Jazzy/Lyra || writer sometimes and starting artist || She/Her (or any, i dont rly mind) || Lesbian and Aro🧡🤍🩷 💚🤍🖤|| mostly posting abt Hamilton atm, I'm deep into the abyss || Multishipper, Crackshipper and Rarepair shipper || other accs: ׂ╰┈➤ Discord: mydogiswatchingyouׂ ╰┈➤ Ao3: Lyrarizii || art credit: Tea_bejjai!! ^^
last song: 'cause you have to (LANY)
currently watching: attack on titan.. technically
current obsession: gambling with noctaly
currently reading: (still!) taming 7, crimson supernova
currently working on: suna smau
last internet search: jurys still out
HIII! thanks for the tags @akaashiit and @korasunae !!!
last song: point of no return (355 the musical)
currently watching: uhhh agents of the four seasons + kaiju no.8
current obsession: alt fashion (I LOVE THE STYLE AND THE POLITICAL SYMBOLISMS THAT COME WITH THEM)
currently reading: ouran high school host club, windbreaker, your throne
currently working on: surviving highschool
last internet search: paper lantern tutorial
np tags !: @tabsters @ackermanandsukuna @aceoqi @anyadanielleee @lemonsunnyhoney @yunn13ie @imallamaninjaistg @mayoeinase @reeenneee @lovesweeti @huhyeni @ryylives @begthouorborrow + ooooooopen!
Wow, uhh... wasn't expecting this but thanks for the reblog, jae!!
Last Song: Sad Song by P1Harmony
Currently Watching: Nothing much dedicatedly... some random youtube vids here and there
Current Obsession: Mm... writing. Been getting a lot of ideas as of late. Other than that, Twisted Wonderland.
Currently Reading: Sigmund Freud's Theory of Dreams
Currently Working On: A special long one-shot for nique that I gotta finish soon!
Last Internet Search: (Don't judge me. This was for soup so it's her fault) Zodyl Typhon.... shirtless
np tags: @oceanaesthete @bananabreadbury @mayoeinase + any of my moots I can't think rn
Currently watching: That one Jefferson documentary from... 2025? I think
Current obsession: Idk uhh does the Culper Ring count?? I'm so gonna read everything I can over the holidays
Currently reading: Like 4 books at the same time 😭😭 George Washington’s Secret Six - Brian Kilmeade, Washington's Spies - Alexander Rose, 1776 - David McCullough, General Washington’s Commando (something something..) by idk who
Currently working on: Does cleaning my room count..?
Last internet search: ao3
Tags: @ph1leevetomorrow @violet2766 @staramg12 + open tags!!
Current obsession: Also gonna have to say AmRev and historical Alexander Hamilton
Currently Reading: (Assuming this is about books only) Augustus by John Williams, Virtuose Niedertracht by Dennis Pausch, Allan McLane Hamilton’s Intimate Life and rereading Leroux’ Phantom of the Opera (my attention span is fucked unfortunately)
Currently working on: Uhh a lams summer biker au WIP aka Sacha’s dinner… Also learning Swahili until the random spike of motivation runs out.
Last internet search: Queen Victoria private letters
Once more tagging the dysfunctional family @alexzquill @mydogiswatchingyou @definitelynotamoth @heartsurge @ferosfer @mussymuncher @agustinnisblog
⤷ Currently watching: Pokemon XYZ + Moon Knight both rewatching
⤷ Current obsession: Moon Knight (and Marvel with that) are slowly creeping outta my closet, other smaller obsessions atm are Amrev/Hamilton and Pokemon (PHM mayhaps? Not yet)
⤷ Currently reading: 1984 by George Orwell and The Odyssey by Robert Fagles
⤷ Currently working on: a oneshot based on the Refraction au from my friend @/Jennicatzies and a Hamburr oneshot
⤷ Last internet search: Pokemon type advantages ckvijej
Tagging sum blobs: @yurialexanderhamilton @formulaastro04 @blooberri-rabbiteye @littlejemmy + open tags shrugs
➡️ Not every medium of fiction and storytelling has or is expected to have content warnings or extensive tagging.
➡️ Print novels do not traditionally warn for content in any way.
➡️ Until AO3 came along, fanfiction did not traditionally warn for content in any significant way.
➡️ An author is only obligated to warn for content to the degree mandated by the format they publish their fiction on.
➡️ Content warnings beyond the minimum are a courtesy, not an obligation.
