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akucat · 2 years

Text

inbetween candy and kisses

❥ request: Ranpo x reader angst to fluff you can do whatever u want :)!

❥ note: HI ANON thank u so much for being my first request :D i rly hope this is what u were expecting... ik its not heartbreaking angst but i hope u enjoy it nonetheless ^-^

❥ pairings: ranpo x reader

❥ word count: 900

❥ genre / warnings: angst to fluff, mentions of infirmary

Your chest pulses in a hot sizzle of pain. As much as you want to thank everyone for the flowers and the company, you feel as though you're creeping closer to your brain exploding with every lecture Kunikida curses you with.

In any other situation, Yosano would jump at the chance to heal you right up, however, the President had ordered her away on a one-night job with the assumption that you would sustain minimal to no injuries during your own job. One miss step later and you found yourself with three broken ribs and a fractured wrist, not so Armed-Detective like if you'd say so yourself, so you had no choice but to be tended in the infirmary till Yosano's return.

Trying to maintain a smile that you hope appears genuine as Kunikida's words jumble into incoherent sounds while Atsushi and Kyouka hover in concern in the corner of the infirmary, you're grateful when your boyfriend flies into the room almost comically, ushering his coworkers out to provide the two of you some alone time.

And then you finally realise that this is the exact situation you were dreading.

All your pain seems to subside, although you can't tell if it's the painkillers finally kicking in or if your dread regarding the conversation you were certain was going to transpire in a few seconds was drowning out all other feelings.

"How'd it happen?"

You tilt your head upwards to finally look at him. Ranpo had taken a seat on the edge of your bed, brown eyes taking in the splint around your fractured wrist, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Misjudged the attack," You watched as his eyes flickered up to your own, clearly unimpressed by your response. He only sighed, not wanting to push you to say anything you didn't want to share, hands moving to fidget with the rough blanket, moving the fabric between his fingers.

It almost unsettled you as he sat, an overwhelming silence encasing the small room- Ranpo was not acting himself. Your mind failed to register the fact that maybe he just didn't want to overwhelm you in your sorry state, but you decided you weren't having it.

Maybe it was the drugs frying your brain but you decided to speak up, "You know, your partner's sitting in a goddamn infirmary and you're not even going to bother asking if they're okay? If they want anything? Nothing, Ranpo?"

He flinched as you shot his last name at him, rather than the typical adoring pet names. He refused to express any emotions, eyes trained on your lower half. You watched as he hesitantly lifted his head to meet your gaze, "Are you okay?" He spoke as if he was asking himself the question, not you.

"No, I'm not okay Ranpo! I'd appreciate it if you'd even show a little concern!"

If you hadn't felt the tension before, you definitely could now. It felt as though someone had put their entire body weight on you, an overbearing pressure denying either of you the access to speak.

It really amazed you how the man you sat across from was the World's Greatest Detective when sometimes his actions provided zero rational logic. For such an amazing problem solver, surely he would know what to do in such a situation? Surely he would know how to read you by now... oh.

"I'm sorry for snapping, I understand you're just-"

"No, you have no reason to apologise," Maintaining eye contact, he spoke with such sincerity and you couldn't help but feel guilty, "Really, are you okay?"

"'M fine Po, thank you for coming to check up on me," You offered the most genuine smile you could muster in your pain-ridden state, "Sorry for getting angry, I appreciate your company and I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that. You don't need to worry either, I'll be okay once Yosano's back."

Ranpo took your injury-free hand in his own, raising it to his lips and placing delicate kisses on each of your knuckles. Once he was satisfied with the red flushing your cheeks, he reached for his coat pocket with his free hand, pulling out two pieces of candy adorned with baby pink wrapping. "Thought we could share," he spoke giddily as he offered you a sheepish grin, moving to grant you easy access to the delicacies.

Despite being the World's Best Detective, you often had to remind yourself that Ranpo wasn't the best at reading other people, and it was probably due to the fact that his mind was constantly running on mysteries and cases. After the two of you grew up in unfavourable conditions, thanks to your abilities, you both had a lot to work on regarding your relationship, but it was something you were willing to put time and effort into if it meant getting to bask in the warmth that was Ranpo Edogawa.

For the remainder of your stay in the infirmary, Ranpo refused to leave your side, peppering your face with chaste kisses in between candy-eating and laughter.

You'd be sure to pay him back with a trip to his favourite candy store once you were healed.

#ranpo #ranpo fluff #ranpo x you #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #ranpo bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

#i did not proofread this at all so i just kNOW im going to read this back later and find a whole bunch of typos oops #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idiots in love #sad stevie aw

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littledrummeraussie · 3 years

Text

we’d fall from grace.

Ashton Irwin x assistant stylist!reader

part 2 of if these walls could talk | read part 1

story masterlist | general masterlist

word count: 3710

This was probably my most requested “we need a part 2!” story, and you know what - here we go! Hope I’m not gonna disappoint anyone! ❤️

warnings: flirting & teasing. mentiones of previous sexual encounter. sex with protection. tour bus & bunk bed sex. almost getting caught. female receiving oral. and a big load of angst to finish it up.

- - - - -

You could still feel Ashton’s touch on your arm where he grabbed you after their show was over, see the excitement in those hazel eyes as he tried to pull you with himself, ready to go back and finally come up with his post-show ritual. But time wasn’t on your side. Before he could take another step you needed to pull back, telling him that everyone was running late and he needed to be up on their bus in the next 10 minutes. Ashton rolled his eyes, grumbling something colourful under his breath as he changed directions to grab his stuff.

“Don’t forget your boxers,” you made one last fleeting comment, referring back to your little shared moment in the back room; Ashton was almost out of the door to go back to the dressing room and you needed to remind him that he left his underwear right next to his bath tub.

“But they are wet,” you could still hear the pout in his voice as he caught them when you threw them at him. Now he only flashed you a grin, clearly remembering your answer.

“So am I.”

“You could bring them for me next time,” he winked at you, flirt lacing his voice. “Just like you did with my towel.”

“In your dreams, Irwin,” you returned his teasing, only the two of you knowing the double meaning of your words.

An hour or two has gone by since then, and you were left with your thoughts and the memory of Ashton’s body pressed against your side as you’ve made him come – the sounds of his pleasure still ringing in your ears. The bus was mostly quiet as it made its way to your next stop, and you snuggled up in your bunk with your sketchbook, wanting to work on some ideas you’ve been playing around with, but mostly just wanting to forget about Ashton. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you recalled his words, the touch of his skin, how his hair felt between your fingers, how his lips were soft but his kisses hard. In the end you needed to realize that none of your actual ideas made it on paper, but instead you came up with a whole line of outfits for the man himself, and you sighed, tucking the book back under your pillow.

One can’t just forget about Ashton Irwin.

Your phone buzzed next to your elbow and you slowly picked it up, not knowing who would bother with sending you a text at this time. But the name that flashed across the screen made you bite your lip, and you knew you couldn’t resist answering him. The little annoyed face emoji you’ve put next to Ashton’s name made you giggle, the feeling quickly turning into something else after your adventure with him.

Ashton: Hey, are you still up?

Y/N: …maybe.

Ashton: …did I wake you?

Y/N: Can’t really sleep until we don’t stop for something.

Y/N: Not a big fan of sleeping on buses.

Ashton: You get used to it after some time.

Y/N: I prefer my own bed, but thank you for your input.

Ashton: What about my bed? 😉

You needed to put the phone face down next to you, cheeks turning hot at the offer. He was on the other bus with the guys, maybe chilling with them in the front or doing something stupid that band members usually do at this time, yet even like this he was able to turn you into a hot mess. The thought of crawling into his bed and touching him again made you bury your face in your pillow. There was nothing innocent about his offer – and there was nothing innocent about your thoughts either. Not since you’ve walked in on him naked and gave him a handjob. Not since he’d told you that he got off on fantasies of you every night.

Another quick buzzing sound broke the silence of your bunk, then another. Maybe you’ve been quiet for too long and Ashton thought he went too far.

Ashton: I can’t sleep either.

Ashton: Can’t stop thinking about you or what we did.

Ashton: Wish we had time to do more.

Y/N: You still have your dreams, Irwin. Solve that problem. 🙃

Ashton: I’ve thought you were the problem solver. 😘

Y/N: I can’t really do anything about it from here. You’re kinda on the other bus.

Y/N: …and I’m still wearing clothes.

Ashton: Not in my head. 😉

A picture popped up under the texts, Ashton snuggled up in his bunk with tousled hair and pursed lips, a smile clearly playing at the corner of his mouth, earbuds tucked in his ears.

Ashton: I could call you and talk your ears off until you fall asleep?

Y/N: But where’s the fun in that? 😊

Y/N: Tell me about the song you’re listening to.

Y/N: Wanna know what’s playing while you fantasize about me.

Y/N: …hope it’s not Calum singing…

Ashton: Don’t ruin the mood!

Ashton: Fuck. Wish you were here so I could shut your smart mouth with my own.

Y/N: That’s a very poetic way of telling me you want to kiss me again…

Ashton: Not just kiss you.

Ashton: Want you in every way. Every kiss, every sound, every touch. Everything.

Ashton: You’re all I can think about.

Y/N: This might end up being the longest night of all…

Y/N: You’re close… but still not close enough…

That was the point when Ashton started sending you songs sharing whatever he was listening to, and if you closed your eyes it almost felt like you could curl up against him, sharing his earbuds as you both got lost in the music, ready to fall asleep. It was so easy to pretend, so easy to imagine him there with you. If only the two of you were on the same bus.

There was a light knock on the side of your bunk, and you pulled back the curtains, coming face to face with Kat. You could hear commotion from the front, people talking over each other as they got off the bus and you realized that you’ve stopped moving.

“Guys called over from the other bus that they are stopping at a 24/7, and we did too. Just wanted to ask if you need something? Maybe some of those snacks you like so much?”

“That would be great, thanks Kat.”

“Try and get some rest, okay? I know you can’t fall asleep on a moving bus,” she nodded, fingers tugging on the curtain. “This is your chance to catch some Z’s. I think we’ll be here for 30 minutes or so, should give you plenty of time.”

“Alright mama, I get it,” you laughed, burrowing against your pillow. “Night, Kat!”

“Night, Y/N! See you in the morning.”

You were ready to turn back around and finally get the sleep you’ve been craving since settling in your bunk, but then you felt it again. Your phone started buzzing next to you, and it took you a second to realize that these were not text messages, but an actual call. Ashton’s name was flashing across the screen, and you quickly picked it up, not wanting to miss your chance at hearing his voice.

“Where are you?” his voice was a whisper, his tone almost impatient. “Everyone went to the store and I didn’t see you leave the bus!”

“I’m still up? Trying to get some sleep,” you furrowed your eyebrows, clearly not following what he wanted.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he groaned, a small laugh following. “Get your cute ass over here before anyone comes back! Hurry!”

With that the call got disconnected, and in a second you scrambled out of your bed, pulling the curtains back so it looked like you were sleeping. When you were sure no one was around you quickly jumped off the bus, eyes searching for the other one. Then it caught your attention, a person waving at you frantically, and you sprinted over to the bus parked just a little bit away from yours. Ashton curled his arms around your waist, dragging you up the stairs and into the small living area, his lips already on yours as he pushed you against a wall.

“Damn, you look sexy in our crew hoodie,” he grinned when he finally pulled back, fingers curling into the hem of the fabric.

“It’s really comfy to sleep in,” you stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him back for another kiss.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been doing it too,” Ashton sucked on your bottom lip, knocking his forehead against yours. “But now I just really want to take it off you.”

He grabbed your hand, quickly leading you to the back of the bus and before you knew it Ashton already pushed you down on the couch, legs on both sides of your waist as he wrestled off his hoodie and shirt, tossing them on the floor. With elbows resting next to your head he leaned forward, lips crashing together again, his fingers diving into your hair to angle your head towards the kiss. You squeezed his shoulders and biceps, wanting to pull him even closer and melt against his body, get rid of your clothes and just feel him. The memory wasn’t enough anymore – not when he was right above you, sweatpants riding so low on his hips that you could have easily slipped them off of him.

Ashton’s fingers curled into your hoodie again, working it upwards until he needed to pull away to get it off you. He groaned loudly when he saw you wearing only a top, your hard nipples straining against the thin fabric. He nuzzled his face against your skin, nose lightly skimming the open neckline of the top before he closed his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth through your shirt. A moan finally broke out of you, gripping his curls between your fingers as he teased you with his tongue and teeth, his other hand slipping under your shirt to tweak your other nipple.

