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[floridapainting]

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[janekoh]

I need true love ❤️🥰🌹

[leclerc-s]

paint the town red - part ten

THE GREAT ADMIN WAR

series masterlist

HUNGARY 2024

charles leclerc i'm sorry seb! you can't be mad at me.

sebastian vettel charles, you told the internet i had a crush on mark

charles leclerc but you did?

carlos sainz and you told them about his almost make-out with max.

ollie bearman we all saw that coming. i was around for mexico last year.

tony stark are you sleeping with the enemy leclerc?

charles leclerc no.

harley keener oh boy wait until this guy finds out who he is sleeping with

charles leclerc shut your fucking mouth keener!

tony stark i promised pepper i would stop being annoying

arthur leclerc WAIT- IS HE- OH MY GOD!

tony stark WHAT THE HELL DID YOU GET FROM THAT?

ollie bearman OH MY GOD! HOW IS HE THE GENIUS?

bianca stark-potts oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.

biancastark_potts posted new stories

me & bae

for context, this is what he sent me at 7:30 in the morning.

carol danvers added one person

wanda maximoff so he's bae now?

bianca stark-potts no? yelena belova she loooves him

kamala khan oh my god this is the best day of my life.

yelena belova that is a child.

carol danvers kamala is not a child.

queen shuri how old is she?

kamala khan i'm 16!

riri williams by the way, who's bianca seeing?

queen shuri charles

riri williams HER DRIVER?

natasha romanoff now that i think about he is exactly her type.

pepper potts goofy? michelle jones will most likely blush when she calls him a pet name? wanda maximoff flirts with his childhood rival? queen shuri green eyes? natasha romanoff exactly.

bianca stark-potts when have i ever dated someone like him?

yelena belova SO YOU ARE DATING?!

bianca stark-potts NO STOP IT!

kamala khan but she likes him!

bianca stark-potts WHO LET THE CHILD IN HERE?

carol danvers i have never been this interested in someone's love life before.

kamala khan that's because you were in space for the longest time and are now dating an asgardian. carol danvers KAMALA! kamala khan i'm getting the feeling that no one knew that.

natasha romanoff WHAT? WHO?

bianca stark-potts 10 bucks it's valkyrie

carlos danvers 10 bucks bianca's dating charles but won't admit it because she's afraid that natasha and wanda will do what they did last time.

wanda maximoff it was something perfectly normal to do.

bianca stark-potts YOU BROKE INTO HIS HOUSE! natasha romanoff and he ended up cheating on you so really, no regrets.

michelle jones does charles know that harry was the one who gave you the dog? the same dog who loves charles very much and that charles adores?

kate bishop OSBORN?

bianca stark-potts not my brightest moment

kate bishop EVERYONE KNOWS OSBORN IS THE BIGGEST DICKHEAD AROUND!!

bianca stark-potts HE WASN'T A DICKHEAD WHEN WE FIRST STARTED DATING!!

kate bishop HE'S ALWAYS BEEN A DICKHEAD! HE JUST TRICKED YOU!

peter parker heeyy, guess what i just found out talking to red bull's media admin.

isaiah atkins peter if this another genius idea to wage war against the other teams i will tie you against our hospitality.

peter parker that is aggressive. but no bianca's going to hate this.

harley keener oh this is gonna be good.

peter parker guess who red bull invited to the next gp.

tony stark oh no. bianca stark-potts i knew this was going to bite me in the ass when carol brought him up.

charles leclerc what are we talking about?

harley keener oh boy, i can't wait to see how this one will go down.

bianca stark-potts HARLEY SHUT THE FUCK UP!

tony stark seriously hungary of all places? why not miami or monaco? hell texas or vegas would be a better place.

tony stark can't believe the dickhead said yes.

sebastian vettel what the hell is he upset about now?

peter parker oh it's great, bianca's ex boyfriend is attending the hungarian grand prix with red bull. peter parker the same one who gave her the dog we all know and love

bianca stark-potts PETER!!

ollie bearman i thought you said a friend gave you that?

harley keener oh it gets better. he asked her out with the dog as a gift.

charles leclerc oh.

charles leclerc would you look at that i suddenly have something to do with my brother.

arthur leclerc we do? charles leclerc yes we do

tony stark what's wrong with him?

sebastian vettel how do you not get it?

peter parker i'm also confused.

