This website is a perfect example of why we as a society progress so slowly. It’s always “us vs them”. You’re either the worst person on earth or a perfect angel. That isn’t how the world works. Yes there are true monsters in the world but coming on here you’d think every person who’s ever done anything that might even be considered slightly wrong is a terrible demon. People sending my friend anon hate because Ewan Mcgregor didn’t make a strong enough public statement against Weinstein for their liking. People saying anyone who bought a ticket to one of the x-men movies directed by Bryan Singer supports pedophilia. People going back to interviews from 3, 6, 10 years ago to find something they can twist to be a reason enough to hate someone. I’m tired. I’m so very tired of all the of damning anyone who doesn’t fit into a purity that doesn’t exist.
A/N: not gonna lie, i’ve been procrastinating on writing this, because i had a brain fart. fyi for all you new writers out there, maybe write an outline before writing something. would really help the process, just saying. besides that, enjoy!
You nodded at all of them, putting the pen in the pocket of
the pants you were given. You saw Hamilton’s face drop, and a small snicker
from Mulligan. You stood up, giving all of them a quick glance, finally landing
on Hamilton’s face.
“So, how am I going to get back home?” You asked the men.
Lafayette looked at the others, then shrugged.
“No idea, miss. Maybe we can create this machine you call a
moving paper that you research words on. How you say…?” He asked, waving his
“A computer. It’s called a computer.” You mumbled. “But you
haven’t even created electricity, and the first computer was in the 1900s. So
there’s no way that’s going to happen.” Laurens bit his lip.
“Electricity? What is this electricity?” Laurens asked,
looking at his friends for help.
“And you said 1900s. Does this mean that the colonies still
exist at that time?” Hamilton asked after.
“And why do you speak these strange words, are you trying
to confuse us?” Mulligan questioned, crossing his arms.
“I am very of the confused.” Lafayette sat on the stool
next to Hamilton’s desk, putting his head in his hands. “These English people
are more fusing than the empire.”
“fusing? Don’t you mean confusing?” You helped, and
Lafayette nodded. “Guys, I get it, it’s strange to hear about this stuff.
Honestly, I want to tell you everything, I do. But I don’t know what could
happen. I mean, I told you about a pen, and you guys thought it was witches-“
“That was Hamilton.” Mulligan pointed out, gesturing
towards the man. Hamilton looked at you shyly, glancing down at the floor. You
smiled at him, then looked back at Mulligan. He winked.
“That’s not the point I was trying to make. You see, even
mentioning these things can change the course of the world. I mean, I’ve
watched so many films about time traveling…” You trailed off, looking at the
perturbed men in front of you.
“Are you talking about something like Gulliver’s Travels?”
Hamilton asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the reference. “I want to help
you, Miss Y/N. Anything with what you might need, I am here to help you.” He
stared at you intensely, his eyes never leaving yours.
The five of you talked like this for a while, trying to
come up with the best ideas. Mulligan mentioned a gypsy that he “knew” the
other night, but you dropped that idea, not wanting to deal with any type of
magic. It just doesn’t seem realistic to you. Laurens had few ideas, one was
for you to pretend to be a man while you were staying inside the tent. You
denied that idea too, since it might make you fight in a battle you certainly
weren’t ready for. Lafayette did not have much to say, sometimes interrupting
your chats with random questions. Hamilton paced back and forth across the
tent, his hand under his chin and his eyes lost in his head. You admired how
hard he was thinking about this.
“How about this, Miss Y/N. You go to a fortune teller, and
they may be able to help you find out the answer.” Mulligan pumped his fist in
the air, happy his idea was chosen. You sighed, looking at his antics. “Listen,
this makes the most sense. Since this is, in fact, a supernatural occurrence,
we might need supernatural help. Even if it is a witch.” All the men shuddered
at the thought, besides Mulligan. He was grinning widely.
You told them earlier that they did not have to use miss
when addressing you, but they seemed to ignore your request, continuing to call
you this anyway.
“I have the woman’s address, if you want to write her a
letter.” You forgot that they did not have phones, and frowned. Sending a
letter would take too long, and you needed help as soon as possible.
