#i'd like to do seasonal decorations..........

[onbearfeet]

Sometimes, you have to start a new quilt.

I started a project, years ago, to make a throw quilt for each season of the year. I wanted to be able to drape the quilt over a living-room quilt rack or maybe the couch and change it every three months. Voilá. Decor.

I wanted this for a lot of reasons, starting with the fact that lying under a quilt and reading is one of my greatest pleasures in life, but also including the fact that I have synesthesia. My brain tends to jumble up time, space, numbers, and colors. For example, the number two is dark bottle green to me, and history unfolds on a literal map in my brain. I could give you turn-by-turn directions to the French Revolution. It's weird in here.

One of the ways my synesthesia manifests is that months have color palettes. Some of them are what you'd expect--February, for example, is red and pink. Some are unique to me, like October, which is metallic gold and dark charcoal gray, like charred edges on a Klimt painting. I like to play with those colors during their months, usually in things like my nail polish colors. Thus, my quilt project would use my monthly palettes to create quilts that would keep my synesthesia brain happy.

This is my original summer quilt. It's called Victory Garden. (The quilts have titles. They're art. Shaddup.)

I used to love this quilt. I read under it. I spread it over my bed. It made my brain happy because July, to it, is these colors. I haven't thought of myself as especially patriotic since I left the cult, but my brain likes the colors it likes, and I mashed up two different fabric collections to make sure I got my color palette without having to include military insignias or quotes from slaveholders or anything like that. Mostly I wanted florals. Hence the title.

But after the election, looking at the quilt didn't make me happy anymore. It made me feel ill. I shoved it into a closet where I wouldn't have to see it and got on with staying alive.

Recently, my mom asked to borrow Victory Garden so she could refer to its pattern for a quilt we're making together. I think I'll "forget" it in her sewing room for a while. It still brings her joy, and it deserves to be loved even if I'm currently not capable.

But that means I'm out 25% of my seasonal quilts. That doesn't feel great, either. That's a lot of work, gone.

I got to thinking about summer, about the things I like about it. I decided that if I couldn't make a good summer quilt out of the June or August palettes (they're not very quilt-friendly), I'd try to find another inspiration. And on a whim, I started searching the names of summer fruits on a quilting website and found a collection called Blueberry Delight. Just looking at it made me remember making blueberry cobbler with my grandmother as a child, eating it hot with ice cream on top.

So tonight, I started putting squares together. This is the new palette of summer, assembled in the heart of winter. Blueberry Delight.

It'll take a while to put it together. Making something good to replace something bad always takes more time than you expect. It's work I didn't want to do, shouldn't have to do just because a bunch of fascist shitheads made a mess. But it'll get done eventually. I'll have something better someday.

And isn't the new thing beautiful?

[tellmeallaboutit]

Are you writing anything atm?

Sweetest anon, I just posted today the beginning of DDDNE non-con smut drabble I write! :-) I'll repost it below for you, of course.

But otherwise, my thoughts are flooded by all sort of DDDNE again. I do write some original short pieces at the moment.

THE GIFT

warnings: all of them. non-con, DDDNE, grooming, implied underage, everything as bad as you imagine and some worse.

pairing : Mephistopheles x oc x Raphael

The unmistakable, thunderous thump-thump of his father's cloven-footed stride echoed down the Mephistar corridor. Raphael lay paralyzed in his bed, clad in silk nightwear, praying to the Great Serpent that the approaching footsteps would not halt at his door. 

They must. For what reason should they not? Father had never graced any of Raphael’s birthdays with his presence. This one was almost over, just a scant hour from its end.

Then, without warning or a courtesy knock, his chamber door creaked open, and then came the question eerily similar to an accusation.

"You thought I'd forgotten your birthday, my son?"

His father had come - and he hadn't come empty-handed; he bore an enormous package swathed in red lace. A lavish gift it must be; large enough to house a hellhound or perhaps even a dragon.

Raphael sat up abruptly as a well-rehearsed deference escaped his lips, "I wouldn't dare presume you'd bother yourself with such trivialities, my Lord."

Mephistopheles let out a chuckle. He laughed most of the times Raphael uttered anything in his presence, which was a scarce occasion to begin with. 

"Absurd! My youngest offspring is now mature enough to grow proper horns. You're a man now, aren't you, young Prince Raphael?"

That assertion felt exaggerated; Raphael's voice was still a fledgling, just beginning to find its depth. His facial hair was but a sparse constellation of stubble, and his physique bore more resemblance to a sapling than an oak. Yet both his horns and his manhood had amplified in size over recent seasons.

"I surmise so," Raphael responded with caution. 

The smile on his fathers face evaporated like Canian frost at the touch of hellfire.

"You surmise so? Mephistopheles mirrored, his tone thickening. “Indeed? Do you fancy yourself a man, my young whelp?"

Raphael swallowed hard before stammering out an answer, "I... I meant, I presume, I supposed... Perhaps not yet…”

"Not yet indeed. What do you perceive makes a man?" Mephistopheles queried as his eyes of milk white dissected Raphael’s very essence.

”Power... conquests... souls...", began Raphael, eyeing his father’s clenched fists warily.

Mephistopheles rubbed his horns in exasperation and raised a hand to silence him.

“Nonsense! And if a woman possessed those things? Would she be considered a man?"

"I suppose not," conceded Raphael in defeat, closing his eyes in resignation.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of a thud against the floorboards.

"Here is your clue, boy, to what will make a man out of you." 

A package lay before him; from within it emanated the steady rhythm of life –a heartbeat.

"Is it alive?".

“For now," Mephistopheles shrugged.

Raphael hopped off and his bed and approached, cautiously peeling back the top of the package, tugging at the wrapping lace. 

The first thing he saw were the eyes; large, tear-streaked and emerald; then pointed ears, followed by wings that were wrapped tightly around a petite figure. The girl had her knees pressed tightly against her chest. 

“Avariel”, Raphael whispered in reverence. “A true Avariel, the rarest and most beautiful breed of elf”.

He had seen them only in encyclopedias before, but their features were unmistakable. Her breath quickened as she took in sight of his horns and became frantic when she took in his father’s, and then she mouthed some breathless word.

“Ah, these winged creatures are mere decorative baubles,” Mephistopheles dismissed with a swipe of his clawed hand. “But beautiful nonetheless.”

The elven girl was clad in sheer white lingerie; her skin was so translucent that Raphael could discern her veins' intricate pattern beneath it. Her petite breasts were scarcely veiled by her corset, exposing soft roseate nipples. 

"She's exquisite, father”, Raphael said as he pressed a quick kiss to his father’s palm. “Thank you."

'If you're satisfied then I'm content”, Mephistopheles nodded. “You do know what men do to women they possess, Raphael?”.

The implication behind this gift was now unmistakably clear.

"Yes," he admitted, hoping that his human tendency to blush wouldn't betray his embarrassment. "Not firsthand... but I've seen pit fiends with their slaves... I can imagine what a man is supposed to do to a woman."

Raphael had spent many nights fantasizing about such scenarios; acting them out under his father's watchful gaze was not part of those fantasies.

“Can you indeed? Show me, then”, Mephistopheles said, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Do unwrap your gift”.

The girl let out an agonized shriek as Raphael extended his clawed hand towards her to remove the ribbons encircling her neck. She shot out of the box, huddling in a far-off corner of the room, wings beating chaotically against the air.