“That’s exactly how I’ve imagined you,” he pressed open mouthed kisses against your throat, sucking a quick mark into your skin where the hoodie would cover it. “So responsive and sounding like a fucking dream.”

“What’s your favourite fantasy?” your nails scratched the top of his shoulders, leaving faint red marks on his skin. “Other than getting me naked?”

An almost wolfish grin pulled at his lips as he pulled off your shoes and dropped them next to the couch, your legging quickly following. His palms cupped your ass cheeks and squeezed them before pushing his shoulders under your knees, and your legs spread involuntarily as he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, dangerously close to your pussy.

“Eating you out,” his eyes bore into yours as he pressed his lips against the wet spot on your panties, quickly licking over it. “Fuck, you taste amazing!”

“Ash, fuck–” your hips lifted to get closer to his mouth, and he chuckled, tugging your soaked panties to the side.

“Soon, baby,” and with that he wrapped his lips around your clit, lapping at it quickly.

You needed to put both hands on your mouth to keep your sounds at bay, not wanting anyone finding out about the two of you – what Ashton was doing between your legs was only for you to know. He groaned against your skin, tongue licking between your folds as his eyes searched you, and you were ready to combust just from this. Fingertips teased against your hole as Ashton kissed your stomach, sucking on the skin to give you another hickey, his knuckles slowly slipping inside. He rutted his hips against the couch as he licked at your pussy lips, fingers already searching for that one spot that would make you go crazy.

Laughter and shouts flew across the parking lot and you whined, trying to push Ashton away from you, making him groan. He swiped his fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead as he kneeled up, listening to the sounds getting closer.

“I can’t be seen here,” you reached for your clothes, ready to tug them back up and somehow make it off the bus in record time.

“I’m not letting you go,” he caught you around the waist, motioning you towards his bunk. “Quick!”

His arms were already full with all your discarded clothes, throwing them at the end of his bed as he scrambled after you, pulling the curtains closed behind himself. He was pressed against your back as both of you listened to the sounds, your heart pounding in your chest from possibly getting caught. A minute passed, maybe two, but when no one came up on the bus Ashton let out a sigh, stifling it against your neck, the sensation making you shiver from head to toe.

“I can’t wait anymore,” his lips skimmed against the back of your neck, whispering his words on your skin. “Gonna lose my sanity if I can’t have you.”

“We need to be quick,” biting your lips you moved your hand back, reaching for his hard dick that’s been pressing against your ass for minutes now, squeezing it through his sweats.

“Then we better get to it,” he reached under his pillow for a condom, pushing his pants down to free himself.

He pulled your hips back to his, tugging on your panties until you kicked them off, then let your body melt against his, burrowing close to each other in the small space of his bunk. Ashton pushed his cock between your thighs, stroking it between your folds until he got coated in your wetness, then wrapped his arms around you, keeping you still as he started pushing inside. His face was in your hair, his small sounds making you dizzy as you took him inch by inch, the stretch already building the pleasure in the pit of your stomach.

“God, you really are soaking wet,” he nipped the shell of your ear, pulling out just to push back in deeper. “Taking me so fuckin’ good.”

“Don’t hold back,” you breathed, reaching for his hand to squeeze his fingers. “I can take it. I want it. I want you.”

“Definitely better than my fantasies,” he pressed a kiss against your jaw, pulling you back on his cock as he moved his hips, quickly fucking into you.

The air was hot around you, your skin already slightly sweaty and sticking against Ashton’s as he held you close, hands finding their place on your chest and squeezing your breasts as he pounded into you. He shifted on the bed and pulled you with himself, changing the angle of his thrust and drawing out another set of needy sounds from you.

“Yeah, that’s it baby, you sound so hot,” he pulled your face to his, lips gliding messily against the other’s, his thrusts getting quicker. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come again?”

“Gotta solve this problem too, yeah,” you let out a giggle, kissing his chin as you moaned against his skin. “Fuck me, Ash, harder!”

Ashton growled, ready to pound you into oblivion when someone started climbing up the stairs at the front, and he stilled, palm pressing against your mouth to keep you quiet. His breathing was heavy in your ear, trying to be silent and keep his composure, hoping that whoever came back won’t bother him now.

“Ash, mate,” Calum’s voice was drawing closer, and you were sure this was the end of it all. “You’re up? Forgot my wallet.”

You could almost feel Ashton rolling his eyes, his face buried in your neck as he waited for Calum to go back to the store.

“I know you’re not sleeping. Do you need me to pick up anything for you?” Calum was still chatting away, and you felt that Ash had enough as he pulled one arm back from around you, just to stick his hand out between the flaps of the curtain, and probably throwing his middle finger up at Calum. “Alright, alright I hear ya, you grumpy fucker!”

He kicked the side of the bunk as he left, and in a few seconds he was gone, making Ashton groan loudly.

“I’m not gonna let him kill the mood,” he grabbed your face to pull you in for another kiss, his hips quickly working back to their previous pace. “Gonna make you cum so hard you’ll see stars.”

“You better do that cause I’m already so close,” you sucked on his bottom lip, pulling his hand between your legs. “Yeah, just like that.”

Ashton circled his thumb around your clit, rubbing it quick and hard as his hips snapped against you, the tip of his cock dragging against your g-spot, and you felt your thighs shake, your pussy clenching around him as you finally reached your peak. He kissed your moans away, pumping into you quickly as he chased his own orgasm, and soon you felt his body tense, pulling you close as he came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he filled the condom with his cum.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he smeared kisses on your lips and cheeks, hair all over the place and tickling your face as he burrowed close to you. “So fucking incredible.”

“I don’t think I can move,” you let out a giggle, pressing sweet kisses against his lips. “Guess I did see the stars.”

“Come ‘ere,” he shifted to give you more space, pulling you close and tucking your head under his chin. “Just wanna hold you close.”

“I can’t stay, you know,” your fingers lightly ran up and down on his side, kissing his collarbone. “But I really can’t feel my legs.”

“It was that good, huh?” he grinned, squeezing your hips as he reached for the blanket.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you closed your eyes, pressing even closer to him. “Wake me in 5 minutes, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

Something wasn’t right – you felt like you’ve forgotten something, and you knew it’s gonna get you into trouble. But you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was that. And you had a slight feeling that you shouldn’t care. Not when you were tucked against Ashton’s chest, his body warm against yours, hot breath tickling your skin as his lips pressed against your temple, his eyes beautiful in the morning light filtering through the curtains.

Morning. Ashton. Ashton, who was still very much naked. You were in his bunk. In his bunk only wearing a top. You had sex last night. In his bunk. On their bus. You were still on their bus and you slept through the night. You didn’t go back to your bed. Or your own bus. You had sex with Ashton and you were still here, even though…

“You didn’t wake me up!” you hissed, already pulling away from Ashton. “Fuck, you’ve told me you’re gonna wake me up!”

“You fell asleep and I didn’t have the heart,” he propped himself up on his elbow, reaching for your hand. “Hey, it’s fine!”

“It’s not fine,” you were frantically moving around in the small space, looking through the bedding to find your own clothes. “I should have been back in my bunk by the time they got back! Kat will be looking for me, and…”

“She knows you’re here,” Ashton added and you felt your ears start ringing, your head going dizzy. “I’ve sent her a text that you’re with me and that you fell asleep.”

“Fuck, Ashton, I only asked one thing from you!” you tugged on your hoodie, still looking around. “Shoes. Where are my shoes?”

“Are you looking for these…?”

The curtain was drawn back and you saw Calum holding up your sneakers, a sympathetic look on his face. You felt heat crawl up your neck as you took them away from him, pulling those on as well.

“Y/N, wait,” Ashton was reaching for his own clothes as you slipped out of his bunk. “Fuck, no, wait!”

You didn’t spare him another second, already feeling shame take over you as you passed Calum then Michael and Luke in the front of the bus. They acted like they didn’t see you, like they didn’t know why you were sleeping in Ashton’s bunk, but you knew it was clear as day. The bus was already parked at the venue, you’ve probably arrived just a few minutes ago, and as you stepped off the bus you could already see the rest of the crew packing. You pulled on the neck of your hoodie, hoping it hid the hickeys Ashton has left on your skin.

“Y/N–” Ashton suddenly jumped down from the bus, only wearing his sweatpants, another hoodie in his hand. “Y/N, wait–”

It felt like cold water was dumped on you as you realized that the one you were wearing was Ashton’s hoodie, the sweater so big on you that it definitely showed all the marks on your neck and the one in his hands… well, yours.

“Thanks for nothing,” you whispered, quickly tugging the fabric out of his hand.

“No, Y/N, I– I didn’t mean it,” Ashton fumbled around with his words, and you rolled your eyes, hoping the tears won’t come.

“Of course you didn’t. Just as you didn’t want to see me taking my walk of shame back to my own bus,” you crossed your arms over your chest, starting to finally go back.

“Hey, come here,” you felt someone step next to you and wrap their arm around your waist, and you felt a sob escape you as you realized it was Kat. “Don’t you have better things to do?! Everyone go back to work!”

You felt people staring at you for another moment before they scrambled back to their work. There was a loud thump coming from behind you and you were sure Ashton was kicking something, probably the tire of the bus, cursing loudly. Before you made it up to your bus with Kat you’ve heard one last comment – this time from Calum, addressed to Ashton.

“You know… fucking her and screwing with her are two very, very different things.”

- - - - -

taglist.

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @sadistmichael @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @myfavfanficsever @myloverboyash @suchalonelysunflower @sexgodashton @rebelwith0utacause @creampiecashton @irwinkitten @allthestarsandthemoon @castaway-cashton @spicycal @wontlastimokwiththat @luckyduckydoo @sunshineeashton @2fangirl4u @talkfastdrummer @pastelbabygirl19 @istantommoandtpwk @perfectlieirwin @thesweetness-irwin-archive @c-a-l-m-hood @youngblood199456 @tiannaxox2 @caffeinecalum @fanficsandotherthings @melanindarling @bubblegum18

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin fanfiction #fiction time #afic: if these walls could talk #series: if these walls could talk

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starlightsearches · 4 years

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Hux Fluff Alphabet

As promised, here is the fluff alphabet for General Hux! I said I would work on this when things were less crazy for me, but that was a huge lie, lol. I had a great time finishing up the rest of these prompts, and I hope you guys have a great time reading them. Enjoy!

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Hux is a sucker for a nice smile. It’s one of the things he first noticed about you—he wasn’t used to seeing anyone smile around him. He catches himself staring at you from across the bridge, your lips quirking up at the corners whenever you notice, and it still makes his heart stop. Every. Single. Time.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Not actively. Neither of your lifestyles are very conducive to a child. He doesn’t mind children though, and sometimes—on the rare occasion that he lets his mind wander—he wonders what it would be like to raise a child of his own.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Hux rarely initiates physical contact with you—it’s just not something he’s really comfortable with. However, he will give non-verbal queues, little changes in his position or demeanor to let you know that he wants attention.

If you’re sitting together on the couch or laying next to each other in bed, he’ll shift slightly, open up space so that you can move in closer. His favorite position for cuddling is when you lay your head on his chest and he’ll wrap an arm around your waist. He likes to feel you so solidly against him—it helps remind him that you’re real, that you’re there, that you love him.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Hux doesn’t have much time for dates, so they’re few and far between. When he gets the chance, he likes to take you planet-side—for fine dining, shows, whatever you’d like. He just wants to spoil you, because you deserve it 🥰

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

For Hux, you are his serenity. Whenever you’re with him, all the worry, all the panic, it stops. Being with you is like the first breath of air after diving in deep and turbulent waters.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Any relationship with Hux moves slowly. He wouldn’t want to be too forward, and this is the first time he’s been with someone this way. It’s the little things that clue him in to how he really feels about you—like how, no matter how many times it’s happened, his heart still stutters every time you kiss him, how happy you are to see his rare smiles, how understanding you are of his needs.

The first time you tell him you love him, he’s gripped with anxiety. He’s only heard those words one, maybe two times in his life, and he’s never said them himself.

