#fancy fold cards

[canadianstamper]

Gone Fishing Pop up card

I wanted to share with you a different take on the “Gone Fishing” bundle and the coordinating DSP from Stampin’ Up! This lovely bundle and coordinating designer series paper is perfect for the fisherman (or woman) in your lives. As you can see in the pictures below, the stamp set is geared towards Father’s Day or retirement cards and I love how you can create a tackle box with all sorts of lures…

[queenbcreations]

Lucky Clover Fun Folds

Hi, Stamper. Welcome to the end of February AND the end of Sale-a-bration. Today is also this months Fun Fold Blog Hop! I’m showcasing the Lucky Clover stamp set with TWO fun fold cards for you. It’s a bummer that the coordinating punch sold out so quickly, but there are still many things we can do with the awesome stamp set! Here is the card I made during my YouTube live – see video below. This…

[germylemon]

i just spent like however long it takes to binge the To All The Boys Ive Loved Before trilogy making valentines for my friends because i love and appreciate them but holy shit my back hurts.

do we think love ages you prematurely or am i just getting old.

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[atlasyaps]

Gentle dom! Choso

pairing: gentle dom bf Choso x afab! reader

warnings: somnophilia, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), groping

Gentle dom! Choso, who when you first met him, was frightened by his tall stature and scary resting face. He was leaning on his F-113 Hellcat, a lighted cigarette in his hand. Your friends had dared you to ask him out and because ‘mama didn’t raise no pussy”, you swallowed all your pride and walked up to him. 

Gentle dom! Choso, who you realise after a few dates, was 1. Filthy rich  and 2. Is actually a sweetheart in disguise. On the third date, he takes you to this fancy grill, and is surprisingly, friends with the manager. The manager sets you both up for a nice and romantic dinner and safe to say that you enjoyed the date, and Choso.  

Gentle dom! Choso, who loves to ramble about random things that happen in his life, to his brothers, his job and anything else that comes to mind when you both cuddle on the couch. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck as he continues on rambling, strong arms wrapped around your waist.

Gentle dom! Choso, who makes a sound similar to a purr as you card your fingers through the tangled mess called his hair. He loves to come home and place his head on your lap as you pull the hair bands off, combing through his hair. He soon falls asleep from the sensation, soft and deep purrs rumbling from his chest as his arms come to wrap around the small of your back.

Gentle dom! Choso, who prioritizes your pleasure over his, making sure you feel 100% comfortable. Any indication of a pained whimper or jolt would make him stop his ministrations and ask if you were okay, peppering kisses onto your skin as you breathily tried to explain the pain felt good.

Gentle dom! Choso, who’s favourite position is a mating press, where he can be impossibly closer to you as he presses his sweaty forehead against yours, chestnut bangs sticking to the side of his face. Your legs are on his shoulders, almost folding you with his incredible strength as his still, rock hard cock pounds into your squelching cunt, making your vision blur and your hips buck to meet his.

Gentle dom! Choso,  who loves languidly eating you out, loving the cut off moans and the sound of your squelching and dripping cunt. Pressing his face so close to your pussy that his nose presses your clit as his tongue bullies its way into the tight walls. 

Gentle dom! Choso,who knows your body is spent and exhausted, carries you bridal style into the bathtub, washing you and cleaning your limp and sweaty body before changing the sheets and cuddling right up to you, pressing his head into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Maybe one day he will have enough courage to finally take out the small velvet box in his drawer that he kept since he first laid eyes on you.

[zara-renata]

Caleb would be driven insane by Sylus being in your life, a short sketch:

As you’re pulling out your wallet to pay for lunch one sunny afternoon, Caleb asks, “Whose black card is that?”

“Oh, my friend… Skye’s.”

“Friend, huh?” His pretty indigo eyes narrow in a way that’s unfamiliar to you, like so many things about him are unfamiliar to you now.

“Since when are you a fan of Rothko?” he asks, looking at the painting Sylus had given you, hanging in your bedroom.

“Oh, it was a gift from Skye. He said it reminded him of me.”

Caleb leans closer to it, brows furrowed in concentration, dark hair sweeping over his forehead. “Is it… an original?”

Your eyes widen. “Of course not, goober. I’m sure it’s just one of those really fancy reproductions.”

Later, Caleb feels behind the canvas, finds the certificate of authenticity. His arm short circuits from the resulting neural activity.

“I didn’t know you could afford brands like these on a hunter’s salary.” He trails his augmented fingers along the soft, luxurious fabric of the clothes hanging in your closet. “It must pay a lot, being the best of the best, huh Pipsqueak?”

“Oh,” you say absently, reading on your bed while Caleb folds and puts away your laundry. “Skye is a clothes horse, he’s always sending me stuff after his shopping sprees.”

“Ah,” he says, low. His silence feels really, really loud.

“What kind of business did you say your… friend, Skye, was it? Is in?”

You glance up from the reports you’re working on at your laptop at the kitchen island. "Huh?"

Caleb stands in the middle of your living room, holding the sniper rifle with the ruby-encrusted grip and custom-made silencer that Sylus had gifted you after getting fed up with how often your preference for blades got you injured. Try taking them out from a distance, Kitten. Have some of that famous Hunter compassion and spare me some heart attacks, okay? I’m not immortal, after all. My heart can’t take seeing you hurt this often.

You shake your head a little. “Oh.” You freeze. Remember the lie Sylus always tells, so smoothly, when your friends ask him what he does. “He’s a… fruit vendor.”

Caleb frowns, and it’s jarring on his normally cheerful face. “I think it’s time I meet your new friend, Pipsqueak.”

