unsafeunsaid

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⋆౨ৎ˚ Y2K Princess: London Tipton Inspired Things To Script ⋆౨ৎ˚

this post was heavily inspired by @premiumbitch-deactivated2025040. this post is not me trying to be a copycat or anything, I just love London and wanted to make a things to script based off her!

ᯓ★ Spoiled Rotten

Obviously your rich, and I mean rich. Several vacation homes that spans across numerous continents, twelve car garage, custom designer, multi-million dollar mansion that sits upon acres of land, black card toting, trust fund having, rich. Due to your silver spoon upbringing, you have the tendency to be a tad bit spoiled. Now this isn't necessairly a bad thing as you always get what your heart desires. Whether it's that new Channel bag you've been eyeing or just a quick trip to Paris, you always get it. And the best part about it? People adore you for it, you have your parents wrapped around your finger just like that. They give you every single thing you want, and then some.

ᯓ★ Iconic Fashion Style

From a Juicy Couture tracksuit (for whenever you're feeling bummy) to that custom made Versace dress, you are the moment. As soon as you walk into a room you turn heads, people practically break their necks trying to get a glimpse of who you're wearing. You have a sixth sense when it comes to fashion. You know exactly how to style something, it just comes to you. Everything you wear gains traction, people try to copy your style but they just can't because they are not you. Designers wish they could capture your natural sense of style. You were made for the runway. You have brands constantly calling you begging you to wear their work, because you are their stamp of approval.

ᯓ★ Timeless Beauty

Your face is pure perfection, no everything about you is perfection. Your face, your body, your aura, your personality is like you were sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Your beauty rivals no one. All day long you catch people admiring your beauty. Your beauty stands the test of time it spans from generation to generation. Everyone is just so captivated by you, so captivated it is like they are under your spell. They are hypnotized, hooked, longing for your every move. Your beauty transcends this Earthly realm, it is like you are an angel that fell down from heaven. You are constantly bombarded by compliments, not a day goes by without someone just telling you how beautiful you are.

ᯓ★ It Girl Status

There is not a single soul who doesn't know your name. Everywhere you go you hear whispers of people telling others about your arrival. You enter a room and you set the tone, people quiet down anticipating your every word. People move out of their way when they see you, they dare not make eye contact with you. You are beyond respected, no one ever thinks about crossing you. People don't know if they want to be with you or with you. Your presence is well known, and for anyone who doesn't know you...oh they will. Something about you makes people want to follow you around like a lost puppy, they wait in anticipation for your next move. If you say jump, they immediately leave the ground. You have an entourage, fan clubs, and people live for you. They're always wondering what you're going to do next. There isn't one person who's not completely and utterly enamored by you.

ᯓ★ Princess Treatment

You have a commanding yet subtle aura, anywhere you go that places automatically conform to your needs, to your wants. That restaurant you've been eyeing? As soon as you enter their doors they greet you automatically offering their best table, waiting on your hand and foot like the princess you are. When you go into your favorite store the attendants are rushing to your side, offering whatever they have just to please you. No matter where you go people are devoted to you. People give up their seats for you, they clear a path when they see you, if you're thirsty everyone in the vincinity offers you their water. You are the people's princess, it is like it is everyone's life duty to serve you, to live you, to breathe you. This is YOUR world, and you just allow them to live in it.

y/n things to script about yourself ₊˚⊹♡

────୨ৎ────

｡𖦹°‧ new kid effect. people wanna get to know you & are curious about you everywhere you go. you can’t help but lure people in.

｡𖦹°‧ you have one feature that’s unnatural about you. want full on alexandria's genesis ? why not. slight “elf-like” ears ? sure. vampire fangs ? so cute.

｡𖦹°‧ animals approach you. piggybacking off of that, they don’t have diseases & (wild) animals are very clean !

｡𖦹°‧ you always find the coolest things. for me this would be something like thrifting some cool old lamp. but this can obviously apply to anything. a long lost one of a kind designer piece that fits you perfectly, perhaps. a stolen watercolor painting worth millions.

｡𖦹°‧ clothes always look good on you. no tailoring needed. every piece of fabric you drape over your body looks like it was custom made for you & your body type.

｡𖦹°‧ you know the best places. a train ride up to a quiet town that has the best homemade ice cream. an abandoned mall covered in vines with stores still stocked & untouched.

｡𖦹°‧ you’re a local celebrity. or just very well liked. people notice you when you go out. people secretly take pictures of your outfits when your not looking. shops give you things for free. restaurants give you desert on the house just because.

｡𖦹°‧ people associate you with things. your favorite singer or animal or smell. little things that make people think of you.

｡𖦹°‧ heightened senses. really good smell or hearing. like animal level. smelling full on tectonic shifts before they happen.

｡𖦹°‧ synesthesia. you can see auras around people & taste colors & see music in your mind.

｡𖦹°‧ your words are like spells. whatever you say happens. very much seven rings “i want it I got it” coded.

｡𖦹°‧ prophetic & meaningful dreams. you can see events before they happen sometimes. people even drop in to pay you a visit some nights.

｡𖦹°‧ all your things smell like your signature scent. clothes. hair. school supplies. bag. sheets. pillows. could even rub off on people you spend a lot of time with. no perfume dupe for how you smell. can never be replicated. it’s unique to you.

Franz Kafka, 1912

𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯

𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐈 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!seamstress!Reader

SUMMARY — Madame Delacroix expands her business with a French seamstress and Violet is the first customer.

WORD COUNT — 6.2K

WARNINGS — 18+ NSFW MDNI, it’s just gay sex guys idk what to tell you, French dialogue used throughout (minimally but context helps explain)

NOTE — I feel obligated to tell you that this fic is in part inspired by a song I listen to on repeat, although I don’t think the French guys that wrote it realized it would be the catalyst for a sapphic fanfic

Lady Violet Bridgerton was never one for last minute endeavours. That wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate a little spontaneity every now and again, but surely she preferred when things were planned and she was prepared. 

So it shocked her, of all things, that she could be the reason for her own unpreparedness. In reality, her family’s circumstances — with Francesca’s departure to Scotland, Anthony and Kate’s travels to India, and Colin and Penelope’s honeymoon — were the real cause of her scattered brain, but she still blamed herself of course. 

It was with a very apologetic look that she entered the modiste, hopeful that Madame Delacroix might be able to fit her in for a last minute appointment so that she could have a dress made for an upcoming ball. 

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you, Lady Bridgerton,” the seamstress said and Violet cursed internally, “but I have a colleague who has just arrived from France to help me since business has been so-err plentiful.” 

“Oh!” Violet was pleasantly surprised, blinking her eyes a few times, thinking something was better than nothing at this point. “Would she be able to see me?” 

“She is just getting settled, but I am sure she can make some time for a very loyal customer who I am sure has been just as busy as me recently,” Madame Delacroix gave Violet a friendly smile which was bashfully returned. 

She asked Violet to wait for a moment, going to the back where Violet could hear some quiet chatter before Madame Delacroix returned with you by her side. 

“Lady Bridgerton, this is Madame Bisset.” 

Violet had to remind herself to move her head up and down in a polite nod, her eyes glued so intensely to yours. She wouldn’t be surprised if her mouth was slightly agape like that of a fish, but she could have sworn she’d never seen anything as beautiful in her entire life.

“I have a space upstairs,” you explained. “It is still a little messy. I hope you do not mind.” 

“I-” Violet’s voice came out strained and she coughed and cleared her throat. “No, that will not be a problem.” 

“Perfect, right this way, Madame,” you motioned for her to follow you, going into the back of the shop, climbing up a set of narrow stairs until you reached the top, revealing to Violet another workspace she hadn’t seen before. 

Like you had already mentioned, it was a little rough around the edges, fabric was still pouring out of boxes, a few mannequins were tucked away in the corner, but there was a nice carpeted area in the middle of the room with a raised platform and a large mirror.

“Um, Madame Delacroix said you came from France recently,” Violet found herself beginning to talk. 

“Yes, I arrived just one week ago,” you explained. “I heard there is quite the market for dress making in London and I was looking for a bit of a change.” 

“I hope you enjoy it here,” Violet smiled. “Lord knows the ton cannot get enough of a good modiste.” 

“That is what I am relying on.” you chuckled, and motioned for her to step up on the platform. “Now, what is it you are looking for, Lady Bridgerton?” 

“Just an evening gown, for an upcoming ball,” she said, finding herself unable to break her gaze from you, watching as you brought out a measuring tape and looked through some boxes of fabric. 

“Any preferences?” you asked. “We just had this lovely fabric come in, I think it would look quite stunning on you.” 

Once you had found it, you pulled it out of the box with a smile and came to drape it over Violet’s shoulder so she could see it on herself. You smoothed out the fabric along her front and she almost felt herself stagger back at the gentle and light pressure over her chest and midsection. 

“What do you think?” 

She blinked a few times, like she was trying to get her eyes to work again, taking in the blushy pink fabric with darker pink paisley embroidery. 

“Yes, it’s quite nice,” her voice came out a whisper. 

“Perfect,” you smiled. “Then I will take your measurements and you can be on your way.” 

Measurements. Violet wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it through that. 

There was something electric about your touch, even when your fingers were simply hovering over her, she could feel sparks sending signals to her heart, beating faster until she could hear it pounding in her ears. 

Violet had always known attraction to be strong and forceful, but this was bordering on violent. 

She watched as you adjusted the measuring tape in your hands, first starting with the length from her shoulder to her ankle. You worked with much concentration and diligence, and for that Violet was grateful, because it meant that maybe you wouldn’t notice how each time she felt your hands against her she would have to centre herself and remind herself how to breathe, repeating the words in and out over and over again in her head. 

Eventually, you needed to take the measurements for her hips and bust and Violet knew if she didn’t distract herself somehow she might faint. 

“Um when will I-uh need to come in for adjustments?” she asked, just as your hands wrapped the tape from around her back to the front of her chest. 

“Currently you are my only customer,” you said. “I believe two days will be more than enough time for me to finish. After the adjustments are done I can have the dress sent to Bridgerton house if that is agreeable.” 

“Oh, um, no there is no need for that,” she shook her head. “I can pick it up. The home is quiet nowadays with most of my children off in every corner of Lord knows where,” she chuckled nervously. “It’s nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air, perhaps get some tea, go for a stroll.” 

“Yes of course, whatever suits you, Madame,” you nodded your head. “And I believe we are finished for today.” 

Violet gave you a sheepish smile and stepped down from the platform. 

“Thank you, Madame Bisset. I am not normally this-uh disorganized,” she explained. “I promise next time I will plan things much better.” 

“Lady Bridgerton, I love what I do, really it is no trouble. Come any time to see me.” 

Violet lightly chewed on the side of her bottom lip, looking down at her feet, her hands moving to her stomach, perhaps to remind herself that she was standing. 

“I will keep that in mind,” she nodded and wished you a final goodbye before walking down the stairs and exiting the modiste, grateful now for the air outside more than she thought she had ever been in her life. 

—

Two days later, Violet returned anxiously for her alterations. When she entered the modiste she was surprised to see you already downstairs, looking through some drawers for something. 

You heard the ring of the shop bell and looked up from where you were hunched over, a welcoming smile gracing your face. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” you greeted.

“Madame Bisset, it is good to see you.” 

Her mind drifted back to the image of you moments ago, bent over an open drawer. It certainly was good to see you. 

“Did I drop in at a bad time?” she asked. 

“Not at all, I was just getting some lace for the hem of the dress and around the sleeves and neckline. I thought it might be nice to try, no?” 

Violet nodded, she would simply say yes to anything that either gave her an excuse to be with you longer or to come back more often. 

You led her upstairs to your workspace again, and this time when she entered she realized it was noticeably cleaner and more organized than last time. 

Boxes were replaced by racks of fabrics and shelves had been uncovered to host a myriad of little things, all of which she was sure you’d find use for in due time. 

“Should I help with the dress, Madame?” you motioned to her outfit and Violet gulped. 

“Y-yes, I suppose that would be…necessary,” she nodded her head and you moved to close the door for the workspace and lock it to ensure privacy while Violet stood up on the slightly raised platform in front of the mirror. 

You had come to stand behind her, your fingers carefully fitting themselves between her sleeve and shoulder, helping her slip one arm out at a time before pulling it down slightly over her chest and guiding the fabric to the ground so she could step out of it. 

