Summary: Alexander Hamilton arrives on Washington’s doorstep in distress and disarray feeling like just another worthless kid in the system. He’s certain that the Washington’s house will be no different from the others he’s been to. Usually a chatterbox who always speaks his mind, Alex decides it’s best to keep his mouth shut and his head down as he navigates his new life with the Washingtons, their adoptive son, Lafayette, and Lafayette’s amazing friends, one of whom may be working his way into Alexander’s heart. As much as he wants to move forward, he’s haunted by his past. Can Alexander face his demons or will they ruin him once and for all?
Personal Comment: Amazing. Read it. I am not usually a fan of modern AUs cause I am a massive history nerd, but I mean just read it. 10/10 would recommend.
Summary: It’s been two years since Alexander’s popular parapsychology blog helped him crowdfund his way to America and into college. Now, after graduating early, he finds himself accepted into the most prestigious parapsych grad program in the world. He’s going to study and hunt ghosts under the tutelage of George Washington, just like he predicted in his ten year plan. What he didn’t predict was stumbling into the best friendships he’s ever had and falling in love, but he can’t say he’s complaining. (AKA the one where they’re all grad students ostensibly studying ghosts, but mostly having a lot of feelings.)
Personal Comment: This fic. This fic right here. Okay I read all 100k words of this in like one day and it gave me so many feelings Jesus I love this fic so much omg. Just read it. Seriously. Read it.
Summary: How many disastrous blind dates do you have to go on before you inevitably fall in love with the waiter that stays behind and talks to you after every one? Alexander was pretty sure this wasn’t Herc’s original plan.
Personal Comment: Amazing, just amazing. Funny and cute and I’m gushing. It made me smile and squeal and jump up and down. Just really, really, really, wonderful.
Summary: Eight years after the war ends, Hamilton finds his old compatriot and lover John Laurens, very much alive but without possession of his memories. Eliza takes charge, as she did eight years previous.
Personal Comment: Okay, fix it fics are my life and soul and this one is just so wonderful and perfect. I mean a fix it fic and someone coming back to life, sign me the fuck up.
Word Count: 47,675 (Complete, but there’s a sequel on the way)
Summary: “District Four’s tributes! Elizabeth Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton!”, Lee shouted into the microphone and Alexander reached out to take Eliza’s hand without prompting. “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” People were still watching them. Eliza’s hand was clutching his, though her face betrayed no emotion. Alexander swallowed and, once Lee was done, pulled her into a tight hug. “Smile for the cameras, Betsey,” he murmured, using the nickname only he had for her, “We won’t let them know we’re scared.”
Personal comment: A Hunger Games AU, I went in not knowing what this was going to be like and I was blown away. Like better than the actual thing blown away. 10/10 would recommend.
Summary: John and Alex think making out will help relieve stress, but John can’t get over what society has taught him, especially when he starts enjoying it too much. John’s perspective.
Personal Comment: Some trigger warnings: internalised homophobia, Christian specific homophobia, time period homophobia. Yeah so this isn’t the happiest of things, but read the rest of the series. It is wonderfully written.
Word Count: Ocular (adj): of/or connected with the eye He was in the eye of the storm. He was surrounded by the calmness of it, by the void of the tempest. He was wrapped and swaddled in the quiet. The tranquil air insulated him from the force of the wind and hail. He had been protected by the shield of it, and it gave him strength to outlast.
Personal Comment: Remember how I said fix it fics are my life and soul, I lied, historical lams is my life and soul. I blame knee breeches and cravats. Actually, this historical fic is my life and soul. I read it again, and again… wait… I’m just going to read it again.
Okay! The next post will be Jamilton (Alexander/Thomas Jefferson), and I’ll link it here. If you have any lams fics you want me to read, then just submit the link here!!
I decided to close this blog.I wont get into details mainly because it would be too much to write about. My intention in creating this blog in the first place was to find a place for my own,but it didnt work out in the end,it just brought pain into my life destroying my mental health. I- a lot of things happened and i dont think im strong enough to handle them. I didnt know what made me so anxious everytime i went on the internet but not too long ago i descovered the reason,its tumblr,and some people here in the fandom,that are keeping me in the past.Im not gonna lie,i had a great time here but there were always painful things that covered the good ones.So, although it is hard for me,im gonna leave this blog,ill miss my little chara and frisk but- i know that what im doing is the best i can do to move on and heal.Im not strong,and im not determined enough to continue,so im sorry.But maybe one day,when i’ll be ready,i’ll come back,with new ideas,with new blogs and with immprovement.Im sorry i couldnt keep this blog entertaining enough for everyone. I hope i’ll see some of you one day tho.I didnt imagine my blog would end like this so soon… but people change afterall.As for now,its goodbye
Voices. Loud, clear. Everywhere. Sam’s voice screaming out painful rasps that seemed to die down after every breath. “YOU COULD HAVE SAVED ME!”. Charlie’s voice whispering hushed threats in the distance: “It’ll catch up to you. Life will get you. It’ll destroy you from the inside out.” on a repetitive loop. Castiel’s real voice, gagging and screaming in torture. A constant, visceral ringing only dogs could hear. A sound which made your ears throb and your hair stand on end. Goosebumps prickled all over your skin, each one like a rusty old needle plunging into your bones. Dean’s voice began to ring out, loud and clear among them all. “I NEVER LOVED YOU, YOURE JUST ANOTHER WORTHLESS WHORE I PICKED UP ALONG THE WAY!” Each syllable was a knife in your flesh, dragging over your muscles, veins, bones. Each word a stab in the heart, the next time more painful than the last, the knife slowly twisting inside, as if to finish the job. Each sentence a hazy breath choked out of you, leaving you gasping for untainted air. The voices all blurred into one loud, monotone mess, and before long you were howling in agony begging them to stop. “Y/N? BABY WAKE UP!” You hear Dean shout, standing out among all. You distantly felt yourself being vigorously shaken, which was enough to suddenly wake you. You bolted upright, gulping in a deep shaky breath. Cold sweat matted your messed up hair, and the pillows and sheets from your side were tangled and caught. Dean was seated on the bed in front of you, panic stricken and eyes wide open. “Sorry” you retched, trying to catch your breath. “Nightmare”. His strong hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, encouraging you to breath regularly, which is kinda hard when breathing feels like swallowing razor blades. “It’s all right, I’m here.” He repeated over and over again. “I’m not gonna let anything or anyone hurt you. You’re mine, okay?”. You fell into him, clutching his shirt with unyielding strength. You seep into his warm, safe embrace, finally letting yourself relax. He put his head onto your shoulder, and began trailing a pattern of soft kisses up to your swollen lips, whispering encouragement between each breath. When his lips found yours, you kissed him gingerly, but pulled away, not wanting to fall in. You didn’t want to hurt him. “Y/N” Dean mumbled, turning your head to face him with his thumb. “You don’t have to be afraid. It wasn’t real…” Your brain went into overload then. On the one hand, dean was all you wanted in this world. He was your reason for living. On the other, you couldn’t just let yourself hurt dean. All the voices were right. You were bad for him. “Dean, you don’t understand… In my dream, the voices. They told me things. They told me I’d hurt you, they told me you didn’t want me. They told me that I’d get you and Sam killed…” You let out a shaky breath, almost breaking down in tears. But you didn’t cry. You couldn’t. Not now. “Baby. Does it look like I don’t want you? You’re all I want. And Sammy and we can take care of ourselves. It was just a dream…” He kissed you again, and this time, you fell in. His lips moved against yours, letting you know he wanted you in ever human way possible. He laid awake with you all night, as you were too scared to go to sleep. He protected you, and let you know he was there.