[txrully]

BLLK BOYS' CHRISTMAS GIFTS!

chars: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness x fem! reader (all seperate)

a/n: whew that's a lot of characters.. ;-;

isagi yoichi

he’s overthinking. like, seriously overthinking. this man has researched “best gifts for girlfriends” on google at least five times. a candle? too basic. jewelry? what if you don’t like it? a heartfelt handwritten letter? too corny.

it takes bachira dragging him to a mall (where he immediately gets overwhelmed by the crowds) to finally decide. he ends up picking out a cute sweater that’s totally your style and pairs it with a charm bracelet he thinks would look adorable on you. bonus: he spends an extra half hour wrapping it perfectly. there’s no way he’s messing this up.

... except he accidentally forgets the tag and panics, scribbling a little sticky note with “to the best girlfriend ever :)” right before handing it to you.

bachira meguru

bachira’s gift? chaotic perfection. this man goes all out, no second-guessing. he decides on a custom plushie that looks like you and him as little cartoon characters (it’s both adorable and mildly terrifying, let’s be real).

but that’s not all. he also makes a scrapbook filled with random polaroids of the two of you – some cute, some extremely cursed – and decorates every page with colorful doodles and washi tape.

he doesn’t bother with wrapping paper, though. he hands it to you in a giant gift bag covered in glitter with the words “BEST GIRLFRIEND IN THE WORLD!” written in permanent marker.

rin itoshi

rin claims he doesn’t “do christmas.” yeah, okay, mr. grinch. except he totally does, because he’s secretly been working on his gift for weeks. he gets you something practical but meaningful, like a sleek pair of headphones in your favorite color, engraved with your initials.

oh, and he throws in a tiny sanrio keychain because he noticed you staring at one in a store once. (yes, he remembers these things. don’t ask how.)

he doesn’t say much when he gives it to you, just a quiet “merry christmas” while awkwardly avoiding your gaze. but you catch the little smile when you say you love it, and it’s the best present of all.

nagi seishiro

nagi... completely forgot it was christmas until reo reminded him. but don’t worry, he’s got this! (or so he claims.)

his idea of a “perfect” gift is something chill and cozy – like a weighted blanket and a pair of fluffy socks, because he knows you love staying warm. he wraps them in the most halfhearted way possible, with tape sticking out everywhere and zero attempt at folding the edges.

“it’s what’s inside that counts,” he mumbles when you laugh at the wrapping job. you love it anyway, because it’s so him. and when you catch him napping under that same blanket with you later, you know he secretly loves it too.

chigiri hyoma

chigiri’s gift is effortlessly elegant, just like him. he spends weeks planning it out because he wants everything to be perfect. he gets you a delicate necklace with a tiny charm that reminds him of you – maybe a snowflake or a flower.

but that’s not all. he also bakes you cookies (yes, chigiri bakes, fight me on this) and arranges them in a cute little tin with a handwritten card. the card? it’s filled with heartfelt words that make you tear up just a little.

when you thank him, he gives you one of those soft smiles that makes your heart race. “only the best for you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

mikage reo

reo spoils you. like, you tried to tell him to keep it small this year, but does reo listen? absolutely not.

his gift is an entire experience – dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by a private ice-skating session (because, of course, he booked the whole rink). then he hands you a perfectly wrapped box containing the most beautiful dress (or outfit) he picked out just for you.

“i saw it and thought it’d look amazing on you,” he says casually, like he didn’t spend hours agonizing over it. you try to scold him for going overboard, but he just grins. “your happiness is worth it.”

hiori yo

hiori is the thoughtful gift-giver. he listens to every little thing you say and somehow remembers it all.

so when you open his gift, you’re stunned to find it’s exactly what you mentioned months ago – whether it’s a book you wanted to read, a cozy hoodie you loved, or even that random stuffed animal you gushed about once in passing.

he also includes a playlist he made just for you, filled with songs that remind him of you and your time together. when you tell him how much it means to you, he gives you a shy smile and says, “i just wanted to make sure you felt special.”

shidou ryusei

shidou’s gift? utterly unhinged but somehow sweet in the weirdest way possible. he buys you a gigantic stuffed animal—like, it barely fits through the door. why? because he “wants you to think of him when you’re hugging it.” (as if you could forget him even if you tried.)

but wait, there’s more. he also gives you a pair of matching pajamas. yes, matching. one side is obnoxiously pink with sparkly hearts (yours), and the other is black with a neon skull print (his).

when you ask him why, he just smirks and goes, “so everyone knows we’re the ultimate power couple, babe.” obnoxious? yes. thoughtful in his own shidou way? absolutely.

itoshi sae

sae doesn’t do christmas gifts. or so he says. but then he shows up at your place with a sleek little bag in hand, acting like it’s not a big deal.

inside? the perfect pair of winter gloves—luxurious, soft, and in your favorite color. oh, and he picked out a matching scarf, because, in his words, “you’re always complaining about being cold.”

he tries to play it cool when you gush over the gift, but you catch the tiniest smirk when you wrap the scarf around your neck. “don’t make it a big deal,” he mutters, but the way he watches you wear it says otherwise.

michael kaiser

kaiser’s gift is pure drama. he makes an event out of it, because, of course, he has to be the center of attention. he leads you on a whole scavenger hunt through the house, complete with cryptic notes and hints that are honestly harder than necessary.

when you finally reach the last clue, it’s a big box wrapped in glittery gold paper with an obnoxiously large bow. inside? a designer coat that probably cost more than your rent.

“only the best for my empress,” he says with that signature smug grin, pulling you into his arms. when you point out he went way overboard, he shrugs and smirks. “you’re worth it.”

alexis ness

ness is the ultimate cinnamon roll gift-giver. he spends weeks making something special for you—like a scrapbook filled with photos, ticket stubs, and little notes from your time together.

but he also surprises you with something cozy, like a fluffy blanket or a custom sweater he picked out because he knows you’re always cold.

when you thank him, his cheeks turn pink, and he shyly mutters, “i just wanted you to have something that feels like a hug from me.” (stop. he’s too precious.)

