“Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints…“
Click for a full view, and maybe something more… happy halloween!
(via skymurdock)
@lathoriHamilton au in which everything is the same, except when John dies his ghost gets attached to Philip and becomes his guardian. Phillip grows up thinking of him as kind of an invisible big brother or cool imaginary uncle, and John is there to protect Phillip during the duel so he doesn’t die and Ham and Eliza work out their problems and eVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT
(via skymurdock)
Anonymous asked: Your all in one spot au, will we be seeing Washington?
You’re goddamn motherfucking right we’ll be seeing Washington. TBH I’ve basically been waiting to get an ask about Washington before I move on because I’ve been plotting the next scene FROM THE GET GO and really wanted to write it, so you get to jump the line ahead of everyone else. Without further ado: HERE COMES THE GENERAL.
Edit: I started writing this like…maybe over a month ago? But then finals happened and other shit happened and I’ve been, A, too busy to write, and, B, desperately lacking in inspiration for this. So now we’re back with the AIOS thing.
It’s only the first day of proper classes and John’s already giving Alex that look of exasperated concern. The how late were you up last night and have you considered a meal today look. The General Washington doesn’t need that letter for a week and you look like a dead man walking look. The coffee is not food and your hands are shaking look.
Alex is fine. John is paranoid. And they have class.
“A class we already know everything for!” John shouts as he sprints after Alex, two protein bars and a bottle of water in hand. John is still unfairly tall, and he catches up with Alex in a heartbeat, snatching Alex’s two books away and shoving all three items into his hands instead. “I didn’t even buy the books, and I know Laf didn’t either. And you remember better than I do!”
Alex scowls, but eats the protein bars. They’re chocolate-flavored and it’s possible he got too absorbed in writing up his latest blog post to remember to eat dinner, so he generously decides to forgive John’s hovering.
lathori asked: I have no impulse control so I'm requesting more smut. Hamilton/Laurens, post-Monmouth smut, go forth and make me suffer.
*cackling* Yeah, okay. In actual history Laurens’ wound was much more serious (not that he didn’t earn it), so we’re going to fudge things a little in favor of…well. Also! In case you’re curious! Being dressed in just shirtsleeves and breeches was considered UNBELIEVEABLY improper, which I find hilarious because it covers pretty much the whole body. Also-also, I pictured historical appearances but tried to make it musical-appearance-friendly, with the difference that Ham is SMOL at 5′7″ in comparison to TOL Laurens at like 6′fucking2″.
When John crashes through the door, Alexander is already surging up from where he’s been sitting in nothing but his dirtied, in-places-torn shirtsleeves on the edge of the bed. There’s a heartbeat where the conversation could go either way, but they are who they are, so the tension snaps into white-hot rage on all parts.
“You absolute fuck,” John seethes as he kicks the door shut behind him with a click of the bar-lock. “What were you thinking?”
Alexander throws his hands into the air, feeling aching muscles snap taut over bone, and snarls, feral. “I was following my goddamn orders, John, don’t act like I was simply out on the field looking for a glorious death!” His voice is half a shout and he has a moment of gratitude that their room is at the far end of the second story hall housing the majority of the aides-de-camp. The others are used to Alexander and John getting into shouting matches—not often with each other, but they fight with whomever else they please, save the General himself. Even if their comrades had all elected to go to bed at once after departing the field, any hue and cry of argument from the last room would be dismissed.
I’m doing a thing I never do and reblogging this because I am very satisfied with it so if you’re interested you should read it and like it because I thrive on positive affirmation.
lathori asked: I have no impulse control so I'm requesting more smut. Hamilton/Laurens, post-Monmouth smut, go forth and make me suffer.
*cackling* Yeah, okay. In actual history Laurens’ wound was much more serious (not that he didn’t earn it), so we’re going to fudge things a little in favor of…well. Also! In case you’re curious! Being dressed in just shirtsleeves and breeches was considered UNBELIEVEABLY improper, which I find hilarious because it covers pretty much the whole body. Also-also, I pictured historical appearances but tried to make it musical-appearance-friendly, with the difference that Ham is SMOL at 5′7″ in comparison to TOL Laurens at like 6′fucking2″.
When John crashes through the door, Alexander is already surging up from where he’s been sitting in nothing but his dirtied, in-places-torn shirtsleeves on the edge of the bed. There’s a heartbeat where the conversation could go either way, but they are who they are, so the tension snaps into white-hot rage on all parts.
“You absolute fuck,” John seethes as he kicks the door shut behind him with a click of the bar-lock. “What were you thinking?”
Alexander throws his hands into the air, feeling aching muscles snap taut over bone, and snarls, feral. “I was following my goddamn orders, John, don’t act like I was simply out on the field looking for a glorious death!” His voice is half a shout and he has a moment of gratitude that their room is at the far end of the second story hall housing the majority of the aides-de-camp. The others are used to Alexander and John getting into shouting matches—not often with each other, but they fight with whomever else they please, save the General himself. Even if their comrades had all elected to go to bed at once after departing the field, any hue and cry of argument from the last room would be dismissed.
cadeteyes asked: I absolutely love your fics. If you're looking for another idea, how about, to go along in your hamilton reincarnation stuff, Ham and Burr meeting for the first time in their new lives (and maybe somehow John didn't pay attention in history class so he doesn't know the details about how ham died until they see burr? I'll leave that up to you)
OKAY let’s do the THING, I’m assuming that this is set, like, the same day they meet Lafayette. Also, bonus Schuyler sisters and Hercules Mulligan. EVERYONE, BASICALLY EVERYONE IS HERE, because Burr’s luck is bad like that. …it’s possible that this got away from me a little bit.
