thanks mary for sending it in

Guys. I just realized something. Cult End is DEFINITELY the good end for Joseph.

Joseph’s Good End picture involves him sending a postcard. “Greetings from Margaritaville” or whatever. He draws a heart in the sand, winks, and says “Miss You.” It’s an odd thing, because sometimes this picture will appear even if you don’t get the Cult End, which I think is either a hint, or a bug.

The issue is, though, does Maple Bay even have a beach? And the endings we do know as well, the “Staying with Mary and dumping you” bad end, and the “Staying with Mary, but having you on the side to continue an affair” neutral end, seems really odd that we just would get a picture of that if either of those are actually his good end.

Mary and his kids also aren’t present. It’s just a picture of him looking like some smooth criminal with his martini, flirting with you.

So if he sticks with Mary in the other two ends, where is she and their kids? And why did he decide to just randomly send a postcard to us on the beach?

Well, here’s the thing. The Cult Ending, if I understand right, is the only ending where Joseph ends up on the run. Not only because the MC found out about the cult and survived, thanks to Mary’s interference, but because apparently he is being tracked by some division of the FBI for various other crimes as well. (Example, he was apparently embezzling funds from the church he was a youth minister in.)

If he’s on the run, it’s likely he left Mary and his children behind. Though considering the fact that Joseph’s children are literally like, fragments of himself, I fear for the fate of Mary. So they’re out of the picture now. And if he’s one the run, it’s likely he’s going to many different places.

The Good Ending for Joseph is the Cult Ending, because it makes the postcard picture make the most amount of sense. He’s on the run to try and sneak back into obscurity and continue his plans after his embezzling church funds caught up to him, and with how you managed to survive his sacrifice. He’s completely by himself because of this fact, leaving behind the facade he built with Mary and the children.

And now, he sends you a simple postcard. Letting you know you’re still on his mind. Letting you know that he’s not done with you yet.

Letting you know it isn’t over yet.


“Send to all MCs in the world!”

No matter which character is, good or bad, they all contributed much to the story, thanks for bringing us such a great game Cheritz!

SKAM S04E04 Clip 3 - Don’t Judge Me

NOORA: What is it?
SANA: I’ve done some research.
NOORA: Okay?
SANA: I know how you’re gonna get over William. What are you doing on Friday?
NOORA: What are we going to do?
SANA: You have to wait and see.
NOORA: No! You know what? I don’t like surprises.
SARA: Hi! Did you see my e-mail?
SANA: Yes, but I haven’t had the time to reply. Can’t you just contact Mari about the payment yourself?
SARA: Yeah, but do you have her e-mail so I can send her the contract proposal?
SANA: Nooo.. Noora, do you have it?
NOORA: I think so, maybe. Just check my e-mail.
SANA: What’s your e-mail then?
NOORA: Loglady997.
SANA: Password?
NOORA: exper5. You haven’t..? It’s a totally normal password.
SANA: How do you write it? E, k, s or..?
NOORA: Oh my God.
SANA: E, x or? C?
NOORA: Yeah, just wait, oh my God don’t judge me for my passwords. Here! Just look there.
SANA: What’s her name? Mari Espeflaten?
SARA: Thanks! I’ll send you a copy.
SANA: Yes. Okay, you’ll join on Friday? Hello! Come on!
NOORA: Oh my God, how stoked are you?
SANA: Yes. I’m stoked for you getting over William, you know? Because I’m a good friend.
NOORA: Yeah, what are we doing then?
SANA: But-
NOORA: Tell me, tell me.
SANA: Are you joining if I tell you what we’re doing?
SANA: Come on, or I won’t tell you.
NOORA: Okay, tell me what we’re doing.
SANA: We’re going to a café.
NOORA: We’re going to a café?
SANA: Yes.
NOORA: That’s.. Which one?
SANA: Now you’re asking too much.
NOORA: No, I’m just wondering.
SANA: It has to be a bit of a surprise.
NOORA: But what are we doing at the café? Are we just having a cup of coffee and enjoy ourselves or is something happening, is it like..?
SANA: It’s not dangerous. It’s just a café. You’ll have to wait and see.
NOORA: Oh, you’ve started rhyming too?*
SANA: Yeah, naturally.
NOORA: I’m coming with. No..
SANA: Never speak to me again.
NOORA: Okay..
SANA: Exper55.. What rhymes with that?

[*Sana says some sentences that rhyme in Norwegian.]

anonymous asked:

Joseph has a gardening hobby and loves pressing flowers.

Okay but better yet he’s one of those stereotypical lawn dads who has the greenest lawn in the neighborhood but, once Christie and Christian got old enough, they started to ask their dad why they never had any flowers in the lawn like the other kids which makes sense y’know he cuts it on time so they never get the pretty weed flowers like the dandelions and clover.

So he immediately takes them to the nearest Home Depot and picks out a bunch of soil, rocks, and the flowers they want (Christie wanted all the yellow flowers b/c that’s her favorite color, but Christian demanded that they give every color the respect it deserved so it’s basically a rainbow garden).