“No, we go to her tonight. Miss Y/N needs help as quickly
as possible. There’s no time for waiting.” Hamilton replied, reading your mind.
He glanced over at you, as if he was asking if this was okay. You nodded,
touching his arm. He blushed at the contact, and you let go quickly.
Right, no touching.
“I agree, but we should wait until morning. You four must
be exhausted, and it’s been a long day. Especially for you.” You looked at
Hamilton. He nodded slowly, turning towards the men.
“Tomorrow morning at four we leave to the witch.”
“Gypsy.” Mulligan corrected, causing a glare from Hamilton.
They all began to walk out, but not before glancing over at me.
“Where is Miss Y/N going to rest? She cannot sleep in a
man’s tent.” Lafayette said. You shrugged, looking around for a blanket. You
saw one hanging up in the corner, and pointed to it.
“I’ll just sleep on the floor, not a big deal.” They all
gasped, shaking their heads quickly. They were all speaking at the same time,
and it was hard to understand everything that was being tossed back and forth.
You barely deciphered what was going on, and watched their ranting to each
Lafayette: No lady sleeps on the floor, not even in
the middle of a war.
Laurens: She can sleep in our tent, Laf. No one
would mess with her if she’s there.
Lafayette: That is the truth, Laurens. Our tent is
very safe for females.
Mulligan: The way you said that Laf made you sound
quite strange. And creepy.
Hamilton: What are you trying to say? She’ll be
just fine in mine! And she met me first, so she’ll be the most comfortable in
Mulligan: She could sleep in mine.
(besides Mulligan): NO!
“Okay, guys, okay! I’m standing right here, and you’re
ignoring me. Hello?” You tried to speak through their arguing, but they talked
You decided to grab the cover you found in the corner of
the room, beginning to make your makeshift bed on the floor. They didn’t notice
you creating the mat on the floor, but their arguing grew louder. You tensed
up, hoping no one heard what they were talking about exactly. After you took
one of the sheets from Hamilton’s bed, you laid on the ground, turning your back
to the men.
“Miss Y/N, right you’ll be fine in here, right?” Hamilton
said, noticing your figure on the ground. You were soon sound asleep, tired of
listening to their talking. Hamilton turned back to the men, smiling. “She’s
safe in here with me, friends. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” They all walked
out the room, Mulligan grumbling something about Hamilton always getting his
way. Hamilton blew out the candles in the tent, making his way to the cot.
He hated leaving you to sleep on the floor, so, while
making sure you were sound asleep, he picked you off the floor, placing you on
his bed. You mumbled something about cupcakes, he has never heard about cups being made into cake, and he pulled
the sheet on top of you, knowing that the nights grew quite cold around here.
He took himself to the floor, laughing softly at the
makeshift bed you created. You were very different, different from anyone he
has ever met. As Hamilton adjusted to the curve of the ground, he faced you,
watching your body lift and fall from the breaths you took. He was interested
in learning more about you, more about where you were from. Of course he wanted
you to go back to your home safety, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his
chest. He’s only just met you, and he wanted you to stay with him if possible.
He closed his eyes, dreaming of you and him sitting in the
tent, talking about nothing and everything.
Hamilton opened his eyes, their gaze immediately landing on
the empty cot in front of him. He scrambled off the floor, looking around the
room. You were no where to be found. He panicked, mentally slapping himself. He
should have slept in front of you, he should have been paying more attention.
Hamilton began to shake, scared of what might have happened to you. He heard the
tent door rustle, and looked towards it quickly. You walked in, wearing an
elegant dress. You smiled at Hamilton, and he sighed in relief, his hand
against the left side of his chest.
“Are you all right, Hamilton?”
“Y-Yes, Miss Y/N. I am fine, how are you, did you sleep
well?” You nodded, smoothing down the fabric. He was smiling at you, and you
wondered why he was so happy. He was scanning your figure, looking at your new
“I slept fine. You put me on your bed, did you not?” You
cringed at your poor attempt of speaking how they did in the 1700s. Hamilton
did not seem to notice, but his face reddened.
