#Carlo Ratti

[marko-dwight]

Democratizing Reality: Designing for VR, AR and the Metaverse

Democratizing Reality: Designing for VR, AR and the Metaverse

Democratizing Reality: Designing for VR, AR and the Metaverse Courtesy of Refik Anadol installation Share Share Facebook Twitter Mail Pinterest Whatsapp Or https://www.archdaily.com/984304/democratizing-reality-designing-for-vr-ar-and-the-metaverse Architecture shapes our lives every day, but how can it be decentralized? At the core of efforts to design extended reality (XR)…

[mossandfog]

Architect Carlo Ratti Proposes Replacement for Baltimore Bridge Collapse

After the tragic and dramatic bridge collapse in Baltimore Maryland, a replacement needs to be built to handle the heavy traffic. Renowned Italian architect Carlo Ratti has proposed a modern, cable-stayed bridge to replace it, with a clean, crisp design. The improved replacement will feature a longer span and raised clearance of 230 feet, up from the previous bridge’s 185 feet. In order to…

[edgargonzalez]

Carlo Ratti, comisario de la Biennale de Venecia 2025

La Junta Directiva de La Biennale di Venezia ha anunciado hoy, 21 de diciembre, que el arquitecto e ingeniero italiano Carlo Ratti será el próximo director de la Exposición Internacional de Arquitectura. La 19ª edición tendrá lugar en 2025, del 24 de mayo al 23 de noviembre. Carlo Ratti es profesor en el MIT, donde dirige el Senseable City Lab, y socio fundador del estudio internacional de diseño…

[dlyarchitecture]

[heffrondriving]

brb getting sent straight to heaven by big time rush's immaculate harmonies?????

[sheltiechicago]

Carlo Ratti proposes "world's largest urban solar farm" in Rome for World Expo 2030

Carlo Ratti, Italo Rota and Richard Burdett have designed Rome's bid for the World Expo 2030

According to Carlo Ratti Associati (CRA), Rota and Burdett, the idea is that all nations contributing to the World Expo 2030 would help to run the system.

It centres around a giant solar farm

The solar farm would power the exhibition site

[lxclerc]

𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 ─ 𝐦𝐯𝟏

summary: where max verstappen is the subject of a love song from a singer who never writes love songs pairing: max verstappen x american singer!reader faceclaim: no one specifically but based off olivia rodrigo

note: me? writing max verstappen? smau fluff? on main? everyone look away.

dailyynupdates

liked by user33, user4, user16 and others

dailyynupdates yn was seen around monte carlo the past few days, taking pictures with fans and allegedly cozying up with three time world champion max verstappen

view all 104,210 comments...

user12 what is going on in the house of commons because this was the last thing i expected

user39 this is quite literally the most random pairing i've ever stumbled across

user91 how do they even know each other 😭 user63 right like...where did this even come from? how did it start? literally how did they meet? they could not be farthest apart in the sphere of famous people

user19 now who the hell is max verstappen and why is he with my wife?

user49 oh girl you have a lot to catch up on the max lore user71 max is a formula one driver user56 saying max is a formula 1 driver like he currently isn't dominating the sport to the point where people hates him saying he's making it boring since he keeps winning because he's just that fucking good that literally no other driver can keep up is kinda wild user10 oh so our girl's new man is good at his job user52 "good at his job might just be the biggest understatement of the century when it comes to max. man's a fucking beast at his job

user48 i dont have to see her with her ratty ex anymore omfg war is over

user93 dare i say...they're adorable

user82 yn being in an age appropriate, healthy relationship? i never thought the day would come

user74 we won for real 🥹🫶

dailyynupdates

liked by user23, user31, user69 and others

dailyynupdates max and yn in a video posted by yn's friend 😭

view all 59,129 comments...

