shooting in lafayette

Fake Laf AU

Yeah i decided to make a post…finally


In a hot day Jefferson pulled up his hair and Hamilton kissed him thinking he’s Lafayette,his lover,who have been in prison in France for 5 years and came out recently.

Jefferson is disgusted at the beggining,but he founds himself to be in love with Hamilton. But Ham is already in a relationship with Lafayette and he hates Jefferson.

So Jefferson decided to write a letter to ask Lafayette if he can pretend to be him,since Laf already used Jeff’s identity once.

Lafayette is okay with it,but warns Jefferson to not play with Hamilton’s feelings.

Jefferson than falls into a disturbed and obsessive love.

His letters to Lafayette became more and more perverts and he destroys Laf’s letters towards Hamilton.

Lafayette,worried,writes to Angelica,that is confused by the situation.

Lafayette deicedes to go to America with his best friend Adrienne.


At this point the AU may finish in 3 ways:


1) Loveless Ending.

Hamilton found out about Jefferson’s true identity by a conversation he had with Madison.

Jefferson kidnaps,tortures and rapes him. He forces Hamilton to think he’s Lafayette.

Lafayette finally arrives and Hamilton’s mind breaks.

Jefferson trys to attack Lafayette,but Washington shoots him and Lafayette decides to kill him,making everyone belives it was self defence.

Angelica,Pendleton and Peggy write The Jefferson Pamphlet.


2) Lovesick Ending.

Hamilton found out about Jefferson’s true identity thanks to Pendleton.

Lafayette arrives and have a fight with Jefferson.

Jefferson hit Lafayette in the head and Laf passes out.

When he wakes up he’s bound and so it’s Hamilton.

Jefferson tortures and rapes them.

Angelica,Pendleton and Peggy write The Jefferson Pamphlet. They all hope somebody will someday found Hamilton and Lafayette.


3) Normal Ending.

Hamilton found out about Jefferson’s true identity by himself.

Lafayette arrives and have a fight with Jefferson.

When Jefferson trys to hit Lafayette Hamilton is the one to get hurt.

Jefferson ran away and hides himself in his house.

Angelica,Pendleton and Peggy write The Jefferson Pamphlet.

When you have like ten free minutes and you remember that thing you said @hvmiltoon you will do, and…

(Ignore the orthography I still half asleep)

Lafayette: Look Hercules a shooting star!

Hercules: Beautiful.

Lafayette: I know right!

Hercules: I was talking about you.

‘hamilton’ characters while sick

Alexander Hamilton: “I AM NOT SICK!!!!!” he screams as he throws up twice an hour. Keeps working like normal (ie more than any normal human being). “Alexander you’re sick.” “If I were sick, could I do this?” “….” “…..” “…What are you doing?” “Cartwheels. …Am I not doing them?” Finally he ends up sneezing in jefferson’s face during a debate and falls off the table and then Washington makes Eliza come and get him. Eliza ends up locking him in his room and confiscating all his pens and paper so he’ll get some goddamn sleep.

Aaron Burr: He stays home to rest and get well like a sensible human being, but is bitter af about it because EVERY TIME he’s sick, he misses all the good dirt. He gets back and finds out that 4 debates happened, Hams and T-Jeff got in a fistfight on the debate floor, there have been 2 scandals, and also we may be at war with someone else now. 

Eliza Schuyler: Tries to relax so she can get well, but can’t help but worry about what bullshit Alex is getting up to when she’s not around to supervise. She decides she’s being silly and it’s all probably fine. (It is not fine. Washington can’t wait until she’s back in action.)

Angelica Schuyler: She doesn’t get sick. Germs cease to exist when they touch her perfection. I heard one time a virus tried to infect her and IT died.