It was something she’d done in front of other women countless times, but never had she felt this vulnerable and exposed. She looked down and saw the hairs on her arm stand on end, only to be followed by a slight jolt when she felt your hand against her corseted waist.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a chuckle. “I just need…” your voice trailed off as you looked down at her feet and she realized she needed to step out of her dress. 

A rosy colour quickly made its way onto her cheeks as she stepped out of her dress so you could hang it up for her and bring the new dress for her to try on. 

She stepped into the pink fabric and tried to make sure her body made no involuntary movements as she felt your hands graze along her sides, helping each bare arm slip into a sleeve, now finally covered again. 

“Hmm,” you stood in front of her and analyzed the way the fabric fit. “It is a little loose here, no?” you asked, tightening the fabric around her chest slightly so that it was more in line with the shape of her corset. 

“I suppose, maybe, yes,” she nodded, “I-I’m sorry, but do you have any water?” Violet asked.”I-I’m feeling a little parched.” 

“Oh of course,” you nodded, letting go of her dress and walking to a pitcher and some glasses you had set to the side, filling one up for her before bringing it back. 

She tried her best to drink it graciously, but there was nothing more she wanted to do than down the whole glass in one shot. Once she was finished, you took the glass from her and set it aside, picking up the lace you had brought up with you, to present your suggestion.

“I was thinking maybe we can put it around the hem of the dress, like this,” you showed her, bending down and lifting the skirt just slightly to tuck some of the lace under it so it was peeking throughout the bottom. 

“Oh,” Violet raised her brows as she looked in the mirror. “I actually quite like that.” 

“So do I,” you nodded, standing back up, “And I thought maybe the arms…” 

You tried the same thing with the sleeves and, again, it suited the look of the dress. Lastly, you placed it around the neckline, moving to hold it up from behind her so she could see. 

Violet thought at that moment it was probably better not to breathe at all considering if she did, with the restriction of her corset her heaving chest would be quite obvious. 

“Mmm, je n’aime pas ça,” you shook your head, your voice soft and close to her ear. 

“I-I’m sorry?” 

Violet had spent most of her younger years learning French, but for some reason, the entirety of the language had escaped her. 

“I do not like the lace here,” you switched back to English, removing the lace and pulling the fabric a little tighter around her bust, pinning it in place with the pins from your pin cushion. “It is better like this.” 

“You think so?” she asked quietly, feeling herself swallow harshly after she finished speaking. 

“I know so, Madame,” you nodded. “Why would one hide such perfect skin?” 

Violet looked in the mirror at what you were referring to, her chest littered with freckles and spots. 

“I hardly think it is perfect,” she shook her head. 

“It would be like covering a starry sky with clouds,” you offered. “One cannot gaze at the stars and wonder about the universe on a cloudy night.” 

Violet chuckled nervously and looked down at the floor for a moment.

“Madame Bisset, I think you mistake how many people are gazing.”

“You would be surprised,” you gently placed your hand on her arm, rubbing up and down in a reassuring motion. 

She could feel the fabric of the sleeves move against her arm in response to your touch and it caused a warmth to spread in the pit of her stomach. 

You moved to grab a container with a few more pins and began seeing where adjustments needed to be made and dealt with the fabric accordingly. Violet felt herself easily growing restless, her fingers fiddling around with the small bits of thread sticking out of the end of the sleeves. 

“So, um, where does the name Bisset come from? What I mean to say is what area of France?” she quickly clarified. 

“Bisset does not belong to a region,” you explained. “It means one who weaves.” 

“Oh, how fitting,” Violet hummed. 

“It is not my real name,” you admitted. “Just something I picked up for work.” 

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to let her curiosity get the best of her, but when she heard your quiet chuckle from behind her, she tried to turn her head to look back at you. 

“What is it?” 

“It is okay, you want to know what my name actually is,” you said. “You can ask.” 

And so she did, and for the first time she heard your name. She tested it in her own voice, like she was savouring having your name on her tongue, burned into her mind. 

“Mine is Violet,” she said quietly. 

“Violet,” your French pronunciation of her name made her feel a shiver behind her neck, or maybe that was simply your breath against her skin. “Un nom joli pour une personne même plus jolie.”

Violet blushed at your admission, and you grinned. 

“So you understand me then?” 

She nodded her head. 

“Then what did I say?” you teased her a little, while adding a few more pins, now along the length of the sleeves. 

Violet looked at you as if to ask if you were really going to make her say it out loud, and when you didn’t seem to back down she caved. 

“You said that it was a beautiful name for a beautiful person,” she said before pressing her lips together. 

“Close,” you looked up at her. “A beautiful name for an even more beautiful person.” 

“You flatter me too much,” Violet shook her head. 

“In my experience, a dress is only as beautiful as the person wearing it,” you said. “It is always a pleasure to make something for someone who shines just as brightly as the fine fabrics and silks. Even more so when they believe it.” 

You put in the last pin and looked content with your work. 

“I should have this ready by tomorrow,” you told her. “You still wish to pick it up?” 

“Yes,” she nodded with a smile. 

“Alright, let me help you change so that you can be on your way.” 

Carefully, you helped Violet take off the dress, conscious to make sure none of the pins pricked her, and after she stepped out of the dress, you put it on your work table, getting what dress she came with and helping her slip back into it. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, in the afternoon, in case anything comes up,” you said and she smiled. 

“Tomorrow afternoon it is, Madame.” 

“Au revoir,” you gave her a small wave and again, she held her hands against her stomach. 

“Au revoir.” 

—

Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten so many compliments on a dress as she had on what you’d made for her. There was something new and cutting about it and much to her surprise, it became very hard to book an appointment with either you or Madame Delacroix afterwards. 

News had spread to the rest of the ton of you and your talents, and everyone wanted a piece. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Violet managed to get herself in for another appointment, needing a dress for a wedding along with a few odds and ends she thought with all this uncertainty she may as well get done now.

When she arrived at the modiste, it was overflowing with people. She never thought she had seen it so busy and she wondered if it was really all from that simple pink dress. Although the dress itself wasn’t necessarily simple, it was elegant in its style, its function, and of course, it had a certain je ne sais quoi.

“Lady Bridgerton,” you grinned, seeing Violet enter the shop. “I believe I have you to thank for all this business. Both Genviève and I do.” 

“Oh, I didn’t do any of the work,” she shook her head. “I simply wore it.” 

“And you wore it well, which is half of the battle,” you chuckled. “Come, I am always happy to see my favourite customer.” 

Violet’s heart warmed when you called her your favourite, a sense of pride overcoming her. Still out of all of the young debutantes and busy mamas, she somehow remained at the top of your list. 

When you arrived at your workspace, closing the door behind you and walking further inside and let out a small breath of air, a bright smile came over your face. 

“How can I help you today?” 

“I need a dress for a wedding,” she began, “along with a few other things.” 

“Such as?” you pressed. 

“Some clothes for the country, a few dresses for home, and some new night clothes. I was thinking perhaps a robe and a nightgown or two.” 

“Madame, you are keeping my hands busy,” you smiled. “Now I already have the measurements I will need for the dress, so we can pick fabrics, then maybe I can show you some things I have already made in case something catches your eye and we can make alterations and then fill in any gaps after.” 

“Sounds splendid to me,” she nodded. 

“Parfait,” you grinned and clapped your hands together. “What colour are you thinking for the dress you will wear to the wedding?” 

“I usually stick to blue,” she said. “It was the colour my late husband’s family used a lot, but…” she paused. 

“You’re thinking of something else,” you put your hands on your hips. “Purple.” 

“How did you know?” she looked at you a little astounded, a small chuckle coming past her lips, lacing her words with a certain playfulness. 

“A suspicion,” you shrugged with a teasing wink. “Now light or dark?”

“Light, it is getting warmer outside after all.” 

You rummaged through some things and pulled out a few swatches of fabric for her to choose from. 

“They are all nice,” Violet chewed on her lip while trying to decide. “What do you think?” 

You took a long look at the collection in front of you and then looked up at Violet, sizing up each swatch to the woman in front of you, fabricating the dress in your mind’s eye until you figured out which one you liked the most.

“This one, I think.”

You held out a simple silky fabric for her. 

“I can add something to it, a design, some beads,” you said. “But I like this colour on you.” 

“I will leave it up to you,” she said. “I am sure I will be happy with whatever you make. Surely, the rest of the ton is.” 

You chuckled and placed the fabric back down. 

“Now some of those other things,” you motioned for her to follow you. 

You showed her a few dresses to see what ones she might be interested in taking with her to the country. Some were made with simple cotton for days spent resting inside the house in the off season. Once she had decided which she liked, you set them aside to make sure they were properly fitted for her. 

“And nightclothes?” you asked. “What about something like this?” 

You pulled out a particularly sheer gown, probably meant for someone on their honeymoon, or maybe at the very least with someone to share it with. 

“Um,  I am not sure I am the right fit for that,” she chuckled nervously, knowing her resolve with you already wore thin, hoping you would accept her reasoning and move on to something more modest. 

“Why not?” you asked.

“I am a widow, Madame, I wouldn’t have anyone to wear it for,” she said truthfully. 

“You could wear it for yourself,” you said. 

Violet tilted her head and blinked, “Myself?” 

“Ben oui,” you nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who said you have to wear something for someone else?” 

Violet chewed on her cheek. She supposed she wasn’t really wearing anything for anyone but herself at the moment. 

“It is okay to wear something that makes you feel beautiful even if you are the only one to see it,” you reassured her. “If you do not think you would feel beautiful in this, now that is something different.” 

Violet pressed her lips together. It had been so long since she had worn something other than a simple cotton nightdress, but there was something alluring about wearing something that matched her desire, even if she would end up being the only one to see it. 

“And the fitting for this?” she asked. 

“We could do it right now, if you wish,” you said. 

“L-Like for alterations?” she looked at you wide-eyed.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, draping the dress over your arm, ignoring her surprise. 

She looked between the dress and herself a few times, contemplating whether or not she should do it, or more, whether she could handle it. 

Wearing it for herself was one thing, but wearing it in front of you was something else. 

She nervously scratched behind her ear, thinking in her mind that it might be best to pass on this for the moment, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she said,

“Alright then.” 

You smiled and turned to go back to where you would do the alterations and Violet blinked hard, processing what had just left her mouth. 

“Are you coming, Madame?” 

Violet looked over at you and nodded, slowly walking over to the platform. 

Similar to before, you helped her out of her dress, and she stood in front of you again in her corset and undergarments, but this time after her dress was placed off to the side, your fingers nimbly worked on the laces on her back, deftly loosening the material and unravelling it until it was loose around her. 

Violet, not quite ready to let go, held it up from the front, noticing her breathing becoming shakier by the second. 

“I can take that for you,” you extended your hand out for her corset and she swallowed thickly. 

It took her a few moments to remember how to work her hands again, carefully peeling the material away from her chest and handing it to you, unsure of what to do with her arms before deciding her best option was to cross them over her chest. 

When you returned, you came to stand in front of Violet, the nightgown in your hands, ready to help her put it on. You looked down at her crossed arms then back up at her blue eyes and her cheeks flushed before moving her hands and lifting them above her head so you could slip the fabric over her. 

The hem of the dress stopped at her knees, much shorter than anything she was used to wearing. The slight blue colour almost enhanced the sheerness of the fabric and Violet tried to take it all in, running a hand down her midsection, noticing how she could see her bellybutton.

She tried not to focus on how she could feel your gaze burning into what felt like her very soul. 

“What do you think of the fit?” she asked quietly. 

You pursed your lips. 

“I like how it fits around here,” you ran your hands along both sides of her waist down to her hips. “Less, up here.”

Your hands migrated to the fabric barely covering her breasts and she could have sworn she let out a small squeak, feeling your fingers brush against her. Her suspicion was confirmed when you spoke. 

“Everything alright, Madame?” you looked up at her. 

“Fine,” she whispered. 

“T’es sûre?” you murmured, stepping a little closer and adjusting the straps over her shoulders. 

“Mhmm,” she almost whimpered, pressing her lips together and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m fine, it is just a little chilly up here,” she said. “You know when you get cold, you um…you feel things more.” 

You nodded your head. 

“That is not to say it was cold before, I am just cold now because-” 

“Tais toi.” 

Violet blinked. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” you looked up at her and placed a finger under her chin. “I said tais toi.” 