They spent the entire rest of the day making a big garden next to their patio full of flowers (Joseph did most of the digging and stone lifting, but the twins were happy to help lay the landscaping fabric and Chris was actually surprisingly eager to help plant the plants - he was so gentle, too!). Mary brought them lemonade and icey pops every so often to keep them hydrated and to chuckle at how messy her husband and kids managed to get in so little time. Eventually, she set up a lawn chair and read a book as she watched, squealing and running the second Joseph tried to give her a hug because like “you’re absolutely filthy and this is my nice dress stOP JOSEPH I SWEAR TO EVERY SAINT-

The day was full of laughs and giggles and, to this day, it still acts as an important part of their lives. Christian waters the plants every morning and Christie sings at them (it’s now mostly creepy nursery rhymes at this point, but she still sings at them) every spring to promote healthy growth. Chris seems oddly calm near the garden, just sitting and looking at the flowers, and Crish has been caught more than once trying to eat the pretty buds.

Not only is Joseph’s lawn still the greenest and most pristine, but that flower garden is still one of the prettiest features of the cul-de-sac.

zapdos007  asked:

"But what if she doesn't like the real me"

“But what if she doesn’t like the real me?” Queen Bee asked, looking at the view from Marinette’s balcony. There was a nervous shake to her voice, one that revealed how scared of rejection she really was.

Marinette put a hand over hers and gave her a meaningful look. “If she’s anything like the person you’ve showed me, then there is no way she won’t like you. You’re a great person, Bee, and even if you haven’t always been nice, well… people grow and change, you know? It’ll be alright.” She gave the heroine a reassuring smile before clapping her on the back. “Now get outta here and prepare to talk your mystery lady into forgiving you,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah… yeah! I’ve totally got this!” Bee exclaimed, jumping to her feet. She waved Marinette goodbye and flew off.

“I do not totally have this,” Chloe whispered, her hand held out to knock on the door of a certain baker’s daughter’s residence. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, gently banging her head on the door. “Ugh, she’s never going to like me back.” Another thump against the door. “Even though she said that to Bee, she didn’t know it was me talking about her.” Thump. “Why.” Thump. “Did I.” Thump. “Decide.” Thump. “To do this?” Thump, thump, thump. “God, she’s going to hate meeeehi,MadameDupain-Cheng!” she squeaked when the door suddenly opened. Marinette’s mother stood before her with a kind smile.

“Hello, dear, are you here to see Marinette?” she asked in an equally kind way.

“I, uh, that is-”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll call her down for you. Come in, come in, she’ll be down in a minute,” Sabine told her, ushering her inside. Before heading up the stairs, she gave Chloe a knowing look, which only made Chloe more nervous.

She stood at the bottom of the steps for some time, heart jumping at ever sound that came from the rooms above her. She almost reached for the door to leave when she heard a shout of, “I’m coming!” and a loud crash. It was only a few seconds after that that Marinette slid to the top of the steps and climbed down them, only stopping when Chloe was directly in front of her.

Neither of them said anything, and while Marinette’s eyes bore into Chloe, Chloe’s looked anywhere but at her.

Finally, Marinette spoke. “Can I help you with something, or…?”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, kind of? Look, I just wanted to say that I’m.” She swallowed down the lump that threatened to form in her throat “I’m sorry. F-for the stuff I’ve done to you. I don’t have any good excuses for what I did, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just. Needed to tell you.” When Marinette didn’t say anything, she slumped in defeat. “Right. I’ll go now, s-”

Her words were cut off by Marinette throwing her arms around her. She froze in place, not even daring to breathe in case it broke the magic of the moment. Unfortunately for her, Marinette moved away anyways (and all too soon, if Chloe were honest with herself).

“I forgive you,” she said brightly, beaming at Chloe.

“You… you do?” she asked, awe in her voice and expression.

“Sure. You seem sincere enough, and I think this is like… the first time you’ve ever actually said sorry to someone. You didn’t make any excuses and you didn’t try to place the blame elsewhere. That’s really admirable. So, I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Chloe breathed, sighing in relief. “I think I should, um, go now? But maybe in school we could start. Talking. And helping with makeup. And things.”

“That sounds lovely,” Marinette agreed. She waved goodbye when Chloe did, and just before the door closed behind her, Marinette called out, “Oh, and Chloe!” Chloe turned to listen. “I want you to know that I meant it when I told you you were a great person.”

Chloe smiled. “Thanks, Marinette.” The door closed, and only when she was halfway home did she realized that Marinette hadn’t said anything about her being great during their conversation. She did, however, tell Bee that she was great.

Her limo was filled with a shriek and a plea for the driver to bring her back to the Dupain-Cheng’s.

Send me a sentence starting a fic and I’ll write 5(+) more!  No longer accepting prompts for this from this point on!

I just got this comparable visual in my head and had to share it –>

(mostly it just made me smile) :)

@canthydefromthelicht sent me kuromahi + new year’s festival so here’s a little thing we kinda wrote together :3

At a New Year’s festival, Mahiru clings to Kuro while Kuro’s eating cotton candy so they won’t get separated. Despite not being Mahiru’s usual behavior, Kuro finds in himself that he doesn’t dislike it as much as he should. Maybe ‘cause it’s Mahiru and not someone else. 

Yet, he sighs and mutters his well known 'can’t deal’ as they make their way into the crowd. Meanwhile, Mahiru can feel his heart racing and his cheeks turning a bright shade of red, whilst he avoids any possible eye contact with his partner.