ollie bearman you're both hopeless.

ex-boyfriend huh?

harry and i dated but i never brought him up because he cheated on me. it's just- it's not important

he gave you a dog when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

i asked you out using a lightning mcqueen meme that you posted on your story.

and it was very adorable charles. i wouldn't change it for the world.

i'm not asking for you to do extravagant things like harry did. usually when he did them it meant he was cheating on me again.

a dog is not extravagant.

and what do you mean again?

it happened like four or five times each time with the same girl. the only reason i found out was because nat and wanda broke into his apartment.

they won’t do that to me right?

they might?

my apartment is a mess! they can’t break in with it like that!

glad to know those are your priorities.

are you kidding me, it’s black widow and the scarlet witch, they can’t see my messy apartment!

charles, it'll be fine. i doubt they'll break into your apartment.

but if they do?

they won't.

what if they do?

i'll talk to them.

bianca stark-potts

kamala khan that's so adorable.

michelle jones and they call this man a terror?

yelena belova he was a terror. i've seen the videos

natasha romanoff now i want to break into his apartment to see how messy it is.

wanda maximoff this is all the confirmation i needed to know that they are dating.

maria hill she warned him about you two breaking into his apartment. they're dating.

queen shuri i can't wait to see tony lose his shit over this.

riri williams i can should've seen this coming. he's exactly her type. america chavez you've been around less than me HOW DO YOU KNOW HER TYPE? riri williams i read the groupchat america!

hope van dyne i was in a meeting what did i miss?

hope van dyne OH MY GOD!! SCOTT OWES ME SO MUCH MONEY!!

bianca stark-potts YOU BET ON ME?

hope van dyne we bet that you would end up with a driver and we were right! scott thought it would be logan or lando. my money was on verstappen or charles.

alex albon all those in favor of max releasing the mad dutchman on this osborn guy

max verstappen why would i do that?

lando norris isn't it obvious? because she's dating the platonic love of your life

pierre gasly he's the platonic love of my life! yuki tsunoda do i mean nothing to you? pierre gasly yuki, no, it's not what it looks like!

george russell max just do as we ask! take him out!

oscar piastri as a date or murder? lando norris either works.

lando norris notice how he didn't argue that charles is the platonic love of his life.

max verstappen charles is not the platonic love of my life. it's daniel.

daniel ricciardo i'll take him out. i'll do it for vegas 2019!

charles leclerc NO! NO ONE TAKE HIM OUT!

charles leclerc WHAT'S THE FASTEST WAY TO CLEAN A MESSY APARTMENT?

pierre gasly WE'RE IN HUNGARY YOU IDIOT!

charles leclerc I AM IN DANGER OF IT GETTING BROKEN IN BY BLACK WIDOW AND THE SCARLET WITCH!! SOS!!

george russell WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT?

carlos sainz according to harley it's ritual to do with all of bianca's boyfriends.

max verstappen wait what does that have to do with harry?

charles leclerc oh so he's harry now? max verstappen christian said i have to be nice to him. something about him being some good investor but i couldn't care less charles leclerc take him out. max verstappen and why should i do that charles? charles leclerc ARE YOU KIDDING ME VERSTAPPEN!! HE- YOU KNOW- HE CHEATED ON BIANCA!! max verstappen and why is that important charlie? charles leclerc THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND YOU IDIOT! THAT'S WHY!

max verstappen BOOM! I WIN! PAY UP LOSERS!

pierre gasly NO YOU CALLED HIM CHARLIE! YOU CHEATED!

max verstappen I TOLD YOU LOSERS I COULD GET HIM TO CONFIRM THAT THEY WERE DATING!

charles leclerc YOU MADE A BET ON ME?

carlos sainz it's not fair, they didn't let me participate because i'm your teammate

oscar piastri can i let it be known that i didn't want anything to do with this?

logan sargeant LIAR! YOU WERE THE BOOKIE!

charles leclerc I TRUSTED YOU OSCAR!

oscar piastri it was either bookie or they were going to make me flirt with peter and figure out if he knew something.

daniel ricciardo i'm back what did i miss?

daniel ricciardo OH COME ON MAX GOT HIM TO SPILL THE BEANS BEFORE ME??

alex albon there is no getting in the way of lestappen daniel. it's time we accepted that. bianca should too if she's going to date charles.

charles sat in his room, frowning down at his phone nothing was worse than a 'we need to talk text.' his stomach currently felt like there were a million bees buzzing around in there. the knock at his door startled him and he rushed to open it, being met with the sight of of bianca. she smiled brightly at him, causing the bees to subside a bit.