© txrully 2024

do not copy, translate, plagiarize, or post my works on other platforms.

likes and reblogs appreciated :) <3

hmmm should i make a part 2 w other characters? pls lmk! ^^

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mdni][mlw][slight angst?][semi-public][oral f! receiving][sloppy][spitting][petnames][implied age gap][age gap is legal btw][fingering][anal fingering. no i will not apologize.][ass eating.][i won't apologise for that either]

"I had to do Damian's laundry for this so don't fuck it up."

Jason huffs, eyes narrowing at Roy as the car pulls up to the curb outside the restaurant. A cute diner, neon lights flickering over the double doors of the entrance, reading, 'fancy eat-outs' in cursive.

"Name's... A bit on the nose." Roy lets out a scoff of laughter before swallowing and glancing at Jason. There's the tiniest hint of nervousness swirling behind those leafy pools, gingery brows furrowing into a little frown.

"You're gonna do good." Jason reassures quietly, his tone soft and he places a hand on Roy's shoulder.

"I'll be on that roof," Jason motions to the building across, "listening in. It's just like a stakeout, only this time, the stakes determine whether or not you get your dick wet."

A good 20 minutes into waiting, Roy brushes his tongue across his top row of teeth, eyes glancing towards his wristwatch before he leans back in his seat. Muscular fingers card through overgrown strands of clementine, before he swallows.

"She's not coming, Jay." Roy hums quietly, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

There's the heaviest pit in his stomach, aching and uncomfortable, and it throbs with each ding of that bronze bell above the door, that indicates a new patron.

Roy feels pathetic that his eyes keep lifting to see who it is.

He's an adult. He shouldn't be going on dates in the first place. He should focus on being a vigilante, and a father, because he's good at that.

Not at dating. Not at women. Not at anything more than a one night—

"Excuse me, sir?" Your voice is a soft sound, snapping him from his pathetic daydream, and Roy glances up at you through his lashes, unable to keep the little frown from tugging at the corners of his mouth. Although, if he plays his cards and his tone right, he might just seem deeply displeased, instead of upset.

"Mhm?" Roy hums. He doesn't trust himself to talk right now.

"I don't...." You simply shake your head, a sympathetic expression on your face as you clutch the serving tray in your arms.

You've got the prettiest doe eyes, the nicest and softest lips, and he can't deny that those pretty smile lines makes him feel a little better about being stood up.

"Yeah, she's not coming." Roy concedes, letting out a deep breath and his elbows come to rest on the surface of the table, making the slightest fold in the guava coloured tablecloth and you clear your throat.

"Well... We've got a special for this?" You answer, almost sheepishly. And Roy cocks a brow.

"At the start of the new year, a lot of people try to get into relationships and... You know, not everyone's date shows up. So we've got a 'Stood Up' special." You lift the menu from the table, before flitting through the thick parchment, and showing the option.

"A meal, dessert and drink of your choice with 60% off, and you get to talk shit about your date with your server."

And Roy lets out a laugh.

It's a deep, husky rumble that makes your knees the tiniest bit weak, and makes you feel like you've been standing on your toes for an uncomfortably long period of time.

"Sure thing." Roy hums. "So you'll be my server?" He cocks his head, a charming tilt of his lips have you sweating underneath your uniform and you nod your head.

"So what would you like, sir?"

"Depends. You gonna eat with me?" Roy hums, resting his chin in the rough palm of his muscular hand and you wince.

"We're actually not allowed to eat on the job, if it's not a dessert."

Roy lets out a hum.

"Two parfaits, please. One chocolate and the other a flavour of your choice." Roy orders, emerald gaze roving over your features, committing them to memory because he's not gonna take a picture of you for his spank bank. Because that's just... Creepy.

He'll just... Look at you really hard and hope to be able to piece the pictures well enough when he needs to.

"You wanna order two parfaits? You're basically paying whole price." You state, your fingertips tapping on the thin metal tray and he corrects you. "I've got a 20% discount still."

"She sounds pretty, put in the eyepiece." Jason hisses in Roy's ear, the binoculars aren't good enough to see through the structures that seem to permanently obscure you from vision. Like you're allergic to getting spied on.

"I'm not touching my fucking eyeball in a restaurant, you freak." Roy murmurs under his breath, ignoring Jason's curses.

"Oh, like you care about germs, you filthy bastard. Your apartment would look like a dumpster if you didn't have Lian." Jason mocks.

"I will shoot you in the eye. I'm not even fucking kidding." Roy threatens, before letting out a deep breath, carding his muscular fingers through his orangey strands.

When Roy watches you slide into the seat across from him, he can't deny the way the weight lifts from his belly.

The pretty, white ruffled shirt with the pretty pastel waistcoat and a matching skirt. None of the staff wear the same colour, all just pastels. And you smile that fucking electric smile, and Roy feels his cock throb like it's never throbbed before.

His hand cups himself beneath the table, in a poor attempt to ease his ache but he can't even hide the way his breath hitches at the way you carefully slide that decorative silver spoon into his parfait.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Over the entire course of the 'date', Roy's eyes can't leave you. He might just die if they do because God, you're perfect.

He loves the way your mouth forms words, he likes the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh at something, the way the apples of your cheeks turn rosy when he compliments your smile.

God.

You're adorable.

"How'd you meet this girl?" You question, and the softness of your voice shows that you're still the tiniest bit sympathetic.