Despite Violet’s shock that you had essentially told her to shut up, she found herself speaking still.

“Really?” she began. “You won’t even use le vous poli?” she asked, referring to your less polite and more informal grammar choice. 

“Why would I use that when everything I want to do to you is very, very impolite?” you whispered, merely millimeters away from her mouth, your breath mingling with hers. 

Violet wasn’t sure what overcame her, she grabbed your hands, placing them over her breasts, her mouth agape as shaky breaths fanned over your face. 

With that permission, you brushed your thumbs on top of the fabric, over her nipples, her whimper deliciously clouding your senses, encouraging you to do it again. 

“If you are really so set on wearing this for someone,” you gripped her tighter, eliciting a surprised gasp, your lips travelling closer to her ear. “You could wear it for me, ma belle.” 

Violet hummed and leaned her head against yours, feeling you move along her until your foreheads were pressed together, noses brushing against each other. 

“We shouldn’t,” Violet breathed. 

“We shouldn’t,” you shook your head, still moving closer until you captured her lips with yours. Her hands found their way to your waist, narrowly avoiding your pin cushion, pulling you against her, your thumbs still gently massaging over her breasts, content hums and soft moans echoing in your mouth as you kissed her. 

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against Violet’s again, your eyes shut. 

“You have another appointment don’t you?” Violet whispered and you nodded and she had to bite back the whine that wanted to escape. 

“Come back tonight,” you murmured, your hands moving to hold both sides of Violet’s face, a reassurance. “Two doors down.” 

“W-What would I tell my carriage driver?” 

“Pick your most discreet one,” you whispered, pressing your lips to hers again in a much softer kiss. 

She nodded her head and when you pulled apart further and she opened her eyes, she could see you smiling back at her and she thought if you were so certain, maybe everything would be okay. 

It wasn’t until much later in the evening when Violet was standing outside your door, waiting for you to come and open it, that the reality of the situation fully set on her. She was caught in such a haze before, her stomach swirling with an all consuming nausea that was almost delightful. 

She felt her arms wrapping around herself tighter, nervously looking around to make sure there were no unwanted eyes watching her, until she heard the door open in front of her, bringing her attention back to the present. 

You were quick to wordlessly take her hand and bring her inside, closing the door behind you. 

“You are tense,” you remarked, holding her hand in both of yours, gently massaging its back with your thumbs. 

Violet was unsure of what to expect, but she did know wherever this led, she wanted to follow it, to chase that staggering violent feeling until she couldn’t take it any more. 

“I just didn’t want anyone to see,” she whispered. “I am fine.” 

You smiled. “Bien.” 

You helped her take off her cloak, biting your bottom lip when you saw what she was wearing underneath. 

“C’est jolie,” you hummed. “But I think I am more excited to see what is underneath.” 

Violet chuckled nervously, feeling a certain heat come to her cheeks. She let herself be pulled into you when you took your hand in hers, melting into the kiss that followed, allowing you to lead her through the hallway and into what she assumed was a bedroom. 

Her suspicions were fully confirmed when she felt the back of her legs hit a plush mattress, making her fall back, only to be gently lowered the rest of the way by you, now leaning over top of her. 

“W-Wait,” Violet whispered.

“Hmm?” you looked at her patiently. “Ça va?”

“What happens next?” she asked. 

“Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You tilted your head to look at her and she nodded. 

“First I take this off,” you murmured, working at the series of ribbons in the front of her dress that kept it tied shut. 

She watched as you undid each one, single handedly, revealing more and more of her bare skin until your hand came and fully pushed both parts of the fabric aside, leaving her exposed in front of you. 

“Then I listen,” you kissed her jaw. “Your breathing, your body, it…tells me things.” 

One hand moved to cup her breast and she sighed. 

“Like that,” you smiled. “And I follow that, I see where it takes me.”

You pinched her nipple between your thumb and pointer finger and she arched slightly into your touch. Carefully, you twisted it between your fingers, your mouth trailing its kisses down her neck and chest, until eventually your mouth replaced your fingers, tongue swirling and teeth grazing against the soft and sensitive flesh. 

Violet let out a breath of air, a whine caught in the back of her throat as she arched further into you, her hand coming to hold your head against her. 

With a gentle kiss, you paused your mouth’s movements, taking your hand from where it rested against her waist, dragging it across her stomach. 

“Next,” you began, “No, it is too vulgar in English,” you shook your head. 

“Tell me in French,” she begged. “Dit-le moi, s’il vous plaît.” 

You smiled and kissed her breast again. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

Your finger trailed a little lower, now tracing lines across the base of her stomach, the skin there soft and stretched from many pregnancies, and oh so precious. 

“Je prends mes doigts,” your fingers moved even lower, the blood pumping to Violet’s head so fast she thought she might faint. “Et je les appuie ici.”

“Oh!” she moaned, her head turned to the side, your thumb firmly against her, massaging in slow tantalizing and tortuous circles.

“Mais, je préfère les mettre comme ça.” 

Violet gasped, your name on her lips as she felt your fingers inside her, beginning a slow and steady pace that her body seemed to match with the movement of her hips. 

“Is this good, or do you want more?” you asked her, not stopping the movement of your hand and fingers. 

“More, please,” she breathed. 

“En Français, ma belle.” 

“S-S’il vous plaît.” 

“Bien sûre,” you smiled and increased your pace, fingers carefully searching until they found the intense response they were seeking from Violet. 

“There,” she nodded her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Mmm.” 

She pressed her lips together so tightly you could have sworn they went white. 

You listened to her instructions, continuing to work at that spot, leaning over top of her, feeling her breathing pick up with each fan of warm breath over your face. You pressed a few kisses to her jaw, your ear right next to her mouth, listening intently as breathing turned into moans that didn’t stop. 

You could feel the heat radiating off of every part of her, clouding your own senses, encouraging you further to push her over that edge, eager movements guiding her until her mind went blissfully blank, her back arched towards you while you slowed your hand, her breathing much more ragged than before until you carefully removed your fingers. 

Wiping them carefully on the sheets next to her, you then took her face in your hand, pressing a slow kiss to her lips. 

Violet hummed into your lips, like she wanted to say something so you pulled away, watching her finally open her eyes once more. 

“Can I?” she whispered. 

“Can you what, chèrie?” 

“Do that for you?” she asked. “Teach me.” 

You grinned, leaning down and capturing her lips in another kiss. 

When you pulled apart this time, she pushed herself up on her forearms, watching as you moved to sit next to her. She knew the first step, her hand brushing against the sleeve of your nightgown, pushing it off your shoulder, studying how your skin felt against her fingers. 

You took your arm out of your sleeve and waited for her to do the same with the opposite side before tugging the sides down until the fabric pooled at your hips. 

She leaned in to kiss you, guiding you to lie back on the mattress before her hands came back to the fabric, pulling it completely off of you. 

She took a moment to admire you in front of her, feeling that same intense pull towards you as she did when you had first become acquainted. 

With her lips against yours once more, she hooked her fingers around the top of your underwear, pulling it down as her lips detached from yours so she could finish the job. 

She leaned over top of you, her brown hair falling in waves on either side of her head, the soft fabric of her robe-like dress, creating a curtain around her, but her body still on full display for you. 

You couldn’t help but reach out and snake a hand around her waist, your thumb brushing back and forth in small motions. 

“Tell me,” she whispered. “What do I do next?” 

You moved your hand up from her waist tracing along her side and down her arm, until her wrist was in your hands. 

“You can touch me here.”  

You placed her hand on your breast. “Or here.” 

Your hand moved hers lower, only hovering over your core. 

“Or anywhere that feels right when you listen.” 

She nodded her head slowly, your hand finishing its guidance as she watched with bated breath, your eyes closed anticipatorily, small shaky breaths coming past your lips as her fingers made contact and you finally let go of her wrist. 

Violet tucked some of her hair behind her ear with her free hand before letting herself feel and explore you. 

She paid close attention, listening to what sounds filled the air, a small smile coming to her lips when you moaned her name. 

She moved so her thumb replaced her fingers, continuing to brush against that spot that seemed to make your face twist and contort in beautiful ways she’d never seen before. 

Violet became curious, her other hand moving to cup your breast, brushing her thumb over your nipple, noticing the new reaction it had brought, a groan and a plea for more. 

Both of her thumbs worked in tandem on different parts of your body, pulling your focus in two directions, back and forth with no end in sight.

Violet was entranced by you, squirming slightly under her touch, the fact that she was the one making you feel this way, like you had no control. The only thing possible for you to do was let her know how much you wanted, no, needed her. 

“Violet,” you whimpered. “Please, m-more.” 

Violet smiled devilishly and leaned down, her lips ghosting your ear. 

“En Français.”

“S’il vous plaît, Violet, mon Dieu,” you groaned before she increased the intensity of her ministrations. 

Her hand moved from your breast up to your face, holding it up so she could kiss you as her thumb worked against you, a warmth spreading in her stomach as you moaned into her mouth, your hips meeting her touch until you were gripping onto Violet for dear life as the only hope of reminding yourself you were, in fact, still on earth. 

She stopped a little more abruptly than you would have liked, still thrumming with pleasure, and holding her close. 

“Was that right?” she teased and when you finally looked up at her, grabbing her chin with your thumb and forefinger, pulling her down in a kiss, your last words, a mutter against her lips. 

“Tais toi.” 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch

— Love tropes & Relationship dynamics for you to script!! 💌

Love tropes ୨ ♡ ୧ :

1. Rivals to lovers

2. Forced proximity

3. Love at first sight

4. Break up to save them

5. Unrequited Love

6. Different worlds/class

7. Forbidden love

Relationship Dynamics ୨ ♡ ୧ :

1. Sunshine & Grumpy

2. Black cat & Golden Retriever

3. Talks a lot & Listens

4. Partners in crime

5. Scary & Sweet

6. Tom & jerry

7. Calm & Hyper

"B★BY YOU'RE THE B★DDEST GIRL" ⸝⸝ ...Beauty things to script

full credit & inspiration goes to @saisiprincessa <3

BITCH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Who gave me the right to be this damn pussy-clenching, soul-snatching, mind-warping gorgeous?! Like, be so for real right now. Every single inch of me? Immaculate. It’s almost unfair how I walk into a room and immediately become the center of the universe. Like, sorry babe, I can’t help that I’m the main event.

You don’t look at me, you worship me. I AM THE DREAM. I am beauty, brains, body, power, seduction, and mystery all packed into one flawless package. If they dared to make a mold of me, they’d have to destroy it on the spot—it would be a pitiful insult to my unparalleled PERFECTION, which simply cannot be replicated.

And don’t get me started on the way people fold for me. I say jump, they ask how high. I smile, and they lose all common sense. One look? They’re hooked. One touch? It’s over. I could ruin lives if I wanted to—and let’s be real, I probably have. Not my fault they can’t handle all this.

I move like royalty ‘cause I am royalty. My presence alone is a gift. I don’t lift a finger—things just happen for me. VIP treatment? Automatic. First-class everything? Of course. Doors open, drinks appear, bills get paid. Just for existing. Just for being me.

I step outside, and men fumble their words. Women try not to stare too hard. People make workouts to look like me. Doctors get requests for my features. My name is whispered in rooms I haven’t even stepped foot in. People see me and IMMEDIATELY feel insecure—it’s not my fault, babe, blame genetics.

I am THE blueprint. THE standard. You can't strive to be exactly like me. My body is what Instagram models are trying (and failing) to achieve. My face is what FaceTune was created for. My energy? Unmatched. My aura? Untouchable. My confidence? So loud it makes people shake.

As soon as I grace a room with my presence, eyes lock, mouths drop, and suddenly everybody forgets what they were doing. I make people nervous without even trying. Just a glance, a smirk, the flick of my wrist, and boom—somebody’s in love.

I wake up flawless, go to sleep iconic. I don’t need filters, angles, or good lighting—baby, I am the moment. Every photo? A masterpiece. Every mirror? A love letter to myself. I could roll out of bed and still look better than half these girls on their best day.

And these other girls? They stay pressed. They act like they don’t see me, but I know they do. They talk, they stalk, they try—but let’s be clear, there’s only one me. I’m the blueprint, the one they measure themselves against.

Don't think I don't notice the girls who study me like I’m a whole syllabus, trying to decode the formula. But there isn't a blueprint for this—either you got it, or you don’t. And I got it.