user93 oh my god look at them 😭

user81 they look so in love i want to cry

user65 "maximillian, do i look pretty like this?" "you always look pretty" i couldn't quite catch what he said at the end but 😭😭😭

user85 dutch here and i believe he said "laiverd" which means darling user75 this means so much to me user65 you just made my entire week

user45 seeing her in love after all the shit men is healing a part of me i didnt know was broken

user53 max fixing her hood then kissing her cheek what if you just stabbed me

user31 every time i see these, i get the urge to take a shot of bleach 😀

sincerelyyn ✓

liked by conangrey, maxverstappen1, taylorswift and others

sincerelyyn can't have a conversation if it's not all about you

view all 402,452 comments...

yourfriend as the other person of those conversations, he's fine i guess 😒

sincerelyyn you know i love youuuuu

taylorswift love seeing you happy ❤️

sincerelyyn ❤️❤️ user73 mother is all of us user63 you know it's real when it's taylor swift approved

conangrey i hate happy couples i hope you both trip 🫶

sincerelyyn die 🫶

user92 their friendship is everything to me

user15 not girlie trying to soft launch like we all don't know who it is 😭

user43 THEYRE SO ‼️🥵🥰⚠️

user65 you're so right

user24 i'm so happy finally seeing our girl happy 😭

user84 "someday i'll be everything to somebody else" YES YOU ARE BABYGIRL 😭

maxverstappen1

liked by sincerelyyn, charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 my american girl 🩷

view all 308,291 comments...

charles_leclerc i still can't believe this is happening

maxverstappen1 for someone who don't even follow me, you sure are early to my posts 😒 user91 max gagged him with that im afraid

landonorris please please max talk to her about getting me tickets 😭

user85 lando is just like us fr struggling to get guts tour tickets maxverstappen1 no ❤️ landonorris 😔 sincerelyyn @landonorris let me get you in contact with my team 🤍 maxverstappen1 baby noooo sincerelyyn be nice, max landonorris HELL YEAH THANKS YN user42 this is the crossover i never thought i needed

user66 max posting non racing content and being all soft in the comments for yn in what world am i in

user52 fr i feel like im in an alternate universe 😭

sincerelyyn love youuuu

maxverstappen1 love you more

sincelyyn i never knew love could be so golden till i met you <3

maxverstappen1 mijn hele hart is van jou, schat (you own my entire heart, darling) user42 they mean so very much to me 😭

danielricciardo god the two of you make me nauseous

maxverstappen1 hating because you ain't us danielricciardo im not liking that attitude, kid 😒 user71 daniel is so us

sincerelyyn

liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, yourfriend and others

sincerelyyn so american will be out on all platforms at midnight. a letter to the man i love, the only way i know how ❤️

view all 592,649 comments...

maxverstappen1 i adore you with everything in my being ❤️

sincerelyyn ik hou van je (i love you)

i hope you guys liked this as much as i loved writing it 🫶

[qdbs-writes]

RE bois with Zombie!Reader that just wants to live in their tiny house in peace? Please?

RE Lads Reacting to Chill-Zombie!Reader

Leon Kennedy

You could have all the warning signs and barbed wire in the world around your little zombie house and Leon would still manage to bumble his way through your front door, yelling at you like you're the reason he's there.

He'll see that you're a zombie and instinctively round-house kick you into your tiny makeshift kitchen. He's about to rip the basil you were growing out of its pot when he notices how nice your little zombie house is. It was definitely better than his ratty apartment. Leon will have a small crisis of faith as he finally considers getting a bed frame.

Chris Redfield

Sees the words 'DON'T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE' on your little house and takes that as some kind of challenge. Surely whoever wrote that warning didn't mean him, what's the worse that could happen if he kicked in the door?

Off the door comes from its hinges, while Chris sweeps your one-room home with the barrel of his gun. He can't help but think to himself that this is a suspiciously nice zombie house. As his gaze reaches the last corner of your house, he spots you perched on your neatly made zombie bed, crocheting a little zombie blanket (even dead people need hobbies). When you continue to crochet awkwardly, albeit a bit slower than before, Chris decides he's made a terrible mistake, and backs out nervously, attempting to put the broken door back in its place as he leaves.