"you wanted to talk?" charles asked. bianca noticed the scared expression on charles' face and her eyes widened, quickly understanding what charles thought there talk was going to about.

“no! this isn’t that kind of talk, i swear,” bianca quickly said.

“then what is it about?” charles questioned.

“can i come in?” charles nodded, stepping out of the doorway and opening the door wider, allowing her in. bianca gave him a slight smile, before moving to sit on the couch in his room. she sighed, “i owe you an explanation about harry.”

“no, you don’t,” charles said, as he sat next to her. bianca laid her head on his shoulder. charles intertwined their hands, “i do, and it’s the least i can do. besides, if i learned anything from that relationship it’s that honesty is always the way right thing to do.”

“okay,” charles whispered. bianca sighed again, “i met him at some charity event my dad was holding, when i was a little girl, before he was iron man. os corp was stark industries biggest rival, it still is. but somehow we were friends growing up.”

“romeo and juliet,” charles muttered. bianca laughed, “funny, my mom said the same thing. we- we didn’t start dating until we were 17, both of our dads were against it, but norman. norman saw it as an opportunity to show the public that he and my didn’t hate each other. i was a business opportunity to him.”

charles frowned, "that's not very nice of him."

"well he turned out to be a supervillain on another earth who hated peter. so fingers crossed he doesn't turn out like that here."

"what?"

"that's a wild story for another time," bianca explained, "but i loved harry. he was my first everything, except kiss. i lost that one in a game of truth or dare at a party when i was 13."

"hmm, i was kissed in front of a swing set when i was 9."

bianca laughed, "i loved him charlie, and he used it against me. the girl's name isn't important, although, she was very much aware that harry was in a relationship with me. the entire time we were together he was with her. 3 years of my life down the drain, wasted on someone who was never even worth it."

"i'm sorry chérie (dear) ," charles whispered as he hugged her, bianca burying her head in the crook of his neck, "you should've never gone through that with someone like him. maybe it was a good idea to convince max to take him out."

"like a date? or like murder?"

charles shrugged with one shoulder, "it doesn't matter, either works. although, i think kelly might be upset over the date one."

"and christian would upset when max ends up in prison for murder."

charles laughed and bianca giggled softly, "he's such a connard," charles said.

"i don't know what that means," bianca admitted.

"asshole. it means asshole."

"good," bianca said, "because he is one."

"we should- non c'est bête (no, it's stupid)," charles cut himself off. bianca pulled away from him, "no, what were you going to say?"

"it is dumb," charles said as he dismissed his own thoughts.

"it's not," bianca argued, "what is it?"

"we should- we should go somewhere over break. like as a couple. that is what we are no?"

bianca smiled widely at him, "yes we are, and we should. where are we going?"

"oh," charles said, surprised, "i did not think you would say yes. i have not thought that far ahead."

"it's okay. we can go anywhere. i don't mind."

"well i'm glad we are a couple because i accidentally told a few other drivers we were dating."

"charles, i called you bae, and wanda immediately caught on."

charles laughed and bianca smiled at him. she curled into him, laying her head on his chest. the stark-potts girl yawned, "can i take a nap?"

"yeah," charles whispered, "you can take a nap. i think i'll nap with you."

"i'd like that." bianca whispered as she closed her eyes.

SPA 2024

biancastark_potts posted a new story

il mio cuore, i do speak italian, despite what people think. (my heart)

liked by biancastark_potts, olliebearman, joaquintorres and others

scuderiaferrari it's a rainy one here in spa but we're glad to end the first half of the season on such a high note. it's another double podium for the ferrari boys. see y'all after the break! next stop: zandvoort!

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

view all comments

username this has literally been the best mid season ending ferrari has had in who knows how long.

username LET'S GO FERRARI!

username FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE!

harleykeener LET'S FUCKING GO!

↳ harleykeener is this what red bull felt like last year?

charles_leclerc that's caption is not written by peter and i know it.

↳ peterbparker ISAIAH GROUNDED ME AFTER THE INNOCENT WAR I WAGED!