And these men? These women? Losing their minds tryna be in my presence. I could sneeze, and somebody would cash app me just for existing. From bags to jewelry to whole-ass cars, they offer before I even ask. Billionaire sons? CEOs? Athletes? Begging. They know a once-in-a-lifetime when they see one.

Jealousy? Oh, it’s there. But I don’t compete, I dominate. The envy, the whispers, the imitation—it doesn't faze me. They can watch, they can study, but they can’t be me. I’m the prototype, the standard, the one they all wanna be but can’t touch.

This ain’t regular pretty. This is war-starting, history-making, legend-building beauty. The kinda face that gets songs written, statues built, kingdoms lost. Pretty privilege? Nah. Pretty power.

Other girls break their necks trying to figure out how it’s even possible for one woman to serve this much face, body, and energy. But let me tell you something, sweetie, when you’re me, you move differently. People might lose their minds over me, but my security is tighter than a vault—mentally, physically, spiritually, all that. You can’t touch me, even if you wanted to. The jealousy? Cute. The obsession? Predictable. But it never phases me. "The universe knows better than to let anyone try me, because when you’re this blessed, nothing bad can even get close. Call it divine protection or just the power of being that girl, but either way? I’m untouchable.

"Everybody wanna know me. Wanna be me. Wanna please me. They hold doors, pull out chairs, throw money just to get a second of my time. Even the haters can’t help but admire. They talk & they watch but they still losing. ‘Cause you can copy the outfit, the pose, the walk—but you can’t copy me.

I leave ‘em speechless, stuck, obsessed, weak-in-knees. "I got exes still crying, still checking my page, still hoping I look their way again. Love, I don’t double back, I level up. And these new ones? Willing to risk it all—careers, relationships, sanity—just for the chance to say my name.

You think I’m exaggerating? Ask your man why he’s been quiet. Ask your girl why she suddenly wanna switch teams. It’s me, bitch. IT’S ALWAYS ME. And if that’s annoying?? GOOD. BECAUSE A BITCH THIS PERFECT DESERVES TO BE LOUD ABOUT IT.

𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐈 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!seamstress!Reader

SUMMARY — Madame Delacroix expands her business with a French seamstress and Violet is the first customer.

WORD COUNT — 6.2K

WARNINGS — 18+ NSFW MDNI, it’s just gay sex guys idk what to tell you, French dialogue used throughout (minimally but context helps explain)

NOTE — I feel obligated to tell you that this fic is in part inspired by a song I listen to on repeat, although I don’t think the French guys that wrote it realized it would be the catalyst for a sapphic fanfic

Lady Violet Bridgerton was never one for last minute endeavours. That wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate a little spontaneity every now and again, but surely she preferred when things were planned and she was prepared. 

So it shocked her, of all things, that she could be the reason for her own unpreparedness. In reality, her family’s circumstances — with Francesca’s departure to Scotland, Anthony and Kate’s travels to India, and Colin and Penelope’s honeymoon — were the real cause of her scattered brain, but she still blamed herself of course. 

It was with a very apologetic look that she entered the modiste, hopeful that Madame Delacroix might be able to fit her in for a last minute appointment so that she could have a dress made for an upcoming ball. 

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you, Lady Bridgerton,” the seamstress said and Violet cursed internally, “but I have a colleague who has just arrived from France to help me since business has been so-err plentiful.” 

“Oh!” Violet was pleasantly surprised, blinking her eyes a few times, thinking something was better than nothing at this point. “Would she be able to see me?” 

“She is just getting settled, but I am sure she can make some time for a very loyal customer who I am sure has been just as busy as me recently,” Madame Delacroix gave Violet a friendly smile which was bashfully returned. 

She asked Violet to wait for a moment, going to the back where Violet could hear some quiet chatter before Madame Delacroix returned with you by her side. 

“Lady Bridgerton, this is Madame Bisset.” 

Violet had to remind herself to move her head up and down in a polite nod, her eyes glued so intensely to yours. She wouldn’t be surprised if her mouth was slightly agape like that of a fish, but she could have sworn she’d never seen anything as beautiful in her entire life.

“I have a space upstairs,” you explained. “It is still a little messy. I hope you do not mind.” 

“I-” Violet’s voice came out strained and she coughed and cleared her throat. “No, that will not be a problem.” 

“Perfect, right this way, Madame,” you motioned for her to follow you, going into the back of the shop, climbing up a set of narrow stairs until you reached the top, revealing to Violet another workspace she hadn’t seen before. 

Like you had already mentioned, it was a little rough around the edges, fabric was still pouring out of boxes, a few mannequins were tucked away in the corner, but there was a nice carpeted area in the middle of the room with a raised platform and a large mirror.

“Um, Madame Delacroix said you came from France recently,” Violet found herself beginning to talk. 

“Yes, I arrived just one week ago,” you explained. “I heard there is quite the market for dress making in London and I was looking for a bit of a change.” 

“I hope you enjoy it here,” Violet smiled. “Lord knows the ton cannot get enough of a good modiste.” 

“That is what I am relying on.” you chuckled, and motioned for her to step up on the platform. “Now, what is it you are looking for, Lady Bridgerton?” 

“Just an evening gown, for an upcoming ball,” she said, finding herself unable to break her gaze from you, watching as you brought out a measuring tape and looked through some boxes of fabric. 

“Any preferences?” you asked. “We just had this lovely fabric come in, I think it would look quite stunning on you.” 

Once you had found it, you pulled it out of the box with a smile and came to drape it over Violet’s shoulder so she could see it on herself. You smoothed out the fabric along her front and she almost felt herself stagger back at the gentle and light pressure over her chest and midsection. 

“What do you think?” 

She blinked a few times, like she was trying to get her eyes to work again, taking in the blushy pink fabric with darker pink paisley embroidery. 

“Yes, it’s quite nice,” her voice came out a whisper. 

“Perfect,” you smiled. “Then I will take your measurements and you can be on your way.” 

Measurements. Violet wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it through that. 

There was something electric about your touch, even when your fingers were simply hovering over her, she could feel sparks sending signals to her heart, beating faster until she could hear it pounding in her ears. 

Violet had always known attraction to be strong and forceful, but this was bordering on violent. 

She watched as you adjusted the measuring tape in your hands, first starting with the length from her shoulder to her ankle. You worked with much concentration and diligence, and for that Violet was grateful, because it meant that maybe you wouldn’t notice how each time she felt your hands against her she would have to centre herself and remind herself how to breathe, repeating the words in and out over and over again in her head. 

Eventually, you needed to take the measurements for her hips and bust and Violet knew if she didn’t distract herself somehow she might faint. 

“Um when will I-uh need to come in for adjustments?” she asked, just as your hands wrapped the tape from around her back to the front of her chest. 

“Currently you are my only customer,” you said. “I believe two days will be more than enough time for me to finish. After the adjustments are done I can have the dress sent to Bridgerton house if that is agreeable.” 

“Oh, um, no there is no need for that,” she shook her head. “I can pick it up. The home is quiet nowadays with most of my children off in every corner of Lord knows where,” she chuckled nervously. “It’s nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air, perhaps get some tea, go for a stroll.” 

“Yes of course, whatever suits you, Madame,” you nodded your head. “And I believe we are finished for today.” 

Violet gave you a sheepish smile and stepped down from the platform. 

“Thank you, Madame Bisset. I am not normally this-uh disorganized,” she explained. “I promise next time I will plan things much better.” 

“Lady Bridgerton, I love what I do, really it is no trouble. Come any time to see me.” 

Violet lightly chewed on the side of her bottom lip, looking down at her feet, her hands moving to her stomach, perhaps to remind herself that she was standing. 

“I will keep that in mind,” she nodded and wished you a final goodbye before walking down the stairs and exiting the modiste, grateful now for the air outside more than she thought she had ever been in her life. 

—

Two days later, Violet returned anxiously for her alterations. When she entered the modiste she was surprised to see you already downstairs, looking through some drawers for something. 

You heard the ring of the shop bell and looked up from where you were hunched over, a welcoming smile gracing your face. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” you greeted.

“Madame Bisset, it is good to see you.” 

Her mind drifted back to the image of you moments ago, bent over an open drawer. It certainly was good to see you. 

“Did I drop in at a bad time?” she asked. 

“Not at all, I was just getting some lace for the hem of the dress and around the sleeves and neckline. I thought it might be nice to try, no?” 

Violet nodded, she would simply say yes to anything that either gave her an excuse to be with you longer or to come back more often. 

You led her upstairs to your workspace again, and this time when she entered she realized it was noticeably cleaner and more organized than last time. 

Boxes were replaced by racks of fabrics and shelves had been uncovered to host a myriad of little things, all of which she was sure you’d find use for in due time. 

“Should I help with the dress, Madame?” you motioned to her outfit and Violet gulped. 

“Y-yes, I suppose that would be…necessary,” she nodded her head and you moved to close the door for the workspace and lock it to ensure privacy while Violet stood up on the slightly raised platform in front of the mirror. 

You had come to stand behind her, your fingers carefully fitting themselves between her sleeve and shoulder, helping her slip one arm out at a time before pulling it down slightly over her chest and guiding the fabric to the ground so she could step out of it. 

It was something she’d done in front of other women countless times, but never had she felt this vulnerable and exposed. She looked down and saw the hairs on her arm stand on end, only to be followed by a slight jolt when she felt your hand against her corseted waist.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a chuckle. “I just need…” your voice trailed off as you looked down at her feet and she realized she needed to step out of her dress. 

A rosy colour quickly made its way onto her cheeks as she stepped out of her dress so you could hang it up for her and bring the new dress for her to try on. 

She stepped into the pink fabric and tried to make sure her body made no involuntary movements as she felt your hands graze along her sides, helping each bare arm slip into a sleeve, now finally covered again. 

“Hmm,” you stood in front of her and analyzed the way the fabric fit. “It is a little loose here, no?” you asked, tightening the fabric around her chest slightly so that it was more in line with the shape of her corset. 

“I suppose, maybe, yes,” she nodded, “I-I’m sorry, but do you have any water?” Violet asked.”I-I’m feeling a little parched.” 

“Oh of course,” you nodded, letting go of her dress and walking to a pitcher and some glasses you had set to the side, filling one up for her before bringing it back. 

She tried her best to drink it graciously, but there was nothing more she wanted to do than down the whole glass in one shot. Once she was finished, you took the glass from her and set it aside, picking up the lace you had brought up with you, to present your suggestion.

“I was thinking maybe we can put it around the hem of the dress, like this,” you showed her, bending down and lifting the skirt just slightly to tuck some of the lace under it so it was peeking throughout the bottom. 

“Oh,” Violet raised her brows as she looked in the mirror. “I actually quite like that.” 

“So do I,” you nodded, standing back up, “And I thought maybe the arms…” 

You tried the same thing with the sleeves and, again, it suited the look of the dress. Lastly, you placed it around the neckline, moving to hold it up from behind her so she could see. 

Violet thought at that moment it was probably better not to breathe at all considering if she did, with the restriction of her corset her heaving chest would be quite obvious. 

“Mmm, je n’aime pas ça,” you shook your head, your voice soft and close to her ear. 

“I-I’m sorry?” 

Violet had spent most of her younger years learning French, but for some reason, the entirety of the language had escaped her. 

“I do not like the lace here,” you switched back to English, removing the lace and pulling the fabric a little tighter around her bust, pinning it in place with the pins from your pin cushion. “It is better like this.” 

“You think so?” she asked quietly, feeling herself swallow harshly after she finished speaking. 

“I know so, Madame,” you nodded. “Why would one hide such perfect skin?” 

Violet looked in the mirror at what you were referring to, her chest littered with freckles and spots. 

“I hardly think it is perfect,” she shook her head. 

“It would be like covering a starry sky with clouds,” you offered. “One cannot gaze at the stars and wonder about the universe on a cloudy night.” 

Violet chuckled nervously and looked down at the floor for a moment.

“Madame Bisset, I think you mistake how many people are gazing.”

“You would be surprised,” you gently placed your hand on her arm, rubbing up and down in a reassuring motion. 

She could feel the fabric of the sleeves move against her arm in response to your touch and it caused a warmth to spread in the pit of her stomach. 

You moved to grab a container with a few more pins and began seeing where adjustments needed to be made and dealt with the fabric accordingly. Violet felt herself easily growing restless, her fingers fiddling around with the small bits of thread sticking out of the end of the sleeves. 