Carlos Olivera

He'd read the warning on your house as 'DON'T DEAD, OPEN INSIDE' and would still be like "This sign can't stop me; because I can't read!".

Deciding that the door would be too obvious of an entryway, Carlos instead sails through your window, knocking something over in the process. When he gets up, he sees you, a little zombie, sitting at a small breakfast table, watching the news on a grainy, antique TV. Carlos follows your gaze to his feet, where he sees the now-destroyed pie you had left to cool on the windowsill. Carlos is heartbroken as he remembers the pies his Abuela used to bake. Saddened at seeing your hard work go to waste, Carlos jumps into action. "Don't worry," he says "I can fix this!". He gets to work in your little kitchen and in no time at all, a new pie is in the oven. Afraid of breaking anything else, Carlos apologises one last time before he leaves, and you smile delightedly back at him.

Albert Wesker

For whatever bullshit reason he has to hide somewhere and decides the little, highly-defended cottage you live in would be perfect.

He slams your front door shut behind him, huffy and sweaty before he notices a surprisingly well-kept zombie nestled in an armchair, reading a book. Enjoy a healthy dose of silent, prolonged eye contact, until Wesker takes a look around the quaint, bombed-out hovel that you've made for yourself. Assuming you can speak, he's gonna have a lot of questions. They mostly center around if you would like to kindly enter this luxurious iron-barred box he keeps at all times... No, it's not a cage, it just looks like a cage! And no, the armed men with tranquilizer darts aren't here to hurt you, he promises!

Ethan Winters

Considering this man's luck, he'd probably come crashing in through your ceiling, groaning and cussing as he lands in a heap on your threadbare carpet.

Ethan sees that he's just fallen into your zombie house and wonders for a moment why bad things only seem to happen to him. But he struggles to get up after landing on his ankle. Steadily, you pull up a chair for him and make him a coffee, which was probably the most appetizing thing Ethan has had shoved in his face lately, so he drinks it. And it's not bad coffee either, maybe you used to work in a Starbucks. You and Ethan sit in amicable silence while he finishes his drink, thanking you quietly before hobbling out the door. He turns back as he leaves your garden and you send him off with a little wave. You were definitely a nice zombie.

[leclsrc]

This req is gonna sound weird but do yk that scene in friends where ross is hugging rachel by the legs? on his knees? could i have a charles drabble w/ that? ty!

the final frame – cl16

You and Charles move in together, among other things.

auds here... this req is from before christmas hahaha. i do not watch friends so i scoured the internet for this ‘scene’, i hope i was right and i hope i did this req justice! this is the last one for now and i’ll hopefully reopen them fr in a minute. title from this

The night’s colder than you anticipated, a cool draft sending goosebumps up your forearm as you inspect the fillet of salmon in the oven. You step forward, off where you’d been leaning on the island, to heave the window shut—the act usually requires all your strength—but Charles bounds into you from behind, pressing insistent, laughing kisses onto your neck.

“C,” you say, giggling yourself, a hand coming up to stroke at the nape of his neck. “Stop, there are people in the next room.”

He bites on your jaw a little and you laugh. “Next room, babe. Like, right in the next—just two metres—!”

Laughing still, he finally lets up and effortlessly shuts the window himself. He pecks another kiss, just on the tip of your nose, murmurs I love you and lets it settle into the herb-smelling air. “Are you tipsy?” You ask, teasing. He winks.

“No—really, though,” you press a little, lacing your hands together. “You’re fine?”

“Totally.” He smiles. “Bit nervous.”

“I was, too,” you start, squeezing his hand, “until I remembered these are literally just our friends. And they’re stupid, and they’ll probably love us even if we announced we murdered someone.”

He nods and smiles, slots your mouths together. When he pulls away, he murmurs, “I love you. You look beautiful.”