↳ charles_leclerc at least he didn't tie you to the hospitality like he threatened.

redbullracing free peter! he did nothing wrong but have some fun!

mclaren free our boy! he did nothing wrong!

mercedesamgf1 free our fellow admin! we were having fun!

username isaiah let our boy out of prison!

biancastark_potts and we've got another amazing half to go!!

joaquintorres can't believe i wake up so early to watch men go vroom in odd shapes.

↳ samwilson you're literally in the air force

↳ joaquintorres literally shut up samuel!

username this has been the highlight of the season besides charles winning monaco and carlos winning spain.

series taglist: @elliegrey2803 @bingewatche @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @ironspdy @mypage-myfandoms @be-your-coffee-pot @celesteblack08 @vellicora @enchantedthoughts @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @embrosegraves @justtprachisblog @bionic-donut @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @jamie-selwyn @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @int3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @nothaqks @nataliambc @jensonsonlybutton @octopussesarecool @trouble-sistar @raizelchrysanderoctavius @meadhbhcavanagh @emilyval1 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @mgmoore @blushmimi @vroomvroommuppett @scarletwidow3000

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the paint the town red taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! okay, i needed to give bianca an ex but i could not be bothered to come up with a face claim or name for him so i just went with harry osborn. i know technically the osborn family doesn't exist in the main mcu universe but in my world they do. i also googled a fan cast for harry osborn and the most popular one was timothee so i went with him. please ignore any typos in this, i made this on no sleep because insomnia is a bitch.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[w1ldthoughts]

Big Man

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: Jack wants to celebrate every milestone, including a one month anniversary.

Warning: smut…yeah.

Approximately six years had passed since the last time he was someone’s boyfriend. Life was completely different now. He could actually pay for things and plan dates. But everything still had to be private. Only Urban, DK and Mani were aware of this turn of events and the new couple intended to keep it that way. The less people know about your business, the less they could comment on it. And the odds were already staked against them, there was no way they were ready to hear about how hard making the relationship work was going to be.

They agreed to see each other two weekends a month, once in Louisville and once in Miami if their schedules allowed it. Or they would be meeting each other wherever was needed. Jack had spent the last month proving to his girlfriend that he was taking this relationship seriously. Once a week she’d get a bouquet of peonies delivered to her door and in her office. He’d order her favorite food if she mentioned she didn’t have time to grab lunch that day. When he came to visit last, he stocked the pantry with her favorite snacks and even got a bunch of treats and toys for Harper.

Now that she was back in Louisville, she wanted to return the favor. To her surprise he was nowhere to be found when she got to his house. Zoey had checked pretty much every square inch of the place and was kind of pissed at the thought of him still being in the studio. She pulled out her phone to give him a call.

“Jack, where are you? I’ve been running around your house like a headless chicken looking for you.” She huffed out.

The laugh on the other end of the line made her blood boil even more. “Relax, I’m in the backyard. You should come out here, the weather is perfect.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling her anger quickly melt away at the thought of being in his arms again. The sight in the backyard took her breath away.

“What’s all this?” She asks him when he comes into view. He jogged over to her and lifted her off her feet, holding on for dear life.

“I missed you.” He whispered as he put her down, kissing the palm of her right hand with a smile.

That damn smile was going to be the death of her. “I missed you too. You didn’t tell me you were doing all of this. What’s it all for?”

“Celebrating the best month of my life. We’ve got a little picnic here and then I thought we could paint for a little bit. Then I’ll let you take mine home and I’ll keep yours here so we can have a little piece of each other to look at before the next time we’re physically together.”

Jack looks down at her to read her expression. “You think it’s corny, don’t you?”

“No! Not at all.” She exclaims. “I think it’s adorable. And I’m really excited for you look at a piece of artwork and think of me. Every. Single. Day.”

He stared at her lips as she spoke, going in slowly after she finished her sentence. She used the strings of his white hoodie to pull him in even closer, as his hand came up to stroke her cheek. Kissing her made him feel like he was floating, suspended in endless realm of tranquility. Like everything in the world just made perfect sense.

They spent the next few hours feeding each other and carefully watched YouTube tutorials with headphones on as they worked on their respective paintings.

“We should head inside and let these dry before we do our big reveal.” Jack voices, standing up from his spot across from her. He walks over to give Zoey a hand, which she happily takes as they walk into the house together to wash their hands.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” He whispers into her hair, having cuddled into Zoey on the couch as she browsed the Hulu catalog.