"She's... A teaching assistant at my buddy's brother's school. So... I did a bit of networking to get her number." Roy explains, eyes glancing towards your expression as he slowly lifts a spoonful of sweet creaminess to his lips, and shoves it in, making sure to flick his tongue against the edge of the spoon.

Your mouth forms a little 'o' shape and you mimic his action, a spoonful of ice cream cooling your tongue.

You take the moment of eating to really... Drink him in. Pretty, dark lashes, leafy green eyes with flecks of gold and blue, the faintest freckles dusted over his cheeks and that sexy scar right at his jaw. He's shaved. Freshly. But the nick on his chin suggests that it's the first time in a while, but he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd have a full-on beard.

Maybe a 5 o'clock shadow.

You don't think too hard before you speak again.

"You wanna key her car?" You question, almost teasingly but there's the cutest glint of mischief in your eyes that make him damn near soak through his boxers.

"I'm gonna come off as a psychotic asshole." Roy snorts. "Even if it is well-deserved."

"Then I'll do it." You shrug your shoulders, unable to hide the twitch at the corners of your mouth when Roy lets out that boyish yet husky laugh.

"I'm not above keying someone's car." You add. "Or even stealing tires. Or gas."

"Wow." Roy snickers.

"You're really, uh... Really something else."

Batman works hard.

But Roy works harder.

Fingers thrust in your mouth, your legs spread almost sinfully wide as Roy's tongue drags wet, sloppy strokes against your cunt, flicking at the hood of your clit. Emerald eyes peer up at you over your mound and hiked up skirt and your expression makes him harder than anything.

Eyes rolling back in your head, brows pinched into a little frown and your wet, flushed lips wrapped around his middle and ring finger, the feel of your tongue against the pads of his digits.

You're trying so hard to keep quiet.

And he has to ruin that.

You let out a low moan, pornographic sound strewn together in a cacophony that bounces off the tiled walls and glinting floors and reaching his ears.

Roy's two digits scissor inside your gummy walls, his tongue working against your pebbled clit as his fingers give lazy strokes, curling against that spongy spot that makes your toes curl.

Manicured fingers thread through his hair, strands of clementine and orange slip from your grasp like shredded silk and he moans at the way your nails brush against his scalp in that sweet way.

Like you're massaging conditioner into his head.

"That's it, pretty girl. Come on my fingers and tongue." He groans. "Use me to feel good."

You moan around his fingers, teeth nearly leaving indentations in the skin as you cum, thighs pressing against his ears, and he hears your blood rush. Your pulse thrumming against his ears, and your body twitching and hips bucking.

He laps at you like a thirsty man.

Throat parched and only you can wash down the bullshit that life's been shoving down his mouth for the past few years.

Roy pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean before he gently flips you over.

Your toes meet the tiles, your tummy pressed against the chilly counter of the bassinet and your cheek presses against the coolness of the mirror.

Hot breaths fog up your reflective image and for the shortest moment, you watch the way Roy palms the flesh of your ass. Globes fill his calloused palms and you barely realise what's going on when he guides your leg to rest along the counter.

"Keep that there for me, beautiful."

Roy's thumb is pushed into your messy pussy, slowly fucking the pudgy digit into your hole, just to get the interior of it. Before he fucks. Hard.

"God, you're so fucking messy." The squelchy sounds are louder than your muffled moans and you let out a sluttiest gasp, looking over your shoulder at Roy as his tongue slides over your puckered entrance.

He taunts the hole, his left hand resting on your tailbone and his thumb teasing the start of the cleft of your ass, before his tongue drags up.

All the way to your tailbone and back down.

His right hand's fingers brush and tease at your clit, his left hand moves lower and he thumbs at your asshole, spitting messy globs of spit at the hole before licking it back up.

You feel like a dirty whore.

A man you don't even know is licking at your holes like a rabid animal, trying to commit your tastes to memory and he tilts his head.

Before pulling back.

"Let me see that pretty hole, angel." Roy coaxes you sweetly, watching as your hands move to spread the plushy globes, exposing yourself even more and he groans.

His cock is scraping against his zipper, leaking precum into his boxers and down his thighs, but he doesn't feel like he should fuck you yet.

At least not on your first date.

You're not some whore.

"Fuck, that's it, gorgeous."

Roy is fucking hypnotised, one hand fucking and adoring your leaky cunt, while the other hand fucks your virgin ass. You're tight at both ends, lips pursed into the cutest frown, hot breaths fogging and steaming up the mirror and your toes curl.

Your cunt trickles all while your orgasm builds, wetness and slippery mess dripping down your inner thighs.

You've never been like this before.

Roy pulls his thumb out of your cunt, spitting at your cunt and spitting on his digits, before three thick fingers fuck into your hole at a god-like pace. While he dips his head lower, tongue out and ready.

You whine and mewl, feeling so full and so good until your knees buckle and you shake.

Thighs shudder and shake, and your muffle your scream in your shoulder as you cum, spurting your messy and slick juices all over Roy's awaiting tongue.

He doesn't waste. Not a single drop as he swallows everything you give him, droplets dribbling down his chin and wetting the collar of his crew neck.

Roy pulls away, pressing a kiss to the flesh of your ass before straightening up and looking at you.

Back arched like a cat, pussy and ass messy with lovebites and spit and he groans, palming himself through his jeans.

"Fuck, I should've brought a condom." Roy groans under his breath, his body nearly melting at the way you look at him through bleary eyes, lips wet and raw from being bitten.

"Don't you trust your pull-out game?" You question, a shaky breath leaving your lungs burning like you've ran a marathon.

"I've got a kid, gorgeous. My pull-out game's as reliable as a knitted condom."

—♱—

Pulling back an arrow, Roy releases the end, watching as the wood thwips through the air, wind pushing it even closer before the metal pierces the target.