Really, you’re just in a two-year-old dress from a flea market in Provence, and your hair is dry and ratty and tied into a bun, but you appreciate the compliment. He’s being genuine, eyes gliding over you with ease as he presses yet another kiss to your cheek; you loop your arms around his neck, smiling up at him. This is so foolish, you think, to be so idiotically in love like this, but it’s Charles, and it makes so much sense.

“You’re glowing, really.” He doesn’t give, still spouting compliments like a broken fountain. 

“You suck.” You’ve never been good at accepting compliments, which seems ironic because you’re with a man who loves words, loves to tell you how much you mean to him, muffled by skin or said through a mic or in French or Italian. You tug him closer. “Should we go?”

He pauses, exhales. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Your friend group has gathered here, at Charles’ place, under the pretense that you’re trying to finish the ridiculously expensive bottle of wine Charles had purchased from France, but really, it’s for you both to announce your moving in together. Little milestones like these have always been celebrated by your group, and this is no different; tonight, Max has even volunteered to fix the clock that permanently reads 12:38 on Charles’ flat’s mantle.

You lead the way from the kitchen into the living room, where everyone is engaged in some kind of chatter or activity. Lily’s legs are draped over Alex’s lap and she’s coaching him through a Rubik’s cube. Lando is busy telling a joke to Carlos and Isa. And Max is three feet off the ground fiddling with a clock, turning deviously to ask: “Where have you two been?”

“Shagging,” you reply with nonchalance. 

“Your hair’s still perfect,” Lily says disapprovingly. “Don’t lie!”

You roll your eyes, stifling a smile as you lean into Charles’ arm that’s wrapped itself around your shoulders. In the future, you’ll tell yourself you should’ve noticed his clammy hand pressed against your arm, or turned and noticed his blank stare, his too-nervous gait. So many signs, you’ll think, and you ignored them all because you felt so damn happy. “Okay, I’m lying. The truth is…”

You turn to him, brows raising. “…you wanna go?”

“I wan—do you?”

“Sure, if you—”

“Just tell us!” Lando yells impatiently, sitting straighter, abandoning the joke in favor of this. “Tell us. Now!”

“Okay, um, we—well, a few months ago we decided we kind of. No, we definitely wanted to live together. And, to save you all the sexy details of getting leases and looking around Monaco for flats—we got one just two weeks ago. So this is—what it is, is it’s, uh, really a dinner to celebrate saying bye-bye to Charles’ flat. Okay? Right. Okay.”

You pause. The room erupts in whoops and cheers—many utterances of the word finally! float across the room. Immediately Isa and Lily are standing, demanding to see pictures of the new place, directions they can input into their cars and phones so they know exactly how to get there. Carlos, Lando, and Alex all cheer, offer alcohol as housewarming gifts. Max nearly drops the clock.

And this is it, you think, the rest of your life’s been decided. With this group, and your Charles, and the flat that will be yours by tomorrow morning.

—

Your house doesn’t feel much like home.

You know it’s an unfair statement, that it’s only really been two, three months of living together. But something has shifted, something you cannot name no matter how hard you try to. It’s just as cold tonight as it was the night you were in Charles’ old place announcing this one, but everything feels different now.

The move had started excitedly, with you sending near daily updates to the group chat with Isa and Lily, of paint swatches and ship-ins from IKEA. They sent flowers, came over to inspect the place, and so did everyone else—Max returned the now repaired clock, nailed it onto a spot on the wall the entire group agreed on. Slowly, bit by bit, the place began to feel like it was yours. 

But the nights without Charles grew long, and the days with him at work or at the gym or at a media affair—some of which he’d easily denied in favor of you before—grew more frequent. The flat, big and wide and lofty in an affluent neighborhood, felt bigger when he was gone. You were alone, a stranger in your own house, without him. 

You can’t pinpoint anything.

You can’t pinpoint the when, the how, the why, the if. To you, everything is vague, and that’s the worst part: how can you fix something you can barely understand? You haven’t shared a cup of coffee in ages, and the most you see of him is half his foot departing the front door in the morning. It could be work, it could be the preparing for the season, but in six years of being together nothing’s felt quite like this. You wonder if it’s deliberate. 