You seem to understand what he’s feeling, even in his silence, nuzzling your head closer to his chest and whispering the words, “it’s okay if you can’t say it yet—I don’t mind waiting,” and he wants to cry, can’t process how it feels to be known by you. He tells you he loves you, then and there. He thinks he always has.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

YES! Yes, yes, yes a million times yes, especially at the beginning of your relationship. Hux treats you like you’re made of glass, or smoke, like if he’s not careful you might disappear. His kisses are slow and sensual, his touches are feather-light. Later on, he’s a little less nervous about it. He just can’t stand the idea of hurting you, on accident or not.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Hux holds your hands with purpose. He’s almost always working, so when he takes time to appreciate that little bit of intimacy, it’s all he lets himself focus on. He’ll hold both of your hands in his, pulling them close to his chest to shrink the space between you so he can stare into your eyes, occasionally brushing gentle kisses along your knuckles.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Hux appreciates hard work. The first time he truly noticed you, it was because he recognized your drive and determination, your hunger for success. Later he comes to appreciate all your other wonderful qualities, but it’s your loyalty that stays with him whenever he’s gripped with fear—the unwelcome thoughts that some times intrude, thoughts that you might leave him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Short answer: yes. Longer answer: All. The. Time. He just has such a hard time believing that you like him. And he has to believe that everyone wants you—after all, why wouldn’t they?

He gets a little mopey when he thinks you might have feelings for someone else, a little standoffish, and he needs a lot of reassurance. Luckily, you’re more than happy to show him that he’s the only one for you 😘

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Hux’s kisses always start slow. He’ll cup his hand around your neck, hold you close, admiring you for a moment before he presses his lips to yours softly.

He always begins gently, but once he’s started, it’s hard for him to stop. Sometimes you’ll find yourself pulling away from him with no way to tell how much time has passed, his hair ruffed up and falling into his face and your uniform in disarray from his wandering hands.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

You, probably. Hux isn’t very good at expressing how he feels, and more likely than not, he thinks the risk is too great unless he’s absolutely certain that you feel the same.

Your palms are sweating when it happens, your hands clammy from being in such close proximity with him again. Just the two of you.

He’s babbling on about some plans or to-do list and your heart hurts, a physical, blinding pain because you’ve wanted him for so long and now you’re so close.

He stops mid-sentence when you place your hand over his, and the look you give him speaks volumes, speaks oceans but he still can’t help but feel surprised when you lean over and press a tentative kiss to the side of his mouth.

He’s silent in the moments after, a hard set to his brow and you’re on fire with embarrassment. You turn to go, ready to run as far as you can, knowing that there’s no place far enough away to escape your shame. You’re out of your chair before he takes you by the hand, pulls you gently to your seat and then whispers, “please, do that again.”

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

The first time you shared a bed together. He can’t remember ever sleeping so well as he did that first night.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Hux absolutely spoils, but he can be shy about it. You’ll find little gifts and trinkets waiting for you when you go to visit him in his quarters, and he’ll look away as you open them, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye to catch your soft smile. He’ll blush and stammer—talking about how he saw it and thought of you, how he can pick out something else if you don’t like it. He only goes silent once you press a soft kiss to his unsuspecting lips, whispering about how much you love your gift.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

I would say calming colors, like blues or greens or maybe even yellow on certain days. Anything that reminds him of living things, and life beyond the Finalizer.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

I think if he were really close to someone, he would use some pretty classic terms of endearment, like love, or darling. He prefers it when his SO calls him by name—he’s heard it so rarely in his life, and you say it with so much love that he can scarcely believe it, but I do think calling him general or sir in a playful tone is an easy way to get him going 😬

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Hux loves to steam and press his own uniforms. It’s calming for him, and allows him to start his day with a little bit of order. He’ll put them on while they’re still warm, enjoying the smell of soap and the lingering heat.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

He doesn’t spend that much time planet-side, but rainy days are very contemplative for Hux. They remind him a lot of his childhood, and he’ll find himself staring out the window, lost in thought. He appreciates it when you’re there for him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him away from those reminders of his past and back into the present with a soft hug and a cup of tea.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Hux doesn’t have a lot of time to feel sad, and he’s gotten really good at burying his emotions after everything that he’s been through.

Sometimes, though, those feelings bubble to the surface without warning. When he needs comfort, he’ll go and find Millie for a quick, soothing snuggle. If he can’t go all the way back to his quarters, he’ll replay memories of her as a kitten over in his mind.

If you’re feeling down, Hux will make sure that he’s there for you. He’s a problem-solver, he likes to fix things, but if you ask him to just listen, he’ll do it. He’ll let you rest your head on his shoulder as he sits silently and your tears will drip down into the fabric of his uniform and it just feels good to be with him. You feel lighter when you’re together.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Hux tends to think out loud—especially when he’s in a place where he feels safe. You first notice him mumbling under his breath early on in your relationship, when you’re working together late at night, whispers about tasks he has to finish or reminders for himself. As time goes on, he’ll speak of more personal things—his wants for the future, little things that happened to him during the day that he thinks you might find funny.

He’s a very good listener, though. If you need to vent on a bad day or if there’s something you’re really excited about, he’ll be with you, all of his attention focused on whatever it is you have to say. He doesn’t speak much during these conversations, but you cherish them. It’s one of the ways he shows you that he cares.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Anything that takes his mind off work. Hux likes tasks that he can do without much thought, like laundry or washing dishes. If he’s feeling really stressed, sometimes he’ll draw a bath and ask you to join him, the heat of the water seeping into his aching muscles, the gentle trace of your fingers reminding him that, even with all the opposition in his life, there’s someone on his side.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Hux likes to let his actions speak for himself. He’s spent so much time surrounded by people who have never believed in his abilities, and showing off feels pathetic in that frame of mind. That being said, he is proud of his intellect and his achievements. He’s worked very hard to earn the title he possesses, and he knows that he’s smarter than most of the people he’s surrounded by.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

This man loves to plan. He’s not about to ask such an important question just anywhere, and he’s certainly not going to do it on the Finalizer. He does his research—looks for a planet that’s beautiful, safe, and private.

He writes out the perfect words, recites them to himself over and over again in the weeks before (whether or not he remembers them in the moment is an entirely different story).

You say yes, of course. He could have asked you anywhere, at anytime, without any planning. You just want to be with him.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

I don’t think Hux listens to a lot of music—he finds it distracting when he’s trying to work, and he’s almost always trying to work. That being said, here are some songs that remind me of him:

Work Song by Hozier

Gun Song by The Lumineers

Shrike by Hozier

False God by Taylor Swift

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Before he met you, Hux was sure that he’d never get married. He’d tell Phasma that he didn’t have time for an SO, that a relationship would be a liability, that he was married to the Order, and a million other reasons he didn’t want it.

Once your together, though, he thinks about it all the time. You’ll be sitting at your station, or in his quarters sipping caff in the mornings, or you’ll reach for his hand late at night while you’re both working, and suddenly he’s overcome with the feeling that he wants to be like this forever. He needs you to be his in every way imaginable. And once he starts thinking about it, he doesn’t stop.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

I think Millicent is the only pet he needs!

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x you #general hux x reader #hcs #general hux hcs #armitage hux hcs #my writing #long post

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dmmdscenarios · 4 years

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Trip and Virus with a s/o who's insecure about her weight

Trip

Trip isn’t nearly as observant as Virus, so it would take him a while to notice that something was up - maybe even you directly telling him or Virus mentioning something (because lets be real, if you’re in a relationship with Trip, Virus will also be a part of your everyday life, and he’ll notice these things!)

It had been a long day and Trip was just settling on the couch when his lazy gaze caught you entering the room.

“Hey,”

“hey! how was your day?” You came around to the front of the couch to get a better look at him. You actions caused him to rouse a little more. Your figure much closer now, he lightly pet his own lap, indicating that he wanted you to take a seat...on his lap..

You smiled a little to try and defuse the situation, “I’ve got to finish -”

Trip’s eyebrows furrowed together as he straighten up a little, arms reaching for you and managing to grasp your hips. “It can wait.”

Your worry started to raise as he started to pull you down to sit on his lap,

“Wait, Trip. I’m too heavy!” you blurted out.

He paused for a moment, clearly taken aback by the admission. He almost looked annoyed by it.

“Of course you’re not, ______.”

That was that, he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you before asking,

“Why would you say something like that?”

Although Trip has a bit of a complex of his own, he would have trouble understanding your own insecurities. In his eyes you couldn’t be more perfect and he would struggle to understand why you couldn’t see that. It’s a bit of a double standard actually.

Trip isn’t the best when it comes to words. He can come across as harsh or aggressive because of how direct he is.

When first hearing about your weight insecurities, this is exactly how he’d come across - it wouldn’t be reassuring in the slightest but bless him he is trying, in his own way.

Once you spent some time explaining your feelings about the matter and he saw how much it really affected you, he’d calm down about it and just listen. He’s good at listening.

Trip likes to touch you (outside of a sexual manor), just a casual hand on your leg when your sitting on the couch, or pulling you down to sit on his lap (absolute fav!) etc. If you started to show discomfort towards these actions because you weren’t feeling comfortable with your own body - he’s going to struggle with it. He shows his love though physical affection, he’s not good with other methods.

He will try his best though, if it really makes you that upset.

Whenever you are feeling down about your weight, he will use physical affection to express his feelings for you in hopes that it will change your opinion. He is also quick to tell you that he loves you regardless.

I do have a headcannon that Trip likes his girls a little more on the Thicc side, but if you aren’t happy then either is he. He’s supportive in the ways that he knows how to be.

Also, if anyone ever made a comment about your weight - RIP them.

Virus

Virus is considerably interested in people and how they operate. Insecurities would truly be fascinating to him.

The concrete of Virus’s personality in being clever and unbelievably observant. It is safe to say that he would be aware that something was wrong far before you tell him about any insecurities. It’s probably something that he could even pinpoint before you became a couple. It’s like a little puzzle for him that keeps him continually intrigued.

However, being able to identify an issue from the outside perspective is very different from discussing it on a personal level and actually hearing about the depths of concern.

He’d find the opportunity to bring it up/confirm his theory.

Standing in the bedroom with you, he presented a very cute but rather tight and reveling outfit he’d bought for you.

“do you like it?”

You nodded your head slowly, taking the fabric from him and rubbing your fingers against the textures.

“Try it on for me, won’t you?” He leaned in closer to you, eyes unreadable and a small curve at the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing.

When you’d break down and express that as much as you really did like the outfit he’d bought you, it wasn’t something that you were comfortable wearing, he knew he had one foot in the door. A few more questions and he was getting down to the root of your concerns about the outfit - you were insecure about your body.

Virus is good with words, not only would he be a good person to talk to about this subject to simply get it off your chest a little, he’d be game to talk it through with you to find the root of the insecurities.

Virus is an information gatherer and therefore a problem solver. He is more than willing to sit with you and talk out your insecurities whenever you need, but he won’t stand for you talking down about yourself.

Again being so observant, he’s very good about checking in with you. If you aren’t as open to talking to him about it, yet he notices your having a negative day with your opinions about your weight, he will ever so slightly pry that door open again. It’s a reminder that he’s there to help but he’s not going to be overbearing about it. He trusts that if you need him, you’ll come to him.

He doesn’t really empathize with insecurities like this as he’s truly never felt insecure, however he does understand how insecurities effect people.

Most importantly, he understands the time that it takes to change your opinion of yourself. Virus is very realistic about it all, so he doesn’t believe that him telling you that you are wrong will change your opinion of yourself. He knows that it needs to come from within.

Having said that though, you might notice more compliments about your looks or outfits then usual. He means it too.

He’ll do what he can to be your moral support throughout and push you to build your confidence regardless of your size.

#dmmd #dramatical murder #virus #trip #trip x you #trip x reader #virus x reader #virus x you #dramatical murder x reader #requests #scenarios #asks #I hope I did this justice #i certainly connect with this subject matter #I still really struggle to write for Virus #my apologies #spelling mistakes spelling mistakes #she chants in the distance

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funkymbtifiction · 4 years

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I’ve been going back and forth between infp and isfj for ages (bought books, scrolled through your blog endlessly) but your recent infp post gave me pause.

‘INFPs have trouble wrapping their head around what most of the other types “settle for” – finding a job that pays the rent, even if it’s crap, and doing what you love (like write) in your spare time as a hobby. Their idealism and need to do what they love for work makes it hard for them to cope with the idea that realistically, that may not work out.’

I could barely relate to that. Even when I think I can incorporate my creative side I’m very realistic about it. I could be a hairdresser at a friend’s salon but I’m very sensitive to smells and have horrible allergies. I wonder if Ne would instantly be trying to figure out ways around that not just be ‘yeah, that’s off the table’. I’m a (almost forced) problem solver and do try to find loopholes in things but that’s more fear based than anything else ( that sounds so 6 XD ). Plus I keep wondering if I followed my passions as a career would that kill my joy of them. Would business and deadlines kill the creativity? Would people even like and respond to it (this ways heavily on me. The fear of disappointment and rejection).