Mephistopheles smiled and rubbed his nose bridge with his claw. 

Raphael took a steadying breath and advanced towards the girl, eliciting a more vehement sob from her.

"She appears less than eager to lay with me, my Lord," Raphael glanced back at Mephistopheles for direction.

“Evidently, Mephistopheles exhaled. “What do you propose?”

Raphael turned back to the girl. Her eyes were wide with terror. He was utterly clueless on how he could convince her to lie beneath him.

"Should I attempt to woo her?" He asked.

"Woo her?" Mephistopheles erupted into boisterous laughter. "By the abyssal pits! That would be quite an amusing spectacle! Proceed then, court the damsel."

Seduction was a concept Raphael had only theoretical knowledge of. What do women fancy? Confectioneries? Gifts? Tender words? He had some candied nuts soaked in rosewater gifted to him today; they must be in one of the drawers.

Raphael turned back towards the maiden and tried his best to sound charming and soothing despite his own panic: “Fear not, fair maiden... I promise not to harm you. I vow to be a kind and gentle master to you. Would you like some nuts or a piece of cake?”

Despite his proficiency in the elven tongue (he enunciated each word with precision, hoping to earn his father’s approval), his words only seemed to incite more fear within her. She took flight, pressing herself into the uppermost corner of the room in a vain attempt at evasion.

Raphael had an inkling that offering sugared treats wouldn’t be of much help here. Damnation! The last thing he desired was to look like a fool before his father.

Raphael tried again, desperation creeping into his voice: “I implore you, elven-born. You’ve been gifted to me, and it’s in your best interest to serve me well. I will be kind to you if you choose to be kind to me.”

“Graceful Mother Aerdrie, The Winged Mother, I beseech you”…. The girl began what Raphael assumed was some sort of prayer for deliverance.

'An admirable effort at persuasion, my son. I foresee a promising future in negotiations for you. What's next?' Mephistopheles said as Raphael racked his brain for another strategy.

"I could use force," he suggested hesitantly, unfurling his wings. “Fly up there and drag her down”.

The ensuing blow nearly toppled him over. "Force? FORCE!?" Mephistopheles bellowed. “Have you no respect for the sanctity of choice, you half-breed imbecile?"

“I apologize, my Lord,” Raphael mumbled, wiping the blood from his nose. “My suggestion was ill-considered”.

“Your whole creation was ill-considered”, Mephistopheles growled. Enough of this; if I have to demonstrate it to you myself, I shall! Girl! Descend from there, precious child, and fret no more”.

[whoslaurapalmer]

in addition to making him the picnic blanket, I also found some ribbon and made him a. very enormous bowtie. well I'll work on that. 🎀🎀

also!! frog's name is officially Mr. Jeremiah Johnson Jumpson, a group naming effort between my brother (who suggested jeremiah johnson in the first place), @lyeekha (who suggested jumpson), and my mom (who suggested using both johnson and jumpson). I made him a Mr because I wanted him to be Fancy.

now I would like to finish the other frog I had started, and get them a picnic basket!! and a little tea set and a table to put it on and maybe......a little flower bush.......... also also one day I will get the lighting right. I intended to have him on a different table and not the record player radio but he didn't quite look right on the other table........but I will work on that too!!

[blujayonthewing]

might fuck around and start following the wheel of the year again

[haxxy]

Top 5 days of the (generic) year

cop out answer, but whatever days i dont have to go to work but still get paid.

christmas

halloween

my birthday :)

new years eve

every payday of the year

[greencheekconure27]

Sigh.

23th of December.

Festive mood: zero.

[xanothersideblogx]

54 days until valentine's day...

[nkogneatho]

SANTA'S CUMMING TO TOWN

—fushiguro toji x fem!reader

#TAPE NO 1 OF 'Tis the Season to be Naughty

—cw: breeding, santa kink (idk bruh i am all high and horny), mention on pregnancy, prone bone, raw sex, spanking, dirty talking, nick names. (art creds: yy6241 on ig)

—a/n: 1.2k words of everything that is wrong with me

Christmas wasn't particularly the most awaited time of the year for Toji. You on the other hand? You made sure that your place looked like the Christmas Spirit threw up garlands, trees and cute lights all over.

"Can you pass me those lights?" you ask Toji who was hanging the pinecones on the tree.

"Tell me why we're doin' this again?"

"Because it's Christmas. It's the season of joy. Oh, by the way," you gently step down from the table that helped you a gain a foot to put on the decorations, "gumi's friends are coming tomorrow so make sure to dress up as a santa."

"What?" He is stunned. It's not that he doesn't like kids but to have all their excited eyes on him would give him quite the stage fright.

"Please Please Toji. I know you don't like this kinda stuff but gumi was so excited the other day to see santa."

"What's in it for me?"

"You want a bribe for dressing up to make your son happy?" Your arms fold against your chest and you look at him with a poker face.

"Of course. That little brat gets spoiled way too much by you. When's my turn?"

"Toji. It's either the santa costume or the shark costume and dancing on baby shark for an hour"

*GASP*

"Hope ya know Santa doesn't like you, sweetheart." He walks away after giving you a nasty look. You know he doesn't mean it. He is cute when he is all pouty.

The party felt like forever. You send Megumi off to Shiu's place with his son and his mom. They were gonna have a sleepover. Megumi was a raging introvert just like his father so him having a best friend was a big deal for you.

"So the dishes are done. The extra party hats are in the cupboard, the floor is clean and y—" You stop your moving feet and look at the view in front of you. "And Santa hasn't left yet."

"Well...I still have one bad girl on my list. Thought I'd take care of that." He steps closer. The heat emitting from his body already reaching to hug your skin.

"But I've been your good girl, haven't I?" your doe eyes flutter at him, your fingers curling his white faux beard.

"Nah sweetheart. You've been so bad. You've barely paid any attention to me all month. Don'tcha think ya should get punished for that?" His grainy voice grazes against your neck. You try so hard to come up with a quick witty answer to turn this into a wholesome conversation but that was down the drain the moment he put that thing on. You were never into the whole santa thing until now. All blame goes to the man underneath the costume.

"P-punished?" You clear you throat. "Like?" You wait for an answer but you don't get one. Well, at least not in words.

Toji picks you up bridal style and walks to the cozy mattress next to the christmas tree and the gifts.

"Gonna give you a full experience, doll."

Everytime you fuck, Toji's always the one to get undressed first. He is too impatient to feel you against him. But tonight, you're the only one getting undressed. Your dress pools on your stomach as calloused hands hike it up.

"Toj—"

"tsk tsk. address me properly, naughty girl."

"Santa! Need you inside me.

"Heh. Not so soon, darling. Gotta punish you first." In a split second, you're turned on your belly, face pushed against the pillow. Toji inhales a sharp breath watching your exposed ass. A quick spank is landed on your them, making your husband hard as your plump skin bounces.

"Look at'cha. Such a slut. getting all wet with just a spank? what you gon' do when santa fills up your hole, doll?"

*spank*

"Ah! Fuck. I am so sorry, Santa. I promise I'll be a good girl f'you" you mewl.

"Promise? ight. Let's test that." You hear him shuffle. His fingers unbuckle the comically large belt and tugging down the pants just enough to expose his throbbing cock. He pumps it a few times before slapping the precum covered tip on your butt cheeks, the slight wet feeling on your skin turning you on even more. Toji grabs a cushion and settles it between the floor and your stomach so your pussy is easily visible. It's shameful. You know you're so wet that it's traveling down your thigh and drenching the cushion.

