The kids were at recess until, it started to rain. “Okay kids. Come inside.” Mr Washington announced. The sighs of the children filled the playground. “Merde!” Laff grunted. “Language Gilbert.” Washington said. He corralled the kids back into the classroom. Alex got his things together as he walked in, forgetting one thing. Phillp. He was by the sandbox. Fifteen minutes later, it was still raining. As the kids were getting on the bus to go home. A Fifth grader was climbing the fence that boarded the school. “What’s that?” The kid pondered, his name was George Eaker.
As he stumbled off the fence and looked at the playground, seeing everything soaking wet. He saw Philip. He ran over to the plush dog and picked it up. It had Alexander’s name sharpied on the dog’s left ear. “What little toddler would leave their toy here? I’ve tried taking that Burr kid’s cat and he cried for two hours straight.” He whispered. He pulled out a water gun from his pocket and squirted the kool-aid onto Philip. “Heh. It gets worse little buddy.” He said to the dog. Since Philip was soaking, it was easy for him to tear of on of his legs. He threw Philip and his torn leg into a mud puddle. George finally ran of leaving no sign he was there
Tonight I had a nightmare in which I got killed and ended up in a different universe (???) and my first thought was “SHIT! I QUEUED UP ALL THE PARTS OF THE BWAU LEFT EXCEPT THE FINALE! NO PUT ME BACK I HAVE TO QUEUE UP THE FINALE!”
HOWDY KIDDOS!!! Sorry this is a bit late! I had to get my dad from the airport and forgot to queue it. Anyway, here is your weekly Ghost Laurens AU fix! Want to read the previous chapters? Go here! I hope you enjoy it! <333
PART FIVE: Stay Alive
“Are Mama and Papa going to be okay?” Philip whispered to Freckles.
Philip was squashed in a rickety carriage with his siblings–– he was against one wall, Angelica directly next to him with baby John on her lap, Fanny next to her, and across from them Alexander Jr. and James were huddled together, the luggage the children had brought with them taking up the rest of their seat.
John was hovering in the space between them all, where there small feet jiggled as the carriage raced away from Philadelphia and up toward Albany.
“Of course,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure.
Yellow Fever was rampant, and, just when it seemed that it would spare the Hamilton family, it had struck Alexander and Eliza. They’d sent the children out of Philadelphia as soon as they fell ill, praying that, even if they did not survive, their children would leave the city where the illness was taking new victims every moment and stay healthy in Albany with Eliza’s parents.
John, of course, went with Philip. He’d become too attached to the boy to stay behind, as much as he worried about Alexander and Eliza. He’d rationalized it to himself this way: he could do nothing to help Alexander and Eliza. Only Dr. Edwards, an old friend of Alexander’s from his youth, could do that. But John could help Philip. He could comfort the boy, help him feel less alone. He could help the twelve-year-old stay strong for his younger siblings until they reached the Schuyler Mansion.
“What if they aren’t?” he whispered.
“They will be,” John said firmly. He remembered the pain of losing his mother. He wouldn’t wish that upon any child, and certainly not the children of a man–– a family–– he loved so much.
They arrived at the Schuyler Mansion late one evening. The children were exhausted from traveling and from the fear of being without their parents; the fear that they may never see their parents again.
Their granddparents ushered them inside, giving them tea and cookies and comforting the younger ones, who’d begun to cry and ask for their parents.
The youngest of the Schuyler children, Cornelia, who was seventeen, and Catherine, who was twelve, just like Philip, crept down the stairs. They’d clearly been in bed already, since they were bleary-eyed and clad in only their shifts.
Catherine’s face lit up when she saw Philip and Angelica. Although they were technically her nephew and niece, they felt more like her siblings. She’d spent her earliest years playing with Philip, her other siblings either married, away at school, or too old to want to include her in their games.
“Girls, go back to bed,” their mother said with a sigh.
Cornelia gestured to the Hamilton children. “They’re all younger than me and they’re awake.” Cornelia pulled one of the dining room chairs away from the table and sat in it, arms crossed in defiance.
Her mother simply sighed, too exhausted to deal with her rebellious teenaged daughter. Little Catherine excitedly wedged herself between Philip and Angelica’s seats.
“Did you travel here all alone?” Her eyes were wide in amazement.
John Laurens snorted with laughter as he watched Philip sit up straighter, clearly wanting to come off as a tough, strong guy.