Has Alex made some bad decisions in his life? Well, no, actually, this particular go-round has overall gone pretty well for him (those couple of times he’s gotten into fights with people much bigger than him notwithstanding) but then again he’s still young and busy, it’s usually free time that gets him into trouble. He digresses. Alex has made some bad decisions in his time, is the point here, possibly many bad decisions in his time.
However, he’s pretty sure this is not one of them. He’s pretty sure that the exact correct response to finding an old friend from another life, who, incidentally, is still rich enough to play poker with God, is to call all your other old friends from other lives and go out drinking. Literally not a single one of them is legal, but Lafayette solves that problem on the spot by whipping out his phone to text Hercules.
“Stand together,” Lafayette orders, gesturing at John and Alex. He snaps a picture, sends it to Hercules with I found you a couple of loud-mouthed presents, we’re coming to you, and Alex grins, pulling out his own phone to text the Schuyler sisters—Laramie sisters, now, but it just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well. Lafayette conducts them imperiously through the city to a bar—nondescript, plainly titled Cato’s—and when the man at the bar sees them walk inside, he grins like it’s Christmas.
Anonymous asked: Ok so that lams reincarnation ficlet is everything I ever wanted and Hamilton's not even a fandom I read fanfics for. Please consider writing whatever happens next (or honestly anything in the AU where almost everyone is reincarnated because that is just such a good AU)
Oh my god, babe, I’m so flattered, I’m so glad you’re liking it. And here! I’ve basically used this as an excuse to bring in my Historical Fave, America’s favorite fighting Frenchman—LAFAYETTE.
As far as Alex is concerned, highlights of Columbia include: orientation week, which lets him get a handle on the new arrangement of the campus, John Laurens, the several gorgeous libraries, the rediscovery of the Schuyler sisters (the blue-green bruise rising from Peggy’s fist notwithstanding), John Laurens, the potential to find more of his old dear friends, the fact that the dorms have both air conditioning and heating, and John Laurens.
Downsides include: his ongoing struggle with Academic Affairs. Honestly, this is his second time through their system and one would think that over two and a half centuries they would have sorted themselves out. But no. He’s not even trying to arrange a two-year program this time, all he wants is permission to take more than the maximum number of credits, he’s not asking for the moon here.
Anonymous asked: Psst John and Alexander meeting in your Hamilton Reincarnation fic series?
WOO, I am literal Laurens/Hamilton garbage, tell your friends.
All In One Spot AU
John has been at Columbia for a year and, honestly, he’s starting to think that he was wrong, that no one else is here. He walks past the law center every chance he gets, and he doubles the time of the walk from his dorm to the natural sciences building every single day to pass Hamilton Hall. The statue is…reassuring, somehow, Alexander’s fine-drawn face cast in bronze and a quill in his clever fingers. When John’s tired, or he’s had a bad night, full of nightmares with bayonets jumbled in with cars, the cinch of a noose tangled with the static of a television, he’ll stop and look at the statue until he can breathe again.
It’s not all bad. John is in New York City, and he finally gets where Alexander was coming from all those years ago, this might legitimately be the greatest city in the world. It sure beats South Carolina, hell and gone. He’s introduced himself to everyone as John, here, and even admitted to a handful of people that he was a soldier in the Revolution. He doesn’t have any close friends, but he doesn’t have any enemies, either, and the handful of familiar faces who see him when he quietly attends a Pride parade don’t say a word. He’s taken a handful of prerequisites for a biochem degree, in the pre-med track—he always wanted to be a physician last time, and his father is too distant to fight him this time.
He spends a little money on a sketchbook or two, on a set of pencils, and draws old faces, tries to imagine them in the modern world. Lafayette, eyes bright and smiling, dressed in a suit. General Washington, hands folded behind his back—no matter how many times John tries to give him a modern military uniform, his long heavy coat takes shape. Aides and friends and soldiers whose faces he half-recalls, in t-shirts and jeans and flannels. And Alexander, a thousand times Alexander, Alexander in modern clothes, in his Continental Army uniform, in shirtsleeves, in the coat he wears in the statue. A few times, in the safety of his locked single room, John carefully sketches Alexander stretched out in their cabin at Valley Forge, lit in candle-flame and all smooth planes of muscle and skin, smiling at John, soft and sated. An entire sketchbook fills itself with Alexander, over John’s first year at Columbia.
skymurdock asked: Hamilton and, uh, idk hmm - STAR WARS AU. "pardon me, are you Master Burr, sir?" "that depends, who's asking?"
SHOWTIME.
- So some thirty parsecs past the ass end of the galaxy there’s this tiny nothing planet that’s mostly ocean, and the planet is called Nevis, and one of its islands is called Christiansted, and if anyone who didn’t actually live there was asked to find it on a star map, they definitely couldn’t do it. This is where Alex is born and this is where his mother dies of some disease brought in by a trader and this is where he almost dies with her, almost dies in a hurricane that swallows the island whole, almost starves when his cousin eats a blaster, before someone notices that—kriff, but this kid is brilliant. Another trader gives him work and he proves rapidly that not only is he a dab hand with numbers, but he can blow through a five hundred page holonovel in a few hours and learn a language in a couple months.
- His mother always said talking was his strong suit and now he’s proving it, because Alex has to be the best to survive, so that’s what he’ll do. He’ll talk, and he’ll write, and he’ll get off this rock if it kills him. He wants something to do, he wants to change the galaxy, and there’s something murmuring to him, like a whisper of wind, that he’ll do it if he can just get off Nevis.
