if you’re excited for bbc les mis but also hoping that they won’t fuck it up can i have a hell yeah
(Source: glyn-dwr, via enjolrarses)
lathori asked: "Fun fact: cots and blankets were in short supply during the Revolutionary War and standard practice during the winters to avoid frostbite was to share. I feel this is pertinent to your interests given that it's a matter of historical record that Laurens and Hamilton were best friends and consequently the logical partners to share a bed." Yes I did just copy and paste your message from our chat into this. Hamilton/Laurens sharing a bed. Please <3 your Laurens
First of all, you are clearly not to be trusted with fun historical facts. What would you ever do with the knowledge that the Marquis de Lafayette once gave John Quincy Adams a pet alligator that the sixth president insisted on keeping in the White House? Or the fact that America’s treaty with Morocco is the longest standing, due to the fact that they were the first to acknowledge us as an independent country? Anyway. There was technically already these two idiots sharing a bed last time, but you know what everyone always needs more of in their life? THE WINTER AT VALLEY FORGE. Now, there’s actual Research that happened for this one, so some points. It’s about the end of 1777, meaning John Laurens has only been with the army a couple months (to be fair Hamilton’s only been there about six months longer), and what I’m generously calling ‘huts’ are tiny little buildings that basically only function to cut the windchill down, and they usually housed WAY more than two, but…artistic license? For the sake of nominal consistency, I’m pretending that this is before Schuylkill, so theoretically it could fit into the same continuum as your other request.
John hadn’t slept heavily since coming to Valley Forge—the ill ease of a Southern boy exposed to the bitter nip of a Pennsylvania winter for the first time—but he was getting better at it. The tiny hut was better than the tent, and their status as aides de camp of the general himself meant that they were only two to a hut. It meant there was barely space to walk between the slapdash cots and the writing desk they shared and the two chairs. Alexander—who had insisted on the familiar address within scant days of meeting John, all sharp-edged smile and warm dark eyes—had a slightly easier time of it, as he wasn’t forced to stand with his head bowed whenever he drew too near a wall, but not much. The hut was small and damp and dark, and there were moments when John felt as if taking too deep a breath would crack the logs around them.
The thud of Alexander’s forearm colliding with the desk as he dozed off was loud and sharp in the small space, and John jolted awake at the sound.
“My apologies, John,” Alexander said, muffling a yawn with one hand. He reached out and steadied his tallow candle, dabbing at a smear of ink on the page.
“They are unnecessary,” John said, frowning. “What time is it?”
“Very late, or perhaps very early,” Alexander said with a shrug, brushing an escaping coil of hair out of his face and squinting down at the page. “I suppose the answer depends on whether you would prefer to judge by the past evening or the upcoming dawn. That is, of course, assuming you were able to tell which is which in this abysmal weather.”