Add a critical view of my talents and I’m going ‘settling’ is more than okay since you need to survive and keeping passions alive is needed as well so find time to do that during the day. Make it the best part of your day. A reward for making it through and if you can make some money from it then great.

Long story short if someone can’t relate to that is it a red flag that you’re not infp or you can be and my Ne decided to send me down rabbit holes - again.

Since everyone is different, you will relate to some things about your type and not others, and you can always factor in your Enneagram type (being a 6 tends to make people less risk-taking, more concerned with how others feel about them / considerate of others in general, and more practical) … but ultimately, you should be able to recognize your dominant function given your blind spots (lower functions). Being unable to detach from their strong need to do what they want to do, and not do what they don’t want to do, is an issue for INFPs. Most of the ones I know either work for less money, or took a pay cut, to leave a job that makes them miserable in order to do one that fulfills them in some way. The ISFJs learn the system they are working with, and do it, because there is no Fi-dom need in them to be “authentic” to themselves, and their stronger Si is aware that some jobs are boring. That’s life.

Given that nothing you said here has a strong sense of “I see things through how I feel about them,” and that still bleeds through even with 6s, I’d say you have your judging axis in the middle of your stack rather than at opposite ends. Your careful, meticulous questioning suggests perception > judgment. That would support ISFJ, if you are sure of being an introvert.

I suggest reading the “learn mbti page” and reading all the dominant function posts carefully. An INFP should somewhat relate to the ENP post (at least in the sense of “yes, that’s how I am… fanatical with an interest and then it disappears… and I no longer care about it… I want to change the world with my ideas / idealism / beliefs…”) AND the IFP post. IFPs are rather famous for shutting down anything they don’t want to talk about, whereas IFJs are more willing to discuss it, as perceiving dominants (less instant NOPE). If you are an ISFJ, you should somewhat relate to the Fe-dom post (in terms of seeing others in terms of “we” and wanting an emotional consensus, for others to agree with you, etc) and also Si (in your own interests, points of expertise, and the way you learn).

Just an example – I know two artists. One is an INFP, the other is an ISFJ. The ISFJ, being a Si-dom, is willing to meticulously work on one area of her art, until it is perfect. Si-dom artists are the ones who create the teachable art books, which tell you to keep drawing an eye until it’s perfect, then learn the nose, and so on… in so doing, their meticulous repetition establishes a base of learning that is an ‘expert’ not just in fingers or toes, but all elements of the face, and then of the body. That is Si learning. Methodical. You do it over and over, until you get it perfect. You learn it a piece at a time, to make the whole.

The INFP artist refused to use the book that taught drawing techniques through that repetition, since “I don’t WANT to draw that way.” She refused to use any books at all. She had to do it her own way. She drew for awhile. Then she made / decorated fandom hats. Then she painted doll faces. Then she went into sewing. She doesn’t really use patterns, either, that much. She just looks at it, draws a design based on what she knows she wants, and makes up her own pattern to get it to do that (often just by eyeballing it, cutting it, and then moving fabric around). Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But she did not methodically learn to draw. She moved on to making Rey’s staff for Cosplay, used it for awhile, then sold it and went on to Victorian stuff. Because as an NP… she loses interest and moves on to other things. ;)

Low Si finds repetition boring and just tends to intuitively leap into things. So, for example, they may be a gifted writer with zero awareness of how writing as a technique (grammar, sentence structure, avoiding certain words at the ends of sentences) actually works – and they may not even care, until it in some way impedes them getting published. Then they will learn too much all at once, in the process skim-reading / not learning it properly, and missing half of it, as opposed to the ISFJ writer who carefully studies writing techniques, reads 20 books on writing by successful novelists, does the practice work, and then has all the knowledge in place to move forward and do it.

Not everyone is going to do this, obviously, but I’m illustrating how SiNe is much more methodical in how they learn something, vs how NeSi just haphazardly does it – often well, but it neglects learning the important fundamentals, and then later has to go back and fill in gaps in its knowledge.

- ENFP Mod

#question #infp #isfj #mbti #infp x isfj #isfj x infp #type contrast #submission

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allons-ymrholmes · 5 years

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A Good Year - AO3 (X) FF.net (X)

Enjoy a little drunk!sanrion inspired by @socoln and @lannistark Rated: M

Sansa can't handle listening to one more person praising the Dragon Queen as a savior. As if it was the silver-haired dictator who had driven the dagger into the Night King's heart and not Arya.

Wherever Sansa goes (her room, her study, the great hall, the courtyard) someone is waiting to tell her how lucky they were the Mother of Dragons was there to save them from the Long Night.

It's enough to make her sick.

The North remembers my arse, she thinks bitterly, tiptoeing into the kitchen. Let's not forget we trusted the Targaryen's before… trusted the crown before, and it almost erased my house.

Hand curved around her single candle, protecting its delicate flame, she makes her way to the pantry.

Even at this late hour she can't risk returning to her room; Jon's been trying to get her alone to discuss their fealty to his lover.

Once in the pantry she finds what she's looking for and leans against the wall, letting gravity carry her to the floor.

Tyrion can't believe how well the Northerners know how to party.

He always viewed them as such a stubborn, stoic bunch, and yet it is only after his fifth attempt at leaving in the last hour Tyrion is actually able to slip away from one of the many celebrations.

His head is killing him.

He needs something solid in his stomach, and he wouldn't say no to something other than that damned thrice fermented sour-as-piss swill they'd been serving.

Maybe a nice glass of wine, he muses, something sweet to counter all that bitter.

As soon as he walks into the kitchen a cool breeze sweeps in and blows out his candle.

"Shit," he mumbles.

It's practically pitch black in the kitchen, except for the soft glow flickering behind a half-closed door he thinks is the pantry.

Carefully, trying not to trip in the dark, Tyrion makes his way to the door.

It creaks when he cracks it open enough to slid in, and he hears a light shuffling from the end of a row of shelves.

"Anyone in here?" he asks.

Silence replies, and then…

"No. Go away."

The corner of his lips twitch in amusement and he decides to investigate further, walking to the end of the row.

Tucked into the corner, feet pulled up in an attempt to hide from view, sits Sansa holding a goblet of wine.

"Sssansa," he slurs. "What are you doing in here?"

Sansa stares up at him, blinking rapidly as if trying to see him clearly.

"I'm the Lady of Winterfell, Tyrion," she tells him, "I'm am… am… I am merely testing the vintage of our stocks."

"What a coincidence! I'm the drunken imp, and I know my wines. Care if I join you?"

Sansa hesitates only a moment, then shifts her skirt over and pats the floor beside her.

Tyrion sinks to the floor next to her with a sigh, and she passes him her cup of wine.

"How's the year?" he asks.

"Iss looking up, I suppose," she shrugs.

He snorts into the cup.

"I meant the wine," Tyrion clarifies.

"Oh, that. It's, uh, most definitely wine."

He smiles into the cup taking a deep drink.

"It's good," he says, passing the cup back. "I'd say it's Dornish, and at least ten years old."

Sansa shoots him a side eye and takes another gulp of wine.

"I must admit I can't tell the difference," she stage whispers, giving him a playful smile.

"Can I tell you a s—hic—secret?"

Sansa's eyes widen and she nods.

"No one knows the difference," he continues. "But if you say it with enough confidence people will believe anything."

To his surprise, Sansa bursts into a fit of giggles.

It's adorable, and apparently contagious, he finds, as he soon joins her.

When their fit of laughter runs its course, Sansa takes another swig from the glass, refills it, and passes it to Tyrion.

"May I ask what you're really doing hiding away in here?"

She shrugs halfheartedly.

"That I guess. Hiding."

"I never imagined you as one to hide from your problems."

Tyrion takes another drink and passes the cup back, studying her.

That neck, he thinks, letting his mind wander as he waits for her to answer. So elegant.

"I'm not hiding from my problems," she argues, cheeks flushing a delicate shade of rose. "I'm just… hiding so as not to create more problems."

"You strike me as more of a problem solver than a, er… problem creator."

"You might feel differently if I cause an incident and stab someone with my necklace the next time I have to listen to another rendition of the Dragon Queen is our savior from one of my people."

He knows he shouldn't laugh… but the image of Miss Manners Sansa Stark stabbing someone with a fanged necklace is too much for him.

She glances over and gives him a soft smile.

"Shouldn't you be—hic— defending your queen?" she asks, humor lacing her words.

"I've told you many people have underestimated you, but I will not be one of them. If you think something is the right desis—decision, it probably is."

Sansa regards him thoughtfully, taking another sip from the quickly draining cup of wine.

"Is that why you followed my lead down there… in the crypts? When I pulled out my knife? You thought fighting the undead was the wisest choice because it was my idea?"

Tyrion reaches out and takes the goblet from her, and drains the whole thing.

"I followed you for three reasons actually," he sighs. "First, yes, because it was your idea. Second, because there was no way in the Seven Hells I was going to let my wi— my former wife face those monsters alone."

"And third?" she prompts.

He looks up, his eyes meeting hers, and his breath hitches.

"And third… because if you were going out there to die I might as well follow, because without you in this world there is nothing left for me to live for."

His words hang in the air between them, their implications almost tangible.

Tyrion's not sure admitting his feelings was the right choice, but he's glad to finally have said them.

He wonders if she knows how often he's thought of her these last three years apart. How he's not able to look at another woman without comparing them to her and listing the way they fall short. How he couldn't sleep for three days straight after Varys told him she had remarried.

Neither is sure who makes the first move, but suddenly the goblet clanks loudly across the stone floor, and their arms are wrapped around one another.

Lips meet in flurry of need and clumsiness. Tongues swirl, lips tremble, teeth clash.

It's inelegant to say the least, marred by their intoxication, but they drink it in all the same, reveling in one another's touch.

Sansa leans back, pulling Tyrion with her, and they tumble into the nearest shelf, sending several things crashing to the floor.

"Perhaps this isn't the place, my lady," he pants, pulling away for air.

"You're right, come on."

Sansa scrambles to her feet and takes his hand, leading him out of the pantry.

"The candle," he protests.

"I know every inch of this castle."

He lets her lead him through the dark twisting corridors of Winterfell, and is surprised when she opens a door and pulls him into his own chambers.

"They'll look for me in mine," she explains, tugging him towards the bed.

Shock roots him to the spot as she begins to strip off her outer layers until only a thin shift remains.

"Sansa," he sighs, awe filling his gaze. "We… we shouldn't."

Gods grant me a quick death, he curses himself.

"I think we've waited long enough," she argues, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bed.

He climbs up with her, but turns his face away when she tries to kiss him.

"I think you may be quite drunk, my lady, and though it pains me to say it more than you can possibly know, I can't do this if you're not in your right mind."

Sansa cups his cheek, turning his face to look at her.

"You are one of the kindest, noblest men I have ever met," she tells him.

And suddenly they're kissing again.

Tyrion knows he shouldn't, but gods do her lips taste sweet.

She lies back on the bed, her hand in his hair, and draws him down with her.

His hands wander of their own accord and as his thumb brushes her nipple through the fabric of her shift, Sansa moans into his mouth as she leans into his touch.

"You're wearing far too much clothing, husband," she murmurs against his lips.

If he weren't already hard, hearing her call him husband would have sent him straight to attention.

He sits back on his knees and pulls his shirt off, and Sansa sits up to follow suit.

She pulls the hem of her shift up and over her head, but gets stuck, and she struggles to pull it off.

Tyrion reaches out to help her just as she manages to loosen the garment and Sansa elbows him in the head, sending him off the edge of the bed.

Sansa gasps and jumps off the bed, stark naked, to help him.

Tyrion is lying flat on the floor, laughing hysterically.

As soon as she sees he's okay, Sansa can't help but laugh too.

Offering him her hand she pulls him to his feet.

He wipes tears of mirth from his eyes and looks up at her, seeming to just now realize she's nude.

"Sansa… you're perfect."

"And you're still wearing pants."

"Are you truly sure?"

She drops to her knees and places her hands on his shoulders.

"I am slightly drunk," she admits, "but I am very much aware of what I want. I want you. Now."

She kisses him again, her hands finding their way to his pants, unlacing them one fumbling movement at a time.