Peggy Schuyler: She doesn’t make a big deal of it and just stays home to rest, but her sisters and Hamilton find out she’s sick and rush over with food and blankets and ask her if she’s getting enough sleep and water every .5 seconds. Every time she gets sick Hamilton buys her new stuffed animals and Eliza makes her wear like 14 layers. <from underneath 12 blankets and a mountain of teddy bears> “Guys it’s a cold–” “AWWW YOU’RE SO BRAVE BUT YOU NEED TO GET YOUR REST DON’T WORRY LET US HANDLE EVERYTHING”

Thomas Jefferson: <drapes self over couch, hand to forehead> “I guess… this is the end…” “Thomas you have a cold.” “I suppose death has cast its raven wing over me at last.” “Thomas.” <sneezes> “This is the end. The Grim Reaper has finally chosen me.” “Thomas please just take a sleeping pill and get some rest.” “TAKE ME OH SWEET DEATH I AWAIT YOUR LOVING EMBRACE” 

James Madison: Sneezes once and thinks he’s dying.

John Laurens: When he gets sick Hamilton makes a bigger deal of it than he does. He brings over 230 different medications and loads of blankets and begs Laurens not to die on him.

Marquis de Lafayette: <sneezing like crazy> “Fucking cold season.” “Oh, yeah, you probably got that from me, sorry–” <Lafayette shoots them> MMmmmm whatcha saaaaaaaayyyyy~

Hercules Mulligan: “How’d you even get sick?” “YOUR MOM.” “…” “…I’m sorry can you get me some DayQuil please.”

George Washington: Wishes he could stay home, but drugs himself up and drags his ass to work anyway because the last time he got sick and stayed home, Hamilton stole Jefferson’s pimp cane and Burr was locked in the cupboard for 6 hours before someone let him out. 

King George III: Probably got Washington sick on purpose out of spite.

Phillip Hamilton: “Am I sick? Hell yeah I’m sick AS IN I THROW DOWN SOME SICK BEATS!!!!” <starts beatboxing, but ends up coughing up a lung instead and collapses>

anonymous asked:

Hey!! Hercules Mulligan x reader? "I'm personally insulted that you didnt invite me to be your fake date."

I gotchu, homie

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Bullseye

Lafayette x Reader

Can I have a Laf x reader where she’s Washingdads daughter and it’s fluffy and maybe during he war? Someone makes fun of her carrying a musket and she nails target practice or something? My brain won’t come up with a good prompt, I sorry


“Ya know, if the General sees you looking at his daughter like that, he would have a fit,” Alex said to his french friend as they watched Y/N from the other side of the field.

Lafayette sighed as he took one last glance at the girl before looking at Alex.

“I’m sorry mon ami, but she’s just so…”

Lafayette trailed off as he caught another glance at her retreating back from out of the corner of his eye.

Alex rolled his eyes and turned away.

“I’m going to talk to Washington now. Don’t let him see you staring at his daughter,” Alex warned.

Lafayette had it bad. He had met the girl when he was staying at Mount Vernon with them.

She and her mother were the most charming people that he had met since his coming to America. They made him feel right at home.

“Are you alright Lafayette?” a voice asked from behind him.

He spun around seeing Y/N standing behind him, a confused look on her face and a musket in her hands.

“What? Oh yeah… I’m fine. How are you?” he replied nervously.

“I’m fine,” she laughed, looking at the blushing face that he had. “What are you up to? Anything exciting? We haven’t had time to talk recently.”

“Not much, how about you?” he asked, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve decided that I want to learn how to shoot a musket,” Y/N said with a smile on her face.

Lafayette gave her a shocked looked and then grinned.

“How have you been doing with that?”

She shrugged.

“I haven’t had much time to. I’ve been tending to a lot of the men that have battle injuries right now. I have some free time so I thought that I would go and shoot.”

“Can I join you?” Lafayette asked. “I need to get some target practice in.”

“Of course!”

Lafayette offered her his arm and grabbed his musket.

“Shall we go my lady?”

“We shall.”