➡️ 'Creator chose not to warn' is a valid tag that authors are allowed to use on AO3. It means there could be anything in there and you have accepted the risk. 'May contain peanuts!'
➡️ Writers are allowed to use 'Creator chose not to warn' for any reason, including to maintain surprise and avoid spoilers.
➡️ 'Creator chose not to warn' is not the same thing as 'no archive warnings apply'.
➡️ It is your responsibility to protect yourself and close a book, or hit the back button if you find something in fiction that you're reading that upsets you.
➡️ You are responsible for protecting yourself from fiction that causes you discomfort.
Hmmm, methinks my undying loyalty to 5 items are, my headphones I would die without em, my phone mainly for music (I should buy an iPod one day), my grandma’s etui with makeup essentials, some form of money, andddd uhh my bunch of keys with somth sharp in em too
Tagging tha friends: @yurialexanderhamilton @formulaastro04 @littlejemmy + open tags ;D
Today's prompt for the lams summer 2026 event @lamssummer2026 is the historical period AU, and I chose the Victorian Era (inspired by my love of Dracula and Oscar Wilde lol)! I've always found this time period and the industrial revolution intriguing. It's basically them but a century later, circa 1870s.
Aro culture is the act to headcanon all your fav characters somewhere on the arospec to feel like you belong just anywhere and then have them all explore and navigate the identity in vastly different ways to project because it is not talked about enough in this heavily romantic and sexual oriented earth
Aro culture is hating the phrase "just friends". Like, friendship isn't inherently lesser-than romance, and it's so disheartening to hear other aro people say it.
is there an "i suggest relationship anarchy" gimmick blog yet? cause this is a great moment for it
Hi! Thanks SM for your request. I went straight into it after finishing an exam today, spent like 6 hours writing something mediocre, cried halfway through and more or less poured half of my own feelings into it but you asked for Lams angst and so you shall receive. ( @mydogiswatchingyou I'm tagging you because I stole your Hamilton grieving and forgetting idea)
This is in no way a depiction of any real recorded event and only serves as an angsty prompt for me to be sad.
Under cut : Micro fic on grief and Hamilton dealing with John's death years after he died because sometimes grief hits ten years after someone died and that's okay.
Grief is like fire.
How long had it been? What day was it? He couldn't remember. It was late. His candle had almost entirely burnt out. The flickering flame shone brightly in his violet eyes, the light dancing slowly under his tired gaze, casting strange shadows on the wall. What time was it? Each blink demanded a tremendous effort, he could barely keep himself awake.
He sighed and a sharp movement of the hand knocked his bottle of ink. He cursed in a whisper and quickly set it right, rolling his eyes at the waste of expensive ink and perfect white paper. He thought a moment about crying. The idea lingered in his mind, exhaustion and frustration forming tears of anger at the corners of his eyes but he blinked them off. He did not have the time crying required. When had he ever had time to cry?
He was going to try and wipe this mess clean but he noticed something alarming. His drawer was open. The drawer was open. His eyes widened and he pulled so hard on the silver handle that the whole thing came out of the desk. He was so surprised he dropped it and whimpered when it crashed down on his foot.
He hid his face in his sweaty palms and inhaled. How come everything always went wrong for him. He looked down and horror struck him. On some letters - no, no, not just letters. On the letters, ink had darkened the paper, drowned the words into a void of nothing. He dropped down - or rather crumbled - to his knees, grabbing them hastily, unsure what to do.
"No, no, no, please, Lord, no." He mumbled. Should he try to wipe it off? No, it would only worsen it. He felt crushed. Perhaps he might cry after all.
You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.
His gaze followed along the curves of each letter, traced the loops of the e's. He could almost imagine Laurens's hand holding the quill, the way his fingers bent, the scratch of the tip on the paper. A strange stain appeared on the page and he frowned. Was the damned ink not enough! He realised a second later those were tears, splashing in quiet agony over the lost words.
This was the last one. The last letter. Ever. Laurens had never written another word to him after that. Had never written another word to anyone. His hands would remain still forever now, frozen in time, motionless and cold. An image flashed inside the redhead's mind of a body, so foreign, so different from the lively figure he had known that it dragged a sob out of him.
He didn't even notice how rapidly the overwhelming sensations of loss, of emptiness, of devastating sorrows crept up on him. They were bursting out of him like overgrown weeds, manifesting as wetness on his cheek, muffled sobs and that ache in his heart. An ache so violent it was dreadful, an ache so violent it was indescribable, almost as if a piece of him had fallen straight out of him, lost forever to an ocean of nothingness.