You feel his cockhead rub against your slick, opening the folds.

"Shit. She's dripping, sweetheart. Don't even need to stretch ya tonight. You ready for Santa's cock?"

He doesn't even give you a chance to answer before he is slowly forcing it in your pussy. Emerald eyes not even blinking for a second out of fear of missing even a single frame of the way you swallow him.

"Fuuuuuck!" you cry out at the stretch.

"Attagirl. Took it all in once. Keep it up and I might take you off my bad list, baby."

He starts off a few gentle strokes to get you used to it all before he puts his arms on your back, pushing you further against the mattress as he starts pounding into you like an animal.

"Fuckfuckfuck fucking god! I love your pussy. You feel so fucking good. Ughhh"

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Santa, pl—please. You're so big."

"I know, baby. But—ugh—you're takin' me sooo well. Fuck! Yeah, baby c'mon. Grind that ass on my cock. Yeaaaah just like that fuck!"

"G-gunna cum, anh anh ffu—ngh," you cry and your tears are soaked by the pillows. In another second, you're coming undone on his cock, screaming his name.

"Good girl. Good. Fucking. Girl." Each word enunciated with a deep plunge in your shivering pussy.

"You've been such a good girl. Santa's gonna give you a gift." Toji picks up his pace again, rolling his hips faster, the faux beard chafing your shoulders as he is putting all his weight on you, all his instincts telling him to breed you.

"Gunna give my sweet doll the greatest gift. You better take it all. 'm gonna make sure your pussy does. goddaaaamn nghh—" A few more deep thrusts and soon he is losing his composure, cumming and painting your insides with his thick leak.

"You better return the gift in nine months doll." You're too fucked in your brain to even register what he said.

The next morning you're not even making eye contact with Toji, too embarrassed to accept you were turned on by something so innocent. Good thing Megumi comes by the door running, helping you avoid the situation for a little longer.

"Aww come here, my boy. Did you have fun at Uncle Shiu's?" He nods. His little arms coming to hug you.

"So what gift ya got brat?" Toji asks the little sea urchin.

"I got a pink tiger with a red color bow. He is the best. I named him Yuuji." You chuckle, wiping the drool from corner of his lips. "And we ate fortune cookies."

"ohh! what did your cookie say?"

"It said Santa will bring a little sister next year." Blood rushes to your cheeks, your face heating up at the little boy's innocent comment, sounding completely sinful after scenes from last night play in your head. You bite the insides of your cheek.

"Mhm. Hope he does, babe." He kisses the top of the boy's head and then your temple. Yeah he is not the Christmas kinda guy. But this might be his new favorite holiday now.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑺 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

❛  i'm so excited for the holidays already!  ❜ ❛  winter is my favorite season of the year. everything looks just so pretty.  ❜ ❛  you look like you're freezing. come on, let's warm up inside.  ❜ ❛  eat this, it's a new cookie recipe i've tried.  ❜ ❛  you have snowflakes in your hair.  ❜ ❛  let's just stay in, light a fire and watch some movies.  ❜ ❛  the holidays aren't so bad with you around.  ❜ ❛  isn't it a little bit early to start decorating already?  ❜ ❛  i'll be going home for the holidays ... do you want to come with me?  ❜ ❛  i've never seen snow before.  ❜ ❛  i know it's a little early but i figured i'd give you your present already.  ❜ ❛  here, you can have my scarf.  ❜ ❛  you've never been ice skating before?  ❜ ❛  if i'm slipping, i'm totally blaming you.  ❜ ❛  do you have any plans for the holidays?  ❜ ❛  i've prepared some hot chocolate / eggnog / mulled wine if you want to come in.  ❜ ❛  we should give our snowman a name.  ❜ ❛  are there any traditions you have for the holidays?  ❜ ❛  i can't wait for it to be summer again ...  ❜ ❛  want to go gift shopping with me?  ❜

[ mistletoe ] sender and receiver standing under a mistletoe together [ cocoa ] sender bringing receiver a mug of hot chocolate [ skating ] sender and receiver going ice skating [ snow angel ] sender and receiver making snow angels and having fun in the snow together [ fireplace ] sender and receiver cuddling up in front of a fireplace [ decorations ] sender and receiver decorate for the holidays together [ cookies ] sender and receiver bake some cookies together [ presents ] sender giving receiver their holiday present(s) [ snowball ] sender throws a snowball at receiver [ lights ] sender and receiver admire the lights together [ tree ] sender and receiver pick out a christmas tree [ secret santa ] receiver has to buy a secret santa gift for receiver [ snowed in ] sender and receiver are snowed in together [ sledding ] sender and receiver go sledding [ traditions ] sender and receiver celebrate christmas / hanukkah together [ snowman ] sender and receiver building a snowman [ gingerbread ] sender and receiver make and decorate a gingerbread house [ skiing ] sender and receiver go skiing [ music ] sender catching receiver singing and dancing to christmas songs [ caroling ] sender asking receiver to go caroling with them

[archangeldyke-all]

HI ANGELLLL <3333 omg okay how would you think sevika would react to a reader who’s very firm that they should each have their own rooms in their house/apartment. like they have sleepovers all the time but separate spaces yk?

LOVE YOU <333

ooooh i love this!!

men and minors dni

when you guys first start living together, you only have the money and space for one bedroom in your apartment. silco pays well by undercity standards, but you're just a bartender for the man, and sevika spends a majority of her income drinking and gambling away all the trauma he puts her through on the daily.

and as much as you love her, you sometimes wish you had a space of your own. you know she feels the same way. she doesn't have an office at work to hide out in. you're both introverted people, more used to being alone than with others. sometimes, the best way for you and sevika to recharge is to just spend a few hours alone.

but once silco dies, and the war ends; you find yourself with two new children and an exorbitant bump in your shared income now that sevika's ambassador.

when you first bring up the idea of getting a house with enough space for all four of you to have your own bedrooms-- sevika's upset.

"wh-- you don't want to share a room with me?" she asks with a pout. you coo and cup her cheeks.

"no baby, it's not that at all. it's just... okay. you've got a lot of responsibility at your new job. you need a good night's sleep, even on the nights when i wanna stay up late reading my books. and i need a good nights sleep even on the nights you and isha wanna play fortnite all night."

sevika chuckles. "i guess it could be nice. wouldn't have to deal with the dumbass holiday pillows you decorate the bed with each season."

you gasp. "you love those pillows!"

"they're so fucking annoying! why do we have a dozen pillows?! we only need two to sleep!"

"okay, well i won't have to deal with your clothes on the floor killing me in the middle of the night when i gotta get up to piss." you huff.

sevika's angry glare fades, and she sighs. "i'd miss you."

you giggle. "i'd just be down the hall, love."

"i know, but still. will you let us have sleepovers?" she asks. you grin.