“So, um, where does the name Bisset come from? What I mean to say is what area of France?” she quickly clarified. 

“Bisset does not belong to a region,” you explained. “It means one who weaves.” 

“Oh, how fitting,” Violet hummed. 

“It is not my real name,” you admitted. “Just something I picked up for work.” 

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to let her curiosity get the best of her, but when she heard your quiet chuckle from behind her, she tried to turn her head to look back at you. 

“What is it?” 

“It is okay, you want to know what my name actually is,” you said. “You can ask.” 

And so she did, and for the first time she heard your name. She tested it in her own voice, like she was savouring having your name on her tongue, burned into her mind. 

“Mine is Violet,” she said quietly. 

“Violet,” your French pronunciation of her name made her feel a shiver behind her neck, or maybe that was simply your breath against her skin. “Un nom joli pour une personne même plus jolie.”

Violet blushed at your admission, and you grinned. 

“So you understand me then?” 

She nodded her head. 

“Then what did I say?” you teased her a little, while adding a few more pins, now along the length of the sleeves. 

Violet looked at you as if to ask if you were really going to make her say it out loud, and when you didn’t seem to back down she caved. 

“You said that it was a beautiful name for a beautiful person,” she said before pressing her lips together. 

“Close,” you looked up at her. “A beautiful name for an even more beautiful person.” 

“You flatter me too much,” Violet shook her head. 

“In my experience, a dress is only as beautiful as the person wearing it,” you said. “It is always a pleasure to make something for someone who shines just as brightly as the fine fabrics and silks. Even more so when they believe it.” 

You put in the last pin and looked content with your work. 

“I should have this ready by tomorrow,” you told her. “You still wish to pick it up?” 

“Yes,” she nodded with a smile. 

“Alright, let me help you change so that you can be on your way.” 

Carefully, you helped Violet take off the dress, conscious to make sure none of the pins pricked her, and after she stepped out of the dress, you put it on your work table, getting what dress she came with and helping her slip back into it. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, in the afternoon, in case anything comes up,” you said and she smiled. 

“Tomorrow afternoon it is, Madame.” 

“Au revoir,” you gave her a small wave and again, she held her hands against her stomach. 

“Au revoir.” 

—

Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten so many compliments on a dress as she had on what you’d made for her. There was something new and cutting about it and much to her surprise, it became very hard to book an appointment with either you or Madame Delacroix afterwards. 

News had spread to the rest of the ton of you and your talents, and everyone wanted a piece. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Violet managed to get herself in for another appointment, needing a dress for a wedding along with a few odds and ends she thought with all this uncertainty she may as well get done now.

When she arrived at the modiste, it was overflowing with people. She never thought she had seen it so busy and she wondered if it was really all from that simple pink dress. Although the dress itself wasn’t necessarily simple, it was elegant in its style, its function, and of course, it had a certain je ne sais quoi.

“Lady Bridgerton,” you grinned, seeing Violet enter the shop. “I believe I have you to thank for all this business. Both Genviève and I do.” 

“Oh, I didn’t do any of the work,” she shook her head. “I simply wore it.” 

“And you wore it well, which is half of the battle,” you chuckled. “Come, I am always happy to see my favourite customer.” 

Violet’s heart warmed when you called her your favourite, a sense of pride overcoming her. Still out of all of the young debutantes and busy mamas, she somehow remained at the top of your list. 

When you arrived at your workspace, closing the door behind you and walking further inside and let out a small breath of air, a bright smile came over your face. 

“How can I help you today?” 

“I need a dress for a wedding,” she began, “along with a few other things.” 

“Such as?” you pressed. 

“Some clothes for the country, a few dresses for home, and some new night clothes. I was thinking perhaps a robe and a nightgown or two.” 

“Madame, you are keeping my hands busy,” you smiled. “Now I already have the measurements I will need for the dress, so we can pick fabrics, then maybe I can show you some things I have already made in case something catches your eye and we can make alterations and then fill in any gaps after.” 

“Sounds splendid to me,” she nodded. 

“Parfait,” you grinned and clapped your hands together. “What colour are you thinking for the dress you will wear to the wedding?” 

“I usually stick to blue,” she said. “It was the colour my late husband’s family used a lot, but…” she paused. 

“You’re thinking of something else,” you put your hands on your hips. “Purple.” 

“How did you know?” she looked at you a little astounded, a small chuckle coming past her lips, lacing her words with a certain playfulness. 

“A suspicion,” you shrugged with a teasing wink. “Now light or dark?”

“Light, it is getting warmer outside after all.” 

You rummaged through some things and pulled out a few swatches of fabric for her to choose from. 

“They are all nice,” Violet chewed on her lip while trying to decide. “What do you think?” 

You took a long look at the collection in front of you and then looked up at Violet, sizing up each swatch to the woman in front of you, fabricating the dress in your mind’s eye until you figured out which one you liked the most.

“This one, I think.”

You held out a simple silky fabric for her. 

“I can add something to it, a design, some beads,” you said. “But I like this colour on you.” 

“I will leave it up to you,” she said. “I am sure I will be happy with whatever you make. Surely, the rest of the ton is.” 

You chuckled and placed the fabric back down. 

“Now some of those other things,” you motioned for her to follow you. 

You showed her a few dresses to see what ones she might be interested in taking with her to the country. Some were made with simple cotton for days spent resting inside the house in the off season. Once she had decided which she liked, you set them aside to make sure they were properly fitted for her. 

“And nightclothes?” you asked. “What about something like this?” 

You pulled out a particularly sheer gown, probably meant for someone on their honeymoon, or maybe at the very least with someone to share it with. 

“Um,  I am not sure I am the right fit for that,” she chuckled nervously, knowing her resolve with you already wore thin, hoping you would accept her reasoning and move on to something more modest. 

“Why not?” you asked.

“I am a widow, Madame, I wouldn’t have anyone to wear it for,” she said truthfully. 

“You could wear it for yourself,” you said. 

Violet tilted her head and blinked, “Myself?” 

“Ben oui,” you nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who said you have to wear something for someone else?” 

Violet chewed on her cheek. She supposed she wasn’t really wearing anything for anyone but herself at the moment. 

“It is okay to wear something that makes you feel beautiful even if you are the only one to see it,” you reassured her. “If you do not think you would feel beautiful in this, now that is something different.” 

Violet pressed her lips together. It had been so long since she had worn something other than a simple cotton nightdress, but there was something alluring about wearing something that matched her desire, even if she would end up being the only one to see it. 

“And the fitting for this?” she asked. 

“We could do it right now, if you wish,” you said. 

“L-Like for alterations?” she looked at you wide-eyed.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, draping the dress over your arm, ignoring her surprise. 

She looked between the dress and herself a few times, contemplating whether or not she should do it, or more, whether she could handle it. 

Wearing it for herself was one thing, but wearing it in front of you was something else. 

She nervously scratched behind her ear, thinking in her mind that it might be best to pass on this for the moment, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she said,

“Alright then.” 

You smiled and turned to go back to where you would do the alterations and Violet blinked hard, processing what had just left her mouth. 

“Are you coming, Madame?” 

Violet looked over at you and nodded, slowly walking over to the platform. 

Similar to before, you helped her out of her dress, and she stood in front of you again in her corset and undergarments, but this time after her dress was placed off to the side, your fingers nimbly worked on the laces on her back, deftly loosening the material and unravelling it until it was loose around her. 

Violet, not quite ready to let go, held it up from the front, noticing her breathing becoming shakier by the second. 

“I can take that for you,” you extended your hand out for her corset and she swallowed thickly. 

It took her a few moments to remember how to work her hands again, carefully peeling the material away from her chest and handing it to you, unsure of what to do with her arms before deciding her best option was to cross them over her chest. 

When you returned, you came to stand in front of Violet, the nightgown in your hands, ready to help her put it on. You looked down at her crossed arms then back up at her blue eyes and her cheeks flushed before moving her hands and lifting them above her head so you could slip the fabric over her. 

The hem of the dress stopped at her knees, much shorter than anything she was used to wearing. The slight blue colour almost enhanced the sheerness of the fabric and Violet tried to take it all in, running a hand down her midsection, noticing how she could see her bellybutton.

She tried not to focus on how she could feel your gaze burning into what felt like her very soul. 

“What do you think of the fit?” she asked quietly. 

You pursed your lips. 

“I like how it fits around here,” you ran your hands along both sides of her waist down to her hips. “Less, up here.”

Your hands migrated to the fabric barely covering her breasts and she could have sworn she let out a small squeak, feeling your fingers brush against her. Her suspicion was confirmed when you spoke. 

“Everything alright, Madame?” you looked up at her. 

“Fine,” she whispered. 

“T’es sûre?” you murmured, stepping a little closer and adjusting the straps over her shoulders. 

“Mhmm,” she almost whimpered, pressing her lips together and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m fine, it is just a little chilly up here,” she said. “You know when you get cold, you um…you feel things more.” 

You nodded your head. 

“That is not to say it was cold before, I am just cold now because-” 

“Tais toi.” 

Violet blinked. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” you looked up at her and placed a finger under her chin. “I said tais toi.” 

Despite Violet’s shock that you had essentially told her to shut up, she found herself speaking still.

“Really?” she began. “You won’t even use le vous poli?” she asked, referring to your less polite and more informal grammar choice. 

“Why would I use that when everything I want to do to you is very, very impolite?” you whispered, merely millimeters away from her mouth, your breath mingling with hers. 

Violet wasn’t sure what overcame her, she grabbed your hands, placing them over her breasts, her mouth agape as shaky breaths fanned over your face. 

With that permission, you brushed your thumbs on top of the fabric, over her nipples, her whimper deliciously clouding your senses, encouraging you to do it again. 

“If you are really so set on wearing this for someone,” you gripped her tighter, eliciting a surprised gasp, your lips travelling closer to her ear. “You could wear it for me, ma belle.” 

Violet hummed and leaned her head against yours, feeling you move along her until your foreheads were pressed together, noses brushing against each other. 

“We shouldn’t,” Violet breathed. 

“We shouldn’t,” you shook your head, still moving closer until you captured her lips with yours. Her hands found their way to your waist, narrowly avoiding your pin cushion, pulling you against her, your thumbs still gently massaging over her breasts, content hums and soft moans echoing in your mouth as you kissed her. 

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against Violet’s again, your eyes shut. 

“You have another appointment don’t you?” Violet whispered and you nodded and she had to bite back the whine that wanted to escape. 

“Come back tonight,” you murmured, your hands moving to hold both sides of Violet’s face, a reassurance. “Two doors down.” 

“W-What would I tell my carriage driver?” 

“Pick your most discreet one,” you whispered, pressing your lips to hers again in a much softer kiss. 

She nodded her head and when you pulled apart further and she opened her eyes, she could see you smiling back at her and she thought if you were so certain, maybe everything would be okay. 

It wasn’t until much later in the evening when Violet was standing outside your door, waiting for you to come and open it, that the reality of the situation fully set on her. She was caught in such a haze before, her stomach swirling with an all consuming nausea that was almost delightful. 

She felt her arms wrapping around herself tighter, nervously looking around to make sure there were no unwanted eyes watching her, until she heard the door open in front of her, bringing her attention back to the present. 

You were quick to wordlessly take her hand and bring her inside, closing the door behind you. 

“You are tense,” you remarked, holding her hand in both of yours, gently massaging its back with your thumbs. 

Violet was unsure of what to expect, but she did know wherever this led, she wanted to follow it, to chase that staggering violent feeling until she couldn’t take it any more. 

“I just didn’t want anyone to see,” she whispered. “I am fine.” 

You smiled. “Bien.” 

You helped her take off her cloak, biting your bottom lip when you saw what she was wearing underneath. 

“C’est jolie,” you hummed. “But I think I am more excited to see what is underneath.” 

Violet chuckled nervously, feeling a certain heat come to her cheeks. She let herself be pulled into you when you took your hand in hers, melting into the kiss that followed, allowing you to lead her through the hallway and into what she assumed was a bedroom. 

Her suspicions were fully confirmed when she felt the back of her legs hit a plush mattress, making her fall back, only to be gently lowered the rest of the way by you, now leaning over top of her. 

“W-Wait,” Violet whispered.

“Hmm?” you looked at her patiently. “Ça va?”