“Want some?” Kuro says, his words startling Mahiru “Cotton candy, I mean" 

"N-No, I’m good. Thanks” being aware of how close they are, Mahiru can’t look Kuro in the eye

“Are you planning to avoid me for the rest of the night?” the vampire’s voice has a little bit of disappointment on his tune as he say so “Should I remind you this was your idea to begin with?" 


"I just came here because you said there was something you wanted to show me” Mahiru’s hold gets tighter on his arm, as the words sink in “What was it? The thing you wanted to show me”

“” he mumbles, Kuro tilting his head in response “I want you to see the fireworks with me!" 

That’s the first time Mahiru lock eyes with Kuro that night..

SKAM Season 4 Episode 4 Clip 3: Don’t judge me

Noora: Hello!

Noora: What is it?

Sana: I’ve done some research

Noora: Okay?

Sana: I know how you’ll get over William. What are you doing on Friday?

Noora: What are we doing now?

Sana: You’ll find out.

Noora: No! You know I don’t like surprises.

Sara: Hi! Did you read my e-mail?

Sana: Uh yeah, but I haven’t had time to reply, but can’t you just contact Mari yourself about payment?

Sara: Yeah, but do you have her mail, so I can send her the contract proposal?

Sana: No, Noora, do you?

Noora: I think, maybe … Just check mine. 

Sana: What’s your e-mail?

Noora: loglady997

Sana: Password?

Noora: exper …

Sana: Huh?

Noora: exper5?

Sana: eksp ..

Noora: exper. Exper5! Haven’t you heard …?

Sana: How do you write … E-K-S?

Noora: Oh my god. 

Sana: With an X or a C or …?

Noora: Wait! Oh my god, don’t judge me. Here, then you can just look at this!

Sana: What’s her name? Mari Aspeflaten?

Sara: Thanks. I’ll attach you to a copy. 

Sana: Yes. *to Noora* OK. But you’ll join on Friday? Oh, come on!

Noora: Oh my god, so geared you are!

Sana: I’m geared on you getting over William. That’s why. I’m a good friend. 

Noora: What are we doing? Say it. Say it. 

Sana: Are you coming if I say it?

Noora: No! Come on. 

Sana: Okay, we’re going on a café.

Noora: Café? That’s … which one?

Sana: Now you’re asking a lot. Some of it has to be a surprise. 

Noora: What are we going to do at the café? Just drink coffee and get cozy?

Sana: It’s nothing dangerous. It’s just … a café. The rest you’ll see.

Noora: And now you’re rhyming too?

Sana: Yes, you’re paying attention!

Noora: I’ll come with … No …

Sana: exper5 … What rhymes with that?

cat-warnick  asked:

Joseph's kids would probably get him lots of pink things. Like he'd have a hundred pink ties, pink wallets. On Father's Day he gets bagels with strawberry cream cheese. And at first he was a little confused by it since he wore a pink shirt once or twice, but now he owns up to it and absolutely Adores it

*Clutches chest* Okay I love this, oh my God. It’s so easy to imagine! Omg. I love this so much!!

I can picture that like, near his birthday/father’s day every year, Mary calls the kids and they go through Amazon/Target to find him a good gift and the kids absolutely insist that they find him a pink version of something for him. Mary tries to push them towards something he needs like “oh, kids, your dad needs a new mug-” “IT NEEDS TO BE A PINK ONE, MOM!!” Christie and Christian shriek, forcing Mary to slowly put the very much NOT pink cup back. Even Chris joins in, bringing Mary pink things from all over the store and poking the computer screen when something pink flashes up. Mary almost got in trouble once because Chris tried to walk out of the store with a pink journal, but thankfully a store worker understood and was happy to put it back where it belonged.

As a result of all this pinkery, Mary winds up with all the blue stuff, and she’s so confused as well?? Like, she doesn’t even wear blue - she likes deep reds! Not that she rejects any of her kid’s gifts, I mean, that one lamp was just perfect for the living room…But Joseph knows why, because he’s the one who helps the kids buy her stuff on mother’s day and on her birthday. He asked the twins once why, and they simply stated that OBVIOUSLY since blue and pink are like, opposite colors just like how boys and girls are opposites, that means mommy is blue because daddy is pink. He’s baffled, but impressed by their logic. He buys his wife something red every year to make up for all the blue.

Neither of them have completely realized, though, that the kids color coded themselves so they could be like mommy AND daddy.

sorry for the lame gif

Nitya here! I’ve had this blog for 900 years and some of you guys have seen me through one direction, years of regret superwholock, marvel and dc, the 100, sense8, star trek, star wars, and my final form: kpop. the best part of this has been seeing all my old favs also turn into kpop trash blogs  how we’ve stayed together for so long through all this.  anyway here’s me being gross and loving my mutuals (long post ahead)

Keep reading


Hello, my loves!  I’ve unfortunately run into a bit of trouble with my car, which needs some pretty expensive work done to fix an issue with the brakes.  To help pay for this I’ve decided to temporarily open commissions for busts (head + shoulders).  I’ll be opening five slots at a time (first come, first serve) and will update availability as I go.  Thank you!!