"obviously."

it ends up being one of the best ideas you've ever had.

sevika's new workload means she's always bringing her work home, proposals to read and papers to sign. it would annoy you endlessly, but she keeps it to her bedroom, a stack of papers piled up on her bedside table, her glasses folded on top.

since the last drop's been burnt down and isha and jinx have stumbled into your lives, you've been staying at home to keep an eye on the girls and keep the house functioning. in your free time-- when sevika's at work and the girls are entertaining themselves-- you've taken to doing puzzles.

you know it's a hobby sevika would attempt to divorce you for in another life-- but now, with your own bedroom, you can spread as many bowls of color sorted puzzle pieces around and occupy as many flat surfaces as your heart desires.

the only downside is the decrease in cuddles.

as a result, you and sevika take to cuddling on the couch a lot more. jinx an isha think it's disgusting, especially when your cuddles lead to kisses, but there's nothing you love more than having sevika lay on top of you after a long day, both of you watching the girls play video games.

sometimes, sevika makes 'cuddle meetings' with you-- which is just a specific hour of the day set aside for the two of you to spread out in one of your beds, cuddling and sometimes napping together.

and, best of all (even though her snoring annoys you more than words can describe) sometimes, you'll hear your bedroom door creak open in the middle of the night.

"isha?" you ask with a grumble. there's no response. "jinx?" you reach out to turn on your lamp, and burst into laughter at the sight of your wife shyly leaning against your bedroom doorframe. "hi sevi-bear." you giggle.

sevika smiles. "can i spend the night with you?" she asks. "it's cold in my room." you scoot over in bed and pat the spot beside you, giggling as sevika flings herself into your bed. she kisses you sloppily before laying down with a happy sigh. "thanks, baby."

you flick your light off with a giggle. "but no funny business, ma'am. you got that early meeting."

sevika laughs. "i know, i know, 's why i trapped you in the shower earlier." she wraps her arms around you and pulls you to her side, nuzzling her nose against your neck. "just... needed to hold you tonight."

you grin and twine your limbs around sevika's. "sweet dreams, love."

"mmh." sevika responds, already drifting off.

you close your eyes and kiss her forehead, settling in for sleep.

maybe you don't need two bedrooms... maybe it would be nice to sleep beside your wife every night...

just as you're about to fall asleep, sevika groans beside you. "why the fuck--" she snaps up in bed and starts throwing pillows onto the ground. "how many pillows does one person need?!" she huffs, before flinging herself back down into bed and curling around you.

you burst into laughter and pinch her side. you can feel sevika's smile against your throat.

nevermind, two bedrooms is probably for the best.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys

[whateverloomis]

Dilf!Billy Loomis who kidnaps the sweet lil reader that works at the local Spirit Halloween?

I've always wondered how Billy would kidnap someone because he 100% would lmao. This is basically a drabble, it's all I've been able to put out lately. Anyways, here it is! Hope y'all enjoy babes 🫶🏼

Warnings: FEM READER, kidnapping (honestly it was a willing situation but the intention was there lmao,) spiked drink, alcohol consumption, flirting, fingering, stranger danger (lol,) Stu Macher feature, unedited

Finally, your favorite season has arrived and you couldn't be happier. Fall. Halloween. Gloomy nights and a full moon. Ghost stories and pumpkin spice in the air.

It also means night shifts at Spirit Halloween. It isn't exactly the funnest job, but being surrounded by all kinds of decorations and costumes is worth doing it.

Tonight the store isn't as full as it usually is and you're almost grateful. The week has been chaotic so far and you definitely need a slow day, especially since you're at the register.

A few people came in and browsed the costumes but nobody bought anything, except for one. A man.

He's wearing a white tee with an oversized navy blue jacket along with light wash jeans. As you scan his body with your eyes you land on his black doc marten boots. It looks like they've been used quite a bit but they're still in great shape. You fixate your gaze a little too long on them, boots are one of your weaknesses and the man wearing them sure make them look extra hot. He must be in his 50s, but fuck does he look delicious. It's odd for you to find older men attractive but when it happen you're practically weak at the knees.

You continue looking at him as you suck on a lollipop you stole from a random aisle. With the view of the attractive man studying and touching the Halloween masks your brain got creative, and you definitely wouldn't mind having his cock in your mouth instead. Gosh, what a slut. Thinking that way about a complete stranger? Who does that?

It doesn't stop you from entertaining yourself with the thought as you feel the sugary bulb against your tongue.

"Do you have another one of these available?" the man asks and snaps you back to reality. He's holding a ghost face mask and you can't help but imagine him wearing the damn thing.

You nod and search for another mask from the pile of items people decide not to buy last minute, and luckily you find another one.

After handing it to him, you pull the lollipop out of your mouth, "Anything else I can help with?"

You noticed how he looked at your lips when you removed the candy from your mouth and smirked, "Mm, no, I have everything," he responded and you instantly got flustered.

"So, are you new in town? I haven't seen you around before," he asks, making small talk.

"Yes, I moved here a few months ago. It's pretty nice, I didn't think I'd like Woodsboro much..." you trailed off and Billy looked at you with a questioning look,

"Is it that boring here?" he continued and you laugh shily, "No, I just don't really have friends to hang out with..." you say and the man frowns.

"Well, I can show you around if you'd like. I know a nice deck with a mini bar down by the Woodsboro lake. It's really nice at night when there's a clear sky." he said and you mentally curse yourself for being tempted to go hang out with him. A stranger. But you couldn't help it, it's been a while since you hung out with someone and this guy is incredibly hot.

Your mind is racing but before you reason with yourself, you accept his invite... Billy Loomis' invite.

•

After a brief walk and a few drinks at the mini bar you were already letting loose and getting flirty with Billy.

"Wait, so he fell in the water with his suit on?" you asked, giggling at Billy's story of Stu falling into the hotel pool where their prom was hosted in '96. You were sitting rather close to the man, your thigh touching his while you faced each other.

"He really did, the idiot" he responded and took a swing of his beer. "We should all hang out sometime, I'm sure he'd like you." Billy continued and you blushed at his words. "Really? You think so?" you asked, shyness taking over. "Of course, anyone would like a cutie like you," he said, no shame in being straightforward.

You bit your lip and let out a breathy laugh. "I've never thought that way about myself..."

"Well, you should, I mean look at you" he continued and placed his hand on your thigh, running it up your skin slowly until it rested right under the hem of your short dress.

Silence fell upon you in an instant and the tension that was building went up a notch. Naturally, both of you leaned in and gave each other a few lingering kisses.

Billy pulled back and hissed, looking down at his hand on your thigh, squeezing slightly. "Bars about to close... You wanna go back to my place?" he asked and you nodded slowly, following him to his car.

Once you reached the vehicle Billy leaned against the hood and pulled you towards him by your hips. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck and continued kissing and it quickly got heated.

You might be a shy person, but when it comes to getting what you want? You don't hesitate one but, and at that moment you wanted him. This stranger that you met a few days ago.

It's reckless but you didn't care. The way that man was using his tongue to tease your lips and mouth was incredible and you could've stayed there all night but you needed more.

"Mm, let's go" you broke the kiss. Billy smirked and opened the door for you, looking at your ass when you walked past him to get in the car.

•

You found yourself straddling Billy's lap on the couch of his living room. The cabin he owns is relatively small but extremely cozy and charming in every way, just like him.

The sound of your soft moans mix with the crackling of the fire place. The make out session had been going on for a while and you were already grinding against his growing length. He feels big, and you can't wait to see what he's hiding in his pants.

Billy was careful with what he chose to do, he didn't want to scare you away after all, so he slowly slipped his hands under your dress and pulled it up and over your ass. You moved your hips quicker in response to his actions and he exhaled at the feeling of your pussy against his clothed cock.