“What happens next?” she asked. 

“Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You tilted your head to look at her and she nodded. 

“First I take this off,” you murmured, working at the series of ribbons in the front of her dress that kept it tied shut. 

She watched as you undid each one, single handedly, revealing more and more of her bare skin until your hand came and fully pushed both parts of the fabric aside, leaving her exposed in front of you. 

“Then I listen,” you kissed her jaw. “Your breathing, your body, it…tells me things.” 

One hand moved to cup her breast and she sighed. 

“Like that,” you smiled. “And I follow that, I see where it takes me.”

You pinched her nipple between your thumb and pointer finger and she arched slightly into your touch. Carefully, you twisted it between your fingers, your mouth trailing its kisses down her neck and chest, until eventually your mouth replaced your fingers, tongue swirling and teeth grazing against the soft and sensitive flesh. 

Violet let out a breath of air, a whine caught in the back of her throat as she arched further into you, her hand coming to hold your head against her. 

With a gentle kiss, you paused your mouth’s movements, taking your hand from where it rested against her waist, dragging it across her stomach. 

“Next,” you began, “No, it is too vulgar in English,” you shook your head. 

“Tell me in French,” she begged. “Dit-le moi, s’il vous plaît.” 

You smiled and kissed her breast again. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

Your finger trailed a little lower, now tracing lines across the base of her stomach, the skin there soft and stretched from many pregnancies, and oh so precious. 

“Je prends mes doigts,” your fingers moved even lower, the blood pumping to Violet’s head so fast she thought she might faint. “Et je les appuie ici.”

“Oh!” she moaned, her head turned to the side, your thumb firmly against her, massaging in slow tantalizing and tortuous circles.

“Mais, je préfère les mettre comme ça.” 

Violet gasped, your name on her lips as she felt your fingers inside her, beginning a slow and steady pace that her body seemed to match with the movement of her hips. 

“Is this good, or do you want more?” you asked her, not stopping the movement of your hand and fingers. 

“More, please,” she breathed. 

“En Français, ma belle.” 

“S-S’il vous plaît.” 

“Bien sûre,” you smiled and increased your pace, fingers carefully searching until they found the intense response they were seeking from Violet. 

“There,” she nodded her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Mmm.” 

She pressed her lips together so tightly you could have sworn they went white. 

You listened to her instructions, continuing to work at that spot, leaning over top of her, feeling her breathing pick up with each fan of warm breath over your face. You pressed a few kisses to her jaw, your ear right next to her mouth, listening intently as breathing turned into moans that didn’t stop. 

You could feel the heat radiating off of every part of her, clouding your own senses, encouraging you further to push her over that edge, eager movements guiding her until her mind went blissfully blank, her back arched towards you while you slowed your hand, her breathing much more ragged than before until you carefully removed your fingers. 

Wiping them carefully on the sheets next to her, you then took her face in your hand, pressing a slow kiss to her lips. 

Violet hummed into your lips, like she wanted to say something so you pulled away, watching her finally open her eyes once more. 

“Can I?” she whispered. 

“Can you what, chèrie?” 

“Do that for you?” she asked. “Teach me.” 

You grinned, leaning down and capturing her lips in another kiss. 

When you pulled apart this time, she pushed herself up on her forearms, watching as you moved to sit next to her. She knew the first step, her hand brushing against the sleeve of your nightgown, pushing it off your shoulder, studying how your skin felt against her fingers. 

You took your arm out of your sleeve and waited for her to do the same with the opposite side before tugging the sides down until the fabric pooled at your hips. 

She leaned in to kiss you, guiding you to lie back on the mattress before her hands came back to the fabric, pulling it completely off of you. 

She took a moment to admire you in front of her, feeling that same intense pull towards you as she did when you had first become acquainted. 

With her lips against yours once more, she hooked her fingers around the top of your underwear, pulling it down as her lips detached from yours so she could finish the job. 

She leaned over top of you, her brown hair falling in waves on either side of her head, the soft fabric of her robe-like dress, creating a curtain around her, but her body still on full display for you. 

You couldn’t help but reach out and snake a hand around her waist, your thumb brushing back and forth in small motions. 

“Tell me,” she whispered. “What do I do next?” 

You moved your hand up from her waist tracing along her side and down her arm, until her wrist was in your hands. 

“You can touch me here.”  

You placed her hand on your breast. “Or here.” 

Your hand moved hers lower, only hovering over your core. 

“Or anywhere that feels right when you listen.” 

She nodded her head slowly, your hand finishing its guidance as she watched with bated breath, your eyes closed anticipatorily, small shaky breaths coming past your lips as her fingers made contact and you finally let go of her wrist. 

Violet tucked some of her hair behind her ear with her free hand before letting herself feel and explore you. 

She paid close attention, listening to what sounds filled the air, a small smile coming to her lips when you moaned her name. 

She moved so her thumb replaced her fingers, continuing to brush against that spot that seemed to make your face twist and contort in beautiful ways she’d never seen before. 

Violet became curious, her other hand moving to cup your breast, brushing her thumb over your nipple, noticing the new reaction it had brought, a groan and a plea for more. 

Both of her thumbs worked in tandem on different parts of your body, pulling your focus in two directions, back and forth with no end in sight.

Violet was entranced by you, squirming slightly under her touch, the fact that she was the one making you feel this way, like you had no control. The only thing possible for you to do was let her know how much you wanted, no, needed her. 

“Violet,” you whimpered. “Please, m-more.” 

Violet smiled devilishly and leaned down, her lips ghosting your ear. 

“En Français.”

“S’il vous plaît, Violet, mon Dieu,” you groaned before she increased the intensity of her ministrations. 

Her hand moved from your breast up to your face, holding it up so she could kiss you as her thumb worked against you, a warmth spreading in her stomach as you moaned into her mouth, your hips meeting her touch until you were gripping onto Violet for dear life as the only hope of reminding yourself you were, in fact, still on earth. 

She stopped a little more abruptly than you would have liked, still thrumming with pleasure, and holding her close. 

“Was that right?” she teased and when you finally looked up at her, grabbing her chin with your thumb and forefinger, pulling her down in a kiss, your last words, a mutter against her lips. 

“Tais toi.” 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch

ULTIMATE COOKING SCRIPTING PACK ― ⋆˚✿˖

❝What do you put in your meals to make them so addictive?❞

― ꒰#01꒱ If you don’t have an ingredient, you know exactly what to substitute without losing flavor― “We’re out of eggs” and you barely blink before making something even better than the original recipe.

― ꒰#02꒱ A single taste, and you can deconstruct any dish. Not just the ingredients, but the techniques, exact proportions, and even the chef's subconscious choices while cooking.

― ꒰#03꒱ Leftovers in your hands aren't just reheated, they evolve - their flavor and even texture improve exponentially.

― ꒰#04꒱ No spice is ever too overpowering in your cooking. You balance even the most aggressive flavors, making every dish taste like it was meant to be exactly that way.

― ꒰#05꒱ Your kitchen knives are forever sharp—slicing feels like cutting through air, no effort, no sawing.

― ꒰#06꒱ You can whisk egg whites into stiff peaks with barely any effort. The perfect meringue forms under your hands before your arms start aching.

― ꒰#07꒱ Your hands always stay clean, no matter how much you knead dough, handle spices, or work with sticky ingredients.

― ꒰#08꒱ Failed recipes? Not in your vocabulary—you sense when the dough needs a little more rest, when the batter needs an extra stir, when the oven temp needs a slight adjustment.

― ꒰#09꒱ You can fix any dish on the spot. Too salty? Too bland? Too dry? You instinctively know how to bring it back to life.

― ꒰#10꒱ Cooking for a crowd? You never miscalculate portions—nobody leaves hungry, and there are just enough leftovers to be appreciated, never wasted.

― ꒰#11꒱ You can tell when food is done just by looking at it. No timers, no thermometers—just an instinct so strong that you never overcook or undercook anything.

― ꒰#12꒱ Your food never sticks to pans. Even when you forget to grease them, even when using stainless steel, everything releases easily.

― ꒰#13꒱ No matter how much you cook, you never get that overwhelming “food fatigue.” You could spend an entire day in the kitchen and still sit down to enjoy the meal with full appreciation.

― ꒰#14꒱ You never burn your tongue, even when you taste something straight off the stove. Piping hot soup? Freshly baked cookies? Your mouth welcomes them with perfect resilience.

― ꒰#15꒱ Every ingredient in your fridge and pantry seems to last just a little longer than expected, giving you enough time to use everything before it even thinks of going bad.

― ꒰#16꒱ You can effortlessly adjust any recipe to match someone’s dietary needs without sacrificing taste. Vegan, gluten-free, keto? They won’t even realize it’s been modified.

― ꒰#17꒱ Chopping an onion? Not a single tear. Peeling garlic? One effortless motion. Every frustrating kitchen task becomes second nature

― ꒰#18꒱ Cooking over an open flame feels natural to you. Fire pits, campfires, BBQ grills—you instinctively know how to control the heat, sear, and get the best flavors from just flame and smoke.

― ꒰#19꒱ Somehow, no matter how chaotic your kitchen looks while cooking, everything cleans up effortlessly—like the mess never existed.

― ꒰#20꒱ You’re the reason people fall in love with foods they thought they hated. Someone who swore despised mushrooms takes one bite of your dish and suddenly, they reconsider their entire existence.

childish things to script about yourself ‧⭑.ᐟ

Soft hands and scraped knees – No matter how much you run, climb, or fall, you never stay bruised for long. Your skin heals as quickly as your heart, always ready for the next adventure.

An endless imagination – You see faces in the clouds, entire worlds in the dust motes that dance in the sunlight, and magic in the way leaves rustle when the wind whispers through them.

The scent of childhood – Your clothes always carry the faintest trace of warm vanilla, fresh rain, and the pages of an old storybook.

Barefoot in the grass – No matter how tall you grow, the earth always welcomes your small steps, cool and soft beneath your toes, grounding you in wonder.

Laughter like wind chimes – Your joy is never small; it rings through the air, light and musical, impossible to silence or contain.

A voice full of questions – You never stop asking why, never stop wondering, never stop believing there’s always more to learn, more to see, more to dream.

An unbreakable bedtime routine – The world quiets for you at night, wrapping you in soft blankets and whispered stories. Sleep always feels safe, like a warm hug from the universe.

Sticky fingers and sweet tastes – No dessert ever escapes your fingertips, no candy is ever eaten without getting just a little on your chin. Every bite is a moment of pure happiness.

Running just to feel the wind – You don’t walk when you could run, don’t stand still when you could spin, don’t exist quietly when you could embrace the world with open arms.

Humming without realizing it – Music follows you everywhere, slipping from your lips in soft, aimless melodies. Even in silence, there is always a song in your heart.

Hugs that melt the world away – When you hold someone, you do it with your whole heart. Your hugs are never halfway; they are warm, fierce, and filled with the kind of love that never grows up.

An unshakable belief in magic – Whether it’s in fireflies, shooting stars, or the way people’s eyes light up when they laugh, you never stop believing that something beautiful and impossible is always just around the corner.

Pockets full of tiny treasures – Smooth pebbles, crumpled leaves, buttons, and forgotten trinkets, each one a piece of a story only you understand.

Echoes of lullabies – Even when no one sings to you anymore, the melodies of old lullabies still hum gently in your mind, like the distant memory of a warm embrace.

Shoelaces that never stay tied – No matter how carefully you knot them, they always come undone, as if your shoes are just as restless as you are.

Blowing on dandelions like wishes actually work – You close your eyes, whisper a secret to the wind, and send it floating into the sky with the hope that someone, somewhere, is listening.

Believing the moon follows you home – Every night, it watches over you, peeking between tree branches and rooftops, your quiet companion in the dark.

Cup hands under the faucet, sip like it’s magic – Water tastes better when it pools in your palms, as if drinking from your own hands connects you to something ancient and true.

Falling asleep in places you didn’t mean to – Curled up on the couch, head against a car window, tucked into someone’s shoulder—sleep finds you wherever you feel safest.

Speaking to animals like they understand you – Every bird, cat, and bug is a potential friend, listening patiently as you tell them your secrets.

Spinning in circles until the world blurs – Arms stretched wide, feet lifting off the ground, dizzy with laughter, weightless in your own little universe.

