail as a child in London and again as a adult post canon?) but you do you, I just need more of these two

complaininginthedark:

(AAHHHHH MY BABIES)

She was beautiful. Dark chestnut hair, wide brown eyes so full of curiosity and innocence, cheeks like roses… Abigail was a beautiful child. Miranda took to her immediately, her yearning for children abating as she showed the young girl how to play a simple tune on her harpsichord. Thomas watched his wife and the girl play, felt his own want for children, and barely paid attention to what Peter was saying.

Abigail asked him about his waistcoat. How did they get the patters on the fabric? Could a lady wear them too?

He let her borrow one and laughed as she twirled, joy filling him at the marvel of youth.

It was over a decade later when they met again. Abigail was a woman. She was tall, demure, but still held the same innocence even if it had been fractured. When she saw him her eyes widened, became wet, her face crumbled into despair as she sobbed and threw herself into his arms. It was one of Thomas’ better days; he held her, cried his own tears, and gently soothed her pain as she stuttered her story.

Later, when night fell and they were alone, she tended to some of the bruises on his back. She didn’t mention the scars, didn’t flinch or cower, simply wiped dirt and blood from his skin and hushed him when he cried out.

“You’ve been alone,” she said, “but you aren’t now. You cared for me when I was young and vulnerable. Now I can do the same for you.”

For the next ten months she was his carer, his safety net, the wind in his sails. He called her daughter. She called him father.