When he's divested of his clothes, Tyrion looks away, cheeks flushing.

"You're practically perfect," she says.

"Practically?"

"You'd actually be perfect if you were on the bed."

She sees his self-confidence melt away and they climb on the bed together.

Sansa lies back and opens her arms to him.

"Come to me, husband," she commands in her most queenly voice, trying to keep a straight face.

Tyrion growls playfully and lunges at her, nipping her neck as he kisses up her throat.

She squirms beneath him, giggling at the way his beard tickles her sensitive flesh.

He repeats his movements, tickling her on purpose this time, and Sansa grabs hold of his hair pulling his head away.

She kisses him gently before playfully nipping his bottom lip.

Time seems to float away from them without meaning. All that matters is the way their hands glide over one another's flesh, leaving trails of goosebumps and eliciting soft sighs and throaty moans.

He positions himself to enter her, and hesitates.

"Are you absolutely— oh, gods."

Sansa rolls her eyes and thrusts up to meet him.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul," she whispers, staring into his eyes.

She doesn't return to her room that night, and wakes up with arms embracing Tyrion and body wrapped in twisted sheets.

Her head is pounding.

She studies Tyrion's sleeping face and smiles, thinking perhaps she should have taken up drinking a long time ago.

#sanrion #sansa x tyrion #my fics #my writing #GoT

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vex-bittys · 6 years

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How (Not) to Date: An Underswap Story

Congratulations to first place raffle winner undertale-writing-challenges who requested a swapcest first date (and maybe a kiss). When it comes to expressing his feelings for his brother, Blueberry is a bit less than magnificent...

Contains: SFW, fontcest/swapcest (kissing, nonsexual), a very awkward Blueberry, a pun-loving Papy

“I really like you, Papy,” Blue whispered in an uncharacteristically quiet and solemn tone. His bony brow furrowed in concentration, and he stared at the toes of his boots, breathing in shallow little gasps. Why were the words so hard to say out loud? He’d been thinking them for years!

“I really like you, Papy,” the Echo Flower repeated. The other Echo Flowers took up the phrase, and soon an army of glowing blue blossoms declared their almost-love for Blue’s little brother. The words hadn’t come out right when he said them; hearing the endless repetition of the Echo Flowers only confirmed it.

Eventually the whispered confessions faded away.. Blue cleared his proverbial throat nervously and tried again. “I like you, Papy, but not as a brother. I mean, I like you as a brother too, but also not as a brother… CHEESE AND CRACKERS! WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT?”

“CHEESE AND CRACKERS!” mocked the Echo Flowers.

Blue’s cheeks puffed in frustration. He knew it made him look childish, but he couldn’t help himself. Listening to the Echo Flowers whisper his botched lines endlessly through this small cave in Waterfall only made him more determined to find the exact right words. The Magnificent Sans never gave up!

Though he spent several more hours in the softly lit, peaceful surroundings uttering one heartfelt declaration after another, Blue never found the perfect words. With a sigh of defeat, the would-be Royal Guard trudged back home to spend another evening with the object of his affections, who was totally oblivious to his romantic attraction. Maybe if Papy wasn’t so busy being impossibly lazy, he’d realize that his brother had fallen in love with him. It would make everything so much easier.

Blue opened the door of their house in Snowdin to find Papy sprawled out on the sofa in his shorts and a black tank top, a honey bear tipped onto its side dripping the sticky substance onto the fabric of his shirt. He still had his shoes on, resting on the arm of the sofa! Unbelievable! Blue crept over to his brother’s side stealthily. Papyrus had fallen asleep mid-snack. How typical of the lazybones!

Blue couldn’t hold back an indulgent smile. Sometimes Papyrus suffered from insomnia due to nightmares, but when he slept serenely like this he resembled a handsome angel. Blue used his thumb and forefinger to gingerly pluck the sticky honey bottle from his brother’s evenly rising and falling chest. He carried it into the kitchen to rinse off the grimy residue coating the bottle.

Once the honey bear had had its bath and been placed back on the table where Papy could easily find it again, Blue began to make dinner. The smell of freshly cooked food finally roused the lanky skeleton from his slumber, and he stumbled into the kitchen to greet his hard-working brother by placing a chaste kiss on the top of the shorter skeleton’s skull. Blue hoped Papy didn’t notice the blush blazing on his cheekbones from the simple, carefree act.

“aww, honey, it was sweet of you to wash Mr. Bear for me,” drawled Papyrus, taking a seat at the table and immediately lifting the bottle of sticky sweetness to his mouth. Blue supposed the honey was an improvement over his brother's usual cigarette habit, and the horrible puns made it easy to suppress the squeal of joy from being referred to as honey.

“I MADE MY FAMOUS TACOS FOR DINNER!” Blue proclaimed proudly, placing two plates of tacos onto the table before settling himself into the chair across from his brother. His socket twitched as he watched the taller skeleton squirt honey liberally onto the savory meal.

Papyrus took huge bites of the crunchy tacos, chewing loudly with a charming smile on his face. Chopped (by punching, as Alphys had taught him!) toppings and honey-soaked taco shell fragments flew everywhere. No wonder Papyrus was so slim, even for a skeleton- none of the food stayed in his mouth! Blue almost choked on a bite of his own taco while trying not to giggle at the spectacle of his brother eating dinner.

“taco bout delicious,” Papyrus joked, swallowing his last bite and licking the remaining morsels from around his mouth. “thanks for dinner, lil bro.” The tall skeleton winked.

“LIL BRO?” shouted an indignant Blue, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically. “I’M OLDER THAN YOU, AND YOU KNOW IT!” Sometimes Blue (correctly) suspected that Papyrus said things just to see him (over)react. If confronted, Blue might’ve even admitted to putting on a bit of a show anytime his brother teased him.

“no need to be short-tempered, Sans,” Papy said with a grin. Blue screeched. “you may be older, but that doesn’t mean you’re not little.” With those words, Papy picked him up, just lifted him easily out of his chair as if he were a babybones, and spun him around.

“PUT ME DOWN!” demanded Blue with a yelp, playfully battering at Papy’s ribcage with his undeniably small fists.

“never,” Papyrus laughed.

“THE MAGNIFICENT SANS WILL NOT STAND FOR SUCH INFANTILE BEHAVIOR!”

“it’s a good thing i’m carrying you then.”

“PA-PY-RUS!”

How could his brother manage to be so infuriating yet so endearing at the same time?

The Magnificent Sans prided himself on his strategic prowess, especially when it came to complex puzzles, but every great puzzle solver knows that two heads are better than one when it comes to searching for an elusive solution to a particularly difficult problem. Alphys and Undyne were dating; maybe he could ask Alphys to give him some pointers on breaking the ice!

Blue soon discovered that battle training wasn’t exactly the best place to be distracted by thoughts of potential future romance because Alphys’s heavy tail had just whacked him soundly in the ribs for the third time in a row. He grunted at the bruising impact, and Alphys immediately became apologetic.

“Sans, I’m so sorry! I thought for sure you’d block that time! Are you alright?” she sounded worried. Alphys always avoided hard hits during their training due to Blue’s single HP. She wanted to train him for combat, not dust him!

“I’M FINE!” Sans wheezed cheerfully.

“You’re daydreaming,” accused Alphys gently. Blue ducked his head sheepishly.

“CAN I ASK YOU FOR SOME DATING ADVICE, ALPHYS?” Blue blurted out.

“Finally gonna make a move on Papyrus, eh?” Alphys replied with a grin.

“IS IT THAT OBVIOUS?” Blue groaned.

“To everyone but him,” laughed Alphys before sobering again. She leveled a steady gaze at her student. “What do you need to know?”

“HOW?”

Alphys waited a moment before prodding him for more information. “How…?”

“JUST HOW! HOW DO YOU DATE?” Blue hated how desperate he sounded.

“Dating is like fighting! You have to be assertive! Sweep that punk off his feet and tell him how you feel! Crush him with romance!” Alphys got a bit carried away and suplexed a large boulder into gravel to demonstrate. Blue got swept up in her passionate (and somewhat aggressive) energy.

“I’M THE MAGNIFICENT SANS, AND I’M GOING TO CAPTURE MY BROTHER’S HEART!”

Capturing anything, much less the elusive love of your unsuspecting sibling, required preparation, so that night, Blue had called and made a reservation at the NTT resort’s upscale bistro. The date was set, giving Blue a hard deadline for confessing his true intentions. Unfortunately, the courage Blue needed to force the simple words out of his mouth had never manifested. Instead, Blue now stood outside the NTT resort with Papyrus, planning to have a nice sit-down dinner… for no particular reason.

“we can sit down at home, or better yet, at Muffet’s,” Papy had unhelpfully pointed out.

“MUFFET’S FOOD IS GREASY! I WANT TO GO SOMEWHERE NICE! BESIDES, I MADE RESERVATIONS,” protested Blue.

“and i’m sure it has nothing to do with your crush on a certain robot DJ,” Papy teased.

“I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON NAPSTATON, PAPY!” Blue huffed before quietly adding, “I like someone else.” Papyrus quirked a brow, but he let the subject drop.

“y’know, Blue, i know a shortcut for-”

“NO, PAPY. WE’RE WALKING IN THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR LIKE RESPECTABLE MONSTERS. NO SHORTCUTS!”

Blue grabbed Papyrus’ hand to lead him into the restaurant and instantly regretted it. What if Papy thought holding hands was weird? He couldn’t just let go of his brother’s hand though; that would be too suspicious! How long could you comfortably hold hands with your brother before it turned from normal to awkward? Could Papyrus feel his metacarpals sweating? Blue was blowing the date already, and he hadn’t even told Papy it was a date yet!

The lanky skeleton didn’t pull his hand away from his brother’s as they entered the bistro, and Blue didn’t want to be rude by letting go first. They ended up strolling to their table hand-in-hand and standing next next to it for just a few seconds too long before they both simultaneously released their grips, allowing their hands to drop limply to their sides. Blue sank gratefully into his seat. Food! Food would help ease the tension!

With a nervous giggle, Blue scanned the menu. For a short, disorienting moment, he thought the words were written in some strange language until Papy took the laminated page from him and turned it right side up. Blue flushed brightly in embarrassment. In an attempt to evade his brother’s concerned gaze, Blue swept the room with a hasty glance only to realize that he and Papy were severely underdressed for the atmosphere.

The Magnificent Sans had taken a proverbial page from his brother’s book for once and dressed casually for the date-that-only-he-was-aware-of. He’d worn sneakers in lieu of his usual boots, paired with basketball shorts and a top that said “Cool Dude” and had shoulder pads in the shape of soccer balls. His brother wore his (probably dirty) orange hoodie and cargo pants that hadn’t made the last round of laundry. Everyone else in the establishment sported dress clothes in fashionable cuts and colors. He groaned in agony over his socially unacceptable attire.

“something wrong?” Papyrus asked innocently.

“WE’RE UNDERDRESSED!” complained Blue.

“coulda sworn i put on pants before we left.” Papyrus chuckled, making a show of checking his clothing for any missing articles. “yup, all here!”

Blue could feel hot tears welling in his sockets as the date careened past the point of being salvageable. Papy tried to laugh it off at first, but the night just got worse as it progressed. Blue dropped his silverware onto the floor, knocked over the glass of fancy wine he’d ordered, and even spilled dessert all over his shirt. Papyrus watched the disaster unfold without even making another joke about it.

The most anticipated part of the foray into how not to date was paying the bill and leaving, but even that didn’t go as planned. Blue had forgotten to grab his wallet from his usual outfit, and Papyrus ended up paying for the expensive food that Blue had insisted they order.

Once they were outside, Blue began to apologize in earnest. He’d ruined everything! Papy deserved a better boyfriend than the not-so-Magnificent Sans. Tears streamed down his round cheeks as he babbled.

“I’M SO SORRY PAPYRUS. THIS WAS SUCH A STUPID IDEA-”

“nah. it was a great first date.”

“WHAT?”

“i’m not as oblivious as you think i am,” Papyrus said with a wink.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW I-” Blue never got to finish his question because the taller skeleton leaned in quickly and clacked their mouths together. He didn’t pull away afterwards though. He lingered, letting their breath mingle. Blue grabbed his brother’s hoodie and pulled him into a deeper kiss.

How didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Papy’s mouth pressed against his and the honey-sweet taste of his brother’s tongue.