"Target neutralised." Roy speaks into the earpiece, his voice low.

"Good job, gorgeous." Jason responds and it feels like Roy's world comes crashing down around him before he lets out a low, disturbed and embarassed groan.

"Yeahhhhhh." Jason snorts. "You didn't turn off the earpiece."

[whore4abby]

CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE ABBY GIVING YOU BIRTHDAY SEX (it’s my birthday LMFAO) and her just being sweet and gentle but also giving it to you goooddddd

birthday girl; abby anderson

warnings; smut - cunnilingus (r), strap-on usage (r), mdni

wc; 0.7k

an; also im sorry this is like a month late (happy belated birthday!!!! <3) but i finally got around to writing it and i decided to be a slut and post it on my own birthday hehe🤭

you’re laid on your back against the plush clean sheets of your bed after such an eventful day of abby taking you out shopping - with her credit card of course. which was followed by her taking you out to dinner at a super fancy restaurant, the two of you sitting together in a private booth over-looking the city.

abby is above you, kissing up and down your neck pulling away occasionally to whisper sweet nothings to you softly. and eventually with practiced ease, she kneels down between your spread legs. she positions her mouth directly over your waiting pussy and sucks greedily at your clit, following up with a firm wet swipe of her tongue. the tip of her tongue slipping inside of you, circling around lazily before she begins to press her face further into you, lapping up all your slick.

her calloused hands reach underneath you, cupping your ass cheeks as she laps at you sloppily, your slick splattering across your inner thighs. “fuck, abs~” you whine out and your hand makes its way to the back of her head, thighs involuntarily clamping around her head, a mocking laugh leaving her throat as she pushes your knees apart, gazing down to see how wet you are.

“shit, baby. never get tired of this fuckin cunt.” her pupils are blown wide as she catches sight of your sticky folds, slick practically oozing out of your tight hole. a low whine falling from your lips as she pulls away, “why’d you stop!? please”

abby ignores your pleas but finally drops her head back down to continue her onslaught now with a sense of urgency as she can tell you're getting close. she attaches her lips to your swollen clit, wholly sucking it into her warm mouth, “m’gonna cum~” you moan and writhe around beneath her as your release spills out onto her tongue.

she kisses at your inner thighs before pulling back, wiping away your cum from her chin haphazardly before standing up at the side of the bed and pulling you towards her by your hips, you ass resting on the edge of the bed.

she nudges the tip of her against your slit a couple times to wetten it before she sinks inside. your eyes flutter closed as she completely fills you up, stretching you out around the purple silicone, “bet this is the only thing you wanted, huh? to be filled up by me, huh birthday girl?” the sound of her low voice causing your eyes to open and you nod, struggling to form words as you're still so fucked out from the last orgasm she gave you mere seconds ago, “m-mhm.”

that all too familiar cocky look spreads across her face and she retracts her hips before pushing back into you again, mushroomed tip kissing against your cervix as she gets into a steady rhythm, “look at you swallowing me up. sucha good girl~” she leans forward and connects your mouths together to give you open-mouthed kisses, her tongue slipping into your mouth and letting you taste the remnants of your release.

abby pulls away and briefly cradles your face in her hands, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” she whispers, planting her hands on your hips to pull you into her each stroke. your inner walls clench around her cock, and you’re grasping at the back of her neck trying to keep her close as she buries herself to the hilt inside you, her own wetness seeping through the thin cotton and mixing together with yours, leaving the crotch of her boxers utterly soaked.

“you gonna cum?” she whispers against your lips, speeding up her thrusts and hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke. you nod dumbly, looking up into her eyes as choked out words leaving you wet lips, “uh huh.”

“cum for me, baby~” she pants out between rough, breathless gasps as she speeds her thrusts up slightly, you whimper at the sensation, arching your back and gripping at her hair to keep her as close as humanly possible. she shudders and grunts as she watches you cum. she moans loudly and bucks her hips, thrusting roughly into you as she reaches her own climax.

“goddamn, babe.” she purrs with a playful smirk, kissing you deeply. she slowly pulls out of your body with a wet pop, her cock slipping out before she rolls onto her back, pulling you along so you’re laying half on top of her.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

this is not directed at anything in particular so much as a lament ive made in private several times over the years and am thinking about again now but. i wish that fandom had not conflated the term "zine" with "artbook". because 99% of the "zines" i see are in fact artbooks, chapbooks, or art/writing anthologies. which to me are just so so different as products!!! instead of being fully handmade they are all being professionally bound by an outside company, often come with stickers/keychains/other perks that are 3rd party manufactured, etc... and to be clear i love these and have bought several, but!

they are to me kind of the antithesis of what the word "zine" should actually imply, in the traditional sense. a zine is something you make by hand and then photocopy for the dozen or so people in your circle. a zine can be just a single sheet of paper you folded up into 8 pages and scribbled on with pencil. they can get fancier than this but once you move from using a stapler (or if you're feeling fancy needle & thread) to needing to have things perfect bound & glued by a separate industry then!!!! we have moved up the sliding scale in terms of product, towards art/chapbook and away from zine. that's what those terms meant initially we just have... kept calling them zines anyway i guess, and now i think most younger people don't realize that the origins for "zines" were things you handmade and maybe snuck your school/work's photocopier to help produce for your friends. And they were made by one person, or maybe a small collab of 2-3. Once you start adding more artists/authors, and they're all making separate things (even if on a theme), now we have hit an anthology. you know?

because i would LOOOOVE fandom zines in the traditional sense of the word, just posting photos of short scrappy handmade art/comics and mailing them to mutuals for fun like you would a christmas card. idk. like i've made i think 8-10 personal little zines on all random topics in the past year just for fun and my friends, because they're rewarding and people LOVE getting something like that in the mail. they're little visual shitposts like "rating the 16 crayola crayons i found in my drawer" and "plants i have eaten while taking walks in the desert" and it would be really fun to have fandom equivalents of those too... but fandom these days has moved away from silly rough stuff towards everything being really polished + professional and it takes some of the charm out of it i think