He brought the letters up to his heart and squeezed them against his chest. They were probably staining his shirt, he was probably making things worse. And yet.
And yet he didn't let them go, didn't drop them, because they were all he had left of him. The only reminders that John Laurens had been alive and that he had loved him. The only proof of this immaterial feeling, of this specific bond they had shared, which he sometimes felt he had merely hallucinated. It was so long ago. It was lost in a mist of blood and cold winters. Had it been real? After so many years he could only remember the brush of fingertips against his thigh under tables with the suffocating fear of getting caught without being able to stop. He remembered stolen glances across rooms but could barely remember the face he was staring at. He remembered winter nights pressed against another body, one that still moved, one that was still warm. He remembered a voice, low and comforting, familiar and soothing and yet.
Yet he couldn't recall the exact tone, the exact pitch. He couldn't recall the voice at all. Only the memory of it. Only the strings of loving words whispered into the night sheltered away from a world that would have burned them at the stake solely for the crime of saying them. John's voice had been the shield protecting him from the dullness of a colourless universe outside of their shared room, John's hands had held him when he felt like he was falling apart, John's body had kept him warm even in the darkest of nights.
But nothing remained. Nothing but a few words scribbled on pages. Nothing but fading memories, foggy and ancient, like lost artefacts he was struggling to unearth, as if they were sinking further down with each attempt at replaying them. They were a broken record player. They replayed, over and over and over and as time passed it worsened and John disappeared. What was the shade of blue that he had eagerly looked for in every room like? What did it feel like to caress the silky hair so smooth even in the morning? What was it like to intertwine their fingers after a long day of hiding something that felt like it was radiating out of them?
He no longer remembered. He remembered only flashes of it and the thought of forgetting entirely, of John Laurens just vanishing from his mind terrified him, horror struck him, planting its sharp claws in his heart.
"No, no, no.." he mumbled again, finally letting go to look at the extent of the loss. The first letter on the pile, the last he had ever received, had suffered the most damage. The rest had seemingly more or less survived but it was easy to spot stains which hid words or letters. It angered him, all of a sudden. He tossed them to the ground and got up abruptly.
He hated John, he wanted him to vanish ! It was fine if he disappeared from his memory, it was fine if the letters were dissolved into nothingness. He had inflected on him something worse than death. The redhead had known from the moment he had heard. John had done it to himself. He had never intended on living past the war, he had thrown himself carelessly into battle as if Atropos couldn't reach his string of fate. And he had died, bleeding out without purpose by a river somewhere far, far, far away from here.
He grabbed the letter he hated most - the one about a cure - he held it to the candle, he let it be consumed by the fire, echoing the fire that seemed to be eating him up from the inside. The vision of the ashes slowly drifting down on his desk and on top of the other sheets of paper made him sob and he shook the letter to put out the fire.
Now that the sorrow and anger had left, what else remained? What else could one feel? Nothing. A hole sat where his heart had once been, looking down at the mess of ashes and ink.
He was pretty sure when his mother had died the grief had been striking. It had taken over him, engulfed his soul whole almost immediately. Such an immense loss at such a young age.
When his town had been devastated, it had been the same. A different sort of grief, but a painful, immediate grief anyway.
But not for John. For John it had been different, for John it had not come straight away. There had been so much to do, there had been so many new things to fight for, to discover, to create. The world was finally opening up to him, the world was finally letting him get a taste of real life. He had avoided the grief, had shoved it to the side like one hides an imperfection on a pretty painting. He had gone around instead of through but he should have guessed there was no escaping it. John was dead and so was their love and never again would he see his smile, or the way his brows formed a soft frown as he focused on translating a letter, or the gentle movement of his hands whenever he took a moment to practice drawing, or the way the corner of his mouth always twitched when he lied. Never again would he hear the evident fondness in his voice when he spoke of his family, or the melodious echo of his laughter, or the determination anchored in his tone when they spoke of all they would have to achieve once the war was over.
Alex's shoulders shook with the heaviness of all that had been taken from him, with the heaviness of all the memories he was the only one to carry, of the patchwork of details which John had been made of that only he knew. What a burden to be the sole apostle of a loved one's life, what sorrows to have no one to fondly recall these details with.
He longed to hear his voice again. That was what he wanted most in the world. Just five minutes, five more minutes to tell him all the things he should have told him before, to hear all he should have been allowed to hear. Perhaps if he had known how early he was going to lose John, if he knew how much it hurt to lose him, he wouldn't have been afraid. Perhaps being hanged together for the sole sin of adoring one another would have been worth loving him openly. Perhaps the sole crime of loving John Laurens was worth eternal damnation. Oh, Hamilton would have paid Charon himself to take him right to Tartarus just for the chance of hearing one more I love you.
When he would die, would anyone remember? Would anyone remember there was a man named John Laurens who had lived such a tragic life? Would anyone ever be able to know John like he had? Would anyone enjoy his art as Alex had? Would anyone fall in love with the lines of his face, would anyone know the exact colour of his bright blue eyes ? Would anyone ever know how warm of a soul he was? Would anyone ever understand the ghosts that inhabited said soul? Would anyone ever unearth him and their secret? Would John's memory survive him?
Would anyone ever know how much John Laurens had loved? And most importantly, would anyone ever know how much he had been loved?
TAG YOUR MOOTS AND MAKE THEM EXPLAIN THEIR USERNAMES LORE
Starting with me:
Hyyl18 because when i was youngest i had a group in a random app with some friends and i didnt knew qhat username to use so i decided to create one with things i used to read since we were talking abt fanfic in this group so: Hot Yaoi Yuri Lemon +18 stuff (i was in my dirty era dont dare to judge me). Hyyl18 thats it. Now i use it everywhere yay
@patroclus-is-the-bigger-person @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @cuntyteardrop @glassesgirlies @leninthestarlight @bardorsomethinglikethat anyone else who wanna join tbh yay
so I was just finished with reading song of achilles, highly recommend, made me sob, and achilles pissed me off, like the pride was mental, so I thought that patroclus, my king, deserved some well deserved love and appreciation. The bigger person part is in no way at all a tribute to me because I am the petty bitch you will ever have the displeasure of coming across
basically bards are important in my book series, and that was inspired from the bard yaskier from the Witcher, and I feel like it was something he'd say about himself so I went with that.
'sunshine-snake' because "sunshine" i just decided oneday i was going to be my online name, and snake since i kind of make a hissing sound (that sounds like a snake) when i laugh sometimes :3
Hmmmmmmmmmmm Prob because in Roblox every one called me Violet but I added the Rosie because it was the name of my dog plushie that I lost in 4th grade and cookie because I like cookies so that's why I picked VioletRosieCookie :]
So my.first username was wendigoweirdo but someone told me that it was offensive to native American tribes so I changed it to willow weirdo. And then I just felt like adding the daydreamer because that's was I am :3
back when my username was @/pipermcleandaugterofaphrodite, I saw a post by a Cherokee person talking about how much they hate Piper and that she's not representation because she's stereotypes with legs (fair enough). I'm white, so I have no right to have myself connected to people my ancestors hurt, so I changed my user to what it is now because I'm also Evangeline Fox fictionkin
alright so my first username was skzfangirl143 because i was a skz ult back then and 143 from their song case 143 !! eventually i started stanning more groups and realized SKZfangirl143 didn't cover it so i changed it to written-by-music because i do spend a lot of time listening to music and a lot of the time music and my mood do correlate!
tags: @ivoraaahills @swirled-with-ink @slut-for-han-jisung @heroz-zz @zawranq @atetheluck @phiapiled @phaelusion @randomfriendlyloser @soda-sprite + all of my other moots!
i used to be 'grape-soda-and-impish-behaviour' because i was drinking grape soda a lot and one of my main ocs at the time was called imp then i deactivated and came back as 'soda-imp' cause it was shorter yet still matched my purple theme and mood ^^
and then i changed it to 'soda-sprite' because my theme was sort of greenish with a fairycore vibe to it and my mood was more 'spritely' but i still liked soda and also still wanted to be recognisable to my moots so i kept the soda bit and i haven't changed it since!! :D
i've been thinking of changing it to soda-pop [what some of my moots call me and also the 'pop' bit matches my party theme] though... unsure! :]
Okay, so my real username wasn't actually supposed to be potatoanarchist, I made that up on a whim and I have a mind to change it. It was supposed to be Xaosix, and for a very personal reason.
To keep it as simple as possible for you, someone I knew died a while back. I had known them for my entire life--seriously, they were around since I was a baby. We had a nickname for them and that's why the six that's apart of my username. I'm not specifying what the nickname was.