Contact Info / Payment

  • Contact me at if you’re interested
  • Payment is via Paypal in USD

Please Include

  • Type of commission (sketch or flats)
  • Commission details (pose, expressions, etc.)
  • Reference images or detailed written descriptions

General Info

  • I’ll start working as soon as I receive payment, and I’ll send you progress shots as I go
  • Commissions can be used however you choose as long as credit is given and it’s not for monetary gain

I Won’t Draw

  • Furries / anthro
  • Mecha
  • Explicit gore / NSFW (I will draw mild versions of each, but I’ll discuss that with you when you contact me)

Let me know if you have any questions!


@casisnotalright submitted:

Fun fact! At the company I work for, we do large weddings, including celebrity weddings, so a common scene in the shop is me crying over the 100th or so arrangement in the same style I’ve made since 8 am and then the one gay guy (freaking Tim) gets to do the single bridal bouquet and I c r y. (I think Yuuri would be me and Mari would be Tim)

HAHA Probably when they worked with their parents when they were younger Mari would absolutely be Tim. 

I think since Yuuri is usually in the shop now his parents and Mari take care of the heftier order arrangements! 

This was so nice of you to send, thank you! I’m learning lots from the florists who view this AU, so I’m always glad to hear from you guys!

jerseydevious  asked:


Shh, sweetheart

Her name was Mary.

Mary Martha Grayson.

He held her gently, cradled in his arms like something precious - and she was, she was precious beyond measure, she was beautiful and perfect and he would die for this little girl in less than a beat of her tiny heart. Her eyes were closed and she slept peacefully, but Bruce had heard her first cries hardly an hour before.

They had been loud and strong and the sound had taken his breath away. He had gone weak at the knee and his chest had tightened so much he’d thought it might burst.

And now he was holding her, wrapped up in her little blanket with her little cap on her head, gazing down at her little face and not even trying to hold back the tears that came to his eyes.

“Bruce?” Dick said softly. He stood beside him, eyes still red-rimmed from crying his own tears of joy at Mary’s birth. “Are you…?”

Bruce looked up, from his granddaughter to his son, and smiled so widely it hurt. His vision was blurred, but he laughed, snuggling Mary closer to his chest and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love her,” he whispered. “I love her so much, Dick. She’s beautiful.”

Mary snuffled in her sleep and shifted a bit, making a tiny, barely-audible squeak.

If Bruce’s heart hadn’t already melted to a puddle on the floor an hour ago, it most certainly would have now.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You can sleep. I’ve got you.”

Six years later…

“Granpa?” Little hands prodded him shyly. “Granpa? Are you awake?”

Bruce opened his eyes blearily and turned his head toward the small, quiet voice. After a second of adjusting to the darkness of the room, he saw Mary’s face at the side of his bed, pale and frightened and wet with tears.

He was awake instantly, lifting his head up off his pillow and stretching his arm out to her, careful not to wake the other children. He brushed away her tears gently, and she brought her hands up to wrap around his wrist.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered. “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?”

Mary nodded silently, bottom lip trembling. Bruce’s heart broke a little; Mary was unfortunately prone to nightmares, and it was rare that she went more than two or three weeks without one. She would wake up from them crying and go to her parents, and Dick and Barbara would let her sleep with them for the rest of the night.

And since she was staying the night with Bruce, Dick and Barbara having been blindsided by some urgent business in Metropolis, she had come to him.

He pulled back the covers and patted the bed beside him. “Climb in here with me,” he said softly. “But try to be quiet, okay? We don’t want to wake the others.”

Mary clambered up, glancing at the three sleeping children that also shared his bed tonight. Her siblings the twins, four-year-old Jade and Jasmine, lay curled around each other like kittens on top of his legs, which had gone numb. Peter - Tim’s son, little Petey, almost two - was on top of him, sprawled across his chest and left arm, which was also numb.

Mary tucked herself against his side, snuggling close as he put his free arm around her. “Do you remember your bad dream?” he asked quietly. He felt Mary shake her head no, and he ran his fingers through her soft hair comfortingly. “That’s alright,” he murmured. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you.”

Mary buried her face into his side. “It was scary,” she whispered.

With a bit of maneuvering, he twisted enough so he could press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Shh, sweetheart. You can sleep. I’ve got you.”


(the google doc for this was titled ‘BATMAN + BABIES’. I felt that was something you’d appreciate knowing)

anonymous asked:

Hello, sorry to bother, but my memory is failing me, and I swore you wrote an obscenely beautiful chapbook on angels, demons, and possibly the twelve disciples as rebels/lovers? Am I misremembering? I know it's a tag, but is it a book? Regardless, thank you for sharing all you have in writing and advice. I'll be sending good vibes as you face the obstacles to come.

Yep, you’re thinking of my chapbook “It Begins in a Garden” by Sarah N.B.

A compilation of my religious poetry and short fiction, IT BEGINS IN A GARDEN runs the gamut from Old Testament to New, the angelic to the eschatological. Full of both reverence and irreverence, humor, tenderness, and always (always) humanity, this anthology is my contribution to our conversation with the divine.

FEATURING such works as:

Blessed Art Thou” — A retelling of the Mary story, human and irreverent.

Five Conversations Between a Waitress Named Maria and an Angel, Recently Fallen” — Americana and angels entertained unawares, in five parts.