[canadianstamper]

Cheerful Daisies

I love daisies, they are such a bright and colourful flower and they just make me smile when I see them. I also love creating fun fold cards so when I saw Donna’s card, (www.Donna-stamp.blogspot.com) I just had to make this lovely card as well. I decided to make up these cards using the the new 2023-2025 In-Colors. So let’s get started First I pulled out this adorable bundle which comes with…

[queenbcreations]

Pals Blog Hop: Two-Tone Flora Fun Folds

Hi, Stamper. Welcome to the Stampin’ Pretty Pals’ Blog Hop, where I use the Two-Tone Flora bundle. This month’s theme is Flowers in the Garden. We hope you are inspired by all the wonderful creations the Pals share with you! As you hop from blog to blog, we love reading your comments. Then, you will find the lineup at the end of my post to help you “hop” along from Pal to Pal. Two-Tone Flora Fun…

[beansprean]

Modern Dating with your Vampire Master...they're so silly actually.

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shot of the exterior of the vampire house at night, lit from within. 1b. Wide shot in profile of Guillermo in the foyer, descending from the large front window on a tall teal ladder with a 'verner' logo on the side. He is wearing green chinos, boots, and a white collared shirt with suspenders; he has a blue bucket with a 'blowes' logo on the side full of cleaning products in one hand. From offscreen, Nandor calls, "Guillermo?" Guillermo responds absently with a "Hm?" concentrating on stepping down safely. 1c. Close up on Guillermo as he reaches the floor, looking over toward Nandor with mild curiosity. From offscreen, Nandor declares, "I would like to take you out on a date." 1d. Wide shot, knees up, of both men standing in the foyer, the doorway to the fancy room visible behind them, fireplace lit and glowing in the space between them. Guillermo, incredibly caught off card, shrieks out a choked keysmash of words and reflexively throws the bucket in his hands, sending it crashing into the ladder behind him and toppling it all to the ground. His eyes are comically wide, fixed on Nandor, and his face is flushed red. Nandor stands before him with his hands folded formally behind his back, shoulders back, head high, nervously looking away with flushed cheeks. 1e. Close up of Nandor returning his gaze towards Guillermo with a wobbly frown, chin tucked to his chest defensively as his nerves catch up to him. There are sounds of the ladder and bucket crashing to the floor offscreen. Guillermo stutters out, "You... you what?!" 1f. Repeat. Nandor puffs himself up angrily, baring his fangs as he snaps, flustered, "I am not repeating myself!"

2a. Chest up of them both in profile on a streaky brown background. Guillermo, flushed red and staring hard at Nandor, pushes his glasses up his nose and asks hesitantly, "You...want to go on a date...with me?" Nandor grimaces uncomfortably, shoulders tense as he leans his torso back away from Guillermo, cheeks purple and eyes looking elsewhere. He clarifies, "I said I wanted to take you on a date, that's not the same thing." Guillermo pushes, "But you do want that." Nandor grits out a painful "Yyyeeessss..." 2b. Extreme closeup of Nandor in the foreground, turning his head fully away from Guillermo to glare over his own shoulder, flustered and sweating nervously. In the background, Guillermo tilts his head with a frown, unimpressed, and counters, "Then why do you look like I have a stake to your heart when you say it?" 2c. Waist up of Nandor on an orange and yellow polka dot background as he turns back to face Guillermo, nervous and embarrassed. He twists his fingers together as he says, "Metaphorically...you do. You have for some time, in fact." 2d. Small reaction shot from Guillermo, staring with wide shining eyes and blushing cheeks on a background of pink bubbles. A large pink heart floats next to him, stabbed through with a stake and spurting drops of blood.

3a. Chest up of them both in profile on a streaky brown background. Guillermo is now the one to drop his gaze with a pleased smile, half turning away as he rubs nervously at his neck. He mumbles, "That's either really sweet or really concerning..." Nandor squeezes his eyes shut in frustration and flaps his hands around to shoo away the tangent in their conversation. He snaps, "Enough of this!" 3b. Close up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV on an orange and yellow starburst background. Nandor draws himself up tall, shoulders straight, chin up, and whips his head toward Guillermo, hair flying around his shoulders. He shouts, "Do you want to go on a date with me or not??" His demanding posture is betrayed only by the blush in his cheeks and the pleading shine in his eyes. 3c. Close up of Guillermo on an orange and yellow starburst background as he similarly draws up his shoulders, cheeks flushed, wide eyes meeting Nandor's. He immediately blurts out, "I do!!"

4a. Waist up of them both in profile, the left side of the foyer with the fancy room beyond visible in the background, fireplace lit and glowing in the space between them. Guillermo smiles, pleased and flustered, and looks down to play aimlessly with his fingers. He repeats at a more measured volume, "I...I do." Nandor grins and pumps both fists up to shake victoriously between them, replying, "Great!" 4b. Extreme closeup of Nandor's belt in the foreground as he whips around to walk away down the hall, long coat flapping like a cape. He declares, "You will meet me there at sundown tomorrow in your least-shitty sweater. Guillermo, waist-up in the background, stares after him with a besotted expression, hands clasped together over his chest and hearts floating around his dazed head. He smiles dreamily and replies, "Okay..." 4d. Small closeup on Guillermo on a pink background as he freezes, expression disappearing behind his glasses. His thoughts are expressed in large white letters above his head: "Wait." 4e. High shot of the foyer from the upper right corner, showing the full staircase, doorways to the hall and fancy room, and the ladder toppled over by the front door. Guillermo is jogging after Nandor toward the main hallway, calling after him, "Wait, meet you where? Mast-Nandor!" /end ID

[acmeangel]

Regrets | One Shot

Postwar!Levi one shot. A bit angsty. SFW. Postwar!Levi struggles with feelings of guilt, regret, and self-worth, and he finally talks to you about it. Word Count: 1487 (I couldn't stop thinking about Levi dealing with the aftermath of everything, adjusting to his new physical state, and how he'd feel about having been responsible for the kids on Levi Squad.)

