Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

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.

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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.

All In One Spot AU

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.

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skymurdock asked: pssssst talk to me about Schuyler sisters in reincarnation AU. or more Alex/John whatever. rolls away.

The Schuyler sisters!  My queens!  The rest of the AU is here!

Alicia Laramie is seven years old when she remembers.  Her parents bring home a little girl, and she looks different from the olive-wood skin and tumbling black curls of Alicia and her parents and her little sister Maggie—this girl all gold-tinged ivory skin and silky dark hair framing solemn black eyes. She’s a year younger than Alicia and her parents haven’t even gotten out “This is Lisa Tian” before she’s rushing forward to enfold the girl in her arms.

“Eliza,” Angelica whispers into the girl’s long dark hair.  Bemused, the girl hugs her back, and Angelica says, “I’ll take care of you, Eliza.  You’re the best thing in my life, I’ll choose your happiness every time.”  The girl is confused when Angelica stands back, but she gives a smile, the same sweet smile Angelica remembers, and it’s good.

***

When the fifth grade class goes to the Grange for a field trip, Lisa spends three hours in semi-hysterical sobs, refusing to go through the front door, and the terrified tour guide calls the first emergency number on her phone.  Twenty minutes later, a sixth-grader spills out of a cab and swoops down on her like a hurricane in rose and gold, and Eliza clings to Angelica like the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.  

“It’s okay, Lizzie,” Angelica soothes.

“Angelica, I—I–”

“I know,” Angelica sighs, stroking her hair.  “Take a couple deep breaths, ‘Liza, it’ll pass.”

“I miss him,” Eliza whispers into Angelica’s hip, and the stroking doesn’t pause.

“I know,” Angelica says.  She gives a small, rueful smile.  “That part won’t pass.”

Eliza laughs a little at that, muffled by Angelica’s jacket, and her grip tightens.

***

So…when Maggie Laramie is fourteen their house gets robbed.  She gets caught and held at gunpoint, and she barely manages to not say “My father has gone to raise the Minutemen.” Instead she steadily states that he’s called the police, and when the three guys in black scramble like their lives depend on it, she smiles at her sisters.

“Maggie, that was amazing,” Mrs. Laramie says breathlessly.

“Peggy,” she corrects, and Angelica and Eliza glow.

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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.

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Anonymous asked: A little birdie told me you were taking prompts again AND learning a lot about the Rev War. Hamilton/Laurens reincarnation fic?

All right, I’m HOPING that the birdie in question was the tags on this post: so if you wanted hamilton fic now would be EXACTLY the time to request it i was considering doing one of those ongoing tumblr au things where people could ask for specific scenes because i want to write a reincarnation au for hamilton (probably one of those universes where reincarnation is a little peculiar but not out of the ordinary) and i also wanted to write a college au and i figured i could do both at once but also i don’t know if anyone would be interested in that. Regardless, that is WHAT YOU ARE GETTING.  The way this is basically going to work is that if there’s a scene you particularly want to see or a character you particularly want to have me include, just send me an ask and I’ll write more, I guess.  Because this is something I very much want to write, and it’s also something I very much don’t have the time/motivation to do on my own.  So y’all can do me a solid by sending requests.

Circumstances tend to be the same, in each lifetime—relationships between parents, number of siblings, sometimes even place of birth.  No one’s sure why.  A pretty woman fallen from lofty social status, a wandered-off man, an older brother. If that’s the lot you drew at your first birth, it’s likely to be the one you land the second-third-fourth time around.

The illness hits Christiansted earlier, this time.  Andre Westen is seven, his brother and father already gone.  Last time, his mother got the worst of it—this time, it’s Andre who’s shaking and sick for two weeks, his gaunt and recovering mother clinging to his hand.  He lives, though, and when he opens his eyes after the fever breaks, the first thing out of his mouth is, “I’m going to need to change my name.”  There are conditions in place, laws and qualifiers that allow people to claim their past selves if they prefer and can prove it.  And Andre does prefer, and can prove it.  He’s young for such a powerful revelation—he can recite the names of teachers and colleagues, list details down to the minute, and with so little under his belt of this life, that one seems just as immediate—and it unnerves people to hear him wander from speaking like a child to speaking like a grown man when he’s distracted, but they give him his name.  