“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “Just the driver with us, though he barely said a word to us the entire time.”
“Wow,” Catherine said, looking between Philip and Angelica. “That’s so brave of you.”
Philip just shrugged. Angelica smiled at Catherine.
“Alright, children, bedtime,” the elder Catherine declared. She scooped baby John up and took James’ hand.
Angelica gently shook Fanny, who’d fallen asleep on her empty tea saucer, and took her hand as they ascended the stairs.
“Can Philip sleep in our room?” Catherine whined.
Her mother smiled down at her. “You know we’ve already set up the extra cots in the boy’s old room.
Little Catherine stomped her feet and pouted, but her mother took no notice. John Laurens figured that after raising eight children, Catherine Schuyler knew how to take no shit.
John floated into the room where the Hamilton children would be staying. Once they were ready for bed–– Philip, Angie, and Fanny tucked together on a single large cot–– he sank down next to them.
“Night, Freckles,” Philip whispered, his voice fading as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Night, Philip,” John said, a smile on his translucent face. He floated over to the window and looked out, only seeing trees, if anything, in the darkness.
“I hope you’re okay,” he whispered, praying his words found Alexander and Eliza well.
Just to let you know, if you submit a prompt to me to write it will take me a few weeks to write and then post. To keep this blog active, I try and post something once a day. Most of the time I try to have things in my queue for most of the week.
Please be patient with me as I try to put out stuff. If you’re waiting for (there are multiple requests for the following):
Annabeth’s fear of child birth (part 2)
Trans Will coming out to Nico
Foster Brothers AU
it’s coming. I promise. I can only write zero to two prompts a day cause of school and life. Please be patient with me.
Jesus Christ! I'm there scrolling along minding my own business, looking for a few laughs, and you make me see Jar Jar Binks faux dick jokes. With my own two eyes!! Well if you wanted to make me cry 😱😱😱😭
The best part of that is that it was in my queue so I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN and was super confused by this ask.
Please, you already follow me when I write about other porn, this isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen on this blog.
“I don’t like either candidate” like your dumb ass can’t visualize four years of listening to Donald “hell is empty and all the devils are in my toupee” Trump fuck everything up from one end of the universe to the other?
Like, listen, you may like playing Fallout as a video game but I have to tell you that your fuckass would not survive a nuclear fallout and neither would anybody else’s so, like, maybe shut up and go vote for Hillary.
“But there’s no way he’ll really win”
let me tell you two things.
One, everybody said that about him in the primaries too and look who got the nomination.
Two, you may live in a predominately blue area. You may live in a place where people hide their racism and xenophobia and hatred for the LGBT community a little better. But I live in Virginia, and let me tell you a thing about the Southeastern United States right now. Right now, those of us in the Southeastern United States who are visibly part of one of Trump’s targeted groups, whether it’s because we’re women or we’re wearing rainbow gear or have a liberal sticker on our car or, God forbid, have dark skin or wear identifiably non-Christian religious garments, are being physically and aggressively targeted whenever we go outside.
Do you know, on two separate occasions, back when I had a Bernie sticker on my car, white men in jacked-up pickup trucks with Trump and confederate flag stickers, ACTUALLY RAN ME OFF THE ROAD while leaning out their window and yelling sexist slurs at me?
Like, I had to drive my car INTO THE GRASS on the side of the road and slam on brakes to keep being rammed by their truck. (Two different trucks, so presumably four different men.) This happened to me once while I was alone, once while Kellie was in the car with me, and once to Kellie when she was in the car by herself.
A full 20-30% of the cars I see on the road here have unapologetically racist Trump-supportive sexist-anti-Hillary paraphernalia on them. That’s not counting the ones that just have subtle Republican stickers or anti-Democrat stickers or stickers for the local conservative Congress candidates who are presumably voting for the Republican ticket that includes Donald Trump.
Grown-ass adults sit in coffee shops and talk loudly about how Donald Trump is going to save them from Muslim immigrants and Sharia Law, and parrot whatever latest bullshit they read on a parody website or Fox News and mistook for real news, and talk about how maybe those damn homosexuals will finally get what they deserve.
It’s happened more than once to ME, and I’m a homebody who doesn’t leave my house and socialize very often.
I feel like I’m living in an SNL parody skit about the South right now, but this is not a joke. This is real life.
Please believe me when I tell you we are not safe. These people will not be staying home from the polls. These people will be fucking voting.