He squeezed your ass and dug his fingers in your flesh before sneaking one of his hands between your legs. He rubbed your clit over your underwear, encouraging you to grind against them, and that you did. Slowly.

"Fuck... You soaked through these." Billy said while snapping the band of your underwear with his free hand, "I've barely touched you baby..." he continued and nipped your neck.

"Mm, please..." you said and grab his hand. "Need to feel..." you continued while you pulled your underwear to the side, moving his fingers inside your throbbing cunt.

"Fuck..." Billy moaned and finger fucked you from below imagining his cock buried inside you.

After a while his impatience took over and he stood up. You wrapped your legs around his torso along with your arms around his neck and into his room you went...

•

After Gods know how much time of fucking and playing with each other Billy offered you a drink, which you gladly accepted. After a few sips you went to the bathroom to clean up, and while you were away he took the opportunity to spike your drink. Of course he had alternate motives, and you were an easy target. Too easy.

Once you came back and took a few more sips of that drink you never thought you'd end up passing out... much less end up with your hands tied behind your back on a chair in the middle of a living room. A room that was comforting a few hours prior, but there you were. Confused out of your mind.

"Look who's up" you heard Billy whisper. His hand softly brushed against your cheek.

"Where... What?" you said while moving your arms around, feeling the restraints.

"Shh sh sh, we're at my place, remember?" Billy said softly. Why was he being so gentle in a situation like this? You had no clue, and it made the situation all the more confusing and frightening.

"What's goin- What the fuck?!" You lost it.

"Hm... Well, you see... It's a very interesting story, really. I used to study with your aunty Prescott."

No way.

"And I tried to kill her, but the bitch got away from me, so I thought... Hm, how can I get her attention again?"

"Billy... Don't" You started.

"Why not kidnap her sweet nephew. The one she loves like a daughter..."

"Billy..."

"Why not use these? Terrorize the town again... Terrorize Sidney again." He continued, holding the ghostface masks up. The ones you sold him a few days ago.

But why two?

"Am I late?" You heard another voice behind you. Turning around was useless so you closed your eyes hoping it was all a dream.

"Nah, I'm just getting started" Billy replied and the other man came to view. He handed Billy a knife and took his mask afterwards.

"YN, meet Stu." Billy said and Stu waved as if this were a normal everyday interaction.

"You. You're the ghostface killers..." you put it together quickly, all the memories of Sid warning you about moving to that damn town. How she wouldn't trust the silence.

She was right.

[tellmeallaboutit]

So, anon, I cooked the beginning of something absolutely horrible. Raphael had no chance growing up normal with this beast of a father, no chance at all.

Tags warnings: DDDNE, DDDNE, I REPEAT: DDNE! Also, non-con, underage, grooming, do not look under the cut, everything is totally and irreversibly fucked under the cut.

The Gift

The unmistakable, thunderous thump-thump of his father's cloven-footed stride echoed down the Mephistar corridor. Raphael lay paralyzed in his bed, clad in silk nightwear, praying to the Great Serpent that the approaching footsteps would not halt at his door. 

They must. For what reason should they not? Father had never graced any of Raphael’s birthdays with his presence. This one was almost over, just a scant hour from its end.

Then, without warning or a courtesy knock, his chamber door creaked open, and then came the question eerily similar to an accusation.

"You thought I'd forgotten your birthday, my son?"

His father had come - and he hadn't come empty-handed; he bore an enormous package swathed in red lace. A lavish gift it must be; large enough to house a hellhound or perhaps even a dragon.

Raphael sat up abruptly as a well-rehearsed deference escaped his lips, "I wouldn't dare presume you'd bother yourself with such trivialities, my Lord."

Mephistopheles let out a chuckle. He laughed most of the times Raphael uttered anything in his presence, which was a scarce occasion to begin with. 

"Absurd! My youngest offspring is now mature enough to grow proper horns. You're a man now, aren't you, young Prince?"

That assertion felt exaggerated; Raphael's voice was still a fledgling, just beginning to find its depth. His facial hair was but a sparse constellation of stubble, and his physique bore more resemblance to a sapling than an oak. Yet both his horns and his manhood had amplified in size over recent seasons.

"I surmise so," Raphael responded.

The smile on his fathers face evaporated like Canian frost at the touch of hellfire.

"You surmise so? Mephistopheles mirrored, his tone thickening. “Indeed? Do you fancy yourself a man, my young whelp?"

Raphael swallowed hard before stammering out an answer, "I... I meant, I presume, I supposed... Perhaps not yet…”

"Not yet indeed. What do you perceive makes a man?" Mephistopheles asked as his eyes of milk white dissected Raphael’s very essence.

”Power... conquests... souls...", began Raphael, eyeing his father’s clenched fists.

Mephistopheles rubbed his horns in exasperation and raised a hand to silence him.

“Nonsense! And if a woman possessed those things? Would she be considered a man?"

"I suppose not," Raphael conceded, closing his eyes in resignation.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of a thud against the floorboards.

"Here is your clue, boy, to what will make a man out of you." 

A package lay before him; from within it emanated the steady rhythm of life –a heartbeat.

"Is it alive?".

“For now," Mephistopheles shrugged.

Raphael hopped off and his bed and approached, cautiously peeling back the top of the package, tugging at the wrapping lace. 

The first thing he saw were the eyes; large, tear-streaked and emerald; then pointed ears, followed by wings that were wrapped tightly around a petite figure. The girl had her knees pressed tightly against her chest. 

“Avariel”, Raphael whispered in reverence. “A true Avariel, the rarest and most beautiful breed of elf”.

He had seen them only in encyclopedias before, but their features were unmistakable. Her breath quickened as she took in sight of his horns and became frantic when she took in his father’s, and then she mouthed some breathless word.

“Ah, these winged creatures are mere decorative baubles,” Mephistopheles dismissed with a swipe of his clawed hand. “But beautiful nonetheless.”

The elven girl was clad in sheer white lingerie; her skin was so translucent that Raphael could discern her veins' intricate pattern beneath it. Her petite breasts were scarcely veiled by her corset, exposing soft roseate nipples. 

"She's exquisite, father”, Raphael said as he pressed a quick kiss to his father’s palm. “Thank you."

'If you're satisfied then I'm content”, Mephistopheles nodded. “You do know what men do to women they possess, Raphael?”.

"Yes," he admitted, hoping that his human tendency to blush wouldn't betray his embarrassment. "Not firsthand... but I've seen pit fiends with their slaves... I can imagine what a man is supposed to do to a woman."

Raphael had spent many nights fantasizing about such scenarios; acting them out under his father's watchful gaze was not part of those fantasies.

“Can you indeed? Show me, then”, Mephistopheles said, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Do unwrap your gift”.

The girl let out an agonized shriek as Raphael extended his clawed hand towards her to remove the ribbons encircling her neck. She shot out of the box, huddling in a far-off corner of the room, wings beating chaotically against the air.

Mephistopheles smiled and rubbed his nose bridge with his claw. 

Raphael took a steadying breath and advanced towards the girl, eliciting a more vehement sob from her.

"She appears less than eager to lay with me, my Lord," Raphael glanced back at Mephistopheles for direction.

“Evidently", Mephistopheles exhaled. “What do you propose?”

Raphael turned back to the girl. Her eyes were wide with terror. He was utterly clueless on how he could convince her to lie beneath him.