The two made their way to the shooting grounds, making a little bit of small talk along away.

“Alright do you want to go first?” Lafayette asked Y/N.

She shook her head.

“You go, I need to load first.”

He nodded and took a shot. It was so close. He began to reload.

Y/N lined up for a shot when all of the sudden they heard laughter from a bunch of soldiers behind them.

“A woman? Shooting? You’re going to miss and waste a bullet.”

Both Lafayette and Y/N spun around.

“You think I’m going to miss?” Y/N asked them, glaring. Lafayette stood back. He knew that look on her face. Shit was about to get real.

“Well yeah,” one of the soldiers scoffed. “You’re a woman.”

Y/N took a deep breath and turned towards the target. She squared her shoulders and placed her finger on the trigger. She set her eyes on the target.

A shot rang out, and as the smoke cleared there it was.

A bullseye.

The soldiers jaws dropped.

Lafayette started laughing and Y/N smirked.

“Do you have anything else to add?” she asked.

The shook their heads.

“HEY!” a loud voice shouted.

Everyone looked towards the voice.

“What do you think you’re doing with my daughter?”

snufflypuffly  asked:

COULD WE PLEASE GET A NUMBER NINE WITH MULLETTE?

YOU SURE CAN! This is my first time writing just mullette (I’ve done some lafburrcules) but the ship feels chill and flows kind of naturally to me. 

Also, to everyone: prompts are closed as of now! I’ve gotten 7 all total, which is great! But I want to go back to my own works while also not leaving anyone hanging. See y’all next prompt post. 

9. Not knowing how to sew but trying to fix a torn shirt because it’s their s.o.’s favorite


Lafayette loved wearing his boyfriend’s clothes. Hercules being just a bit shorter and a little more than a bit wider made his hoodies and tees and pyjama pants only a size too wide.

“Just don’t rip them up,” Hercules joked, taking the habit in good stride. “Some of that’s home-made.”

Lafayette took his oath seriously, even if it did make Hercules snort and giggle adorably when he knelt and solemnly swore with one hand to his heart. Which was why his current predicament was so worrying.

He gave the stray cat a rueful look. “This is your fault,” He said, to the animal that didn’t understand language and couldn’t possibly be blamed for the tatters it made of his shirt, not when Lafayette was the one who scooped it up suddenly for a hug. The cat flicked an ear, not impressed in the slightest. With a twitch of the tail, it turned and fled down the street.

Lafayette frowned. It was okay, he could fix this. He just had to get home, get the shirt off, get the blood off the shirt… everything would be fine! The damage wasn’t that bad, just two parallel tears from where the claws had hooked through cloth and into chest. It couldn’t be that hard to sew two ripped edges together!

People kept shooting Lafayette strange looks as he rushed home. Blood occasionally dripped off on the sidewalk. Lafayette held the shirt out, trying not to smear more blood into it. It was all a bit dramatic- Lafayette could barely even feel a sting.

He got home, and thankfully Hercules was not yet visiting- though he was due in an hour, so Lafayette had no time to waste. “One step at a time,” Lafayette muttered to himself, slipping his shoes off and darting for the laundry sink. With a quick motion, the shirt was off. He turned the tap on with one hand and reached for laundry soap with the other.

Washing the blood off was easy, Lafayette knew how to do that. It was almost familiar, even, with how often they all got into scuffles. Under the soap and bath of hot water, blood lifted from the cloth, fading to pink in the water. Lafayette drained the sink.

Now for the hard part. Lafayette had no idea how to sew. It couldn’t be all that difficult. His dear Hercules fixed Lafayette’s clothes all the time- and he would never claim his Hercules’ work as anything but talented genius, but the repairs always looked simple.

First, a needle. Or maybe not. Didn’t Hercules use the sewing machine for such jobs? Lafayette knew he had one in the house, from when he’d briefly considered taking up sewing to try and impress Hercules. In the end, Hercules had asked him out before the machine was even delivered, and the rest was history.