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Anonymous asked: So, about this Hamilton Star Wars AU: I have noticed an unacceptable lack of Hamilton/Laurens headcanons and feelings and urge you to inflict these on us at your earliest convenience.

Oh, sorry, friend, it looks like you’ve got a typo, I think you meant hey, Moran, inflict your thoughts on Space Monmouth on us, seeing as Laurens almost died there. 

• Washington, by this point, has been SOUNDLY outed as a Bad Code-Breaking Jedi (with a wife, the Council would like to reiterate).  So the Congress governing the Continental systems decided that they needed to save face a little and made Washington promote Master Lee to the rank of Major General, because his record as a Jedi is impeccable.
  
• Um, naturally, way back when they first meet, Lee takes one look at Washington’s padawan and launches into a truly epic lecture about the dangers and crimes of attachment.  Laurens poker-faces through the whole thing and Hamilton instantly and deeply loathes Lee, because Laurens starts to retreat again.  It’s taken him months to coax Laurens into kissing him, into letting him slip into his bunk and nestle into him sleepily.  Laurens has even started being the one to initiate, tugging Hamilton down by the hand and wrapping long arms around him, pressing skin to skin.  That changes with Lee standing around, looking judgemental.
• That’s okay, though, because Laurens deeply and sincerely loathes Lee for the dispassionate report that Hamilton died at Schuylkill.  Everyone hates Lee, basically.
• Lee actually turns down the command at first because he’s offended at how small it is, never mind that the Continental army is desperately strapped for men and fighters alike.  Washington has the best deadpan in the business, which is the only reason that Lee doesn’t know how relieved he is to hand the command over to Lafayette.
• Of course, then Lee comes back and says he’s going to take command after all, and attack the Empire troops as they leave the desert moon Monmouth, where they spent their own winter.  Washington still holds up that deadpan, because the only other option is to rest his head on the table and swear like a smuggler.
• So they go to battle, Laurens and Hamilton among the fighters Lee leads down into the atmosphere.  The heat from low-atmo combat is so awful a few ships–Continental and Imperial alike–malfunction on the spot and go down in flaming wreckage, all hands dead.
• Here’s the thing.  There’s a trend across Laurens and Hamilton’s experience in battle.  
• At Brandywine, Laurens almost died, after taking a blaster shot to the shoulder.
• Schuylkill was Schuylkill.
• On the Island, Hamilton broke onto an Imperial ship and stole twenty-one out of twenty-four top-of-the-line fighters, while ignoring heavy strafing fire from a battlecruiser.  Hercules, who was there, swears up and down that it gave him grey hair.
• Innumerable other skirmishes have proved that, given the opening, they’re more likely to risk their necks than preserve them.
• They should be used to it, is the thing.  And Laurens might be, if he does say so himself, because Hamilton can find a near-lethal fight with any civilian on the street.  Hamilton, on the other hand, is not, and when Laurens is shot out of the sky, he doesn’t even try to find the other man’s Force signature before he panics.
• Lee is a coward at heart.  He’s not prepared to face the brutal heat, nor the desperation of the Imperial troops, nor the explosion of a Force-hurricane at the combat line.  He runs, and when he runs, the ragged Continental line shatters.
• And then the General’s personal fighter, the Vernon, comes screaming in from the edge of the atmosphere with Lafayette’s Marquis on his wing and the hurricane of Hamilton’s power still roaring so that even the soldiers with less Force-sense than a potato can feel it, and the Continentalists rally with a vengeance.  It’s not a win, but they’ve proved they can hold their line.
• Laurens is pulled out of his wreckage, almost completely uninjured and drenched in Hamilton’s Force signature.  Laurens doesn’t know what happened, and Hamilton isn’t talking.  
• Lee starts talking shit, because Lee is terrible.
• Washington takes a minute, thinks about it, and immediately issues an order that Hamilton have nothing to do with Lee, because Hamilton is on the warpath about Laurens’ latest brush with death.
• Unfortunately, he fails to get ahead of Laurens himself, who is finally reaching his breaking point.  And who would probably jump off a space deck without a suit if Hamilton wanted him to.
• LIGHTSABER DUELS.  HAMILTON DOES NOT LIKE THEM.
• No, seriously, Jedi, Hamilton wants to know why you don’t use blasters like sane people.  He really does.  Using blasters and the Force together is both convenient and fun.  And ranged.  Get on his level.  
• Hamilton almost has a heart attack when he hears someone scream on the dueling ground, and the organ only resumes normal function when Laurens flicks off his lightsaber and lets Lee drop to the ground, a long cauterized wound to the ex-general’s ribs still smoking.
• Laurens is in trouble (Washington would like to be on record that he’s been encouraging attachment, not rampant violence, and he’s very disappointed), but Hamilton…oh, Hamilton is really in trouble.  Because Laurens can call it acting impulsively and ‘a learning experience,’ but Hamilton disobeyed a direct order.
• Washington doesn’t say “I’d send you home but this ship is the only one you have,” but it’s a near thing, and Hamilton looks crushed nonetheless.  It’s a bad day for everyone.
• Instead of being sent ‘home,’ Hamilton is sent away from the front lines (away from John, a greedy part of his mind mutters, and holocalls are so interceptible, they won’t even be able to see each other, letters only), to serve as a liaison and bodyguard for their best supply ship.
• The Revelation picks up its new passenger on its next pass.  At least he’s old friends with the sisters, Hamilton thinks glumly as he lets Eliza crush him in a hug and ruffles his hand through Peggy’s hair to make her squawk in offence and call for Angelica.
• Still.
• The girls aren’t Laurens.