We Must Cultivate Our Garden” — A mediation on Eve and all her thousand thousand children in Heaven.

Chrysopoetics” — The world ends softly.

And more!


percyyoulittleshit  asked:

♔: Finding the other wearing their clothes- Percy and Annabeth

♔ finding the other wearing their clothes | Percabeth 

warning: dork alert

If there was one thing in this world that Percy was good at, it was losing things. It was like a superpower. If he’d been a superhero instead of a demigod, his ability would be to lose things. 

Well, that or being able to, like, play the harmonica. 

As good as Percy was at losing things, his yellow sweater shouldn’t have been so hard to find. His “closet” - more like the floor or any flat surface he could toss clothes on - consisted of mainly dark colors, with a lot of blue. His sweater would stick out like a bright fish swimming in dark waters. 

“Annabeth?” he called. “Hey, babe—”

Oh, right. She’d gone out only an hour ago to run some errands; she’d probably be back soon. Percy checked the time and winced. 

“Where is it?” he hissed, tugging the drawers open again even though he’d looked through them three times now. Percy shoved his clothes to the side and found a striped sock instead. 

“Not the time,” he told the left sock. “Nope. Why is it that everything goes missing and shows up at the wrong time?” 

Percy tossed the offending sock back into the drawer and used his foot to push it shut. He crossed his arms and looked around the room. Curled up on the rug, Yuki lifted her head to look at him, then whined. 

“I know, girl,” he said, sliding down to the floor so he could run a hand over her floppy ears. “Losing stuff sucks.”

She pushed her wet nose into his hand in response. 

“At least someone gets me,” Percy grumbled. He threw up his hands. 

Rachel had asked him ages ago to take part in a photoshoot for saving the bees, and he’d agreed, albeit a bit warily. She’d promised there’d be no glitter or gold paint, so Percy figured it couldn’t be too bad. 

“What am I gonna do, Yuki? Hey, Rach, I hope it’s okay if I’m wearing orange to save the bees—”

A horrible thought occurred to him. 

Percy twisted his fingers together and went to the other side of the room, where Annabeth had her own set of drawers. Their clothes still generally tended to end up in each other’s drawers, but they kept them anyway. He tugged open the top drawer and was greeted with rows of bras and panties, most of them simple but a few lacy with lots of strings. 

He shut the top drawer as quickly as possible, trying desperately not to imagine Annabeth in them — the black one against her warm skin, his fingers sliding under the straps, his lips on hers, then down her neck and—

“Sweater,” he said aloud, sucking in a deep breath. “Sweater.”

He found one in the second drawer. Annabeth’s was a paler yellow - more pastel and quite pretty. He pulled it out, letting it unfold, and Percy grinned. It was perfect. The sleeves were longer than he’d expected, so it’d kind of fit, and there was even a little bee right over the heart. 

Percy took off his shirt and slipped Annabeth’s sweater on. In the mirror in the corner, his reflection stood; he looked at himself and found that it didn’t look half-bad. 

The sweater was just a bit short. Percy tugged at it uncomfortably. On him, it was more like a crop top than anything, which meant he’d be baring his midriff on camera today. At second thought, the sweater seemed like just the kind of thing Rachel would approve of. 

On the bed, his phone buzzed and lit up. 

On your way yet? 

He looked at the time. It was a thirty-minute drive over to Rachel’s studio, so it was just about time to leave. 


On the floor, Yuki’s ears raised. She stood, shaking herself, and looked out of the bedroom excitedly. A second later, the sound of the key in the lock rang through the apartment. 

He shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed the backpack he’d had ready, slinging it over a shoulder. 

The door opened, and Annabeth stepped in. 

“Hey, Percy,” she said absentmindedly, dropping the keys in the little dish by the door and pulling her sunglasses down. She was carrying the groceries, but that wasn’t what made Percy stop. It was the sweater she was wearing - a mustard yellow color, the sleeves long and the sweater baggy, falling to her thighs. 

“Oh,” he said, and she turned to find him still staring at her. “So that’s where it went.”

“Where what—” Annabeth said before looking down. She lifted her eyes back up towards him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really comfy, okay? And is that… is that my sweater?”

He crossed his arms defensively, striding across the room to meet her. “You stole mine first, you thief.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed, looking up at him. Percy couldn’t help it; his mind went back to that top drawer, and he put his arms around her, fingers pressing against the soft sweater at her back. 

“You look nice,” Annabeth continued, and her eyes flicked down to his stomach before flicking back up. Her voice had gone low. “I like this on you.”

Long, calloused fingers found his bare skin; Annabeth’s hands slid up his back, lingering for a moment at his Achilles’ Heel. He shuddered, and Annabeth lifted on her toes to kiss him. 

“Going to Rachel’s?” she asked against his lips.

“Yeah,” he mumbled back, but now that she was in his arms, it was a lot harder to leave.

“Just don’t go,” Annabeth said, and kissed him again. “Stay here with me.”

“That’s a really bad idea,” he said. 

“You’re good at that,” she said, smiling. 

“Yeah,” Percy said. He showed up to Rachel’s half an hour late. 