Lafayette never claimed to be a smart spender, he just had the money to afford it.

The sewing machine was covered in dust. Lafayette carefully brushed it clean, and pulled out the cords- including a foot pedal, curiously. Lafayette loved staring at his Hercules while he worked, but he’d never paid attention to how the machine operated, too busy staring at his boyfriend’s lovely focused face, or the way he stuck his tongue out just so at a particularly tricky part. 

Lafayette sighed. He was getting off topic. He readied the shirt, plugged in the cords, and lightly tapped the pedal- the needle went down and up, but did nothing else. He pushed it harder- still nothing. Was it broken? Lafayette inspected more closely.

Right, there was no thread. That was a thing. Lafayette laughed at himself, keeping the mood light instead of contemplating the sudden hopelessness of how little he knew. Lafayette knew he had bought some of that too. He reached into the storage box. There were about a dozen spools, more or less, in a variety of colours. Lafayette chose the one that matched the shirt, as close as possible.

“Now, to thread it.” Lafayette hummed, and stared at the machine. If his memory served, the spool went up stop, but how did it thread? Lafayette studied the machine, looking for some kind of sign.

Lafayette began to wonder if he was a bit out of his league. He reached into the box for the instruction manual, and got to work.

Hercules knocked on the door, but walked in when there was no answer. It wouldn’t be the first time he was too busy to get the door, and plus Hercules knew he was expected. “Laf? Honey?” He called, but there was no answer. Hercules took his shoes off and padded further into the house.

At the second call, there was nothing. On the third call, a muffled thump and an extra muffled curse. “Laf?” Hercules felt a hint of concern work its way into his head. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” Lafayette poked his head out from his bedroom. His voice was shrill and loud and the very definition of ‘not fine’. Hercules approached slowly, hoping it was a simple matter of a spill or mess of some sort. Lafayette was a bit touchy about his house’s presentation, even when, or perhaps especially when, it was just Hercules. “Seriously! Don’t come in!” Lafayette’s voice hitched and wavered, ever so slightly.

Hercules’ heart picked up. Something was definitely wrong. “Hun, please let me see? What’s wrong, you sound upset.” He reached the door, but Lafayette was holding it half closed, with a wild, panicked look on his face. “Whatever it is, I can help! It’s okay!”

Lafayette wavered a moment, trapped between an assurance and breaking down. The break down won out, and he threw the door open. “Oh my god, Herc, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!” He was heaving, near hysterics. And there was dried blood all over his naked chest.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Hercules lifted his hands uncertainly, mind racing. “What happened? Did you get into a fight alone? Laf, are you okay? DO you need the hospital? Or, you can’t go to a hospital? God, what happened, what-”

He was cut off by a wet snort. Lafayette giggled and teared up at the same time. “I forgot about that entirely! Nothing of that sort is wrong, Hercules, please calm down. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to panic you.”

Though confusing, the words were a comfort. Hercules forced his breathing to even out. “You sure you’re okay?” At Lafayette’s nod, Hercules sighed in pure relief. “Alright then. What’s the actual problem, then?” Because there was clearly someting.

Lafayette tipped his head guiltily. “I promised not to tear your shirt, but there was this cat… I know it’s your favourite shirt, I tried to fix it. I’m so sorry.” And with that, he stepped away. Hercules peered over his shoulder.

There was a sewing machine, one Hercules didn’t even know Lafayette had. The sewing machine was a tangled mess, the sewing thread set up all wrong. Beside it sat a shirt Hercules recognized. Hercules stepped into the room. He did not recognize the messy clumps of thread, an apparent attempt to secure two tears, but really only a success at attacking the front of the shirt to the back.

“That is a mess.” Hercules commented, a little impressed despite himself. At Lafayette’s sniffle however, he quickly amended it. “Honey, you tried your best. I’m not upset, honest.”