INDEX

#vexy writes #underswap #sfw swapcest #swapcest #underswap sans #underswap papyrus #us!sans #us!papyrus #first date #a comedy of errors #poor blue #but everything turned out in the end #sfw

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manuelclapid · 3 years

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July 11, 2021 AsktheBuilder Newsletter

Weight of Rain | Bat Story Follow-up | Clean Wooden Spoons

You're a new subscriber, aren't you? That explains why you're sitting next to Daphne, Dolly, Doug, Jenny, Marney, Betty, Ken, Shatasha, and a boatload of others that entered the room since last Sunday. Welcome! I think you're going to like the newsletter.

But you, yes you. How long have you subscribed? A week, a year, or maybe 20+ years. Thanks for continuing to stay on my list and open each issue!

Do you perchance remember the column I did about a pavement method that's unfortunately transforming from legend to myth? It's something you should know about. It may still be available in your city or town.

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Cleaning Wooden Spoons, Bowls and Cutting Boards

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Bats in Your House Update

Last week, I shared how to keep bats out of your attic or other dark spaces.

Maggie, a virtual friend of mine, is a subscriber like you. A few years ago, I helped her and her daughter whitewash their living room fireplace. CLICK or TAP HERE to see Maggie's before, during, and after photos. They used my recipe for REAL whitewash, not FAKE loser thinned milk paint that's an imposter!

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Moments after reading my column, Maggie emailed me with her true MUST-READ bat story!

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But don't bother reading it if you're good with wasting thousands of dollars and have no fear of dying.

Fun Summer Project - Build a Cardboard Boat!

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Soon you'll be the captain of your own cardboard boat!

Surfside City Condo COLLAPSE and Your House

Surely you know about the tragic condo collapse down in southern Florida, right? One-hundred+ people were suddenly sent back up to Heaven.

You're thinking, "Well, I don't live in a condo by the ocean so I've got little to worry about."

Well, you may have LOTS to worry about!

CLICK or TAP HERE to read what I think was the cause of the condo collapse and HOW A COLLAPSE MIGHT HAPPEN AT YOUR HOME!

STAIN SOLVER PRE-SALE Soon

Kathy and I own STAIN SOLVER. It's an amazing certified organic oxygen bleach made in the USA with USA ingredients. It can clean hundreds of things inside and outside your home.

If you've never tried it, I'm here to tell you you're missing out. Just yesterday, Shirley, a petite retired RN, called me to tell me how fantastic it is to get stains out of her colored blouses and knit tops.

STAIN SOLVER is both color and fabric-safe. CLICK or TAP HERE to get a small sample size to test for yourself.

CLICK or TAP HERE to watch a few SHORT videos of me using STAIN SOLVER. It's very easy to use and we've been told it's the best cleaner known to woman or man.

I wanted to give you a heads up about an upcoming sale. But there's a tiny problem.

First, all of our prices for every aspect of making STAIN SOLVER have gone up. Shipping costs go up quarterly and we offer FREE SHIPPING

Trust me, inflation is real. The causes are intertwined and complex.

It's impossible for us to absorb any more of these costs so we had to do a slight price increase. It's been a few years since we've raised prices, thus to able to continue to make STAIN SOLVER for you we had to adjust prices.

We manufacture 20,000 pounds at a time. This time we're making 279 of our SS50 size. This is a five-gallon pail of STAIN SOLVER.

Our SS50 is the BEST PRICE per pound - by far.

You should consider this size if you want to DEFEAT the price increase!!!! Buy one and share it with a friend, neighbor, relative, co-worker, etc.

Did you know if you freeze or keep STAIN SOLVER cold it can last indefinitely. Heat degrades STAIN SOLVER.

As soon as the product is made, hopefully by next Friday, we'll announce a PRE-SALE.

But, I fully expect we might SELL OUT of the 279 pails in days. The demand for that size is soaring.

You MUST REACT IMMEDIATELY to the PRE-SALE if you want one of the SS50 pails.

That's enough for a Sunday.

Next week is an apparel issue. I'll be sharing a tale about a very cool one-of-a-kind baseball cap my son helped design. Wait until you see the photo of it. I'm also going to share the website where we ordered the cap. You can do what we did and order your own custom full-color embroidered hat! I'll be sure to tell you about the FlexFit feature of my new cap.

I'm also going to feature some of my socks. My youngest daughter enrolled me in a socks club for Father's Day. Each month, some really FUN sock prizes arrive in the mail. Wait until you see the first two pairs. I was so excited and it will make sense when you see them!

Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com BEST CLEANER - www.StainSolver.com Airwaves Boss - www.W3ATB.com

Do It Right, Not Over!

P.S. I like to do old-fashioned division and multiplication problems using a pencil and paper to ward off brain deterioration. Tropical Storm Elsa just blew over my house and dumped 2 inches of rain. How many pounds of water do you think fell from the sky onto the square mile that surrounds my house? Don't ask Alexa or Siri!

CLICK or TAP HERE and be amazed. I swear you'll think I made a mistake. Trust me, I double-checked my figures.

The post July 11, 2021 AsktheBuilder Newsletter appeared first on Ask the Builder.

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andrewmawby · 3 years

Text

July 11, 2021 AsktheBuilder Newsletter

Weight of Rain | Bat Story Follow-up | Clean Wooden Spoons

But you, yes you. How long have you subscribed? A week, a year, or maybe 20+ years. Thanks for continuing to stay on my list and open each issue!

What would you say if I told you I had a stunning brown driveway at my last home? I'm talking about the same driveway Martha Stewart has at her home on Mt. Desert Island in Maine.

CLICK or TAP HERE to see stunning photos of this attractive driveway and how it's installed.

Be SURE to watch the short video on that page.

Cleaning Wooden Spoons, Bowls and Cutting Boards

Wait until you see the AFTER photos! You'll think I went out and bought a new spoon.

Bats in Your House Update

Last week, I shared how to keep bats out of your attic or other dark spaces.

Back to bats.

Moments after reading my column, Maggie emailed me with her true MUST-READ bat story!

With her permission, I copied the story and put it at the bottom of last week's bat column.

CLICK or TAP HERE and scroll to the bottom to read it. I'm SERIOUS - you MUST READ her story.

But don't bother reading it if you're good with wasting thousands of dollars and have no fear of dying.

Fun Summer Project - Build a Cardboard Boat!

Do you have kids or grandkids? Would you love to howl with laughter while creating lifetime memories?

I thought so! Good for you!

CLICK or TAP HERE to read about you can do this fun summer activity. You'll also discover how I helped set a new record in the state of Florida.

Soon you'll be the captain of your own cardboard boat!

Surfside City Condo COLLAPSE and Your House

Surely you know about the tragic condo collapse down in southern Florida, right? One-hundred+ people were suddenly sent back up to Heaven.

You're thinking, "Well, I don't live in a condo by the ocean so I've got little to worry about."

Well, you may have LOTS to worry about!

CLICK or TAP HERE to read what I think was the cause of the condo collapse and HOW A COLLAPSE MIGHT HAPPEN AT YOUR HOME!

STAIN SOLVER PRE-SALE Soon

Kathy and I own STAIN SOLVER. It's an amazing certified organic oxygen bleach made in the USA with USA ingredients. It can clean hundreds of things inside and outside your home.

STAIN SOLVER is both color and fabric-safe. CLICK or TAP HERE to get a small sample size to test for yourself.

CLICK or TAP HERE to watch a few SHORT videos of me using STAIN SOLVER. It's very easy to use and we've been told it's the best cleaner known to woman or man.

I wanted to give you a heads up about an upcoming sale. But there's a tiny problem.

First, all of our prices for every aspect of making STAIN SOLVER have gone up. Shipping costs go up quarterly and we offer FREE SHIPPING

Trust me, inflation is real. The causes are intertwined and complex.

We manufacture 20,000 pounds at a time. This time we're making 279 of our SS50 size. This is a five-gallon pail of STAIN SOLVER.

Our SS50 is the BEST PRICE per pound - by far.

You should consider this size if you want to DEFEAT the price increase!!!! Buy one and share it with a friend, neighbor, relative, co-worker, etc.

Did you know if you freeze or keep STAIN SOLVER cold it can last indefinitely. Heat degrades STAIN SOLVER.

As soon as the product is made, hopefully by next Friday, we'll announce a PRE-SALE.

But, I fully expect we might SELL OUT of the 279 pails in days. The demand for that size is soaring.

You MUST REACT IMMEDIATELY to the PRE-SALE if you want one of the SS50 pails.

That's enough for a Sunday.

Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com BEST CLEANER - www.StainSolver.com Airwaves Boss - www.W3ATB.com

Do It Right, Not Over!

CLICK or TAP HERE and be amazed. I swear you'll think I made a mistake. Trust me, I double-checked my figures.

The post July 11, 2021 AsktheBuilder Newsletter appeared first on Ask the Builder.

from builders feed https://www.askthebuilder.com/july-11-2021-askthebuilder-newsletter/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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chalupacabras · 6 years

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pit fruits

Hey buddy!!! Thank YOU!:) you’re testing me with this question though i had to google whether a guava has a pit

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos?: answered!

mango: what is your trademark? being friendly yet difficult to befriend, slices of cake, monetary generosity, creative outfits, always knowing. On here, talking in tags.

cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing? Yes, both, but I don’t nearly as much as I used to because I got sick in between and haven’t gotten back into the swing. I have 5+ instruments at home that I very rarely touch, except for the ukulele I take in to work every Saturday for storytime.

plum: favorite clothing brands? I don’t pay attention to clothing brands nearly as much as I do shoe brands. Don’t take that to mean I don’t pay attention to clothing--I do. I like dyed fabric over printed, cotton over blends, don’t like faux leather that feels like car seats, and can tell the difference between cheap and well-made clothing, and even better, i can sniff out cheap things that LOOK expensive, or expensive things at thrift stores that have been confused for cheap.

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person? that’s actually the root of 90% of my problems

apricot: what do you do when you’re sad? if it’s before the afternoon? talk to my wonderful girlfriend. If it’s the afternoon or later? Pump myself full of pleasures and distractions until I don’t feel it, and then go bed at 9 pm. Both of those things can be boiled down to “problem-solvers,” so I can say I’m certainly not a sadness-wallower or a self-pitier

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kabrac · 7 years

Text

A Small Accident/Fluff Month-Goodnight Kisses

Okay so I wrote this along a long period of time, (like 3 months??) but I really like how it turned out, so have this. (Also kinda for fluff month I guess?)

Warnings: Language and horrible akuma I came up with.

—–———————

“Shit,” Marinette cursed, frantically trying to get out of the shower.

Of course there would be a fucking akuma attack while she was in the shower, and of course it would happen on the worst day of her life.

She had confessed her feelings to Adrien, and he had rejected her, saying he was in love with Ladybug. So basically she was competing with a better version of herself.

She groaned drying her hair, she wasn’t even upset about it. She was more angry than anything, how could she beat herself? If they started dating and it got serious, she would have to tell him anyway. Maybe she could just skip the dating part and tell him she was Ladybug?

Wrapping a towel around her body, she yelled for Tikki, there was no time to get dressed, and she would come straight home anyway, it’s not like she was going to detransform in an allyway.

Tikki came to her side, transforming the shy girl, into the confident, amazing Ladybug. The girl jumped out of her room, quickly finding Chat Noir on a near by rooftop.

“Hey Kitty,” she spoke in a monotone voice, clearly upset, and her hair was still wet from her attempted shower.

“Something wrong M'lady?” He asked, a concerned tone laced through his flirty voice.

“Not having the best day,” She made a face like she had tasted something sour, quickly waving it off, “Let’s just get to the akuma.”