Tracing raindrops on windows – Watching them race, picking favorites, pretending they carry messages from somewhere far away.

Jumping over cracks in the sidewalk – Because deep down, a part of you still believes stepping on one might actually break something precious.

Wearing your favorite outfit too often – Whether it’s a soft hoodie or a dress that twirls just right, you love it too much to care if you wore it yesterday.

Drinking hot chocolate like it’s a cure for everything – Hands wrapped around the mug, marshmallows melting, warmth spreading through your chest like a hug from the inside.

The feeling of a bedtime story – The quiet hush of the room, the weight of a book in someone’s hands, the slow, soothing voice that makes everything feel okay.

Catching snowflakes or raindrops on your tongue – Just to see if they taste like the sky, just to prove to yourself that the world is still full of wonder.

Jumping into puddles without caring about the mess – The splash, the laughter, the feeling of rebellion against everything that says you should stay clean and dry.

Waking up to the sound of birds and pretending they’re singing to you – A private concert, just for you, before the world is fully awake.

Never fully outgrowing the urge to run up the stairs when it’s dark – A small part of you still thinks something might be chasing you, and it makes you smile every time.

Feeling safe under the covers, no matter what – The blanket is a shield, the bed is a fortress, and nothing bad can ever reach you here.

Fireworks still make you gasp – No matter how many times you’ve seen them, the bright bursts of color in the sky always feel like magic.

The quiet joy of holding hands – Fingers interlocked, warmth shared, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

Never losing the belief that something wonderful is waiting for you – A hidden door, a secret place, a story just waiting to be lived—you can feel it, just around the corner.

Lithario AU

Notoriously rival pirate captains Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal find themselves in the midst of a feud over the attention of a captivatingly beautiful mermaid, Lilia Calderu.

Tags: @jubshead

UNIQUE HOBBY IDEAS TO SCRIPT ٠ ࣪⭑

(inspired by @deminetly <3)

ART & DESIGN:

Textile sculpting – Shaping fabric and fibers into intricate art pieces.

Making artisanal perfume – Experimenting with essential oils and rare scents.

Cyanotype printing – Creating blue-tinted prints with sunlight and special chemicals.

Hand-painted book edges – Adding hidden designs to the sides of books.

Architectural sketching – Drawing detailed blueprints of imaginary or real places.

Reverse glass painting – Painting images on the backside of clear glass panels.

Making mini dioramas – Crafting tiny, realistic scenes in boxes or jars.

Creating art with unconventional materials – Coffee stains, pressed flowers, or even rust.

Wax seal crafting – Designing and making custom wax seals for letters.

Weaving tapestries – Using a loom to create textile wall art.

Handmade paper-making – Recycling scraps to craft textured, unique paper.

SPORTS & MOVEMENT:

Aerial hoop (Lyra) – Performing acrobatics on a suspended steel ring.

Extreme pogo-sticking – High jumps, flips, and tricks on a pogo stick.

Sandboarding – Surfing down dunes in the desert.

Equestrian vaulting – Gymnastics and dance moves performed on a moving horse.

Ice sailing – Gliding across frozen lakes with a sail-equipped sled.

Underwater hockey – Playing a sport with a weighted puck at the bottom of a pool.

Capoeira – A blend of martial arts, dance, and acrobatics with Brazilian origins.

Jump rope tricks – Learning advanced freestyle or double Dutch techniques.

Parkour with wheelchairs – An adaptive and extreme sport variation.

Rock balancing – Stacking stones into gravity-defying formations.

Slingshot shooting – Precision aiming with handmade slingshots.

MUSIC & SOUND:

Sound design – Creating custom sounds for games or movies.

Synthesizer programming – Tweaking electronic sounds with analog or digital synths.

Composing soundscapes – Designing immersive ambient music inspired by nature or emotions.

Learning overtone singing – Producing two vocal notes at once.

Sampling old vinyl records – Finding unique loops and beats for music production.

Conducting – Studying orchestral directing and leading musical performances.

Building DIY instruments – Creating unique sounds with handmade tools.

Music visualizations – Designing interactive graphics that react to sound.

Throat singing – Practicing Tuvan or Mongolian singing techniques.

TECH & STRATEGY:

Glitch art creation – Manipulating digital images into trippy visuals.

3D printing miniatures – Designing and printing tiny sculptures or models.

Algorithmic art – Generating visuals using coding and AI.

DIY prosthetics – Learning how to create custom limb enhancements.

Rube Goldberg machines – Designing absurdly complex chain-reaction machines.

Building battle robots – Engineering small, remote-controlled combat machines.

Soldering & circuit building – Creating tech-based DIY projects.

Urban survival skills – Learning how to live off the grid in a city.

Brainwave hacking – Experimenting with binaural beats and neurofeedback.

Playing ARGs (Alternate Reality Games) – Solving mystery games that blend real life with fiction.

NATURE & OUTDOORS:

Foraging & wildcrafting – Finding edible plants and making herbal remedies.

Cave exploration (spelunking) – Navigating through underground tunnels.

Mushroom cultivation – Growing rare and exotic fungi.

Aquascaping – Designing mini underwater landscapes in aquariums.

Bee-keeping for urban areas – Raising pollinators in city environments.

Tree shaping (Arborsculpture) – Training trees to grow into artistic designs.

Tidepool exploration – Studying the tiny creatures left behind by ocean tides.

Fire-making with primitive tools – Learning ancient survival techniques.

Creating miniature greenhouses – Designing tiny glass ecosystems.

Meteorite collecting – Searching for and identifying fallen space rocks.

MIND & STRATEGY:

Lucid dreaming training – Learning how to control your dreams.

Deciphering ancient scripts – Studying and attempting to read extinct languages.

Memory palaces – Training your brain to store and recall vast amounts of information.

Speedcubing – Solving Rubik’s cubes and other puzzles in record time.

Origami tessellations – Advanced geometric folding patterns.

Cryptography – Learning to encode and decode secret messages.

Art of persuasion (Rhetoric) – Mastering the craft of convincing others.

Studying microexpressions – Understanding unspoken emotions through facial movements.

Learning uncommon board games – Mastering strategy-heavy games like Go or Shogi.

Shadowgraphy (hand shadow puppetry) – Creating elaborate shapes using only hands and light.

MISCELLANEOUS & FUN:

Faux stained glass making – Using resin or colored glue to create window art.

Bookbinding – Crafting and restoring old books by hand.

Designing labyrinths & mazes – Drawing or physically building intricate pathways.

Taxidermy art – Preserving and artistically displaying specimens.

Guerilla art installations – Secretly placing meaningful art in public spaces.

Mechanical puzzle design – Creating mind-bending, interlocking objects.

Marionette puppetry – Crafting and performing with handcrafted puppets.

Underwater basket weaving – Yes, it’s real and requires immense skill.

Historical reenactments – Dressing and acting as figures from the past.

Creating custom tarot decks – Designing personalized cards with unique meanings.

Hosting secret dinner parties – Themed, invite-only underground gatherings.

Tattoo machine building – Constructing professional-grade tattoo guns.

Dumpster diving for art materials – Repurposing found objects into creative pieces.

Experimental baking – Making desserts with unconventional ingredients or methods.

Practicing hand lettering – Designing artistic and aesthetic text styles.

"little miss baker" like things to script ‧⭑.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always has flour on her cheeks .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker hums while kneading dough .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker writes secret recipes in a tiny notebook .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker wears the cutest pastel apron .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a special wooden spoon she swears is lucky .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always sneaks a taste of the batter .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker can tell cookies are done just by the smell .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker decorates cakes like an artist .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a collection of adorable cookie cutters .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker makes the kitchen warm and cozy .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker loves watching bread rise in the oven .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker gives everyone homemade treats “just because" .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a tiny sprinkle obsession .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker bakes at midnight when she can’t sleep .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always has a fresh batch of something cooling on the counter .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker ties her apron in a perfect bow .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker leaves trails of powdered sugar wherever she goes.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a habit of doodling cupcake designs in her notebook .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always has a whisk in her hand, even when she doesn’t need it .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker makes the kitchen smell like cinnamon and vanilla.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker collects vintage recipe cards .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker talks to her dough while kneading it .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a special mug just for sipping tea while waiting for the oven timer .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker owns way too many cupcake liners in different colors .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker gets flour in her hair and doesn’t even notice .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker knows exactly when to take brownies out for the perfect fudgy center .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker arranges her sprinkles in little glass jars .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has the cutest oven mitts with tiny hearts on them.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker insists that cookies taste better when shared .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker loves rainy days because they’re perfect for baking.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker twirls around the kitchen while waiting for dough to rise .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a rolling pin that’s been passed down for generations .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker can make perfect pie crust with her eyes closed .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker gets excited over seasonal baking ingredients .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always has a jar of homemade jam on the counter.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker believes baking is the cure for any bad day .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a soft spot for baking mini versions of everything .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker somehow makes even messy baking look aesthetic .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker leaves cute little notes on her baked goods .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a tiny collection of pastel mixing bowls .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker names her sourdough starter something adorable .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker wears fluffy socks while baking for extra coziness .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker can crack eggs perfectly with one hand .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker gasps dramatically when a cake comes out perfectly .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always does a little happy dance when she tastes something delicious .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a secret stash of chocolate chips for snacking .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker somehow always gets frosting on her nose .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker carefully ties ribbons around gift-wrapped cookies .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always has a candle that smells like vanilla bean burning .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker giggles when the dough poofs up in the oven .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker saves cute bakery boxes just in case .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a collection of whisks in every color .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker writes love letters in icing on cakes .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker loves the sound of a knife slicing through a perfectly crisp croissant.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker collects pretty teaspoons for stirring hot cocoa .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker believes measuring ingredients is optional (but somehow still gets it right) .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always gets flour on her sweater sleeves .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker believes midnight muffins taste better .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a cute little window herb garden for fresh ingredients .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker loves decorating cupcakes like tiny works of art .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker gets a little teary-eyed when someone says her baking is the best they’ve ever had .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker secretly loves licking the cake batter spoon like a little kid .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker has a collection of handwritten recipes with little doodles on them.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker sets out a plate of cookies just because it makes the kitchen feel cozy .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker sprinkles everything with extra love (and maybe a little extra sugar).ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker thinks baking while it rains is peak cottagecore vibes .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always saves the first cookie for herself .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker loves the poof sound when opening a new bag of flour .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker wears a chef’s hat that’s just slightly too big .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker always makes extra dough because she knows she’ll eat some .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker somehow gets cinnamon in places cinnamon shouldn’t be .ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker talks to her cakes as they bake, just to make sure they turn out right.ᐟ

- Little Miss Baker truly believes a warm cookie can fix anything .ᐟ

a detailed guide on scripting !

if you decide to do so … this is just how i do it, not forcing.

act i , the basics.

who are you? name. surname. nickname. place of birth. date of birth. current age. status (student? employed? / blood status if applicable) species (supernatural or human?) height. weight. race. ethnicity. nationality.

appearance. hair colour. hair texture. hair type. eye colour. eyebrows. breath smell. skin. scent. lip taste if you want.

clothing. what do you like to wear? t-shirts. pants&jeans. skirts if you want. shoes. nails if you want. are you known for your style? accessories.

childhood. from what kind of family you were born? where did you grew up? any childhood friends? favourite cousins? how did you become what you are now? (if famous / supernatural)

( if you are an adult. ) did you go to university? if so, what masters do you have? how was your experience? what was your first job? your teenage years? any ex or first love? are you still friends with people from high school?

present. your personality. main traits. your hobbies. your passions. if you have collections, write them down. if you like to read, what kind of books you love? how do others view you? if supernatural, are you part of a prophecy (if so, explain your role in this prophecy, and why you are part of it)

extras. social media. powers if you have them. if hogwarts, write your wand.

act ii , the extension of you.

friends. who are they? how did you met? how is your relationship with them? do you have any friendgroups? group chats?

family. talk about them. do you still live with them? how is your relationship with them? any sibilings? favourite cousins? does your aunt spoil you… or a grandparent, maybe.

relationships. do you have a partner? if so, talk about them. how did they treat you? how did you met? any cool or sweet dates? if you are still not together, how will you (general or detailed). if you don’t have a s/o, any past relationships? any rumours? does someone have a crush on you?

pets. what’s their name and age? how did you adopt them? what’s your relationship? does the pet trust you?

extras. do you have any hater or fan… or both? any mortal enemy? if so, your past with them, the start of your animosity.

act iii , education.

school. name of the school? is it private, or for certain type of supernatural creatures? are they divided in houses? if so, what’s yours? where is the school located? the vibe? kind of students admitted to the school? does it have a motto? if it’s a boarding school, describe your room/dormitory. and your school uniform.

subjects. timetable. what subject do you take? how are the teachers? did a certain teacher adopt you and your friendgroup? who is your favourite? favourite subjects? how are you doing in all of your subjects? where do you go for break/lunch?

events. any formal? parties? or secret societies?

extras. does the school have a mystery you want to solve? any extracurricular activities like sports? clubs?

act iv , patriotic stuff.

city. talk about where you are from / live. any special or secret places for you? favourite hangout spots? memorable locations for you? the vibe of the town.

house. or apartment. entry hall. living room. bathroom(s). bedrooms. your bedroom. kitchen. laundry room. garden. office? extras room like library etc if you want. where is it located?