skymurdock asked: Hamilton and Jedi padawan!Laurens in the middle of the Space Revolutionary War and afterwards, possibly SCREAMING AT JEFFERSON in the middle of a Senate session.

Okay so during the Space Revolutionary War, here’s a few things that DEFINITELY happen.

• First of all, Hamilton and Laurens and Lafayette and Mulligan are all involved about a year and a half earlier than they were in actual-facts history, which only matters because PINING.  So Laurens spends about a year Dealing with Hamilton, not least because he’s the only person who ever has any success managing him (after the third time Washington finds Hamilton passed out at a table after two days of work, he officially adds Hamilton Wrangling to Laurens’ list of padawan duties).  And this is made difficult because Hamilton is of the opinion that vows of non-attachment are stupid and also Laurens has a bad habit of Attaching all over the place, so he Suffers.
  
  
• Riiiiight up until about the eight month mark at which point Laurens is exhausted from whatever they’ve been up to and reels right over until his face is buried in the curve of Hamilton’s neck and his lanky body is pressed up against Hamilton’s smaller form.  He mumbles something about ‘just so tired of not getting to do this’ and that…is pretty much that.  Hamilton is so smug every Jedi in the quadrant can practically taste it.  They’re not great at being subtle, but, like, there’s no evidence and they’re not bad at being subtle either, so really just Lafayette really KNOWS, and Laurens feels.  So.  Guilty.  But Hamilton is like gravity, and the guilt always somehow takes a backseat when the feral Force user kisses him.
  
  
• There’s a space battle on the edge of the Schuylkill Asteroid Belt, some two years into the war, while they’re hidden on Valley Forge.  Alexander Hamilton is shot down and lost in the belt, according to the comm Lee sends them.  Laurens can’t find him in the Force, can’t feel him anywhere, and, while Laurens isn’t particularly strong with the Force (not like Alex, he thinks wildly, not like Alex who drags his own personal hurricane wherever he goes), the pulse of pain that rips out from him is so intense it leaves the other Jedi and Force-sensitives in Washington’s inner military family gasping.  
• “General Washington, sir,” Hamilton pants as he all but onto the bridge of Washington’s ship, charred in places and his escape pod literally falling apart in the landing bay.  There’s a long pause, and he looks around, bemused, at the shocked faces around him.  “Uh, did I miss something?”
  
• That night, Laurens pushes Hamilton down onto his bunk and curls up around him, until his senses are flooded with nothing but him, and the only thing he can sense in the Force is the hurricane, set to the beat of Alex’s heart.
• Listening to the frantic Force signature of his student wind down into something exhausted, Washington very quietly gets in contact with a woman by the name of Martha and casually suggests that she look into coming to visit Valley Forge now that he’s in so much trouble with the Council anyway.

(to tune of Non-Stop)  AFTER the War, they went back to the Continental systems.  (Doesn’t really scan, does it.)