“I am Solver, I will solve every problem that is thrown at me, no one should have someone get in the way of my dreams!” The light-pink haired teen laughed evilly, sending problems at people.

~~~

One akuma fight later, Ladybug had found the item that was akumatized, a book that she used to write down problems, tore it, and purified the akuma. All was well when she said ‘miraculous ladybug’ and she could go home now, thank god.

But that was too easy wasn’t it?

Chat grabbed her by the hand, stopping her from leaving. She groaned in response, having a ready mental list for reasons why she had to leave asap.

“My Lady, please, we’ve known each other for over two years now, and I just think it’s finally time we-”

“Look, I’m not having the best day here, and I really need to go, like now,” she said, in a pleading tone.

“But, LB, please, don’t you think we have to right to,” her miraculous beeped, he didn’t even pause, he’s completely serious, shit, “know? What if something happens in your civilian form and you can’t contact me? What if something happens to your kwami?” He began to list a whole page of reasons why they should know, while Ladybug just shook her head.

And, though she hadn’t registered it, her miraculous was about to run out, and when she became aware of that, she started panicking. She could see the bakery. She could see it, she could make it in time if she left now, so she turned back to Chat, to give him some form of excuse.

“Now is really not the time, I have something going on right now I need to take-” Her transformation released, the towel that was wrapped around her blowing slightly upward in the process, but it didn’t matter it was long on her anyways.

She groaned again, preparing her hand to hold the towel in place. She should’ve been more careful, how could she let something like this happen?! The first time Chat knows who she is, and she’s dressed like this?!

“Now you see what I was talking about,” she growled, angry. This whole day seemed to be filled with that emotion. Anger. It was her least favorite. Ironic.

“S-sorry Marinette, I couldn’t hold out any longer,” Tikki apologized to her holder.

“Don’t worry Tikki it’s not your fault, I should’ve been watching my time better, and someone should’ve let me go back home quicker,” she glared at her partner.

“M-Marinette? I-I’m so sorry, why didn’t you tell me you were… indecent,” he gestured to the cloth draped over her body, blushing and stammering in the process.

“Well, what did you want me to say?! ‘Oh I just got out of the shower to transform, and the only form of clothing I have is a towel’?!” She scolded, pinching her nose, “Just take me home please, we’ll talk about it there, I have all sorts of foods, surely I’ll have something to fit your kwami’s needs, and we should probably get some first aid help too,” she mumbled the last part, they both got pretty beat up, Marinette had scratches on her face, and a small gash on her shoulder that went down below her neckline, and another gash on her neck.

He simply nodded his head, scooping her up. He was still dazed from her reveal, and upset with himself for earlier. He had turned down Marinette for her, well Ladybug, who was her. He shook his head, shaking the thought, and put her down in her room.

“What kind of food does your kwami need?” She asked, nonchalantly, like the whole reveal hadn’t even matter to her.

“Camembert.”

“Tikki, do you know where the cheese is down stairs?” She asked, turning towards the small animal.

Tikki nodded, “But what about your parents?”

“They’re gone for the week on some business trip or something, and you know where the cookies are?” She nodded again, flying down the stairs to go get them as Marinette walked into her bathroom, “We’ll talk about it later okay? Can you help me with some of my scratches while we do? I’ll treat yours after of course.”

“Sure,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear as she turned the shower water back on, and locked the door. He breathed a sigh, his transformation releasing as Plagg was thrown out of his ring.

When Tikki came back, she carried two cookies, and two small wheels of Camembert cheese, setting them down on Marinette’s desk, by her computer, beckoning Plagg to come eat.

He went over to her, starting to munch on the cheese in silence, “So you’re Chat Noir,” Tikki looked over him with critical eyes, “Are you going to let Marinette know who you are?”

“I don’t know,” he spoke quietly, so the aforementioned girl wouldn’t hear him, “I feel really bad about earlier, I mean,” he paused, “I turned her down so I could have a chance with her, or, I guess, Ladybug.” The room fell to silence once more, Tikki looking at him, feeling sorry for the boy.

She could tell he loved Marinette, even before he knew, he was too blinded by his love for Ladybug to realize it though. The small Kwami sighed, young love, every holder she’d ever had the pleasure of being the Kwami of had it. Young love was so sweet and blissful. It almost seemed like a dream.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden stop in water drops hitting the shower floor, and Tikki rushed to get Marinette some more decent clothing than what she planned to wear when she initially got out.

The spotted creature grabbed a thick strapped tank top that Marinette owned featuring Harley Quinn, and some black shorts to go with the same-colored shirt.

When she got into the bathroom Marinette thanked her companion, and rushed to get changed, she had a sports bra, knowing she would have to take off her shirt when they cleaned each other’s wounds, because of the damned cut that went down to her upper breast. She blushed at the thought, it was embarrassing, though, less than an hour ago, he had seen her in nothing but a towel, so it would be better than that at least.

She sighed, putting on the clothes in a hurry, and she hesitated before the doorknob, “Hey, I’m gonna come out, if you don’t want me to see who you are, Tikki can get you a mask I’ve been working on.

She heard a muffled thank you, and the swish of her hurried kwami to get him the mask, she finally opened the door, holding a first aid kit to help their cuts and bruises.

She sat it down, quickly pulling out the antiseptic, and bandages. She glanced over him, he had some blood seeping through his shirt. She sighed, for what felt like the millionth time today, “Take your shirt off,” a small blush covered her porcelain face as she looked anywhere but at him.

"W-What?“ He asked, not sure if he heard her correctly.

"Take your shirt off,” she said it more clearly this time, “You have blood seeping through it, and I can’t get to the cut with fabric over it.”

He blushed, obeying as she looked at the wound, trying so very hard not to think about the place it was.

She pulled a large cotton ball from the first aid box, soaking it in alcohol, “This is gonna sting, but it’s the worst of your cuts, so it’s better to treat it first,” he nodded as she hesitated to put the cotton ball to his skin, eventually she did, and he hissed in pain.

"Sorry,“ her face looked like it pained her slightly to see him in pain. She removed the cotton ball, wiping up the access rubbing alcohol with another cotton ball, and wrapping a bandage around his torso to keep it from bleeding any longer. She moved on to assess the other cuts he had, one on his bicep, and another on his cheek, that was partially covered by her make-shift mask.

She decided to not address that now, it would come later, and if he wanted to take care of it it on his own time, that was fine. She loaded up another cotton ball, and pressed it to the small, but deep, cut in his bicep, he flinched slightly, and she let out a small, "Hold still,” as he did.

"Now, the last one is,“ she paused for a moment, unsure of how he would react, "It’s under the mask I gave you, on your cheek. If you want to treat it on your own, that’s fine, but if you want me to do it,” she took in a sharp breath before continuing, “you’ll have to take off the mask.”

His face drained of color, he didn’t have a first aid kit, she’d have to do it for him. He’d have to take off the mask. Seeing his fearful expression, she quickly interjected, “You can treat mine before we get to it, if you want some time to think about it, it’s a small gash, it should be fine.”

He silently sighed in relief, and nodded, going to pick up the items, he had treated wounds before, it was a simple process. What was not so simple though, the gash on her shoulder, and once she realized what he was thinking, after she saw him staring at the cut for a while, was… she was going to have to take off her shirt.

She sighed, blushing, it was embarrassing, this boy, who she doesn’t know the real name of, was going to see her topless. Tikki wouldn’t be able to help her with it, she couldn’t do it herself, and she certainly couldn’t just leave it be to heal. So she told Chat to look away as she took it off, and when he turned back, he turned a deep shade of red.

She tried her best to act as if it didn’t phase her, but it was impossible, she was also a very deep red.

“Just get it over with already,” she breathed, looking anywhere but his face, “I can’t treat it myself, and Tikki can’t do it either, and I can’t leave it, so just do it quickly,” he nodded, trying to suppress the heat that came to his face.

Once it was over with, they both sighed in relief, and she turned to put on her tank top again. She muttered a, “Thanks,” and moved her hair so he could get the cut on her neck, it wasn’t as bad, so it would be quicker, and less painful.

They sat in silence for a while, not wanting to speak through the awkward moment, until she broke the silence, “Sorry if I seem,” she hesitated, embarrassed at her words, “a bit, moody.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, she knew he meant what caused her to act this way, and she was quick to answer, Tikki didn’t understand her point of view very well.

“I know I mentioned it earlier,” she shifted her position, “I didn’t really have the best day.”

“What happened?” he bit his lip, already knowing the answer.

“I confessed to my crush at school today, and he rejected me,” she had the slightest look of anger on her face, “I’m not sad about it or anything, just… mad, I guess,” she huffed, rolling her eyes at her own foolishness from that day.

“Are… are you mad at him?” He asked, a look of fear covered his tan face.

“No, of course not!” She quickly replied, “It just, he said he had a crush on another girl– Ladybug– how am I supposed to compete with myself? Especially when it’s Ladybug, she’s a better me, a more confident and brave version of myself.”

“I don’t know princess,” he used her civilian pet-name, making her blush slightly, “I think you’re just as great as Ladybug,” he said, hoping to cheer her up.

“You’re not jealous?” She looked absolutely shocked.

“Do you want me to be?” He smirked, making her scowl at him.

“It’s not that! It’s just, well, you’ve been regularly flirting with me for over two years, you can see where my shock comes from,” she explained as if it were obvious.

He simply shrugged in response, finishing off her last cut with a small bandaid, “So the one on my cheek,” he started.

“Can you do it yourself, or do you want me to do it?” She asked, biting her lip, anticipation filling her veins.

“Can you do it?” He asked.

“I can,” she paused, “but do you want me to?”

He nodded his head, hair bouncing ever so slightly, “But the mask,” he reached to touch said item.

“Are you sure you want me to know who you are?” She seemed more unsure of herself, unreasonable in this situation. She had already revealed her identity, “If not, then I can probably cram the cotton ball under the mask.”

She heard the small hum of their Kwamis talking in the background as he answered, “Okay.”

She let out a breath of relief, “Okay, I’ll get to work then.”

She cleaned the cut, slightly lifting the mask to clean the end of it, he hissed in pain, alcohol did do its job, to clean the wound, but it hurt like hell. She muttered an apology, her face scrunched up in slight worry.

“There,” she placed a bandaid over the cut, finishing it off.

There was silence for a while, no banter, only the sound of their breathing could be heard. It was a highly awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he spat out, breaking the silence, Marinette jumped in surprise.

“What… what for?” She questioned.

“For, everything, I guess,” he breathed, he was scared that she hated him, “It’s my fault that I know your identity, and I just wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t sweat it, kitty,” she had a smirk on her face, “I just wish it were under different circumstances,” she laughed nervously.

“Me too,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had rejected her earlier, only because he had a crush on her alter ego.

Marinette looked at her clock, “It’s, um, getting late, you should probably head home.”

“Okay,” he bit his lip, he wanted to stay and tell her how sorry he was, and how he just felt so stupid, and kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly, that it almost physically hurt. How would he deal with seeing her tomorrow, not that he knew her secret, how would it affect their relationship?

“Hey, Marinette?”

“Yes–” She was cut off by a kiss, and a hand placed on her cheek. A blush could be seen on her face, and she reached to hold his forearm, as if to keep his hand on her face.

And then it hit her– she wanted this. She wanted Chat, she wanted to be with him, and she was too stupidly hooked on her feelings for Adrien to see it. Was she really that stupid? How could she be so obviously in love, but not know it?

The kiss ended all too soon, with him pulling away from a dazed Marinette. She looked in surprise as he jumped away, blinking multiple times to regain her composure.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow,” she stammered, still slightly confused.

“Y-Yeah,” with that, he disappeared into the night.

“Tikki… did that just happen?” She asked unsure if she was dreaming, or maybe she was half asleep?

The kwami giggle in response, “I think it did Marinette.”

Words: 2868

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artofgmatthewdixon · 4 years

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Why You Should Choose A Graphic Designer Over VistaPrint

As a savvy business owner, you know how important networking is and you’re eager to get started. Getting your business cards cheaply and quickly is the most important detail correct? Wrong. Your business cards are a key piece of your networking and brand image. They should be a priority, but don’t just slap your name on just anything and start passing them out… Your card will leave a lasting impression with potential customers of your business. Hiring a professional designer, like Jester Graphix, would be the best decision you can make.

You aren’t limited to a predesigned template. You will never find a template that will completely capture the personality and tone of your brand by using an online ordering system like VistaPrint. Your business cards are about your brand and should reflect you, not the best template design from an assortment of 5-10 pre-created designs with the very personal “YOUR NAME HERE” stamped across them.

A Graphic Designer will see the whole picture on top of offering you a one-of-a-kind beautiful business card. When you order from an online store like VistaPrint, you get exactly what you think you might want- and that might not be what you are really looking for. A designer is first and foremost a problem solver. They are used to stepping back to take a look at your brand as a whole. This allows the designer to see things that you may have over-looked or weren’t even aware to look for. A professional designer is trained to know more about color theory and logo design, font choices and spacing than you could imagine. A designer will often spend time discussing with their clients your brand, past marketing strategies, your target demographics and your budget. How would an impersonal company like VistaPrint know if your new business card doesn’t match your website or your brand look and feel?

Good designers love their job and love good design. Graphic designers are one of this generation’s fine artists. Good designers are good at what they do because they have a passion for good design. They will stay up late at night squinting at their computer screens trying to make sure that the color blue on your card is just the right shade of blue and not too purple or too green. They will spend time staring at the space between the letters of your last name to make sure that the letters fall in just the right way and there is no extra space between the O and the A in the typeface they chose. You will never get that attention to detail and concern for your product from an online website.

What is your time worth? Most businesses specialize in an industry or service, like a Mexican restaurant or a Roofer, or even a Chiropractor or Cleaning service. You Know Your Business. A designer will know theirs. Sure you can probably spend hours coming up with, what you feel is, the perfect card. This is time that could be spent doing what you do best. A good designer may be able to create your ideal vision twice as fast and twice as well for half the cost. So you do you. This is what they do.

You get what you pay for. Want to spend the bare minimum for business cards? Then prepare yourself to hand out cards that are bare minimum in quality. Your cards are an investment and should never be skimped on. They are usually the first introduction that you will give to a potential client and go a long way towards showing how committed to your own business you are. Handing a client a cheap card may give off the impression that you don’t put much thought into your own business… how much thought would you put into theirs?

Some negative reviews from various review websites

“I have mistakenly used this (VistaPrint) twice for business cards. THEY ARE HORRIBLE!!! Rude, arrogant, and unprofessional. It took hours to do something that should have taken 15 minutes. The cards were always shipped late with numerous mistakes…”

“I ordered cards and they came damaged… I also noticed that the cards were shiny and I asked about it. (Customer Service) said that must be my mistake but I know I had ordered matte. She reordered them for me. …I got them days later and they are still shiny; they are not matte like I had ordered. They look cheap. I sent an email explaining my displeasure with the product but I received no communication back from them. So frustrated.”

“I was with Vistaprint since 2005. In 2019 they had made 3 mistakes on my business cards. I had contacted customer service to have them fix these issues. These guys actually flagged my account and told me they would not do business with me, one of the reps then proceeded to tell me that they would call me back after 24 hours after I had told them that I wanted to appeal their decision as Vista Print held my logos, I could not afford to change all my store banners and business card looks as I was already swamped with work... They never returned my calls even after promising calls back to give me more detailed answers on why they cut me off!”

“All of the products that I have purchased are of low quality, banners fading within a 12 months, t-shirts very low quality fabric falling apart in the wash as well as fading in the wash… When trying to get help they give the runaround and blame anyone but themselves. Highly do not recommend VistaPrint.”

“The text ... was not centered on front or back as it should have been. Ink on back wasn't even, so some lines of text were darker than others.”

“Their design template … was completely incompatible with their online proofer... their customer service simply cannot support specific design questions. “

This is definitely not the kind of customer service you could expect from a graphic designer! A good graphic designer will help you to build a personal lasting business partnership with your company and brand. After all you are hiring them to help broadcast your message and create your public persona. This is one thing that is severely lacking in online ordering. Customer service calls are never going to yield the same results as that personal relationship you develop with your designer.

Whatever your short-term or long-term goals, a graphic designer can get you there. and it may be more cost effective than you may think. A good designer will help you stay within budget and still give you a quality product with a quick turnaround. If you are unsure how a graphic designer can benefit you, your business or your brand, just ask us here at Jester Graphix. We would be more than happy to help answer your questions and concerns. Take your first step to the next level today!

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emoryjrice71 · 5 years

Text

April 28, 2019 AsktheBuilder Newsletter

If you're a brand new subscriber, I need you to realize this issue of the newsletter is extraordinarily special.

I've NEVER produced an issue like you're about to read.

So hang in there and don't unsubscribe. You'll see a normal issue next week.

The Story of Stain Solver

First and foremost Stain Solver is a certified organic multi-purpose cleaner made here in the USA with USA ingredients. If you can wash the item with water, Stain Solver can be used to clean it.

A special promo code and sale has been set up just for you for this newsletter issue. You'll discover it below.

My wife Kathy and I own Stain Solver. Ellen and Roger are two long-time team members who have been with us through thick and thin. Oh, the stories Ellen and Roger can tell you about how we used to mix, package and carry Stain Solver up from our basement!

"Tim, what's in this for ME? Why should I care about your Stain Solver anyway?"

Oh, that's a great question and I'm about to answer it. Don't bail on this newsletter. I GUARANTEE you'll be able to get something of yours clean that no dry cleaner or other product has been able to do.

It's important to realize if you've never used Stain Solver before, you've never experienced a truly remarkable cleaner that exceeds all the claims we, and happy customers, make about it.

The Column

Stain Solver was born out of research I was doing for a deck cleaning column back in 1994 I believe. It was a long time ago.

I was interviewing an innovative small deck sealer company based in the Midwest. I asked the owner, "I imagine you recommend a 50/50 mix of chlorine bleach and water to clean the deck before using your product."

That was, and to this day, the common advice given to clean decks. Yes, TOXIC chlorine bleach is still promoted by many to clean wood decks! It's a very bad idea to use it.

Many deck-cleaning products sold today at the big box stores you shop at are just chlorine bleach. If it says sodium hypochlorite on the label, it's NASTY chlorine bleach!

The owner of the sealer company replied, "Oh no, never use chlorine bleach. It removes the natural color from wood, it KILLS all the vegetation around the deck, and it's very corrosive to all the metal fasteners that hold the deck together. Chlorine bleach also destroys the lignin that holds the wood together. You want to use OXYGEN BLEACH."

I had never heard of oxygen bleach! The deck sealer company owner said, "Here, call Jef Morgan, the chemist and head of marketing for the chemical company that distributes the BEST oxygen bleach in the USA. He'll tell you all about it."

I called Jef. We had dinner the next week and he told me all about oxygen bleach and how it worked on wood. As we were about to order dessert, I asked, "So Jef, does oxygen bleach work to clean ANYTHING ELSE?"

The floodgates opened. We spent another ninety minutes at Montgomery Inn as Jef went down the list of ALL THE THINGS you can clean with oxygen bleach.

The Sack

Jef wanted me to try it out. He sent me a 100-pound sack of the pure oxygen bleach. "Tim, go ahead and start experimenting with it. Share a bunch with your friends and neighbors. Give them this small booklet to help them understand how to use it. See what kind of feedback you get."

The booklet had a page devoted to each common thing you might try to clean. The instructions were pretty much always the same: Mix 4 tablespoons of the oxygen bleach powder with a quart of warm water and stir until dissolved.

You'd then apply this solution to a dirty object or soak a soiled garment in the solution. The point was to just get the item WET with the bubbling solution and let the oxygen bubbles start to clean.

After the solution would work on its own, you'd then scrub or agitate the item as you might in a washing machine and magic would happen after you rinse away all the grime, dirt and stains!

The Feedback

Kathy and I did what Jef recommended. We shared at least sixty pounds with my friends and neighbors.

Within a week, many were calling us back saying, "Holy crap! Where did you get this stuff? It's AMAZING!"

How amazing you ask? Here's my all-time FAVORITE before and after photo sent in by a customer. These have NOT been photoshopped:

CLICK or TAP HERE to read Georgia's unbelievable story about her son Curtis' baseball cap.

Our friends and neighbors would share a story of something that was ruined, or they thought was ruined, and how the magic powder had restored it.

A bank teller I saw each week while making deposits used it to clean up the rear seat in her brand new car. She had brought a tupperware container of beets to work and it leaked on the seat.

Beet stains are TOUGH to remove! They're like red wine. (Did I mention that Stain Solver gets out red wine stains?)

"Tim, I mixed up some like it said in the booklet and the beet juice stain DISAPPEARED in just a few minutes! Can you sell me some extra? I want to try it on a bunch of stained blouses of mine."

I just gave her some for free. She later told me Stain Solver restored ALL of her stained blouses that dry cleaners had been UNABLE to clean!

More and more stories came in from my friends and neighbors. I was STUNNED at all the things they were cleaning.

The Library

At that point, Kathy and I decided to start to sell this magic cleaner.

But we needed a name. This was 1995 and I knew it was a great stain remover so I went to the main public library in downtown Cincinnati with a friend, Nick Motz.

At that time, that library was a branch depository - or some other designation - of the US Patent and Trademark Office. They had these giant books of registered trademarks.

Kathy and I had come up with several names and I started to see which ones had already been trademarked.

Stain Solver withstood that challenge, we applied for the trademark and got it.

Shopping Carts

You may feel really comfortable buying things online now. But back in 1995, it was the Wild West. E-commerce was brand new. Shopping carts on websites were basic.

Many people were TERRIFIED to enter their credit card information on a website. Convincing them to buy online was not easy.

But we did it and still do it to this day. CLICK or TAP HERE to see our current shopping cart.

What Does Stain Solver Clean?

You already know it cleans wood decks - and all composite decking material too.

Stain Solver also cleans:

patios

vinyl or wood siding

driveways

deck furniture

boat hull scum and mildewed cushions

patio table umbrellas

hammocks

deck furniture cushions

kayaks

canoes

oil stains on concrete

the list is ENDLESS - if you can wash something with water, you can almost always clean it with Stain Solver

Here's a SHORT LIST of things Stain Solver can clean INSIDE your home:

pet stains and pet ODORS

ceramic tile floor and wall grout - Watch this video

carpet stains - look at these photos a professional sent to me

tough stains in clothes and furniture

baked-on grease on oven racks

heirloom quilts and fine fabrics - LOOK at these photos!

coffee and tea mug stains

I could go on and on and on and on.

There are HUNDREDS of things in your home you can clean with Stain Solver.

Once again, if you have a TOUGH STAIN on something and have tried other cleaners that delivered disappointing results, Stain Solver very likely will restore it.

CLICK or TAP HERE to watch my favorite cleaning videos.

CLICK or TAP HERE for the full Stain Solver Use Instructions.

Are You Still Skeptical?

Are you a subscriber who's been with me for years? You've seen all the past Stain Solver mentions and sales and ignored me, right?

You've never bought Stain Solver because you feel I'm making insane claims or it's too good to be true, right?

Tens of thousands of customers have trusted Kathy and I and are now REPEAT CUSTOMERS.

A very good customer in California buys Stain Solver in 50-pound buckets. Due to a serious and complex illness, she can't be around any toxic cleaners. Stain Solver is just about the ONLY THING she can use that doesn't bother her or make her sick. She is a big fan of Stain Solver and I'm a big fan of her!

Here's a proposition for you. Go ahead and buy some now. Use the following promo code below.

Ellen or I will personally answer any questions you have about how to use it. I will GLADLY call you on the phone and answer any questions you have if you are on the fence about buying.

If Stain Solver was a crap product, do you think in this day and age with social media we'd be able to survive? Bad products are beat to death with complaints and bad reviews.

This is why Stain Solver has SURVIVED. It's a fantastic product that really works so long as you follow our use instructions.

Schools, Motels & Office Buildings

Here's where Kathy and I need your help.

Do you work in a school, motel, an office building, an auto repair business, a daycare center, a restaurant, etc.?

We've sold Stain Solver to the above businesses for YEARS and want to grow the B2B business.

A school in California buys SEVEN 50-pound buckets at a time from us to clean their school floors. CLICK or TAP HERE to see the order form.

A giant company in Cincinnati uses it in their tall office towers to clean up coffee spills in cubicles each night. They also use it on their bathroom tile floors.

A motel in West Virginia uses it to clean oil-stained carpeting in rooms from contract workers who work in the field on oil rigs.

Restaurants buy Stain Solver to deep clean greasy kitchen floors and to deep clean all the cutlery overnight so it's like brand new for the customers the next day.

I could go on and on and on about all the businesses that buy Stain Solver.

Can you help get the word out? Can your business try it?

Do you have QUESTIONS about how to use it at your business?

The Promo Code

Okay, go ahead and try some Stain Solver now.

CLICK or TAP HERE to order Stain Solver.

Here's a promo code for 10% off and FREE SHIPPING to the lower 48 states here in the USA.

19SPRING

The promo code works on any purchase GREATER than $25.00.

This sale will last just ONE WEEK. Don't worry, I'll remind you in a few days.

If you've not used Stain Solver before, I GUARANTEE you'll be blown away. I WILL CALL YOU if need be to help you get the best results. Ellen or I will answer your questions.

Call this number M-F between 9 and 2 pm ET to get in touch with Ellen: 513-407-8727

That's quite enough for a Sunday morning.

Do you have questions about Stain Solver?

Reply to this email and I'll do my best to get back to you right away.

Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com Co-Founder - www.StainSolver.com

Do It Right, Not Over!

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