He was spitting out words fast, making your head hurt. “I,
I’m sorry for touching you, Miss Y/N. It is improper, and I should not have-“
“Whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, Ham. It’s fine, I am not
warning you not to do it again. I’m, I’m thanking you. Thank you, Alexander,
for lending me your bed for the night. I really appreciate your kindness.”
Alexander smiled at you shyly, looking down at the ground.
“There is nothing that I would not do to please you, Miss Y/N.” You laughed
nervously, playing with your fingers.
“Sorry to interrupt this very intense conversation, but it
is four, and we have to leave before rollcall.” Laurens said, peeking his head
in. He looked at you, and smiled. “You look beautiful, Miss Y/N!” You giggled.
“Thank you, John. Hercules picked it out for me.” You heard
a snorting in the background, and looked at Alexander, a forced smile on his
“Of course, it’s Mulligan, it’s always Mulligan.” Another head popped in, his curls pulled back,
except for one. You smiled at Lafayette, and he winked at you.
“Hurry up and get ready, mon ami. We have to leave.” You decided to let Alexander get
himself together, leaving him in the tent alone. You did not notice the jealous
glare when you mentioned Mulligan, or how his eyes stayed on your dress for a
little too long. Lafayette and Laurens hid you on the way to the tree where you
said that all of you would meet.
Laurens mentioned what type of relationship that you have
with Hamilton, and you just shrugged. “Nothing really, we did just meet
yesterday. I barely know him.” You replied, causing a snicker from the Irishman
leaning on the tree.
“Courting does not take that long, Miss Y/N. By the way he
goes after you, you may be engaged within a week.” Mulligan teased. You rolled
your eyes, shaking your head at him.
“I’m not gonna marry a man I’ve just met. It takes time,
like maybe a few years?” Lafayette widened his eyes at your response.
“Years? Miss, that’s very strange, I have never heard this
before. The longest time I have heard was a few months.” You shrugged your
shoulders. Being married in a few weeks? No way, that’s insane. Well, at least
it was to you. The strange looks that the three men gave you made you guess
that that was a very common occurrence. Hamilton finally came out of his tent,
without his revolutionary uniform on. You then noticed all the men were without
their uniform, wearing what you suppose was casual wear.
You all followed Mulligan to the woman’s address, the
friends laughing and joking along the way. There were few people up this early
in the morning, and the ones you saw gave you all strange looks, their gaze
mainly focusing on you. You felt like an outsider, covering yourself with the
jacket that Laurens gave you. After about a half an hour or so of walking, you
walked up to the woman’s house. Mulligan knocked on the front door.
Within seconds, a woman appeared on the other side. She
glared at Mulligan, hitting him on the arm. Mulligan cursed, backing up at
little from her. She was, very interesting. The ruffles on her sleeves cascaded
down to the floor, her dress long and wide. You glanced down at yours, thanking
the tailor that he gave you one less attention-grabbing.
“Sir, I told you to never see me again. Why are you on the
porch of my home?” She glared at the other men around her, her eyes finally
landing on me. “Miss Y/N, I’m sorry that you have to deal with these men,
especially him.” She nudged Mulligan.
How did she know your name?
“How did you know her name?” Hamilton asked, standing
slightly in front of you. You peeked over his shoulder, glancing at the woman.
She laughed, opening her door wider.
“This man did not lie when he said I could help you. Come
in.” All the men shared a glance with one another, then entered the home. You hoped
that she could help you get back home.
so many tdf updates lately i’m ON FIRE. This one is a bit special sorry the dad isn’t here, I promise he’ll be back soon. Also please keep in mind that those comics have no chronolgical order whatsoever alright
How would the team (romanced and not) react to some one bashing the Inquisitior for being Bisexual. It's a common thing, and lots of people believe that if your Bi, you're twice as likely to cheat, or you're being greedy, or just making it up. It's worse when people say they you've been faking it and that there officially " straight" or "gay/lesbian" now depending on the partner. Even some lesbians and gays bash bisexuals.
Iron Bull: He’d bash their freaking skull in if he could. Instead, he towers over them, the Inquisitor hugged protectively to his side, and scowls menacingly. “Could you say that one more time? Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Then he hustles the Inquisitor away for crazy strong drinks and comfort. If Romanced: Pretty much the same thing, but he’ll kiss the Inquisitor before leading them away and make loud comments about how much he loves them as they drink.