"Should I attempt to woo her?" He asked.

"Woo her?" Mephistopheles erupted into boisterous laughter. "By the abyssal pits! That would be quite an amusing spectacle! Proceed then, court the damsel."

Seduction was a concept Raphael had only theoretical knowledge of. What do women fancy? Confectioneries? Gifts? Tender words? He had some candied nuts soaked in rosewater gifted to him today; they must be in one of the drawers.

Raphael turned back towards the maiden and tried his best to sound charming and soothing despite his own panic: “Fear not, fair maiden... I promise not to harm you. I vow to be a kind and gentle master to you. Would you like some nuts or a piece of strawberry cake?”

Despite his proficiency in the elven tongue (he enunciated each word with precision, hoping to earn his father’s approval), his words only seemed to incite more fear within her. She took flight, pressing herself into the uppermost corner of the room in a vain attempt at evasion.

Raphael had an inkling that offering sugared treats wouldn’t be of much help here. Damnation! The last thing he desired was to look like a fool before his father.

Raphael tried again, desperation creeping into his voice: “I implore you, elven-born. You’ve been gifted to me, and it’s in your best interest to serve me well. I will be kind to you if you choose to be kind to me.”

“Graceful Mother Aerdrie, The Winged Mother, I beseech you”…. The girl began what Raphael assumed was some sort of prayer for deliverance.

"An admirable effort at persuasion, my son. I foresee a promising future in negotiations for you. What's next?' Mephistopheles said as Raphael racked his brain for another strategy.

"I could use force," he suggested hesitantly, unfurling his wings. “Fly up there and drag her down”.

The ensuing blow nearly toppled him over. "Force? FORCE!?" Mephistopheles bellowed. “Have you no respect for the sanctity of choice, you half-breed imbecile?"

“I apologize, my Lord,” Raphael mumbled, wiping the blood from his nose. “My suggestion was ill-considered”.

“Your whole creation was ill-considered”, Mephistopheles growled. Enough of this; if I have to demonstrate it to you myself, I shall! Girl! Descend from there, precious child, and fret no longer”.

Who do you think Raphael lost his virginity to?

Damn guys (or just one anon), you are on the roll today! keep going, I I am very entertained!

I think Mephistopheles had a whole garden full of concubines in Mephistar, and when Raphael hit human 13-14 whatever that is in devil years and Mephistopheles wanted to give him a little present he sent one of the concubines to his son's chambers.

Maybe Mephistopheles gave Raphael a little live demonstration of how to treat a woman properly in bed to Raphael before handing him over the prize. Yes, it's totally normal for them to cry like that, son. That's how it's done. Keep a straight back and don't wiggle your tail like that when you pound her!

So, yeah, I think Raphael lost his virginity in a way that excluded any kind of "normal" sexual relationship, so he was demonstrated off the bat sex is 1) violent , 2) purely transactional, and 3) actually all about power.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Rose

beautiful words with "rose" to try to include in your poem/story

Agarose - a polysaccharide obtained from agar and used especially as a supporting medium in gel electrophoresis

Gyrose - marked with wavy lines; undulate

Morose - having a sullen and gloomy disposition

Primrose - any of a genus (Primula) of perennial herbs with large tufted basal leaves and showy variously colored flowers

Roseal - (archaic): resembling or suggesting a rose

Roseate - resembling a rose especially in color; overly optimistic; viewed favorably

Rosebay - rhododendron; fireweed

Rosebush - a shrub that produces roses

Rosedust - a grayish red to reddish brown

Rosefish - redfish (i.e., any of various reddish fishes)

Rosemaling - painted or sometimes carved decoration (as on furniture, walls, or wooden dinnerware) in Scandinavian peasant style that consists especially of floral designs and inscriptions

Rosemary - a fragrant shrubby Mediterranean mint (Salvia rosmarinus synonym Rosmarinus officinalis) having grayish-green needlelike leaves used as a seasoning

Roseola - a rose-colored eruption in spots or a disease marked by such an eruption

Roseroot - a perennial fleshy herb (Sedum rosea) whose roots have the odor of roses; also called rosewort

Roset - resin

Rosetan - pearl blush (i.e., a brownish pink to light grayish brown)

Rosette - a disk of foliage or a floral design usually in relief used as a decorative motif

Rosewater - affectedly nice or delicate; a watery solution of the odoriferous constituents of the rose used as a perfume or a flavoring

Rosewood - any of various tropical trees (especially genus Dalbergia) yielding valuable cabinet woods of a usually dark red or purplish color streaked and variegated with black

Siderose - full of or like iron

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Roses ⚜ Bloom ⚜ Blossom ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[formulaisa]

So I saw you were taking requests for Franco and i thought I would share my idea!

How about Mexican reader where she is like a fan of formula 1 and goes to one of the gp (any of them). And like she is there minding her business in the paddock (like asking drivers for photos and autographs) and Franco sees her and is like 😍😍😍 immediately and when reader goes to ask for a photo he starts like actually interacting with her (more than the polite thank you for being a fan talk) and idk you can take over from there.

Don’t feel pressured to write this! I just think is a cute idea and definitely not self protecting

The Signature | Franco Colapinto

Summary: Growing up watching Formula 1 with your dad made you dream of attending a Grand Prix, but you never imagined your first paddock experience would lead to catching a certain Argentinian rookie's attention.

Warnings: some spanish (with translations)

Author's note: Sorry for the inactivity! I've been busy with my family for the holidays. If you have any feedback or suggestions, I'd really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy! <3

F1 Masterlist / homepage / main masterlist

You had always dreamed of attending a Grand Prix. Ever since your dad introduced you to Formula 1 at a young age, you were hooked. The roar of the engines, the speed, the energy of the crowd—it all fascinated you. But the problem was, you lived far away from any Grand Prix, and the costs for tickets, travel, and hotels made this dream seem impossible.

That all changed when you went to college in the US. You were awarded a generous scholarship to a school in Texas, conveniently close to the US Grand Prix. Juggling a waitressing job and school, you worked hard and finally saved enough money to attend a race. To top it off, you earned enough to afford a paddock pass. There was only one thing that could make this experience even better: having your dad with you. Though he couldn't be there, you had a plan to make it up to him. You'd bought him a blank hat and set out to get as many driver autographs as possible for him.

It was a scorching Saturday in Austin. Qualifying was starting in just a few hours, so you arrived early, hoping to catch some drivers for autographs and photos. The paddock was already buzzing with activity—mechanics wheeling tires, engineers huddled over laptops, and the occasional flash of a driver's race suit disappearing into a garage.

By now, you'd been surprisingly lucky. You'd gotten photos and signatures from three drivers: Carlos, Yuki, and Nico. Their signatures decorated the pristine white hat, each one making you imagine your dad's face lighting up when he saw it. But you wouldn't be truly satisfied until you got signatures from your two favorites: Checo and Lewis.

The Texas heat was beginning to wear you down. Your outfit, a cute dress and cowboy boots, looked stylish but weren't exactly built for the sweltering weather. Sweat beaded at your temples, and you could feel your hair starting to stick to the back of your neck. You stopped by a kiosk to grab a water bottle, then took a quieter shortcut back to the main paddock area, hoping to bump into a driver.

Just as you rounded the corner, you spotted him. It was hard not to. Franco Colapinto was strutting through the paddock in his navy blue Williams polo, his trademark smirk on full display. The young Argentinian driver had been making waves in his rookie season, his natural talent and charismatic personality quickly making him a fan favorite. Now was your chance.