But your texts to Isa and Lily stay the same. Cream or eggshell? Cerulean or slate? And when they ask about Charles, you ignore the bite of guilt and lie instead. C and I just had brunch, he said eggshell, but the truth is, you’re the one settling on eggshell. You’d asked him ‘cream or eggshell’ three weeks ago and he said he’d think about it but he didn’t come home until four, and he hasn’t answered it.

He gets in on Saturday night earlier than usual, eyes dark with exhaustion. He’s wearing a suit, and you don’t know why. You can’t place half the places he’s been lately. His texts are choppy, standoffish. Here. Leaving soon. I’ll see you? “Hi, baby,” he croaks when he sees you nursing wine at the kitchen counter.

“C,” you say quietly. “Hi. When did you get in?”

“Just now, I was driven.” 

“Oh.” You pause. “Want a glass?” You raise the bottle.

He seems to hesitate, stopping in his tracks a bit before nodding defeatedly and pacing toward you. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheekbone, then finally your lips. You relish this, because you haven’t had it in so long. This intimacy, this affection, this kiss that isn’t pressed onto you while you’re asleep and he comes home with apologies flowing from his lips.

You pull away, pour him a glass of red. “Isn’t it crazy to think we have a home now?”

His smile flickers a little, and you notice. You try not to sound nosy when you pry. “C,” you say, the lump rising in your throat. Here you are, celebrating one of the happiest chapters of your life, but Charles won’t even meet your eyes. This is it. After months of not knowing, you think, you have to know. Now. “Are you okay?”

The wine is only half-poured. He sighs shakily, shakes his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sounds so, so far away.

“You’re scaring me,” you say, laughing. But you sound more nervous than amused. He sounds nervous, too.

“Baby,” he says suddenly, like a dam in his mind has broken and everything is spilling out, all the damage, all of it, and it’s washing onto you like a massive wash of water. “Baby, I—I fucked up.”

You cannot withstand the wave. Your eyebrows knit together. “Tell me,” you insist. Even more surprisingly, he crumples to his knees, hugs your thighs and leans against you. You press, anyway. “Talk to me, C. Please.”

“You can’t fix this,” he says resolutely, “you abso—you can’t.”

“I will,” you say. “I love you.”

“I slept with someone else.” This is a great, big, terrible feeling. You really can’t fix this. You’re back to being clueless. Your heart stops, and so does your breath, heavy and heaving. Words are dry when they try to leave your throat, leap off your tongue. Your hand, threaded into Charles’ hair, pauses. You feel him crying, but you feel nothing else.

“You what,” you ask. It’s so dry, everything is desert dry. A whisper, a breath, a murmur in the cold kitchen.

“I’m sorry.”

“C,” you say, and you can’t even cry yet. You’re stunned, struck with dizzy disbelief. “Was it—when, like, last season…?”

His silence answers you, and you stumble backwards, out of his grasp. You shake your head, like you’re trying to quell the tears, the lump in your throat, the nerves in your stomach that threaten to bubble over.

“Don’t say this year.” You shake your head, over and over, shaking and shaking, like it will rid you of the conversation you’re currently having. You think of the paperwork, of the nearly dropped clock, of signing the lease, of eggshell and flowers, of housewarming gifts yet to be unwrapped.

Tearily, you muster, “Don’t tell me, C. Don’t fucking do this to me, please. Don’t.”

“I barely even know her,” he says. “Once. It happened once. It meant nothing.” Your soul crushes, shot and wilted.

“No, it meant everything,” you say angrily. You’re angry now. Angry and sad, and furious and boiling with rage. You’re everything. You’re a house fire, right here in the flat. 

And you stand, feet bare on the tile, thinking about how you’ll have to live with this forever, branded like an ugly stamp. You loved and he did not. Get out, you say. Get out and don’t come back, I don’t care. Don’t fucking come back. You shove him weakly, but he gets the message, ushers himself to the coat rack. You’re not even yelling. You’re just breathing heavy, shaking your head, like you’re denying this ever happened.

You only cry when he’s left, loud, exruciating sobs. He wrestles himself outside still apologizing, saying he’ll be back tomorrow. You’re torn between hoping he will be and hoping you never see him again, crumpled to the hardwood of your brand new house, knees weak, heart weaker. You don’t get up until morning. 

[whoami-24601]

Dando blurb:

Settling down in his hotel bed in Abu Dhabi, Daniel decides to check out his socials before he attempts to sleep. In his Instagram inbox, he sees Lando sent him a message:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by FORMULA 1® (@f1)

No comments, only the video. Daniel watches it and laughs as he realizes Lando is pointing out how he and Max answered Daniel while Daniel said Valterri. Chuckling to himself, Danny writes back, "jealous much?"

He doesn't have to wait long for a response. LandoNorris: "not jealous because i know it's not true."

"It could be true!" Daniel argues. "Val and I go way back. I've known him since you were in diapers."

LandoNorris: "Gross."

When Lando doesn't add anything else, Daniel decides to be kind. "I have to mix things up occasionally or it gets boring. I always say you and Max."

He adds a minute later, "and you usually say Carlos so I guess we both were."

LandoNorris: "I pick Carlos for daytime activities like golf."

Daniel smiles to himself, recognizing the comment for what it is. "Oh, so you prefer Max at night?" he teases.

LandoNorris: "I was going to come to your room tonight but I changed my mind."

"Nooooo," Daniel says out loud. He writes, "because you like ME best at night?"

LandoNorris: "I hate you."

LandoNorris: "and, yes. Obviously."

"You'd better come quick. I'm already in bed."

Daniel hears a knock just a minute later. Startled, he thought there is no way that is Lando already. He glances down at himself and decides his ratty t shirt and shorts are fine, regardless of who is there. He opens the door without looking through the peephole and is shocked to find LandoNorris in the flesh. "How did you get here so fast?"

Lando pushes past Daniel, with a bag swung over his shoulder. "I was already on my way. I got ready when you responded. Wanted to make sure you were up." He tosses his bag on a chair and walks into the bathroom.

"Calling would have been easier and faster," Danny replied, following Lando through the room.

"Sure," Lando answered without elaborating. He emerges in his own shorts and t shirt, ruffling his hair. "Bedtime?" he asks, looking back at Danny, standing in the middle of the room.

"My second favorite nighttime activity," Danny agrees. He walks up to Lando and slowly puts his arms around the other man's waist.

"I'm not that fragile " Lando huffs, returning the soft hug.

"You're a little fragile," Danny disagrees. With a quick kiss, he pulls back and directs Lando to the bed. He slowly crawls in, pain still clear in his movements. "I got it, Bear," Danny offers, grabbing the blankets to lift them higher.

"Thanks, Danny," Lando says as he settles in the bed, turning on his side. "Coming?" he asks, seemingly irritated but more likely just tired.

"Just making sure you're good first. I'll get the lights and be right there." Daniel turns off the lights and crawls in next to Lando, careful as he puts his arm out, knowing Lando will want him as a pillow.

"Is your favorite nighttime activity stargazing?" Lando asks as he closes his eyes.

"Absolutely." Daniel tightens his arm around Lando gently and closes his eyes. "Gazing in your eyes is the best thing ever."

"Such a muppet," Lando slurs, already falling asleep.

[zuzufromtheafterlife]

Calming Slams

Carlos stormed through the Isle of the Lost, heading from his mother's manor to the VKs hangout. It wasn't often that he got worked up into a mood such as this and as he slammed the door to the hideout behind him, Jay realised he must've had a bad fight with his mother for it to get like this. He was lucky the girls weren't yet at the hideout or Carlos would have a different situation on his hands for causing such a ruckus.

"Carlos," Jay called out, a warning to the smaller boy as he headed to his corner of the room, digging through his items in search of something and throwing everything else in a random direction. Watching the destruction begin, Jay pushed himself over to try and sort this out. Grabbing onto one of Carlos' arms, Jay tried to speak, "You need to calm down."

"Oh yeah?" Carlos stood quickly, whirling around on Jay and pushing him back, breaking the contact between them. "Make me."

Jay wasn't normally the one rising to bait, often setting it the challenge to people like Harry, but he wasn't ever one to back down from a challenge. Grabbing Carlos by the front of his shirt and dragging him back, Jay thrusts him down onto the ratty old couch that they had, holding him there with a heavy hand on his chest as he attempted to get up, trying to pull Jay's hand away.

Jay stayed put, waiting Carlos out as the bot continued to struggle for a few moments before finally giving up, heaving breaths leaving him as he stared up with defiant eyes. "Are you finally done?"

"Get off of me," Carlos instead said, pushing himself up in a hurry when Jay did so. A glare steeled its way onto Carlos' face as he shot it Jay's way. "What was that?"

"I was calming you down," Jay defended himself, taking a heavy seat next to Carlos as he fell into it. Carlos tried pushing himself away from Jay but the larger boy had other plans as he wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in close and trapping him at his side. Carlos couldn't tell if he was still attempting to calm him down or anger him more. "You're the one who told me to."

"Not like that," Carlos groaned, a hand slapping Jay as he was wrestled forward.

Read here on ao3 @eclipsingbingo

[tyanis]

Poll: Which male Resident Evil character likely played their school's mascot?

We all love a good school mascot.

Well, love may be a strong word... but still, if a high school or college had a ratty, smelly costume ready to wear, there was going to be at least one student willing to wear it...

Winner goes on to face the winner of the female poll so make sure to vote in both!

[dlyarchitecture]

[matchheadz]

Host of Seraphim Chapter 7!

Well, that was fun, wasn't it? Chapter 7 of my mystery horror fic is uploaded to Ao3 now that everything is up and running again.

In this one: Nero wrangles the army, Dante has an espresso, and Lady has a few words.

Vergil disappeared after an argument he had with Nero a few chapters ago and hasn't been seen since. Life goes on, however. Life goes on. Life just... goes on without him, doesn't it? God... is he old?

Here's a small spoiler-free snippet!:

"You alright there, old man?" Nero said between brushstrokes. He was dressed for the day already, with a ratty sweater over an undershirt. He swayed with Carlo in one arm, who was attempting to mimic his guardian's brush skills with his own tiny toothbrush. It even had four legs and a dinosaur head, perfect for their little boy’s obsession. Dante crossed his legs and placed his hands under his head, giving him a small thumbs-up as he did so. "Oh yeah," Dante replied, his voice touching that foreign gravel. "I like a firm mattress; it really sets the spine, you know?" He hissed as he sat himself up, the aforementioned bones cracking at the adjustment. Nero winced in sympathy. “Yeah, sorry about that. The couch is probably as old as I am. She needs a restuffing for sure.” His eyes roamed the old, ruined couch momentarily, "And probably some patches and a restitching…." All around him were the sounds of children preparing themselves for the… night? Dante peered out behind his nephew towards the sliding glass door, the sky still paved with that inky blue they had fallen asleep to. "Damn, kid, you really hate sleep, don't you?" Dante stood to his feet, stumbling out of the way as Kyle and Kat chased after one another with only half their collective shoes on. "Kyle! You know better; no running in the house!" Nero barked, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth and putting on that fatherly glare of his. "I want you to get your and Carlo's backpacks ready while Julio gets Damien dressed.” He shook his head exasperatedly, and Dante watched as Carlo mimicked him with a scrunched little face. “Kids’ bus comes before sunrise. I always tell them if they miss it, they have to deal with the consequences of not going to school and doing chores around the house for the whole eight hours they’re gone.” Dante let loose a small laugh, stretching his creaking arms over his head. God, was he old? “They ever have to?” “Once was enough to get the point across.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47078704/chapters/122344726