“But I ruined your shirt, and then ruined it more trying to fix it?” Lafayette wiped quickly at his eyes.

“It’s just a shirt,” Hercules comforted. “And besides, I can still fix it. You haven’t done any permanent damage, and even if you did, I still like you better than any shirt of mine.”

Lafayette smiled, tiny and shy. “Even your favourite?”

Hercules chuckled. “Laf, you’re my favourite. Now let’s fix you up, and you can tell me the whole story.”

Lafayette’s smile widened. Things were just fine after all.

“Mes Amies, You’re Welcome” [Laurens x Reader]

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first Hamilton imagine for my new tumblr! I have a few more that I will send out into the universe a tad later on, but please feel free to request anything you want (okay I see you, all u NSFW sinners I got ya back). 90% sure I could whip up some In The Heights imagines if that floats ya boat. Anyway, my request box and my mind are open, love you all xoxox (p.s. this specific imagine was meant to be about Laf but I finished it and realized I’d gone with Laurens bc the heart wants what the heart wants)

T/W: none, fluff fluff fluff

A/U: modern

Words: 1588

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BUZZ.. BUZZ.. BUZZ.. 

You rolled over from your comfortable sleeping position and blindly searched for you vibrating mobile on the nightstand. 

BUZZ.. BUZZ… BUZZ.. 

You blinked hard at the buzzing device in your hand as the overwhelmingly bright screen blinded you from reading who it was that was calling. 

“Hello?” you croaked as you leant up on your elbow to check the time on your alarm clock. 2:06am. You rolled your eyes but smiled slightly as you suddenly understood who would be on the other end of the phone, and the general idea of what they wanted. 

“Hey Y/N, it’s your best friend John, of whom you love very much, and don’t really want to hurt for waking you up at 2am again.” You smiled at Laurens’ exaggerated sweetness and let out a small laugh. 

“What is it this time then,” you questioned. “Herc challenge Alex to yet another game of ‘who can take more shots in one minute’? Or did Gilbert try to prove that his alcohol tolerance is inherently superior due to ‘his French-ness’ again?” Laurens laughed with you, remembering these incidences that, believe it or not, all occurred in the last week. You drank in the sound of his sweet laugh. 

“Ah, no, this one’s even better,” Laurens started, as you swayed out of bed to grab your jacket, content in hearing his voice, “Jefferson came by the bar during Alex’s elaborate story about how he can chug four pints of beer in 30 seconds so, you know, a challenge was made, a lot of money was spent at the bar, and now, here we are. 2am. Hamilton blind drunk, Herc and Laf stopping him from initiating a full-blown brawl with Thomas, me calling you, and you Y/N, beautiful Y/N, coming to pick us up?” You laughed at the pleading tone of Laurens’ voice in that last bit, and jingled your keys into the phone’s microphone to signal your compliance. Laurens let out a grateful sigh followed by many ‘thank you’s’. You ended the call and headed for the door, grabbing a couple of blankets from the couch along the way for the boys, who would more than likely be waiting outside in the cold after inevitably being kicked out of the bar.                             

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Getting Carried Away

Oh look, a Hamilton imagine posted so soon. It has officially consumed me… oh well :D

Summary: Hamilsquad x Reader. The Hamilsquad notice that you’ve been spending a bit too much time doing work and not enough time getting any sleep. With the experience they have of dealing with an overworked and sleep deprived Alexander, they decide to intervene.

Word count: 1,091 Words

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“Y/N’s still going? I thought she’d of crashed hours ago,” Hamilton muttered as he crossed the room of your shared apartment to stand with his three friends.

Laurens, Mulligan and Lafayette had been staring disapprovingly in your general direction for the last half an hour or so whilst you, oblivious, continued to work hard on the papers in front of you, furiously scribbling and every so often stopping to read through your work and angrily crossing out large paragraphs. This had all started in the early hours of yesterday morning and, after you had re-emerged from a few hours of “sleep”, you’d gone straight back to work. At the end of the second day, it was safe to say that your behaviour was now becoming slightly worrying.