Levi has a hard time accepting help from you. You have to help him in little ways, ways that feel natural.

Some nights, you massage his hand where the fingers are missing because you can tell by the tension in his forehead that it's bothering him. When you're reading together, you always sit on his left side, where he can see you better. You subtly place things -- teacups, books, pens, his folded piles of clothes -- within his reach from his wheelchair.

He'd never ask you directly to do any of this.

God, no.

He considers it a miracle that you'd settled for him in the first place - and a fragile one, at that. To him, your relationship is a house of cards. If he makes one unpredictable movement, says one shitty comment that came out wrong, places one more burden on you, it'll fall apart in his hands.

To him, he's no better than an ugly, battered stray dog with a bad history of biting. And he wants, so badly, to be good, for you.

He thinks you're attached to him by a fraying thread that could break from a breeze; you know his soul, his heart are stitched onto yours.

So, you help him.

And when he talks about it all, which is rare, you listen.

The first time you made him dinner, he ate all of the sides, then pushed the meat around with his fork for a while, before saying he'd lost his appetite.

Later, without looking at you, he told you, "One of the kids. From before. She was obsessed with food. It was disgusting, the only thing she ever talked about. Her last damn word was 'meat'. Fucking ridiculous." He took a long pause, then added, "I didn't even hear it, though. I... was in the other room."

He's never brought it up again.

Another time, he came home, muttering about how Gabi said something that sounded like something Eren would say. You lost track of how long he sat by the window, looking into his teacup that night.

You've seen him interact with Gabi and Falco a few times before. You see the wheels turn in his head before he says anything to them, as if he has to triple-check his words.

That, so far, was the only other time he's mentioned any of those kids.

He's told you about his other fallen friends and comrades before -- not in too much detail, but enough. But, those were adults. This is different.

When it came to that group of kids, he barely said a word. Really, you only knew their names, and the papers were partially to blame for that.

You wish, more than anything, that he'd open up to you. You know that he tries.

You're at home, now, and you hear the front door open and close. Your eyes fixate on the doorway to the living room, where he'd always appear. Normally, he'd go to you, place a bag from the bakery in your lap (he'd tell you some excuse about it being on the way home, but really, he just liked how those stupidly fancy pastries made you stupidly happy). Normally, he'd hold your hand and listen to your stories from the day -- things that made you laugh, complaints, the book you're reading. Normally, he'd make small comments as you talked, or scoff, or grunt in agreement. Sometimes, he'd even laugh, briefly.

But this time, he doesn't appear in the doorway. You rise from the couch and make your way down the hall, the warm glow of the bathroom light from under the door catching your eye. You stop outside the door and listen, to make sure he's okay, but you hear nothing.

You stand there for a while, until you hear a soft "Fuck."

You knock on the door, lightly. "Levi, you okay?" Your eyes sear into the door, as if your gaze alone is enough to open it, for him to let you in.

"Yeah, fine." His voice is rough, low. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Can I come in?"

The question hangs in the air for a small eternity.

A long sigh. "Okay."

You open the bathroom door. The abandoned wheelchair catches your gaze first. Then you see him, standing - standing - at the sink, clutching onto the edge of it, knuckles burning white with unyielding determination that borders on desperation. The muscles in his arms look like ropes. His head is tilted downward; he feels like that dog.

"Levi." It's the only word you can say.

"I know," he says, teeth gritted, and he can't meet your eye. To him, he doesn't deserve to see whatever sympathy is in your gaze - it'd only be wasted.

"Come here." Your voice is soft, gentle, and you stretch your arms out to him. It takes a long moment, but he finally accepts. His hands grab onto your arms as you help lower him back into his wheelchair. You kneel next to him, you take his hand in yours.

"Levi," you say, your voice urging him to look at you, "Talk to me. What's going on? You know you can't stand like that..."

He looks at you, finally, and though his expression gives away nothing, you can sense the despair, hidden away in the corners of his eyes.

"I can't do anything, Y/N," he says. "I couldn't do anything then, I can't do anything now. I can't even take a shit without almost falling first."

Your grip on his hand tightens. Your thumb traces circles on his wrist, and you can feel his heart racing.

"Did something happen today?"

"No. Yes. Fucking hell." He takes a breath. "Gabi asked me something today. I don't remember what. Doesn't matter. But, I don't know where she got the idea that I'm someone to go to for advice. Maybe I'm just being an asshole about it."

"Levi," you try to soothe him. "Whatever it was, she asked you because she trusts you. She knows you, she was there with you through... a lot. And, even aside from that... you have so much to offer. You might not see it, but you help me all the time."

"Offer?" The word barely makes a sound. "You know what was one of the first pieces of advice I ever gave Eren? I told the little bastard to make the decisions he wanted, whether it meant betting on his own strength or trusting the rest of us. I told him to do whatever he wanted, as long as it'd make him have no regrets."

"Is that what this is all about?" Your free hand finds his knee, a gentle pressure. His eyes look into yours, pleading, as if they're the only things keeping him anchored.

