- Laurens @ Hamilton: And when our children tell our story, they'll tell the story of tonight
- Hamilton's kids: No the fuck we're not
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.
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: 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.
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.
What if ‘Satisfied’ was a duet between Angelica and Laurens? Just a thought. It’s been stuck in my head this way, so I had to write it down.
Sorry about the formatting
(via john-laurens)
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.
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.”