Suddenly, a small lump filled your throat. It was a strange sensation, one you hadn't felt with any of the other drivers today. Your hands felt clammy, and your heart began to race. You found yourself nervous in a way that had nothing to do with meeting a Formula 1 driver and everything to do with meeting him.

"Umm, hi, Franco?" you asked, your voice hesitant. "Could I get a picture?"

He paused and turned around, pulling an AirPod from his ear. His dark eyes met yours, and his smirk softened into a genuine smile that made your stomach do a little flip. "Yeah, of course," he said, his Argentine accent adding a musical quality to his words.

You pulled out your phone and went to take a selfie. As you did, you noticed Franco adjusting his hair in the camera, running his fingers through the dark waves with practiced ease.

"Sorry, it's just so hot here," he explained quickly, before leaning in and flashing a smile for the photo. As you snapped the picture, you caught him glancing down at you, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The subtle cologne he wore mixed with the mechanical scents of the paddock, creating an oddly intoxicating combination.

"I know. I feel like I'm melting," you said, tucking your phone back into your purse. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as if to emphasize your point.

Franco hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes sparkled with interest as he asked, "¿Hablas español?" [Do you speak Spanish?]

"Sí, sí," you replied with a small smile, pleasantly surprised by the question. [Yes, yes.]

"¿De dónde eres?" he asked, his signature smirk returning. [Where are you from?]

"México," you said, "pero voy a la universidad aquí." Your voice grew more confident as you spoke in Spanish, and you noticed how Franco's posture relaxed, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned in to hear you better. [Mexico, but I go to college here.]

“I could tell from your accent,” He nodded, clearly interested, still not in a rush to leave. The bustling paddock seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention entirely on you. He glanced around the paddock, then asked, "Are you here by yourself?"

You sighed lightly and nodded. "Yeah, it's just me." The admission made you feel suddenly vulnerable, but there was something comforting about the way Franco listened, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Paddock pass all for yourself, huh?" His voice carried no judgment, just genuine curiosity.

"I saved up all my tips from work," you said, absently playing with the lanyard around your neck. "I originally wanted to surprise my dad with tickets for his birthday, but I couldn't afford a flight and hotel from Mexico, so it didn't work out."

He looked at you with understanding, his expression softening. "Where do you work?" he asked, genuine curiosity evident in his voice.

You shrugged slightly, a little embarrassed. "Just some restaurant... I'm a waitress." The words felt small compared to his profession, but his interested expression never wavered.

"What's it called?" he asked, taking a small step closer.

"Trust me. You wouldn't want to go there," you replied with a self-deprecating laugh, knowing Franco wouldn't be interested in the casual, country bar you worked at.

"Still, I’m curious," he asked, the same flirtatious tone in his voice. “Besides, I’m more interested in the service.”

"It's called Buck Wild," you said with a small laugh, watching his expression for any sign of judgment. “It’s a very Texan country bar.”

"I think I'd learn to like it," he teased with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, you noticed. “When do you work there?”

"Tuesdays and Fridays," you answered, still smiling, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his continued interest.

He nodded, clearly thinking. "I leave on Thursday..." he muttered to himself, his voice soft and thoughtful as he created a mental plan. The words hung in the air between you, heavy with possibility.

Your heart began to race, and a warm blush crept up your neck. The way he was looking at you, the casual tone of his voice, the fact that he was even asking about your work schedule—it all pointed to something more than just a typical chat with a fan. You found yourself hyper-aware of every detail: the way his polo shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, how he kept shifting slightly closer to you, the warmth in his dark eyes.

Then, reality crashed back in as you remembered why you had actually approached him. The hat for your dad was still tucked away in your bag.

"I-I know you probably have to go soon, but before you leave, could you sign this for me?" you asked, pulling the hat out of your bag. Your fingers trembled slightly as you handed it to him.

He smiled warmly and took the sharpie and hat from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "Wow, you've got quite a few signatures already, huh?" He examined the other drivers' signatures with interest.

Franco signed the hat, moving slowly, almost like he was savoring the moment, stretching out the conversation. His signature was deliberate and careful, unlike the rushed autographs you'd seen him give to other fans earlier.

You smiled and explained, "I'm trying to get Lewis and Checo too. They're my dad's favorite drivers." Your voice softened when you mentioned your father, and Franco seemed to notice.

"Ah, Good taste," he said, nodding. Then, his expression shifted slightly. He glanced at the hat, pausing. A look of realization and minor panic appears on his face. 

“Wait,” he gestures to the hat “This isn’t for you?” 

“No, it’s a gift for my dad,” you explain “Why?” 

You look down at the hat in his hands and see his scrawled out signature. Underneath you see something else he had started to write. “+54 2322…” 

Your eyes widened as you realized what he'd done. "Joder," he muttered under his breath, quickly scribbling over the numbers, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Despite his embarrassment, you noticed he didn't step away.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm smile spreading across your face as you looked up at him. The moment felt surreal—here was Franco Colapinto, Formula 1 driver, getting flustered while trying to give you his phone number on what he thought was your hat.

"I can just give you mine," you said shyly, still flustered but charmed by his awkward attempt.

Franco pulled out his phone, opened a new contact, and handed it to you. His phone was warm from being in his pocket, and you noticed his lock screen was a picture of his dog. Just as you were typing in your name and number, his phone buzzed with a message: 'Where are you, mate? Meeting started ten minutes ago.'

Franco's eyes widened with panic, and you could tell he was starting to realize just how much time he'd spent talking to you instead of attending his meeting. The easy conversation had made you both lose track of time completely. You handed him back his phone, but before you could say anything, he quickly added, "Let me give you my number too."

You began fumbling through your purse for your phone, your fingers clumsy with nervous energy, but before you could find it, you were interrupted by a loud voice from the Williams garage.

"Franco! Stop flirting and get over here. You're late, and James is pissed!" the mechanic yelled, his voice cutting through the paddock's ambient noise.

Franco looked over, frustration and guilt crossing his face in quick succession. "Sorry," he muttered to you, grabbing the sharpie back from your hand and hastily scribbling his number on your arm. His touch was gentle despite his hurry, and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

Before you could even react, he gently handed you back the sharpie. "I'll see you around..." he said with a wink and a grin, before turning and jogging off toward the Williams garage. You watched him go, admiring how he somehow managed to make even a rushed exit look graceful.

You stood there for a moment, your heart racing, the cool sharpie mark on your arm tingling where his fingers had just been. The numbers were slightly smudged but still legible, and you couldn't help but trace them with your finger.  You smiled to yourself, looking forward to the next time you'd see him and happy with the most special signature you’d gotten that day.

✩₊˚.⋆ all work belongs to formulaisa. please don’t modify, translate, or share my writing, and don’t feed it to AI.

[champagnedstappen]

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader. This is a simple Christmas blurb. ;)

Perhaps his skin becomes so much lighter is because the colour of snow. There's theory where someone's skin is usually getting more light if the background is also light and not dark. Maybe the theory also works on him. Because in your eyes, he looks more... How can you say it? Glowing mayhaps.

You look at him thoughtfully, when you thought this man couldn't be more fine, then he always proved it. Clearly this is one of his moments. He looks at you, abandoning his skiing pole on the ground full of snow. You're shivering, sure you're using many layers, but holy shit, you're not used to cold temperatures. Clearly will never be.

"Mon cœur... Are your still shivering?" He asks. You are about to scoff, not enjoying any questions from him while he asked it with hint of humour—the urge to laugh at you, you can see it on his eyes, you know him too well anyway.

As he try reaching you while walking, leaving his pole with his friends—having conversation about skiing you clearly don't understand about, you're kicking some of the snow on the ground. You should be enjoying the trip. Last year, Charles tried to get you on board on the trip, but failed at the attempt since you were so against the cold temperatures, knowing how bad you can be.

You snap jokingly, well you can't be mad at him nonetheless. "What do you think, Leclerc?" At that, he laughs and finally standing in front of you. Hands on your waist, creating some patterns you don't really pay attention to in this situation.

"My love, I'm not laughing. I'm fully concerned," he continues. Making his face to full acting, trying to look like he's not going to make fun of you. Yet his eyes are soft, looking at you like you're his favourite person to be with, like you're all that matter. Making you knees buckle.

It's your turn to laugh before sighing. "I don't know why you asked me to be part of the trip. I can't even do anything, I'm only slowing you and the guys."

His green eyes—which you've noticed since you first met looking straight at you. There's some frowns that you hate so much. During the season, you knew how much pressure he had. Ferrari battling for the World Constructor Championship added to his shoulder, making it a cherry on top, you'd say.

After Abu Dhabi, his mood worsened. Loosing the title to McLaren certainly made his mind wander over something not certain and useless in your perspective. He kept blaming himself, thinking all What-Ifs, if only he did this, if only he didn't, if only he was better.

You hate it. You think his frown and depressive stare are your biggest nemesis. Something that you wish Avengers could fight like when they fought against Thanos.

You remember those days where you couldn't attend the Grand Prix, having jobs you needed to be at, he called you after the free practice, qualifying, hours after race—especially after bad results, he tends to be alone after bad race, not wanting to throw some tantrums or putting his anger at you. It leaves some bad spots on your emotions, seeing him so sad and blaming himself adding your personal problems with the sports.

You just want this trip to be his healing list. You don't want to worsen his days by making his holiday worse than ever.

Yet he shrugs it off. "Baby, what are you taking about? I only agreed to this winter trip so we can have our time together. If you didn't agree, I wouldn't too. I'd rather stay at home, maybe doing something funny while decorating Christmas tree with you, ma chérie."

These are the moments where you are sure that before you meet him, you never understood the situation of love. Back in the days you only think that love was impossible for you. Because in your mind, you thought, what could be love from you? There's nothing special. You're just... You. You're no model, you're no extravaganza, you're... No special.

But then there's interesting Monégasque who does anything to make you feel loved. Who's every actions makes you like you're everything. Who's actions are calculated, proofing how he would do anything for you.

Just, maybe, if you are loved too after you met him.

He continues. "We can stay in any city that you want. Summer, winter, any season doesn't matter. And like other every cities than exist in this world, there is city in my heart where you are its only population."

"Oh, Charles Leclerc. You're a fucking simp. Now teach me."

Yes, this moment definitely on your 'He's the proof where I am loved too' list.

"و في قلبي مدينة كُل سُكانها أنتي.'

"And there is a city in my heart where you are its only population." By Mahmoud Darwish.

[serpentface]

how do you come up with the ways cultures in your setting stylize people/animals/the world in general in their artwork, i.e. jewlery, rock carvings, statues, etc? Each culture in your world seems to have a very unique "art style" and I love it a lot - makes them seem that much more 'real'. This is something I struggle with a lot in my own worldbuilding and I'd love to pick your brain if possible 😁

I think a starting point is to have a research process based in the material realities of the culture you're designing for. Ask yourself questions like:

Where do they live? What's the climate/ecosystem(s) they are based in? What geographic features are present/absent?

What is their main subsistence method? (hunter gatherer, seasonal pastoralist, nomadic pastoralist, settled agriculturalist, a mix, etc)

What access to broader trade networks do they have and to whom? Are there foreign materials that will be easily accessible in trade and common in use, or valuable trade materials used sparingly in limited capacities?

Etc

And then do some research based on the answers, in order to get a sense of what materials they would have routine access to (ie dyes, metal, textiles, etc) and other possible variables that would shape how the art is made and what it's used for. This is just a foundational step and won't likely play much into designing a Style.

If you narrow these questions down very specifically, (ie in the context of the Korya post- grassland based mounted nomads, pastoralist and hunter-gatherer subsistence, access to wider trade networks and metals), you can direct your research to specific real world instances that fit this general idea. This is not to lift culturally specific concepts from the real world and slap them into your own setting, but to notice commonalities this lifestyle enforces - (ie in the previous example- mounted nomadic peoples are highly mobile and need to easily carry their wealth (often on clothing and tack) therefore small, elaborate decorative artwork that can easily be carried from place to place is a very likely feature)

For the details of the art itself, I come up with loose 'style guides' (usually just in my head) and go from there.

Here's some example questions for forming a style (some are more baseline than others)

Are geometric patterns favored? Organic patterns? Representative patterns (flowers, animals, stars, etc)? Abstract patterns?

Is there favored material(s)? Beads, bone, clay, metals, stones, etc.

When depicting people/animals, is realism favored? Heavy stylization? The emotional impression of an animal? Are key features accentuated?

How perspective typically executed? Does art attempt to capture 3d depth? Does it favor showing the whole body in 2 dimensions (ie much of Ancient Egyptian art, with the body shown in a mix of profile and forward facing perspective so all key attributes are shown)? Will limbs overlap? Are bodies shown static? In motion?

Does artwork of people attempt to beautify them? Does it favor the culture's conception of the ideal body?

Are there common visual motifs? Important symbols? Key subject matters?

What is the art used for? Are its functions aesthetic, tutelary, spiritual, magical? (Will often exist in combination, or have different examples for each purpose)

Who is represented? Is there interest in everyday people? Does art focus on glorifying warriors, heroes, kings?

Are there conventions for representing important figures? (IE gods/kings/etc being depicted larger than culturally lesser subjects)

Is there visual shorthand to depict objects/concepts that are difficult to execute with clarity (the sun, moon, water), or are invisible (wind, the soul), or have no physical component (speech)?

Etc

Deciding on answers to any of these questions will at least give you a unique baseline, and you can fill in the rest of the gaps and specify a style further until it is distinct. Many of these questions are not mutually exclusive, both in the sense of elements being combined (patterns with both geometric and organic elements) or a culture having multiple visual styles (3d art objects having unique features, religious artwork having its own conventions, etc).

Also when you're getting in depth, you should have cultural syncretism in mind. Cultures that routinely interact (whether this interaction is exchange or exploitation) inevitably exchange ideas, which can be especially visible in art. Doing research on how this synthesizing of ideas works in practice is very helpful- what is adopted or left out from an external influence, what is retained from an internal influence, what is unique to this synthesis, AND WHY. (I find Greco-Buddhist art really interesting, that's one of many such examples)

Looking at real world examples that fit your parameters can be helpful (ie if I've decided on geometric patterns in my 'style guide', I'll look at actual geometric patterns). And I strongly encourage trying to actually LEARN about what you're seeing. All art exists in a context, and having an understanding of how the context shapes art, how art does and doesn't relate to broader aspects of a society, etc, can help you when synthesizing your own.