Story [Multi-Fandom] Briannakin Drops Drabbles (UDC VIII) (Weeks 11/12 up August 11)

Thanks. I wasn't a huge fan of Clara, but I thought her first ending did her justice, but then they went and undid it and I was so very mad.

I just love River!

It popped into my brain and I just went with it... kinda like the Master.

No spoilers, but I hated Clara's end - this was me fixing it.

Yes I do

Indeed, because it is Josh and Sam.

It was not easy! I had to call my step-dad for some of the pronunciations so I could find words in English to rhyme (or try to rhyme). It hurt my brain!

Thank you so much for the comments.

 

Week IX (All Hamilton - and, um, ninja warning?)

41. Bright

Dear Theodosia, I am thinking of you,
It’s been twenty-three years, since the sea came and blew,
You away, so oh so far away.
Every day.
And still at night,
I think of how bright,
You and your mother made my life
It cuts me like a knife.

I now live with the pain,
Hamilton’s eyes were stained
With the day it fell apart.
I thought I was so smart.

He was never going to make you an orphan.
So for punishment of my sin,
There is much I must regret
But my dear Theodosia I shall never forget.

Spoiler: Burr

Burr did some freaking horrible stuff even after killing Hamilton, but the poetry between the two men continued - like Hamilton, he lost his child. Theodosia was lost at sea in 1813. Burr lived another 23 years.

42. Star

You were going to be a star.
Oh, Philip, you could have gone so far.

My first, my eldest son.
For you, a war was won.

You died defending my honour!
How can I live with that as a father?

I’ve done so much wrong.
I can not remain strong.

Why did you go?
I should have said no.

I cry.
Your mother stares at the sky.

I cry.
Your mother prays her time will be nigh.

I cry.
Your mother screams at God asking why.

I cry.
She cries.
Oh, Philip, without you, our eyes shall never be dry.


43. Mama

One. He was our eldest.
They try to tell me we all turn to dust.

Two. He was the first to call me Mama.
How can they try to comfort me in my trauma?

Three. We named him after my father.
Philip! How dare you die before your grandfather!

Four. Alone in my pain,
Will anything be right again?

Five. Another child inside me grows.
How can I give life again, knowing this pain I know?

Six. It rained the day we buried you.
Your father cried too.

Seven.
The number of breaths before my Philip was taken to heaven.


44. Please

My mother asked with a please.
I gave her my guarantee.
Father’s story would be told.
It was going to be worth more to her than gold.

We collected writings.
Endless pages of fighting.
For a better America, a brighter future.
An unbreakable financial structure.

The tilt of his pen stroke,
I can still hear the way he spoke.
He died when I was eleven.
Still, I fell like I’ve had conversations with him from heaven.

His legacy,
My sea,
His country,
My memory.

I did not rest until it was done,
For I am his son, John Church Hamilton.


45. Shine

Their graves all shine.
I shall rest too, in time.

First was my Peggy in eighteen-oh-one.
But that year was not done.

That cruel November tore away my son.
My Philip. I came undone.

Two years later, we lost Mum.
I became numb.

In summer 1804, my beloved Alexander.
I could take no more, it all became a blur.

My father,
Just months after.

My life careened,
When Angelica died in eighteen-fourteen.

He was across America - practically a chasm,
When I lost my William.

They all shined. They were the best.
In time, I too shall rest.

Week 10 (All in Mav’s and my continued TWW universe)

46. Raise

Ainsley did her best to raise her two daughters to be kindhearted. It was difficult. Josie had been born when her father was a congressman. Imogene had been born when the Seaborn family lived in California’s Governor’s mansion.

And now, they lived in the White House.

It was hard not to let this lifestyle of Fresca and cupcakes go to their heads.

But Josie was bold when she stood up for those weaker than her. And little Imo had a quiet, soft demeanour.

Ainsley was confident she and her husband gave their daughters all that they needed, and nothing more.


47. Juvenile

Juvenile diabetes was the official diagnosis. Josh Lyman was simply glad they had figured out what had been causing Abi’s excessive thirst, endless tiredness, and dramatic weight loss. But the fight was far from over.

Josh knew what he had to do. Kissing his sleeping daughter’s forehead, he slipped out into the hospital hall and called the President of the United States.

“Mr. President, I will hand you my official resignation letter in the morning. I am recommending Charlie as my replacement. Sam, you are my best friend, but my daughter needs me.”

As a father, Sam Seaborn completely understood.


48. Mature

Though all of her children were well adjusted adults, Noah was the most mature.

Donna had seen it the day they had lost Josh and the days after it.

While Leo had retreated into himself, Abi had gone off in blind rage.

But Noah had calmly ensured all Jewish customs were met by the funeral home, he had been the primary one to stay with the body, and had somehow also managed to take care of his mother.

Everyone always said how much like Josh Leo was, but no one realized how, like his father, Noah drove himself to exhaustion.


49. Growth

They had toddled around the White House in diapers together, generally causing huge messes. They had grown apart and grown up. Still, the presidential candidate could think of no one else to share his biggest ticket with.

He entered the Governor’s office to see a smirking latino man his own age. “Mom warned me about Lymans who come knocking.”

Leo laughed. “Come on, Elvie, I want you and only you.”

“You only want me because I come with Texas, Roman Catholics, and hispanics.”

“That, and Lyman/Santos 2050 has a nice sound to it.”

Elvie laughed. “Come on, let’s go!”


50. Elder

The Democratic Party was not happy with the idea of one empty seat at the inauguration of Leo Lyman and Elvie Santos.

But when the reasoning came out, party elders merely nodded and let it go.

Donna had cried.

The empty seat was for President Ainsley Hays.

It was for the fathers of both Lyman and Santos.

It was for Charlie Young.

It was for Leo McGarry.

The first had died not three months ago. The last had died over four decades ago.

Still, all had played a part in getting the two men into the highest offices in America.

 

love your poems and the glimpses in the lives of the president, friends and family

 

Week 11 - Muse was really stuck so these are just companion bits for my TWW diary.

Go

She watched her husband go. He left her when he ran for congress and now he was leaving her to run for President.

Helen could have stopped him; told him no, that she had enough. But what sort of wife would have she have been?

It was only for a few months anyways. He’d lose the primaries and come back home.

But then his campaign took off.

Before she knew it, she too was constantly on the go, campaigning for the Democratic candidate for the President of the United States.

But he wasn’t actually going to win this.

Was he?


Wait

Helen’s life plans had been pushed to the side. At first it was just a few years. Matt wanted to dip his toes into politics, perhaps serve a few terms as mayor. Peter was young and needed his mother. When Matt was done as mayor, he’d be the full time parent and she’d apply for PhD programs.

Then he wanted to run for congress. She was fine as she had Miranda on the way.

Just as she thought Matt was fed up with federal politics, Josh Lyman showed up and made Matt president.

And waiting became the path forever untrodden.


Rise

It was hard for her to rise some mornings. She had never wanted this for her life. She had wanted to become a Doctor of Archaeology, to study early humans and to teach young minds.

Instead, she was stuck at what seemed the end of humanity: 21st century American politics as the first lady.

Still she rose and got dressed every morning. She tried to do good with her office: lobbying for mandatory childhood vaccinations, legal abortions, and maternity leave.

But it was hard to rise above the feelings of depression threatening to drown her.

She had never wanted this.


For

Helen had always been for change. America wasn’t great anymore and needed a strong leader to guide the country past bi-partisan politics and into the future. America needed a leader who fought for women, children, and the environment.

That leader had been Josiah Bartlet, but after two terms, his work had been largely unfinished. Which was where Matt stepped in - to continue the hard work.

Helen had been for Matt’s unlikely campaign and unpredicted victory. She could have ended it, but she had been for his dreams.

She simply wished governing didn’t involve her.

She was no first lady.


Against

It was only when she had to help her husband fight against the radical right, when Helen realized she was put in the position of First Lady of the United States for a damn good reason.

Matt’s opponent in the 2010 election was an orange idiot who was against women, children, immigrants, and latinos. Basically the embodiment of the Santos family and what they stood for.

So it became Helen’s mission to take Drumf down. Because she could stand four numbing more years in the White House if it meant Drumf and his ideals weren’t occupying any position of power.
Week 12 - Hamilton (All Eliza’s POV) - I was so very stuck on this week, I tried like 5 different fandoms (Lives/Dies are awkward words!) so I ended up just putting words to paper so I could move on.

Break

I asked you to take a break.
Instead you created a nightmare from which I shall never wake.
Instead, Alexander, broke my heart.
You decided shared our bed with that tart.

To my parents I run.
In Albany I gave birth to our son.
I named him William Stephen.
You will never hold me again.

Go ahead, pray to God, say Amen.
You Bathsheba of men.
I will never be yours.
Beg on all fours.

Angelica calls me trusting, kind.
Bur now you will find,
You will learn, I have spurned.
Like all your letters, I hope that you burn.

Spoiler: Eliza

Eliza was actually super pregnant when she found out about Hamilton’s affair and ran off to her parents in Albany where she had their sixth kid

Quiet

The house is now quiet.
But the walls could tell tales of riots.
Rebellion, Revolution, eight kids - now seven.
And Alexander is with Phillip in heaven.

I never thought it was possible.
But I found I was able.
I found it in my heart to forgive him.
I absolved Alexander of his sins.

Then he was taken.
But somehow, I was unshaken.
I’ve spent too much time on anger.
And sadness already cut my heart like a dagger.

So I keep going, I keep busy.
Tasked with his legacy.
But the house is quiet.
Without Philip and Alexander’s wit.


Lives

Who lives?

I, Eliza Hamilton, lived.

So I gave my time.
I was still in my prime.
I help found the Orphan Asylum Society.
One of my efforts in piety.

I raised our seven children, and many more.
Saw the next war.
I told Washington’s story.
Alexander, I fought for your legacy.

I was blessed.
Our children were my happiness.
I saw many more years.
Was notable among my peers.

I was cursed.
Living without the ones I loved was the worst.
I saw so many more years
And shed so many more tears.

But heartache I survived.
I lived.


Dies

The simple truth of my life
I was honoured to be his wife
He did much for this country, this world
By his own pen he left so many works and words

My dear Philip’s death nearly destroyed me
But, somehow, Alexander’s set me free
To do my duty
In it, I found so much beauty

We all must die
But damn it, I will try
To my last breath
Until I finally receive my death

To tell their legacy
To this, I will see
What is left for me?
Many years before I must lay under that fig tree.


Story

We told her story
For glory?
And allegory?
Or a momento mori?

She loved.
She was his beloved.

She lost.
She was crossed.

She forgave.
And that was brave.

She lost.
She lost.
And she lost.

Yet, out of the tragedy,
She forged his legacy.
In all of their memories
They will last through the centuries.

And built her own.
She did that alone.

Memories, monuments,
And all those documents.
Lest not forget the orphanage.
And she was the last on the stage.

For you will die.
And that time is nigh.
What will you leave behind.
Just be kind.

 

Was navigating, and taken in by the splendid work of Week Ten.

Juvenile and Growth, were my favourites, with the latter's loyalty borne of being toddlers in the White House, being the best.