( if you have a fantasy dr. ) your kingdom. your castle. private chambers. overall vibe of your kingdom… its name, story, rulers, any magical creatures? or religion? any festivity? kingdoms near you? places you want to have in your kingdom.

act v , rules.

safety and stuff like that.

I might be cancelled for this but I don't give a single flying fuck. you're allowed to change your race, gender, sexuality and stuff in your drs. fuck anyone that tells you not to. it's ur dr, your shifting experience.

Hi emma<3 I js wanted to ask whats ur opinion on ppl who k1ll other ppl in their drs (im not talking about those weird ppl that literally shift for the sole purpose of killing people thats disgusting) im talking abt those shifting into questionable realities (like fantasy, apocalypse etc like realities that have elements of bloodshed ig?) bc ive seen ppl talk abt it but it never gives a complete answer. Ive been thinking abt this bc i havent been able to figure out where i stand so i wanted to hear ur opinion. I feel like we shouldnt judge ppls actions solely based on this realities standards bc each reality has different moral and ethical expectations (unless ofc ppl have done horrible things that cant be justified)

Btw ilysmm?? The way u write is so mesmerising that i want to take ur thoughts and put them into mine. U r my biggest shifting motivation rn

OKAY. SO. morality is contextual. what we consider "right" or "wrong" here is based on this reality’s rules, which are, at the end of the day, arbitrary and socially constructed. different realities operate under different frameworks, different stakes. if you're shifting into a world where survival necessitates violence, where you have to fight, hunt, or even (ahem) drink blood to exist, then that’s just part of the ontology of that reality. you're not running around doing evil for sport; you're engaging with the world as it is. i suppose it's just your choice to shift there.

do i think some guy shifting just to go on a murder spree in an otherwise peaceful reality is weird? yeah. but for example, me, i'm i shifted to my dr where i'll be a vampire.....but that's just dinner (that sounds bad but like i'm trying to write this out too)

so, my take...........uh. ethics are determined by the world you’re in. every reality has its own moral code, and you play by its rules, not necessarily this one’s

if i had found shiftblr first instead of shiftok, my life would be 1000000000000000000000%%% better and my traumatized ass from shiftok would be sooooooooo gratefull

I HATE U SHIFTOK

Something I hate about shifting is that I am very well aware that it is a personal journey, that a lot of it you figure out on your own. But my autistic ass NEEDS to be told what to do, if I don't know what to do I just stand there like 🧍‍♀️

I know I already know how to shift, I know I can just roll over and do it but my brain is like "WHERE INSTRUCTION?? HOW DO?? I ROLLED OVER, STILL HERE, WHAT WRONG??"

Thinking about how I could literally shift as any renowned figure in history. Be it Mozart, Napoleon, or fucking Steve harvey bcs why tf not!!!!

I would witness the age of light, the apes of evolution, the fall and rise of ancient cities.

I would witness, learn, and most of all remember the lives of those that aren't written in books and articles. People who marked the earth and left without legends, a legacy, a story to withhold.

I would live the life of a being, not of mortal nor divine, but inbetween of immortality and death.

I would meet the gods and goddesses that once roamed the earth; I would learn their culture, their traditions, with the ability of recreating it back here. The current reality.

All that was lost, buried, and forgotten, can be revived. Can be witnessed. Can be heard and remembered.

And that's the beauty of shifting.

Kathryn Hahn and David Harbour presenting at the 30th Critics Choice Awards

: ̗̀➛ Safety Scripting ideas for your dangerous DR’s ! !

────────────

𑁋 you are protected from severe or moderate injuries including: damage to the brain/organs, breaking any bones, tearing any ligaments and muscles, etc.

𑁋 your body is constantly healthy, even immune to common sicknesses like the cold and such (if desired)

𑁋 you can never catch serious illnesses, or contract anything serious

𑁋 if you do want to experience some sort pain for the sake of realism, script in high pain tolerance (very important!)

𑁋 your body heals quickly (preferably 1-3 days or within hours)

𑁋 you’re capable of fighting off any unwanted dangers, always come out on top.

𑁋 you have an intimidating aura that makes others afraid to approach you (specifically people looking for trouble/harm)

𑁋 you can go without food and water for a long time without physically deteriorating. or script that you never have to deal with food and water shortage/you always find food and water wherever you go.

𑁋 no any unwanted mental issues and you are free from suffering severe depression, anxiety, etc. this saves you mentally which could eventually affect you physically.

𑁋 it’s real life, so make sure you script that you are able to process trauma well. but if you want, nothing is stopping you from not having any sort of trauma at all !

𑁋 any of the monsters/creatures in your DR cannot infect, posses, or kill you. you never feel guilty ridding them off the face of the earth, it’s what you must do to survive.

𑁋 you have fantastic coordination, strategy, and execution (figuratively and literally) skills. these skills allow you to navigate your surroundings and make it out of life-threatening situations.

𑁋 physically strong. fit enough to run a marathon.

𑁋 you feel a strong sense of unease whenever something potentially dangerous is lurking near you. your intuition is always on point, you never ignore it.

𑁋 negative people will always end up leaving your life, letting you thrive in all your glory. and sooner rather than later.

𑁋 you know basic survival skills. handy if you find yourself out in the wild!

𑁋 certain dangerous plants, bugs, substances, etc. cannot affect you or you have high resistance against them. heck, they can’t even reach you.

𑁋 your height, clothes, hair, nails, jewelry, menstrual cycle, etc. never put you at a disadvantage in battles.

𑁋 you have a trusted group of people who protect you from unwanted danger. also, they radiate positive, uplifting energy!! helps in times of distress fr.

𑁋 you’re mentally mature enough to handle serious situations.

𑁋 if you use safe words, then you always remember it in instant moments of unwanted danger. you’ll know when too much has become TOO MUCH.

𑁋 you and your loved ones cannot be killed. script death happens from natural causes in old age.

𑁋 your opponents moves are easy to predict, easily dodge and avoid any harsh attacks.

𑁋 if you’re bound, you can easily slip yourself out of the restraints.

𑁋 all of your senses are sharp throughout your whole lifetime. not even old age can interfere with it.

𑁋 ALL of this for your loved ones as well !!

────────────

thank you for reading!! if there’s any other suggestions you have, please leave a comment :)

shifters scripting the same person in all their realities or just shifting for people who are at their core, practically the same person is just so. poetically beautiful.

"you don't exist here in this reality, but I will make sure we are together in every other one" like hello?? this is love at its peak?? choosing the same person again and again, choosing to be with them no matter the situation??

I genuinely have a massive crush on my s/o

Thinking about Rio and hurting bad.

Thinking about the love she had for Agatha, a mortal, a love so strong that Rio was willing to bend her own rules—the sacred balance—just because Agatha said one thing.

“I will hate you forever.”

Rio knew that there was nothing to stop what was coming. She did not want to do it, she had no choice. It was the way of life and so was the way of death. It was the way of Rio’s very own being.

And yet Agatha still rejected her. Everything that Rio stood for and everything that Rio ever was, over something that she had absolutely no control over.

Can you imagine how painful that would be?

Still she stood there and took everything Agatha threw at her.

And Rio did try to find a way to work around, she offered time. For Agatha, for Nicky. And for herself.

She bought time for both of them to delay the most unthinkable. For Agatha, it was the death of her (their) son; and for Rio, nothing was more unimaginable than the loss of Agatha’s love and affection.

It was the greatest gift and blessing Death could ever offer to anyone.

Agatha would get what she wanted, at least for a while. She would welcome their son to the world and live out possibly the happiest moments of her life. But for Rio, it was a countdown to the darkest and most sorrowful time ever known to her.

And Agatha would never know any of that.

Rio Vidal, the most powerful yet most tragic character of the show. Who gave her all but at the end, got nothing back.

i feel so, like, SO uncomfortable whenever i search for anythinmg about my s/o (like photos on pinterest) and something about my s/o and their canonical partner pops up LMAOOOOO. i feel like… idk, like i'm forcing them to "break up" just to be with me, and it makes my insany ass feel like the "villain" of the story 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 (?????!???!?!?!?!??????!?!?!??!?!??!!!)

Agathario tiktok editors i will never forget you

some alternate things i scripted about the world in my kpop dr

i originally kept my dr the same as my cr. but when i grew out of that my obsession with world building and social science kicked in full force.

the world is futuristic. think love and deepspace esque. we have holograms, high speed travel and advanced energy production. everywhere is equally very developed, but all in a way that suits the culture & environment instead of working against it. the world is modern, beautiful & clean. everywhere is colorful. the world is vibrant, sleek, efficient, full of personality and perfectly balanced.

painting is a highly respected and popular profession since 2020. maximalist, unique, topical and expressive art. with lots of color and varying art styles. artists are able to reach the same levels of success as they couldve in the pre-modern times.

acoris. a spanish brand that sells non alcoholic beverages in various flavors. everyone uses it, its sold everywhere, and has an incomprehensibly large "fanbase". the drink itself gives people a restless high, and insane boosts of energy. though not addictive or classified as a drug (frequently debated).

in person shopping is more popular. high quality, dirt cheap, and somehow ethically sourced trendy clothing are sold in "mall brands". there are thousands of different "mall brands" across the world in every country. they have differing styles per region/brand image reflecting the trends, culture and local materials of the area.

im addicted to my phone and so is the majority of gen z. i want to script phones out entirely, but a modern idols lifestyle is heavy on social media. i settled for ambiguously saying theres little to no technology addiction.

the entire population has a elemental manipulation abilities tied directly to zodiac. for example scorpios have water powers & aries have fire. this has just always been a thing, but for years scientists have been stumped by why. on their own these abilities are weak, but can be stronger with training and teamwork. because of this, humanity as a whole is more connected to nature.

contemplating scripting antartica is fully populated and not frozen. itd be hyper futuristic and very diverse. possibly considered every countries property or something so you can just go in and out? thatd be such a mess but it seems fun.

they're here. fucking fuck they're here and there's already misinformation being spread. we need to hide.

𝒊'𝒎 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈.

welcome, shifttokers! we're glad you could join us, and we're happy to teach you anything you want to know! however, the community over here is a bit (vastly) different than it is on tiktok. so a few rules: 1: if you don't like it, scroll past it. if you notice this person on your dash a few times and you still don't like them, block them. there won't be hard feelings. you just don't like them. it's that simple; we're mature enough to handle it. 2: no one's d/r is 'wrong'. you can script anything at all into any universe at all. if you believe that someone can imagine a whole reality, build a d/r or w/r from scratch, but you don't believe they can script 'unnatural' stuff, like a loved one being alive or a pet living forever, then you need to reevaluate your opinions. 3: we listen and we don't judge. sometimes, you'll see people 'judging' each other, but that tends to be between friends (i.e. me and @shiftingwithmars about anything with ethan or me and @zipper-is-ranting anytime i mention the person i like in this reality). yes, some of us have hooker or sugar baby d/rs. some of us have severely traumatic d/rs. and it's not your place to tell another shifter what they can or can't do in their d/r. it's their d/r. you don't have to go. 4: learn about loa. please, please dedicate a little time to learning about the law of assumption, it's so so helpful when you're shifting.

having said all that, i really do hope that you can enjoy your time on shiftblr! it's a lovely community, and i really do think you'll enjoy yourselves here.

𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈!