linspired

Every day there was self-doubt when I put pen to paper. When I first started writing Hamilton, I had no idea if it was going to be good or if it was just a crazy idea. I had a lot of self-doubt about it,” Miranda told Vanity Fair at the Moana world premiere in Hollywood on Monday night. “But having doubt can be a good thing. If you don’t have self-doubt, you’re probably making some pretty crappy art. Having doubt makes you push yourself farther than you’ve gone before. It pushes you beyond your comfort zone when you’re writing and that helps you get through.

(Submitted by @linspired (and OMFG IS IT AMAZING))

(Heyyy! Here is part 3 of the pain which was started by @historical-bisexual (which she did amazingly). I just got inspired to continue it a little farther (with her permission). Hope you enjoy!)

The news came about in the middle of the night. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat and drop all in the span of a few seconds. Eliza was the one to tell him, his back turned to her because he had been working on something up in his office. It was probably for the best. If she had seen him, looked him in the eye as she read the words “Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight,” she would’ve seen the face of a man breaking; seen the light drain from his face and from his eyes.

She had gone now, albeit reluctantly. After feeling the loving touch of her arms around his neck, Alexander had said he had so much work to do. For once he wasn’t in the mood to talk or to have anyone near.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have done that, because in times of silence he used his words against himself. But what else did an orphan have if not his thoughts and memories to terrorize him?

“You promised all those many nights ago, in the midst of the scent of blood and the noise of the sick, you promised me you’d be here.” Alexander whispered to himself, the shock wearing off. He was still sat at his desk, unable to find the desire to move. “I knew you’d be coming home any day now, you and I would have a victory drink and reunite with Mulligan and Lafayette, perhaps. I was so sure of so many things…”

And maybe that’s what hurt most to admit. All his life, Alexander had never been one to expect things. From the time of his childhood he had always known his time was limited. He looked for death around every corner, longed for it some nights, but it was never supposed to befall his beloved. He was the exception to the rule. He was the exception to the law. He was exceptional.

“Why didn’t they know? Why didn’t those fucking idiots know that the war was already–!” Snap. Alexander let out a gasp as he fell back in his chair, a broken quill between his fingers. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding his quill. He hadn’t realized there were tears running down his cheeks.

“Jesus, John!” Alexander very rarely used Laurens’ Christian name, but his rationality wasn’t reliable right now. “You promised me!” the declaration was ripped from his throat as he pushed away from his office deck and rose to pace on his feet. “I knew you were reckless, I had heard stories, but this… If only I had sent that letter one, maybe two, days earlier, asking you to come with me… We could’ve fought side by side again, except it would’ve been with words and in the safety of Congress, I–”

He stopped. He couldn’t wake Eliza. He kept quiet.

God, he knew deep down he would never be able to allow himself to think of Laurens again, much less speak his name. What tragedy it is to suffer in silence, but Alexander knew himself. He knew the limits of what he could and couldn’t take. He swallowed and breathed deep and wiped the wetness from his eyes.

There was one thing he could do, though it’d mostly be for his own peace of mind.

Alexander retrieved a new quill from the second drawer of his desk, placed a clean sheet of paper in front of him, and began by dipping his quill in ink. As he went to write the first word, his hand stalled.

What do you say to someone who will never reply?

“Stop. Here is fine.” Alexander said to the coachman. South Carolina, a place where he never thought his heart would allow him to be in such a serene state. Henry Laurens had come to collect and properly bury his son a while ago, but Alexander couldn’t bear witness to it right away. Now however, as he walked up a grassy plain, he knew he would never have peace if he didn’t.

In a letter to Mr. Laurens, Alexander expressed his wish to be left alone upon arrival. He supposed that request was respected when no one greeted him on the lawn.

He headed straight for the cemetery to see a mound still relatively new. His heart dropped.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the finality of it all sure wasn’t it. Alexander stuck his tongue in his cheek and went on, biting back tears that were stronger than he was whenever Laurens was involved anymore. He was only there for one reason, after all.

In lieu of this big speech containing all the things he never said or all the regrets he was now realizing, he wrote a letter, neatly packed away with nothing scrawled on the outside. He laid it so that it was being propped up by the stone. When he got back to his feet, one of his hands carefully touched the cool headstone in front of him. “The country has lost a brave soldier, and I have lost a dear friend. No man knew me greater than you, and no man ever will. Adieu, mon ami.”

As he turned to go back to his coach, he felt a cold embrace, and it felt like home.

little things i didn’t know happened in hamilton/had only heard about:

  • people hanging around on the second level observing when they weren’t in a scene
  • maria being there during hurricane
  • when they show philip the reynolds pamphlet oh my god
  • washington’s fucking sword pose
  • eliza booping peggy on the nose
  • all of the company’s costume changes?? i’ve only ever seen the plain white outfits and the soldier outfits
  • eliza’s scream at the end of stay alive reprise. i knew it was coming but i still wasn’t prepared

and like a million more things but those are what stick out the most

also some extra things that happened:

  • jonathan didn’t leave at the end of i know him and instead bounced around on a stool while leslie sang the adams administration and made leslie laugh
  • daveed fucking dabbed when hamilton announced he was endorsing jefferson and i’ll never be over it
Dirty Brooklyn

l

Originally posted by undercoverfandoms

Inspired by this post Created by @actuallyasgardian

Bucky 1940′s x USO Reader Smut

‘Come for me, darlin’. Come on. Don’t be shy, now…all of it.’

She loved when his Brooklyn accent came out, when it was thick and prominent with lust. She had never been to New York and now in the middle of Europe, one of the USO dancing girls in Captain America’s soon to be cancelled tour, she didn’t think she would ever see the place her blue eyed lover was born.

She also loved how Bucky was a master of her body, his fingers curled inside her, massaging something inside her that was making her body spasm and thrash, his fingers worked in and out of her at a maddening speed and the soldier kept goading her. He wanted her to come, wanted her scream his name for the whole barracks to hear and the lewd sound of his digits pumping into her soaking hole as she clenched and pushed against them was her undoing.

'Good girl…Mmm, fuck, so good,’ Y/N let out a helpless whine when she caught his sucking on his fingers as if she tasted like the sweetest honey.

-

'You’re gonna be the death'a me, doll. You’re a dirty little dame, aren’t ya? Do that thing with your tongue again. Ah…shit…’

Y/N’s tongue gave a broad lick along the vein of his cock from root to tip, circling the head in a fancy swirl before using the tip of her tongue to tease his slit. She was supposed to be practising a new routine to entertain the troops, her friends were on the makeshift stage going through the routine whilst she was tucked away in a concealed corner with Bucky. Worshipping his erection with her tongue and lips, getting off on his muffled moans and his hands fisting her hair.

-

'I’m not tellin’ you again, darlin’. You keep bitin'on that lip and I’ll be puttin’ that pretty little mouth'a yours to good use.’

She hadn’t meant to catch his attention, honestly she had just been sat at the bar, swinging her legs playfully as she sucked on the straw of her drink. It was a dance night but Bucky was busy talking strategy with Steve and the super soldier kept sending her apologetic glances – Steve had a good relationship with all of the USO girls and he was considered one of them.

Y/N had been chewing on her bottom lip distractedly, staring off into space when his broad body pressed against her back and he made the playful threat, 'Sorry, Sarge.’ She batted her eyelashes at him and giggled happily when he took her hand and pulled her in to dance.

-

'Is there somethin’ you’re wantin’, doll? You’re gonna have to use some words. Throw in a, “Please, Sarge” and I’ll be real good to ya.’

He was a real tease. Eyes full of mischief and desire as he breathed against her upper thigh, kissing the delicate skin and grinning at her desperate little mewls, 'I want your mouth on me! I wanna fuck your face, Sarge! Please, Sarge!’ There was no room to ashamed, to feel the sting of humiliation to be begging so filthily just for his perfect mouth to ruin her.

'Gonna be so, so good to you…’ There wasn’t a single person in the building that didn’t hear her delight when Sargent Barnes’ head dived between her thighs. He always seemed like a starving man, sucking and licking and nibbling at her until there wasn’t a single drop left.

-

'You can take all of it, doll. Good girl. Goddamn honey, you feel so good. You know how good you feel, darlin’?’

He was generously endowed and he made sure she knew it. Making her lungs empty of all air when he held her hips still and pushed himself into her, watching as her body stretching around him and slowly swallowing his length – he knew she was too full but would keep going, forcing her to take all of him whilst telling her how good she was. And when he was balls deep, when it was impossible for her to take even a millimetre more, Bucky would pause just to feel her hot, wet walls hugging him tightly, throbbing and clenching so deliciously that she would come just from being full.

When Y/N’s trembling spasms calmed and when he could feel her juices leaking out around him, creating a damp patch on the bed, he would fuck her – hard and fast. Ploughing into her as her thighs spread further and his name was the only thing she could utter.

-

'Shit…ah hell, honey. I’m gonna- shit. Shit, come here, take it. Take it, fuckin’ hell, doll, yeah. Just like that, darlin’. My god, you beautiful girl.’

Y/N always forgave him when he fisted her hair and pushed himself a little further into her mouth than she was comfortable with, she would leave angry scratches down his thighs and try to swallow around his length, try to take his load as gracefully as she could and she would forgive that his body would lock and he’d just bury himself until she almost chocked because she was the cause.

She made him whimper and moan, made him lose his wits until that primal, urgent need to take what he needed and wanted took over. Bucky’s body sagged against the wall, knees unable to keep him up as he slid to the floor with her and he would lick his lips and give her a lopsided grin. His thumb caught the string of seed that had escaped and dribbled down her chin, caressing her lips until she opened up and sucked the remainder from the digit, 'You’re my best girl…you know that right?’ Y/N blushed and nodded as she watched him pant, admiring the glow of his skin as he came down from orgasm, 'Such a good girl for me.’

@thiddlestoff @lostinspace33 @addalaidehoran @lilasiannerd @aliisa-jones