Cassandra: Her head whips around toward the one who made the comment and for a second she’s sure she didn’t just hear what she thinks she heard. But she looks at the Inquisitor and sees that look, the one that means they’re hurt and trying not to show it, and she knows. She storms over and says absolutely nothing, but she glares down the offender until they scamper away. Then she pats the Inquisitor awkwardly on the shoulder. “What they think matters not at all,” she assures them. “You are a good person, I know you are.” If Romanced: She storms over takes the Inquisitor’s hand tightly in hers, partly to comfort them and partly to keep herself from flying into the attack and bashing someone’s brains in. Once the offender leaves she turns and kisses her lover. “You are perfect, and you are mine,” she tell them, arms around their neck, uncaring of who could see for once. “I don’t care what they think. I know you are a good person.”
Blackwall: He won’t confront the idiot who said it directly, but he’ll place himself discreetly beside the Inquisitor and glare from the sidelines until they leave. Then he’ll stay beside the Inquisitor, a silent guard to keep idiots away. If they try to thank him he’ll get uncomfortable. “Just doing what’s right,” he’ll mumble into his beard. If Romanced: He’s drawn to the Inquisitor’s side as if magnetized, taking their arm in his. Posture straight, he’ll stare down everyone around them and dare anyone to say anything. No one does.
Dorian: Oh, now they’re in trouble. Dorian definitely heard that, and he glides over smoothly and wraps his arm around the Inquisitor, leaning against them. He then proceeds to ignore the person in front of them entirely and speak of them and all the skeletons in their closet to the Inquisitor as though it is merely juicy gossip. If Romanced: He kisses his amatus right there for whatever pea-brained idiot to see. He absolutely does not care what anyone thinks; he’s spent his life as a pariah but he’ll be damned before his amatus has to suffer like that. He’s a good man and deserves better.
Josephine: Very quickly, the offender loses most of their personal fortune as their business interests flop. They’re all but ruined by the end of the night. If Romanced: She bustles over, friendly and bubbly, and without ever saying a single threatening word makes certain that the offender knows that they’ve just ruined themselves. Then she gives her lover a kiss on the cheek, smiling sweetly.
Sera: Oh HELL NO. Friends are going to mess that piss bag up! But first, a well-placed knee to the crotch. If Romanced: And suddenly honeytongue has a shadow that is kissing her neck while making awkwardly direct eye contact with the stupid piss bucket that would dare to insult Inky. If the offender dares to say anything else, a well-placed knee to the crotch is in order.
Cole: Whoever said it leaves before they even finish the comment, distracted by something trivial. The Inquisitor’s favorite treat mysteriously appears in their hand. “They’re wrong. You’re good. You try to help and your people love you. It doesn’t matter what they think. It hurts, but you know you and they can’t change that.”
Varric: “Let me tell you a story about this time my good friend Hawke did something really terrible, slightly illegal, and entirely blasphemous to someone who said those exact words. Then I’ll tell you a story about the time I did something really terrible, slightly illegal, and entirely blasphemous to someone who said those exact words. Oh, wait, that one hasn’t happened yet. It’s about to!”
Cullen: No, that’s not going to stand. He marches over and calmly begins discussing the intricate and incredibly boring details of trebuchets and their calibration requirements in a very passive-aggressive way. If Romanced: His one-sided discussion about trebuchets becomes vaguely threatening, his smile brittle and the hand that normally rests on his sword is gripping the hilt.
Leliana: With a lovely smile and music in her voice, she curses whoever uttered the insult to the deepest, darkest edge of the Void. Her agents disguised to blend in with the crowd flash weapons and make vaguely threatening remarks until the offender leaves Skyhold altogether.
Vivienne: And the offender has just been socially ruined for the rest of eternity by a small smile and a single question uttered by the Iron Lady. There will be no coming back from that.