"God." He whispers, his voice more strained than you've ever heard. He breathes in sharply, a slight tremor to his breath. You see the veins in his neck strain. "What the hell were they thinking? Putting me in charge of those kids, as if I had any right to be, what, some sort of moral compass? Me? All I did is let them get blood on their hands. I didn't even try to stop them. And now I can't take my own shitty advice."

Your eyes remain locked into his; if he's the ship in a storm, you'll be the sails.

"You did the best you could," you whisper, so delicately, as if the air surrounding you both could shatter. "And I know you don't want to hear that. But, it's the truth. And your advice wasn't shitty, it was realistic. All of you were faced with impossible odds, and you did the best with what little you had. There wasn't an outcome where everyone would've made it, unscathed. I know you know that. And I know that none of those kids regret having you as their Captain."

His jaw clenches so hard you see it in his temples. He pulls you closer, with an urgency you've never seen from him before. Really, you've never seen any of this from him before.

His face finds its way to the crook of your neck, where it fits perfectly. It always has.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" His words are muffled against your skin. But before you can answer, he cries. He cries. Not hard, not even with sound. But you feel the hot tears press against the skin of your neck; you feel, for a moment, as if it could leave a permanent mark, somehow.

"Nothing, Levi," you whisper, your hand stroking the back of his hair, your other arm wrapped around his back. "You're only human. And I'll do my best to prove that to you. I'll be gentle with you, even when you don't think you deserve it. Especially then."

Human. Distinctly, not a dog. Not a tool. Not a weapon.

"I have so many regrets, Y/N. But you'll never be one of them. I'm sure of that."

Masterlist

Requests are open!

[thevoidstaredback]

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96 @orbr @tkiesai @atomicsheepscientist @8000fangirl @shower-phantom-ideas @blep-23 @aki-bara @chasing-liberosis @weirwulf20 @mynewhyperfixation

[dear-ao3]

how to get f1 driver cards, a guide for mclaren, mercedes and williams (more to come)

im going to start by saying that there is a high high chance not everything on this is accurate. for some reason this is a stupidly complex process and i am just trying my best :)

what are driver cards? every year (most) teams have cards made of their drivers with their pictures and sometimes stats and fun facts, etc. they change every year and are collectible. theyre free, technically, as long as you pay for the postage.

ive sent away for some of them before, and those are the teams i have included as i know these ones work. will add more teams on as i attempt others this year.

MERCEDES

objectively this is the easiest one to get. you fill out an online form and if you are lucky you will get cards sent to you. the form is live for the 2025 cards as of me posting this.

beware: the address form is formatted for UK addresses only for some reason. if you are trying to send to the US with an address that is two lines (ie, a street address with an apartment number or a po box) there is a good chance it wont work. i have gotten it to work for street addresses only (both attempts to have them sent to an apartment address failed). this one also took the longest, several months.

all other teams require a double envelope, stamp and letter situation.

very basically, you address an envelope to the team and put yourself as the return address. it needs a stamp (domestic if the team is in your country, international if it is not)

write a letter to the team, something along the lines of "dear x team, i am a big fan of you and your drivers x and y and i like watching you / rooting for you for xyz reasoning (etc etc). i was wondering if i could get the 20xx drivers cards? thanks (name)." it doesnt have to be super fancy.

put this letter in the envelope along with another a5 size folded envelope addressed to yourself (this is the envelope that the team will send your cards in, make sure it is the right size and also has your correct address.

the a5 envelope also needs a stamp and here is where it gets a little tricky. if the team is based in the same country you are you use a domestic stamp. if you are Not in the same country as the team this is the terribly fun (read: tricky) part.

you can either include the pounds/euros needed to buy a stamp in the envelope or you can purchase an international stamp from that country and use that. i have gone the stamp route before (ordered royal mail stamps off of British amazon) and it worked. i put five second class barcoded stamps on each envelope and they came back to me okay. (could also use first class stamps, i dont remember why i ended up choosing the second class ones) (you have to check the stamp prices and make sure that the total stamp costs equal how much it costs to send a letter internationally (second class stamps are 85p as of me writing this and it costs 2.80 pounds to mail a letter internationally from the uk to the us specifically (all of this is findable on the royal mail site) so i would put 4 or 5 stamps to be safe per envelope in case stamp prices rise again)

put that whole folded envelope and your letter in your addressed envelope to the team and mail it out.

MCLAREN

they seem to be pretty responsive. i got my card for mclaren within i think 2 or 3 months. be extra careful when addressing your envelopes to the uk, the seven letter/ number combination is the most important and should be the most legible thing. i think this is formatted correctly. (again, im from the us. uk addresses confuse the hell out of me)

address:

FAO: Autograph Cards McLaren Technology Centre Chertsey Road Woking GU21 4YH UK

WILLIAMS

again, they were pretty responsive. i think i got mine in 2 or 3 months. my envelope was the wrong size for this team but they sent me the cards anyway in a different size envelope. again, really make sure that your seven number/letter thing is clear. there both a O and 0 in it so i would put a slash through the 0.

address:

Fan Mail Williams Grand Prix Engineering Grove Wantage Oxfordshire OX12 0DQ UK

fun little note: my sister and i both sent away for mclaren and williams last year. despite them having the Exact Same Addresses and being sent from The Exact Same Post Office on the Exact Same Day, my mclaren one was returned to sender for the reason unable to be delivered. my sister got her mclaren card in the mail the next week. and i got my williams card but my sisters got returned to sender for the reason of unable to be delivered. i have absolutely no idea why. not remotely. i resent both of them and had no problems the second time around.

good luck. its kinda challenging but it is fun. im going to try to send off for more this year so ill provide more advice once i figure it out but as for now, i know these ones work. i would wait until the start of the season to mail any requests, though fill out the mercedes one sooner if you want that :)

and, proof that i got my driver cards and im not just making this up: