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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Right, so I wrote this a while back for @twistedangelsays‘ birthday in May, and then she asked me today to post some F/F smut after I posted this ExR smut earlier today.  Max is the main character from this novel and Lessa is her girlfriend, details are included in the tag.

Lessa laughed giddily as Mercury squad spilled through the door, all of us bursting with the adrenaline rush.  The mission had been declared a wash while we were in the field, but we’d still had a closer brush with gunfire than I liked.

“All right, everyone,” I said.  “Debrief with the marshal or Beck at some point in the next couple of hours.  Sorry to have dragged you out for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry so much, piti bòs, it was fun,” Elijah said, eyes dancing as he hooked an arm around Miles’ shoulders and cuffed him cheerily up the back of the head.  Miles looked offended, one hand still pressed to a sluggishly bleeding graze to his bicep. “C’mon, Four, let’s go get that arm looked at.  Maybe Janey will meet us there.” Miles allowed himself to be dragged away without much of a fuss and Zara grinned fondly after them.

“Mm,” she said.  “I’m going to go eat something, do a quick debrief, and then see if I can round up my boys and fuck them through the floor.  Y’all have a nice night.”

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lathori asked: Babe. THE smut fic. You know the one. E x R, what we've been talking about. /Please/ write it? /Please/ <3 E

Aaaaand here we go with the smut.  I don’t write smut much, mostly just on request.  So I dunno how this came out.  But it’s definitely smut.  NSFW. Possibly NSF-Anywhere.  Also it like…cold opens to sex, so.  There is no plot here.

Grantaire tugged at the long ends of the cord, tightening the coil winding about the outside.  It scraped along the taut length stretching to the headboard, a faint but audible sound, and he glanced down.

“Too tight?” he asked quietly, letting his fingers trail down to slip into the gap between Enjolras’ wrist and the five loops of white cotton binding him to the bed.  He could still fit two fingers comfortably beside Enjolras’ delicate wrist, and the touch made Enjolras’ eyes flicker open.  The usually bright honey color was a little hazy, distracted.  “Mon ange,” Grantaire prompted.

“You’re fine,” Enjolras said, blinking until his gaze was clearer.  Grantaire nodded and finished tucking the loose ends away until the knot was secure. He ducked, pressed a kiss to the long, deft fingers, and saw Enjolras close his eyes again.

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lathori asked: ♫ Billy/Colin (it didn't say it couldn't be one of YOUR ships)

You are correct, I did not say that.  But you realize that now I have to EXPLAIN this shit, right?

Okay, so, Billy Johr and Colin Ramsey are from my novel Falls the Shadow, which is the 350 page monstrosity I wrote during sophomore year and which I am now editing to be sent out to an agent.  Short version: Sam Lightworth, their pseudo-adopted daughter (they’re the two Witnesses), is the Antichrist and Horseman of Death, and her brother Oz, their pseudo-adopted son, is the Horseman of Pestilence.  War and Famine are kicking around too, but they don’t really matter as much here.  The POINT is that Billy and Colin accidentally raised an Antichrist and the world barely missed ending.  That’s it, that’s the book.  And then…well.  Billy and Colin.  They are canonically in love, and have been since they hunted together as twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings.  Billy, now sixty-three and no longer spry enough to hunt himself, is an archivist and weaponeer for every hunter of supernatural things.  And the now-sixty Colin…well, Colin’s a Catholic priest…so…they’re not together and they never will be.  And Adler is never going to forgive me for that.  I’m sorry.  Please don’t hunt me with torches.

I put my music on shuffle and got I’m So Sorry by Imagine Dragons and…um…yeah, actually, this is a snippet from while the Almostpocalypse was happening.  I’m…so sorry.

“Preacher,” Billy said quietly, and Colin didn’t look at him, still standing at the edge of the porch and staring down the road.  He didn’t need to look to know that Billy would step forward, stand next to him until their shoulders pressed together, the once-red hair steely in the corner of his vision.  Billy was a broad, solid warmth at his side, half a head taller and steady as ages, and Colin let their shoulders bump together, acknowledgement that he was there.