‘non sexual,’ i said, then proceeded to imply lots of stuff while crying. im sorry mari it wasnt supposed to be like this,,

but… thank u so much i’ve missed percabeth and i struggled with pjo and this made me feel really good it was so good to write <3 

pick one of the following and send me a pairing! (non-sexual acts of intimacy)

Bit of a Flirt

Character/Person : Alexander Hamilton

Pairing : Alexander Hamilton x Washington!Reader; Platonic Washingdad x Reader

Time : Hamiltime

Reader’s Gender : Female

Warnings : Mentions of slaves, Alexander being a huge flirt, thats it this is just pure fluff

Possibility Of Having a Second Part : Not really

Genre : Fluff

Request : None

Word Count : 3196

Summary : You are George Washington’s only daughter and you’re attending a ball being hosted at your house. After hours of people using you to get some sort of connection with your father, you’re surprised to find someone who just wants to know you for you. You find out he’s quite the flirt, though.

“Mother, it’s gorgeous, but it’s just a bit.. I don’t know..”

“Hush, surely you’ll find a way to fit your head in.”

You stood from your seat and reached for the wine red dress. Hooking your hand through both of it’s sleeves, you held it up to your chest and at your mother with a raised brow in question who only eyeballed the dress to find the problem with the dress you were worrying about.

“It’s not my head I’m worried about. It’s just, a bit revealing. It looks like I’m on display.”

Your mother, Martha Washington, nodded in understanding. Or the best she could understand. Taking the dress from your hands she handed it off to a slave that awaited by the doorway. With a hushed whisper into the woman’s ear, she waved her hand and sent the woman off.

You examined your mother, a questioning glint in your eye. She only smiled and shoved her finger into the air, silently telling you to be patient. You decided it was best to obey and remained quiet until the woman returned back with your dress, not wanting to cause any trouble with your family the day that they were all stressing for anyways. And just as you expected, the woman came back with the same dress with small modifications. She returned to your mother with the ruby dress. You noticed a bit more cloth covering the chest area.

“Thank you, Mary.”

Said woman curtsied and made her way back to the doorway to wait for any more things that you might have needed her for.

Your mother turned to you and held it up to your chest, eyeing both you and the dress for your approval.

“Is this better?”

Your let your eyes wander down the dress that was currently being held up to you, admiring every swirl of pattern or trying to look for any splotch of discoloration, none. It was imperfectly perfect. You nodded and thrusted your head upwards to look at your mother.


Martha grabbed one of your hands gently and used it to take over hers, you held the dress steadily as she stepped back and admired you for a few beats.

“Go on and get dressed then, the ball starts soon and we can’t have the host and hostess’s daughter being late, can we?”

“No, mother.”

She left the room sporting a smile with Mary and, from what you could assume, went off to go check on your father.

“Y/N, be done in an hour’s time. I’ll send Mary back up here by then to do your makeup and hair.”

You silently nodded at your mother’s voice that was faint and muffled.

“You look lovely, darling.”

Your eyes darted to your father in the mirror. You could see his figure peeking out from the doorway and into your room from the reflection of your vanity table. Mary made quick work of clasping on your necklace, adjusting it slightly so it was centered right between your collarbones and stepped away from you.

You murmured a quiet ‘thank you,’ and faced your father with a frown.

“Mother want’s me to court someone. She said this ball is a good opportunity to meet someone.”

Your father crossed his arms and tutted his head up in a swift motion.

“My only daughter? Courting someone? No, tell your mother to wait for you to be at least eighty.”

You raised one brow at him and leaned against the vanity, propping up your elbow.

“Dad, I’m not going to wait sixty years to just court someone.” With that, you rotated your seat so you could face the mirror again.

George walked over to you and clamped a hand over your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

“Fine. But if you’re going to court someone, wait a few years before marriage at least. And the man better be capable of courting my daughter. I’ll decide if he’s good enough.” His statement was halfheartedly playful and serious.

You rolled your eyes and slumped your shoulders,

“he definitely requires your blessing for my hand, but I believe I can court whoever I please to.”

He shook his head at your stubbornness,

“sure, honey. Let’s just get you ready and head downstairs and into the ballroom, okay? The Winter’s Ball is going to be the most important one of the century!”

You smiled at your father’s enthusiasm,

“Lucky for you, I just finished getting ready when you came in.”

“Great, then allow me to escort you down.”

Your father held out his arm for you to link and you did so, happily.

Both of you walked out, arm in arm, out of your room and down the extravagant curved stairway that was covered in flowers. You were hauled up in your room all day trying on every dress your mother threw at you that you haven’t noticed the flight of stairs in your house was decorated nicely. Besides the flowers, you were oblivious to the crowd of people that quieted at the sight of you linking arms with Washington. Noting this, he leaned over and whispered,

“Seems you’re the main attraction.”

At his words, you scanned the wave of people with wide eyes. Your eyes shone with excitement as you smiled and let your hand linger over the flowers you passed on your way down.

“Is that Washington’s daughter?”

“Think I have a chance to court her?”


Everybody grabbed someone and whispered among themselves, trying to pry their eyes off of you. Washington smiled at this and grinned,

“with this much appeal, you’ll be marrying someone by the end of the night.”

You laughed quietly, trying to scan the crowd for someone suitable to dance with. It was quick, but your eyes met with brown ones. They belonged to someone who tied back brown hair and a goatee.