You stopped writing for a second and stretched out your hand, trying to ignore how cramped it was and how your eyes were slowly beginning to betray you and droop shut. The obvious solution was caffeine and your sleep deprived brain took a second to register why no coffee was being deposited into your mouth as you desperately shook your cup above you. It was with a groan that you realised you had run out of coffee and another trip to make some more would surely break your flow of concentration.

“Blame the caffeine,” the voice of Mulligan spoke from somewhere behind you, though you barely heard him, “she’s been chugging those coffees since six from what I can tell.”

The other three men tutted in disapproval as Lafayette noticed your predicament and began to make you another drink.

“Make it a decaf, Laf, with any luck she’ll be out in half an hour if we cut her off.”

Lafayette nodded in agreement as he started boiling more water, “Oui.”

When he was finished he headed over to you and placed your new drink on the table that you were working on. Absorbed in your work, you barely noticed the new drink or the man behind you, but you jumped slightly when you felt a tap at your shoulder. You turned in time to see Lafayette shoot you a concerned look when he saw the bags under your eyes.

Mon ami, when did you last get any sleep?”

His words didn’t register for a second as you noticed the new cup that had appeared on your table. Greedily you began to gulp down the drink and, thankfully, Lafayette had the sense to cool it down with cold water before giving it you, not that burning yourself would have slowed you down in any way, in fact it may have even woken you up a bit.

“Well, I had two hours last night, three the night before and…”

It didn’t take long for your attention to switch back to your work as you once again picked up your pen and slumped over your papers as a new bought of inspiration hit you.

Lafayette’s hand lingered on your arm for a second before he huffed and picked up your empty cup, making his way back to your audience.

“It’s bad,” Lafayette said as he went back to his position, leaning against the counter with his friends at his sides.

Laurens straightened and cracked his knuckles. “Right, time for the Alex Approach then.”

“The Alex Approach?” Hamilton questioned amusedly.

Mulligan smirked and thumped Alex on the shoulder affectionately. “Well, we deal with your sorry ass enough to have come up with a plan for when you get like this.”

“I never get quite like… I see your point, what do you want me to do?”

Laurens began to recite the obviously well known roles for his friends in such a situation before he started to walk in the opposite direction. “I’ve got blankets, Alex you can go and choose a film, Laf and Herc you’re on Y/N duty.”

Everyone scurried off to do their jobs as you continued to scribble away, occasionally pausing to rub your eyes in an attempt to ward away any possibility of falling asleep. One second you were in front of your desk crossing out a particularly poorly written sentence and the next your chair was being pulled backwards with you on it. Then, you were hoisted into the air and landed un-ceremoniously on a strong shoulder.

“Herc?” You asked groggily, before your situation dawned on you. “Hercules Mulligan you put me down right now! I’ve got so much work that I need to do and…”

Your voice petered off into a soft whine as you kicked your legs weakly on Mulligan’s back and Lafayette appeared at your side, his soft voice crooning at you in French.

Mon ami, vous travaillez si dur, venez et reposez.

“So much wooork, Laf, I’ve got so many ideas and whenever I write them down they just don’t sound like they should!”

If you were any more conscious you probably would have realised how much your words were slurring and ever so slightly not making sense as you began to ramble. Lafayette quickly cut you off with more words of French comfort that you could barely understand, until you were suddenly deposited onto a warm lap and an even warmer couch.

“Oh hey, Alex, long time no see but I’ve really got to be going,” you muttered as you went to sit up, but a gentle arm encircled you.

“Sorry, I’m under strict orders, the only thing you’re meant to be doing is relaxing.” Alex smiled down at you.