The other part of my username is a reference to my mom's name. No, her name doesn't start with X. It starts with J, but I've decided to keep it as X to make a little XO sort of w/ the Xaosix. In case you can't see it
XaOsix
The XO is for both her and the person.
If I end up changing my user or online name twenty times and twenty times again, this is something that will always remain the same. It just...hits a bit different when people call me that instead of potato.
As for potatoanarchist...yeah, the reason is a tad sad, too. I've had this...mentality for the past few years that has proven to be incredibly detrimental. And I've always tried to get rid of it, like an anarchist would their government, but it's always felt too small. Like a potato. But then I smiled and got the idea that maybe I could make somebody smile with that username, a small thing ( a potato ) lightening their mood ( anarchist ). So I kept it.
You'll soon notice a lot of the decisions I make are born from personal experiences/ideas.
Deepest apologizes if this just depressed you and ruined the mood of this entire tag game 😭 extra sorry if you were already tagged I really don't know
So I already wrote in a post my old username (childofelite) wich Is maybe better than the one I have rn...
Basically this one is staramg12. Star becouse that's my art name I use EVERYWERE. Amg is for shortening the my fav F1 (Mercedes am-Petronas F1 team) and 12 becouse that's the age when I discovered Tumblr and started a massive use on it but I created the account later...
So umm when i was 8yo i really liked that song called "el gato volador" that lit means the flying cat. When i tried to put it as my roblox username it was already occupied so i just put "gatos voladores"(flying cats) and now its the name i use bc i cant be bothered to make another
Uhh, I thinkkk I first made this user in middle school for a roblox account lmao and it stuck for other accounts. We had just gotten our dog and ig that’s where it came from, not that much of a special story lolz
i really do believe that heterosexual historians who never did any critical gender/sex studies in their lives could never, ever understand that people WILL be gay regardless of risk. having intimate relationships with people of the same gender is an imperative to happiness for people who cannot love the opposite sex. people everywhere in history had sexual relations that would potentially ruin their lives (eg extramarital/premarital) but often we don't know about it because people don't normally leave damning evidence of their actions — they do, however, leave evidence that implies intimacy (leave evidence of their very existence) with plausible deniability.
but why when it's a gay person, all of a sudden it's unrealistic that two people could have been intimate because it would have been dangerous or like, some other bullshit excuse (Ronald "too cold in valley forge" "no time for it" Chernow, i'm looking at you).
because why is physical intimacy only extraneous, a time-waster, an unnecessary and implausible dalliance only when it's gay?
thinking about this a lot lately as I'm establishing myself more as a queer historian, and realizing through my undergrad that queer history remains under-studied because it is not taken seriously, and implications of queerness throughout history have been brushed off by historians (and whatever chernow is) who seem to have authority on a topic/person but do not make an honest effort to understand queer experiences in history, often because they simply do not SEE it.
anyway, realizing it's valid to want to focus on queer history and write about queer people during my master's is healing. also, realizing i do have authority to critique historians and other academics. not only is it a part of discourse and learning, but it is right to question traditional ways of thinking and interacting with people in history that are outdated and harmful.
I think you are entirely right. The norms have been set in stone for decades by historians that can't even grasp the concept of 2 people of the same gender loving each other before the 2010s. To deny the mere possibility is quite frankly - in my opinion at least - historical dishonesty. There is nothing that genuinely, concretely denies that hypothesis apart from underlying homophobia and the very real lack of understanding of how queer people lived before queerness was finally more or less accepted.
Queerness could only exist behind closed doors so obviously the only traces we'd have would be letters between two individuals who probably never thought said letters would be read and the fact that so many historians go against that hypothesis based on the "risks" baffles me. It completely disregards the endless ways queer people have always found to communicate and be together: codes with flowers, with handkerchiefs, with shoelaces; moments behind closed doors where no one could see. And the point you bring up of adultery is so so true. If women were willing to take the risk of cheating on their husbands, two queer people could be willing to take the risk too.
Imo, the idea that the game is not worth the candle basically is genuinely a critical lack of understanding of what queerness is and means as an identity. There are still people TODAY who live in countries that would do to them what was done to queer people in the 19th century: beatings, humiliation, death, and they still take the risk. It's infuriating to think that so many historians think of these suggestions as illogical on the mere basis of their own narrow-minded assumptions.
I sincerely hope that our newer generation of historians, whether queer or not, will be more open about queerness of the past.
dailybridgerton
snowghoul
gummygunk
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