“Not without your blessing, of course.” You joked, diverting your gaze from the stranger.

“Good. But, just, don’t go for one of my soldiers, okay? If things go wrong at war I don’t want to risk your heartbreak.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. Removing your hand from the scattered roses you held it up to your forehead, saluting him playfully.

“Yes, sir!”

“Y/N,” He chortled. Removing his arm from yours and placing it on the small of your back, he pushed you forward.

“Good luck.” With those words, you were in the crowd. Instead of getting lost in it, everybody moved aside so you had plenty of room to yourself. You politely smiled and shook hands with anybody and everybody that greeted you. It wasn’t a shock that half of the people that came up to you wanted to have an upper hand than others and wanted to have some sort of connection with the Washington family.

“Ms. Washington,”

“If you want to talk to my father, he’s open. I ask of you, please do not socialize with me just to talk to my father-” You groaned at your drink, swirling it slightly and spoke without sparing a glance at the speaker. The voice chuckled lightly,

“Actually, miss, I’m here to ask for a dance.” Your eyes quickly snapped up to the speaker and you apologized quickly for the misconception.

“Oh! I apologize,” awkwardly, you laughed.

He held out his hand for you to take, and gladly, you did. You didn’t let it go unnoticed that this was the same man you’ve seen among the flock of people a few moments ago. He had the same chocolate brown eyes you could get lost in. A few strands of hair strayed from his ponytail and onto his face, giving him a frazzled look, but you admired it either way.

“Washington, Y/N.”

He smiled at you and placed a hand against your clothed waist.

“Hamilton, Alexander.”

You raised an eyebrow and returned the grin,

“Hamilton? You’re one of my father’s soldiers.”

You both swayed to the music. He dipped you low and pushed closer,

“that bad?”

Your feet clanked against the floor with a thud, and you used it as leverage to push yourself up, causing Alexander to stumble a bit.

“I was told not to marry a man that worked for my father.”

His head tilted to the side, and he twirled you before pulling you back flush against his shoulder.

“Who said anything about ‘marriage?’“

Your breath hitched. You just had to say that, didn’t you? God damn you and your loud mouth. But it was too far to turn back now and embarrass yourself further, so instead of backpedaling you carried on with your burst of confidence.

“I believe I didn’t stutter, I just mentioned it.”

His grin morphed into a smirk.

“You’re very straight forward.”

“So I’ve been told,”

from the corner of your eye you could see everybody switching partners. Hamilton seemed to take notice of this too, so he let out a toothy smile and spun you into someone else’s arms.


“’till we meet again, Hamildin.”

“Hamilton.” He corrected, still spinning you.

“Right,” with that, you were in another man’s arms. He had curly hair tied back into a ponytail. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Hamilton was a handful. Sure, you were used to being flirted with, but doing the flirting is something you never imagined yourself to do. It just seemed out of the picture whenever talking to any other guy. You, yourself didn’t realize you had the capability to flirt. And from the results of it, you were proud you did.

“Mademoiselle.” The deep voice startled you a bit but after a bit of composing, you faced your new partner with a bright smile.

“Lafayette, je vous ai manqué!” /I missed you/

“Moi aussi, mon ami.” /me too, my friend/

He paused to take a quick glance behind you and at Alexander, who was currently dancing with Margaret Schuyler. /that’s peggy lol/ His attention quickly diverted back to Peggy once he caught on to Lafayette’s eyes that stood warily on him with a suggestive grin.

“Je vois que vous connaissez le Tomcat.” /I see you know the Tomcat/

“Tomcat?” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head in confusion and amusement.


“il a l'air sympa, charmant, même.” /he seems nice, charming, even/

Lafayette narrowed his eyes at you before breaking out into a grin, quickly disregarding his French language to speak to you straightly.

“You’re falling for him, Y/N.”

“I am not!” You slammed your foot against the wooden floor, mimicking a child’s actions. Lafayette bellowed, spinning you back to Alexander and taking Peggy into his arms from Alexander. Both of you switched partners and now you were back to Alexander, dancing with him and adjusting to the different partner you now sported.

“You just couldn’t get enough of me, could you?” Your eyebrow raised at his words, trying to suppress a roll of your eyes to remain your ladylike aura and the reputation as ‘Washington’s only, lovely, quiet daughter.’ But you couldn’t help but let a little bit of sass slip past your cherry tinted lips.

“Oh? I seem to believe it was the other way around. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of me while I was dancing with Lafayette. Or am I wrong, Hamilton?” He paused his dancing at your comment, freezing his movements, causing your grin to grow twice it’s size. He shook it off, returning back to his smug attitude.

“Please, no formality from such a pretty girl. I’d prefer for you to address me as Alexander,” he leaned into you, pressing his chest against yours. The chocolate brown eyes you adored flickered from your orbs to your parted lips, and you swore his face was getting closer to yours. You could feel his breath fanning over yours, mixing.

“Besides, that’s what you’ll be screaming later.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could a feel a pool of heat swirl around in your stomach. Butterflies swarmed it as you longed to feel his lips against yours. But before you could feel that, your eyes glanced over to the side to see George Washington, your father, getting a clear view of what was happening. He held his glass with champagne with a raised eyebrow, as if he was mocking you he puckered his lips and pressed the rim of his glass against it. You let out a breath and pulled away from Alexander, still in his arms but with enough space so that your face wasn’t inches away from his.