“Did you hear it?” he asked, barely more than a murmur, and Billy nodded slowly beside him, looking out in the same direction—south, to Nevada, to where the Horsemen were, miles and hours away.  The scream had come from nowhere, from everywhere, like standing directly beneath a roll of thunder, but the voice had been Sam’s.  “The others,” Colin said, almost blank.

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lathori asked: Okay, so I just saw Star Trek tonight and spent an hour talking to you about it. I literally cannot believe I am doing this. I am already suffering because of your other Star Trek headcannons but I guess I'm just a fucking masochist. So, my dear Bones, give me (at least) five headcannons on how Tarsus IV happens in the alternate new Star Trek trilogy universe. <3 Your Kirk

HA, and people say I’m the twisted one. Fortunately for you, I am a wee bit of a sadist, and I love talking about Tarsus IV, so heeeere we go.  I WAS going to do five people finding out about Tarsus, but that turned into a five thousand word monster so instead here are just some headcanons.  For those of you who aren’t aware, Tarsus was a famine and genocide, which Jim Kirk survived as a kid—basically, if you can think of a content warning, it applies, thus: everything is under the cut. 

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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

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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lathori asked: ExR for the ship And the AU is from a post you previously reblogged: "Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day……" Go forth and write me more ExR

Everyone look at how awesome my platonic soul mate is, she sends me fun prompts when I’m bored.  My concept of ‘complementary’ powers might be a little weird but whatever!  We’re going with it.  To the shock of no one, this got out of hand.

• Grantaire has the most useless power ever.  Ever. He’s confirmed this with everyone he knows.  
  
• It’s not nifty as hell, like Eponine’s talent for making tiny storms between her palms—if she ever meets her soulmate, that’s going to be awesome.  It’s not even one of those powers that seems useless or trivial in the moment but will obviously turn into something amazing when the person meets their soulmate. Like Joly, for example.  The ability to cure headaches and hangovers? Not very impressive, although eminently useful.  Flash forward, enter Bousset and Musichetta and one skin-to-skin touch, and boom, one fully-fledged healer, on a silver platter.  
  
• And then there’s Grantaire.  Who can make pictures move.  As long as he’s the one holding the pen.  What the hell is that?
  

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lathori asked: ExR. Labyrinth AU. Go. (You know you want to)

Babe, you GET me.  I assume you mean “that time where modern AU Enjolras made the most ridiculous wish ever and subsequently made Grantaire’s life miserable,” of course.

• Here’s the thing.  Enjolras doesn’t believe in what he can’t see and touch and handle with his own two hands.  The ideal of freedom is only something he believes in because he can see it on the smaller scale, but he’s not religious or spiritual or what have you because it just doesn’t even occur to him.
  
• So when Marius tells him to be careful what he wishes for, all wide eyes and earnest voice, because Marius’ mother used to tell him warning stories about the Goblin King, Enjolras laughs at him.  He’s particularly unkind about it because Marius interrupted a meeting where they were actually getting things done for once with this nonsense, and because it’s the twenty-first century and they’re past fairy stories.  Marius is offended, and insists that he knows those stories are true.
  
  
• “Is that so,” Enjolras says flatly, and Marius nods emphatically.  “Fine, we can test that.  I wish–”
• “Enjolras, don’t,” Marius yelps.
• “—that the Goblin King would come and take all of France away, right now.”

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Guys!!!!

I have 200 followers???  How???  I just…y’all are so sweet???

New followers can collect their party hats on the left (top hats and beanies also available), their sticker sheet on the right, and their all-access pass to my inbox at the door.

Now, listen, sweeties, I’ve been considering doing a thing, and this is a good excuse to do it, so I’m going to post some of my writing as…the online equivalent of champagne, I guess?