Time Travel (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N somehow finds herself in Hamiltime and struggles to keep her secret.

Pairing: eventual Philip x reader

Warnings: language, unedited, talk of slavery and religion (Christianity)

Word count: 1,876 words

A/N: Part 2. I have no idea what I’m doing but I’m trying to make this as historically accurate as I can so I’m doing hella research and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life anymore. I don’t know if I like this part, but here it is.

Part 1

Philip was trying.

You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, but he made sure not to show it. Your hair was shorter than most girls kept it and he couldn’t stop thinking about your big [Y/E/C] eyes. Everything about you hit him like a brick wall. The way you were dressed, the way you acted, how clueless you seemed to be about everything. After all, you had walked into his home not having any idea whose it was.

He tried to ignore how small and cold you hand seemed in his when you offered it to him. He tried to avoid looking at your exposed chest and legs. In a time where showing as much as an ankle was considered risqué, here you stood with your calves and forearms completely uncovered, the area between your breasts out on full display as well. He couldn’t look at you long without thinking about how little you were covered and feeling the need to look away before you caught him.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” he said lamely. You looked at him incredulously.

“I’m sitting here in pants and you’re worried because I’m not wearing shoes?”

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anonymous asked:

What project would you move onto if furries became perfect and never fought or did bad things again?

We’d not have to run this blog and play games or something else.

IDK, this is just a side thing, it doesn’t run our lives.

-Pigeon Mod

Furries become perfect. The fighting is over. 
I walk out of my front door into the light of day, it feels somehow newer than usual, the air feels somehow cleaner, crisper. A songbird trills in the distance, a soft aria rising into warm crescendo before trailing off once again, it gives way to other sounds. The breeze in the leaves. The distant sound of traffic reminding us all that we are never truly alone, that we exist as a constant in the lives of others even as simple background noise.

It rained that morning, lightly so, but the concrete still gives off that strange, bitter scent it always does, it is an odd harmony with the petrichor of nearby dampened soil and the carefully tended shrubs lining the apartment building, but harmony it is nonetheless.

I reach up towards the sky, clear spatters of blue against the parting clouds of charcoal grays and bone whites, like paint messily splashed upon a canvas. As I do so, I age three hundred years over the course of a few fleeting minutes, falling into the sweet embrace of an ending. It is done. My curse is finally lifted.

I’m Free.

- Boar Mod

Lmayo, you can tell when I’m in to a series cuz my art style isn’t so consistent.
THIS MONTH: It’s all about Fire Emblem Awakening.

On a bit more serious note: I want you all to sincerely have this gift.

DATE: 09/11/2016

Not many will read what I have to say, and maybe hate will come???
but either way…

If you took the time to read all of it, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I will try to keep making them comics in hopes that’ll brighten up your night or day. I’ll try to avoid sad posts on my happy… happy… blog????

I Have a Thought… 

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Never Home

Request: Can you write one where you’re depressed and he doesn’t know because he’s always gone and you get drunk and yell at him about it and you can take it from there??

Warning: Mentions of depression, drinking, suicide (not main character) and also a major plot twist

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The art of writing is not as solitary as one might think. When it finally dawns on us one day that our task as writers is to share what we know of the human spirit, we suddenly discover that we were never truly alone.
—  Hal Zina Bennett
Please take care of yourselves today; the best that you can.

Take baby steps if you need to, that’s perfectly fine.
Celebrate every little accomplishment like “Hey! I actually woke up on time and feel rested!” to “These are my favorite article of clothing and I can wear them!” They might seem silly and pointless to others but they are important to YOU and that’s what truly matters.

you got out of bed today - I am proud of you.
you stayed in because you felt you needed more rest - I am proud of you.
you managed to eat a little bit today - I am proud of you.
you remembered to stay hydrated and take you meds - I am proud of you.

for constantly picking yourself up and finding a way to get yourself going despite every time you stumbled or fell – regardless of how long you were done – you got up and you’re still here and I am so grateful and so proud of you. that is true strength and I admire you for it. I still have a lot of trouble getting up when I’m face down in the dirt, and I know I’m not alone, but we all have the opportunity and time to keep growing, to keep learning, to keep strengthening our souls and cores.

most of all, we are never truly alone. we have each other to support one another, there are your irl friends and family and your faith or whichever belief system you have faith into (I apologize if I worded that poorly I don’t mean to offend).

I love you all so much, and I want nothing more for you all to be happy, healthy, and to know that you’re loved. You’re all important to me. You’re so kind and caring and understanding of my current condition / situation and I cannot stress how grateful
I am to you all enough for all the continuing messages of love and support. I don’t know what I’d do without you all. I wish I could give back too, but I don’t know how and I’m so sorry.

Okay, I’m done being sappy and rambling… I hope you can forgive me for that and any following lack of activity due to sorting out my condition.

I love you. I’m proud of you. And Papas going to do his best to always be here for you all, okay champs? 💪🏻(`∀´)

Thank you for being here. You’re the best followers in the entire cosmos. ✨💕🌎🌍🌏💫☄☀️🌙

I’ve noticed that a lot of people are really dependent upon relationships. We tend to define ourselves based on our relationship status. We despair over our singleness and we let it influence the way we see ourselves. Then if we do end up in a relationship we let the other person define us and we rely on them for our identity. In all of this, we are letting these limited things that are outside of us determine who we are. We are a “single person” or we are “someones girlfriend/boyfriend.” Then when the relationship grows and progresses, regardless of the health of the relationship we hold on to it so tightly, we are unwilling to let it go because we have let it become our identity. We are who that person says we are, or we are who we are only in relation to that person. That is dangerous thinking. We are becoming dependent on the wrong things. 

We need to be diligent in reminding ourselves to whom we truly belong. We need to remember that our identity is not in who another person says we are, it’s in who God says we are. Our identity is not found in relation to another person, it’s found in relation to the God in whose image we are created. Our identity is not in our singleness because we are never truly alone, we are eternally in relationship to God through his covenant with us. Let him define your identity.

Fic: Game Night

Title: Game Night
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,629
Email: tlynnfic@gmail.com
Summary: They make perfect sense.

Special thanks: To aloysiavirgata, icedteainthebag, leiascully, and dashakay for beta, encouragement, and title suggestions. Squad, you complete me.

Author’s notes: This is a revival AU, so to speak, if any of the rumors are true.

* * *

They’d started out playing gin. But as the sun continued to melt below the horizon, leaving the oppressive humidity behind and one beer each turned into three, Go Fish was the name of the game. It was near dark now, and they sat at their small dining table in the kitchen, the ceiling fan doing little to help cool the air. One bulb was burnt out in the overhead light fixture and the kitchen faucet was leaking, but they’d grown so accustomed to the dim light and the sound of dripping water, it was of little consequence to either of them that he’d promised weeks ago to fix both. His laptop sat open on a chair next to him with a running feed of conspiracy theory chat room conversations on the screen, a quiet ding notifying him of specific words or phrases he was monitoring.

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