Solas: With a smile, he wields kindness as a weapon, exaggerating compliments as the offender grows more and more flustered and embarrassed, realizing that they have mage a tragic mistake by daring to say such a thing to the Inquisitor. If Romanced: His gaze is as sharp as his tongue and if the offender doesn’t start crying right there they certainly will the moment they’re alone. “Do not allow them the satisfaction of hurting you, vhenan. You are perfect exactly as you are.”
Warnings: spanking, dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (no glove, no love), choking
A/N: Thank you @theoraekendeserveslove for posting this brilliant idea that inspired me. I checked and saw no one had written it, so this one’s for you!! This is pure filth, so I hope you dirty minds enjoy!
It was no secret Teen Wolf was coming to an end. Everyone was on their way; getting new acting jobs or working somewhere else, or just taking a break. The past six years had been such an experience for the cast & me and the last ten episodes and the scheduling had been hectic for everyone. Jeff casted so many amazing people and brought back some of everyone’s favorite characters. One person in particular really caught my eye. Dylan O’Brien.
So, as usual, I’m
going throw my unpopular opinion out into the wind rather than
attaching it to one of the 27 posts I’ve seen floating around about
this topic cuz I don’t wanna be ‘that guy.’
I agree with pretty
much everyone that when Cas is brought back, he will be changed.
Something consistent they’ve held through the series (and should
continue to hold) is that death changes a person. I mean… you
really think you can go through dying and coming back completely
Sometimes this has been incredibly obvious (such as Dean
coming back as a demon, Sam coming back without a soul), sometimes
less obvious (Dean returning from hell as a torture master).
fairly common thread throughout the series is that coming
back to life is not a good thing.
a thread that I hope they DON’T change, because it’s NOT a
healthy mindset to have. It
might feel good to the other people in the lives of the person who
has been resurrected, but for the resurrected person themselves, it
generally hasn’t been good.
And at best, I die trying to fix my own stupid mistake. Or…
I don’t die
– I’m brought back again. I see now. It’s a punishment
resurrection. It’s worse every time.
– Survival of the Fittest
Death will change
Cas. And for the life of me, I cannot picture this change being good simply because of where the story is right now.
that is why I don’t want
Cas to be resurrected as a human.
get me wrong – I do want Cas to be human in the end. By choice, not
circumstance. But not yet. Not like this. Not when it has the
potential to be even worse than the last time he was human.
want his humanity to be a good thing.
also still too far from the end of the show. If things get too happy
when the end isn’t as near as we think, you can bet your ass it’s
going to go sour. The longer
it hurts, the more likely it is that we’ll have a happy endgame.)
hmm i'm not good with prompts but: one of the boys is having a horrible day for very trivial reasons (accidentally nicked himself shaving, slammed the door on his hand, phone died inconveniently etc) and then other tries help. cue: (DRUMROLL) SEX but with the one still halfheartedly grumpy
He wakes up slow, to an empty bed. He lays there for a few
minutes, face half-buried in the pillow and making sure his breath comes
steady, even. In half an hour he won’t even be able to really remember what
he’d been dreaming about. No sense in dwelling on it.
He slept like shit, though—they got home late, after dealing
with that annoying bitch of a naiad who’d been drowning guys on Lake Superior,
and he hadn’t wanted to stay anywhere near water, just wanted to get back to
their bed. His ribs are all bruised to shit, and his right wrist—he rotates it
slowly, shuffling down the hall, and okay, maybe Sam’s right, maybe he did
The kitchen’s empty, when he wanders in. No coffee in the
pot, and no grounds left in the jar when he checks. Groceries kept slipping
down the priority list, with the last few hunts they’ve been on. He looks into
the nearly-empty fridge, holding his wrist up against his chest, vague unease
still lapping slowly at the back of his mind. Maybe he can force Sam to make
the run into town. Surely he must’ve earned a day off, by now.
When he heads into the library to try to wheedle Sam,
though, it’s empty, too. He checks his watch—it’s already ten, so Sam ought to
be back from a run if he took one, the freak, and—oh. A note, propped on Sam’s
laptop. Got a tip on a grimoire in Topeka, it says, in Sam’s goofy
handwriting. Home late. Dean drops the note on the table and sighs,
rubbing his eyes with his good hand. Okay, so no lounging around with Sammy. He
can get some stuff done, instead.