You groaned again but before you could make another attempt at freedom a large and particularly fluffy blanket was deposited onto you and you were swiftly cocooned in it. Then, the couch dipped as the others joined the throng and you somehow managed to find yourself laid across all four of your friends, with your feet in Mulligan’s lap and your head in Lafayette’s as he slowly began to braid your hair. The TV came to life as a film began and you wiggled slightly in protest.

“Laf, don’t, you know I’ll fall asleep.”

“That is the plan, mon Cherié, rest now.”

And, despite your better judgement and the nagging voice in your mind complaining about all the work that you still had to do, you began to relax. Eventually, surrounded by your friends and a comforting warmth, your eyes slid shut and your breathing evened out. Around you, four men silently cheered and fist bumps were shared as yet another “get your tired friend to stop working so goddamn hard” plan had come to a successful end.

Like I Would (Part Two)

READ PART ONE BEFORE YOU READ THIS OR IT WON’T MAKE SENSE

pairing: jefferson x reader

request: can you write a hamilfic based off of the song LIKE I WOULD?

summary: modern college au. reader and hamilton argue about jefferson. it’s more than just that i promise please read it.

warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, flashbacks and death

word count: 4,458

a/n: THIS IS PART TWO. please, i repeat, read the first part before this one. i wouldn’t normally care but it is important and this won’t make sense without it. bolded are text messages, flashback is in italics. inbox is open for comments, questions, or requests. 


Alex’s eyes sting with tears as he makes his way back to the apartment he shares with John and Lafayette. They had finally convinced him to make his move, to tell you how he really felt about you. He knew he couldn’t stand by and watch Jefferson be with you and not go insane from the pain of it.

But when he saw you two on the street…he knew it was already too late. He knew you, knew you didn’t take someone back to your place after a date unless it was serious and you already liked them. As much as he hates Jefferson, he would never want to ruin your happiness. He’s missed his chance and he knows it.

A drink. He needs a drink.

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John Russell Houser, aged 59, has been identified as the perpetrator of a shooting at The Grand Theatre in Lafayette, Louisiana on the night of July 23, 2015. He used a .40-caliber handgun, firing 13 rounds, which resulted in the deaths of two females. One was pronounced dead on scene, while the other died upon arrival at the hospital. Of the nine people who were injured, two have left the hospital and one remains in critical condition. Authorities discovered wigs and glasses in his motel room, which he had been staying at for several weeks, as well as a swapped out license plate on his car, and they attribute this to an initial plan for him to flee the scene. However, due to the fast police response, police say Houser’s attempt to leave was halted, and he committed suicide inside the theatre.

Charleston Church Shooting / Dylann Roof - Aftermath

On July 23, 2015 John Russell Houser, 59, killed 3 people and injuring nine others, before shooting himself. The shooting know as “Lafayette shooting” took place inside a movie theater during the projection of ‘Trainwreck’.

He left a journal in which he thanks Dylann Roof: 

  • “Had Dylan Roof reached political maturity he would have seen the word is not (n-word), but liberal” 
  • “But thank you for the wake up call Dylann.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Vester Lee Flanagan II know as Bryce Williams, a 41 years old who used to work as a reporter for WDBJ. On August 26, 2015 he killed Alison Parker and Adam Ward when filming the shooting. After a 5 hours manhunt he shot himself inside his car.

He faxed his manifesto to ABC the day of the shooting to explain his motivations:

  •  “The church shooting was the tipping point…but my anger has been building steadily…I’ve been a human powder keg for a while…just waiting to go BOOM!!!!“ 
  • “What sent me over the top was the church shooting. And my hollow point bullets have the victims’ initials on them.”
  • “Why did I do it? I put down a deposit for a gun on 6/19/15. The Church shooting in Charleston happened on 6/17/15…”
  • “You want a race war [redacted]? BRING IT THEN YOU WHITE …[redacted]!!!”
  • “And then, after the unthinkable happened in Charleston, THAT WAS IT!!!”