• So Hamilton’s not married to Eliza in this AU because the Schuyler Sisters are still kicking ALL the ass (WORK), he and Laurens have been a thing for a while now (and Laurens is getting past some of his issues on GWash’s example), and the Jedi Council, let’s be real, is pretty much not okay with any of the Space Revolutionary War.  Not least because Best Jedi Ever George Washington has been happily married for like TEN YEARS NOW and they’re all feeling kind of humiliated.  So the Council fractures right down the middle, and on the one side you have the Traditionalists and on the other side you have…I dunno, Reform Jedi?  Reform Jedi, we’re calling them that.  And the Reform Jedi decide to integrate themselves into the new government of the Continental systems, which have renamed themselves the American systems (because I do what I want), aaaand that’s where TJeffs comes in.  Ex-ambassador to Coruscant from Washington’s home planet.

• Jefferson’s Force-sensitive, but not enough to be trained as a Jedi (and yes, he’s bitter), so he meets Hamilton and then things unravel from there.  Their FIRST MEETING involves the debate of “is each planet going to be financially sovereign or not”, and Hamilton’s very logical response is “obviously not, because YOUR planet might be all temperate climates and arable land, but, say, the planet containing our current capital is NOT, each planet needs to be able to depend on each other.”  And Jefferson, Force bless him, opens his counter-argument with something to the effect of “are we going to take recommendations on how to financially manage a unification of systems from a feral Force user from the ass end of the galaxy, what possible use could he be.”
• Laurens is literally an entire system away, mopping up some of the last of the mess, and he still feels Hamilton lose his temper.

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.

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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.”

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lathori asked: Darling, dear, love. Hamilton/Laurens Literally anything during the revolutionary era Perhaps even just how they got together. /Please/, for me? <3

words-writ-in-starlight:

Anything for you, Laurens. Soooo…I know you wanted fluff…we’re not doing that.  I don’t actually know if Laurens was in Washington’s camp for this, but we’re going to assume history is flexible because extensive googling did not produce an actual date or shit for this battle (besides ‘between September 1777 and June 1778’), which was hardly a battle at all.  Also technically Lee sent a letter but whatever, we’re doing Some Shit with history anyway, might as well go hard.

to see our glory

The message from Lee was greeted by a long beat of silence.

“My sympathies, Your Excellency,” Lee said, doing a poor job of imitating poise as his shirtsleeves dripped steadily on the ground.  The word simper drifted through John’s mind at the sound of Lee’s voice.

“Yes,” General Washington said flatly, both hands braced on the table that had been serving duty as a tactical map minutes before. John couldn’t bring himself to look away from where the general’s little finger had pushed aside the marker of a British fort, one that he and Alexander had been bickering over not a day past. “Thank you for informing me, Major General.  You are dismissed.”

Lee left, and the tent was deathly silent, the general still standing over the table with his head down, John still fixed in place where he stood near the far corner of the table, the handful of other men in the tent stony.

“Gentlemen,” General Washington said, his voice perfectly controlled.  “Please send for the Marquis, he will want to know.  If my aides would stay, it would be appreciated.  The rest of you are dismissed.”

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Because I AM NICE, and also because @twistedangelsays asked, and also because I’m a history nerd with zero impulse control, I wrote more.  A couple thing: I’m pretending that, for whatever reason, Washington is where Schuylkill happened because otherwise I’d have to go through the above and make a bunch of changes to make it Valley Forge rather than bumfuck-nowhere Tent City, and second of all I’m picturing the musical characters because, uh, I can.  With the caveat that, historically, Laurens was probably somewhere between 6′ and 6′5″, so just imagine that Anthony Ramos got put in a stretcher like taffy.

“You are going to freeze to death,” John muttered once they were back in their tent, rummaging through their sparse belongings for a few moments before coming up triumphant, a clean set of trousers in one hand and a shirt in the other, a soft cloth between two fingers.  “Put these on.”  Alexander made a mutinous noise and John set his jaw.  “Put them on, Alexander.  You have put me through enough tonight.”

Guilt flickered over Alexander’s face and he complied without another word, stripping to the skin and rubbing himself closer to dry with the cloth John offered.  Once he had dressed, he was still shivering, but his skin had regained some of his usual color, and John moved his wet clothes onto a chair before changing himself.

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