“I think I prefer calling you Hamilton, if that’s alright.”

You could see the disappointment flash across his face and you almost felt bad. Almost.

“No, of course. Whatever fits you best.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand, removing it from your waist and taking a quick scan of the room to make sure nobody had their eyes on the two of you.

“Great! Now let’s get outside before my father starts questioning where I’ve went.”

Hamilton, who was somehow able to mask his disappointment with amusement, trailed behind you and chuckled.

“Someone’s eager to get their dress hiked up.”

You continued to walk elegantly towards your destination, scowling at Hamilton’s words.

“Gross. If you want the privilege of having fornication with me, you’ll have to court and place a ring on me first.”

Hamilton shrugged as you tugged his arm from behind you.

“Guess I can wait for you.”

You smiled at this and removed your hand from his to pull open two tall, grand, glass, double doors. You made your way out onto the balcony. The wind of the night hit you square in the face, brushing past the hair that sat on your shoulders onto your back. Your eyes narrowed from the burst of wind, but you didn’t let it bother so much that you spun yourself and laid your warm fingers against a cool railing.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You questioned, staring up at the night sky. The question was more directed to yourself than him, but he answered anyways.

“It is,”

You were so concentrated on watching the stars twinkle that you almost didn’t register that he laid both of his hands against your waist and pressed the front of his body against the back of yours. With a bit of annoyance that he took your attention away from the view you slightly turned your head so that you could take a peek at him from over your shoulder.

“This seems a little suggestive, what’s the rush? Didn’t you say you could wait?”

He closed his eyes and laid his head against your shoulder.

“I know, and I did.” He opened his eyes to see you smiling down at him. He, too, smiled at the sight.

“I’m not doing this to get closer with your father, or for the sex. God, Y/N, I want to live this moment with you forever.”

You felt your jaw clamp shut and you cheeks burned with something you identified as blushing. Your laugh was small, making it painfully obvious how flustered you were. Quickly, you turned your head away from him to focus on the stars again. Cocking an eyebrow and snickering, he reached forward and placed a hand against your cheek, lightly pulling so you could return to looking at him. You could have easily pulled away and continued to stare at the bright forms of gas that float in the sky, but instead, you turned your head with his touch and melted into it. Once your eyes met with his, you felt something more than just a want. You needed this man. He smiled at you adoringly and you turned your entire body to meet his. 

“Damn, what I would pay to see this forever.”

Both of your brows flew upwards and you laughed loudly, unattractively even.

“That was a sad try, Hamilton.”

He let out a small noise, that could pass as either a scoff or a laugh, you were unsure of which it was.

“You’re adorable when you laugh, much better than the ‘I’m practically the princess of the states’ act you wear.”

You jaw opened in offense as you leaned against the railing and crossed your arms over your chest, puffing it up.

“I don’t put up a princess act!” You huffed.

“Please, I can see the crown sitting atop of your head.” You rolled your eyes and shoved a finger against Hamilton’s chest, pushing him back.

“Oh, yeah?” 

You cleared your throat and let out a quick puff of air.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton. I’m the biggest flirt in the world and I have a strong belief I can get any girl into my bed!” You laughed. He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued,

“If your ego was a person it’d be taller than you.”

“Hey! I’m not that short.” He whined.

“Yeah? I’m almost the same height as you.”

He eyed your head, double taking your height difference. He searched his head for any sort of excuse or comeback,

“you’re wearing heels.”

Your body shook from laughter, not caring about formality with Alexander anymore. You both were beyond formalities at this point.

Lifting part of your dress for Hamilton to see, you wiggled your feet to show that you in fact weren’t wearing heels, but flats. He grunted.

“Okay, I’m short. But I’ve got the brain twice my size.”

Snickering you spoke up,

“don’t forget your ego is too.”

It took a little longer than last time to compose himself, but he straightened out his posture and smiled,

“it’s good to have a big ego. It shows confidence.”

“Yep, narcissism is definitely the way to a girl’s heart.” You quipped.

He inched towards you, thought you didn’t notice it and placed both of his hands against your cheeks, pulling your face against his. The feeling of his slightly chapped lips against your smooth ones cut off your laughter. Your eyes shot open from revelation. Your eyes scanned over his face, checking to see if he meant was he did, but no matter how hard you tried to seek for it all you could see was his closed eyes and flushed cheeks.

After a few seconds of convincing yourself he wanted this, wanted you, you allowed your eyes to shut and enjoy the moment. Though, with the need for oxygen coming in the way, he pulled away and eyed you to check if you regretted anything, just as you did a few seconds earlier. Instead of what he expected to be you pulling away and mumbling about how the kiss was a mistake, you smiled widely at him and let your eyes flutter shut again.

“Damn.” Both of you were breathless from the kiss and from each other’s presence.

Your hands flew to his jaw to hold as his adjusted to your waist, slowly maneuvering downwards.

“Keep your hands above the equator, son.”

Startled from the sudden voice, you jumped away from Hamilton as he did you. Your eyes searched the balcony for the owner to the voice and when it fell flat against the speaker, you groaned and buried your face into your hands, turning more red than you were before.


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