She turned around slightly to give him a quick peck. “Me too. Been waiting for this for a while, since the moment you left Miami.”

“You’re cute,” he chuckles. “And you smell so good.” Zoey feels a chill throughout her body as he nuzzles his face into her neck. He begins tracing long lines along her outer thigh. She responds by straddling him and placing soft kisses along his jaw.

Jack was sure he needed a better expression than cloud nine as he pulled her chin up using his index finger and gave her a lengthy, lingering kiss. He’d respected her wishes not to do anything beyond that because of his decisions throughout their break but god did he think about it a lot. The kiss grew hungrier as he snuck a hand in her shirt and began fondling her breast just enough for her to moan into his mouth. He was already half hard, his dick beginning to stand at attention.

“We should head upstairs.” Zoey expressed, her soft but subtly seductive gaze hinting at more than just another round of steamy kisses.

He catches his breath, a smile growing on his face and without another word, they headed up to his room and he locked the door behind them.

Before he could even process it, she was on top of him. “I think you’ve had enough time to get that sex binging out of your system, don’t you agree?”

Instead of responding, he stole another kiss. Zoey loved that he had a tendency to just simply worship every inch of her body, eating her out like it was the last thing he’d ever do. The tip of his tongue gliding effortlessly against her clit, using one of his hands to enhance the stimulation until she fell apart at the seams. He carefully sucked on the sensitive area until she climaxed and he gave her a minute to come down, wiping at the pre-cum that had appeared while getting her prepped.

She was a little tighter than Jack remembered, but it had also been three months since he’d been inside her so he entered her slowly, holding his breath a bit at the restraint. He heard a soft groan underneath him and his hips stilled.

“You alright, baby?”

“I’m good—great actually. Keep going.”

Jack placed gentle hands on both of her hips, relaxing into it a little more with a few short thrusts and eventually sliding all the way in.

“Oh my god…” Zoey whines in ecstasy, her breaths becoming more erratic. Every movement had him closer and closer to the edge, his grunts of pleasure increasing in volume. Usually a bit sloppier, Jack wanted to take his time and savor the moment, until he felt hands on his ass, urging him to go harder. He splayed kisses along her collarbone and he could practically feel Zoey’s stomach clenching when he picks up the pace.

Her toes began to curl while he steadily thrust in and out of her, going so deep that it felt like he was actually going to hit her cervix. They both began to lose themselves further, her eyes falling shut while he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, fucking through her orgasm. His dick twitched when he pulled out, a short whine escaping his lips as he filled the condom with his load.

After they took a short nap and had dinner, they headed back outside to present their masterpieces.

“I painted this because in a galaxy that is so massive and relatively unknown, you’re my favorite thing in the universe.” Jack beams.

“Oh my god,” she coos. “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Now I feel bad.”

Jack furrows his eyebrows, “why? I’m sure whatever you painted will be perfect.”

“Okay, hear me out. I only painted it because I love Scream and thought it would be funny. But also falling in love is scary, so there’s a little bit of a double meaning there.”

“Are you falling in love with me Zozo?” He teased, slowly moving towards to grab her hand, their fingers woven together seamlessly. She simply nods, bringing his hand to her lips. “Good. Because I’m so far gone for you, it’s not even funny.”

Zoey had a man, a big, 6’3, powerful man that she absolutely already knew she loved. But he was going to have to say it first.

Taglist

@killatravtramp

@jackharloww

@harlowcomehome

@itsyagirljaz

[hometoursandotherstuff]

OMG, here we go again! Another realtor Photoshopped how this 1933 Villa in Miami Beach, Florida would look if the rooms were modernized. 5bds, 4ba, $2.5M.

They even show you how the exterior would look painted stark white- including the path & stairs. Do they realize how dirty that would get?

No contrast anymore for that beautiful fireplace.

Realtor added furniture.

What a lovely sunroom.

The original kitchen, with the cabinetry painted white. A friend just sold her house and the realtor told her to paint it all white and remove everything from the kitchen counter. Not even a cookie jar. Nothing.

Realtor's example of a modernized kitchen with boring flat-pack cabinetry.

Stairs to the 2nd floor.

The empty primary bedroom.

The realtor's modern furnishings.

This is the best one- this home has beautiful original retro bathrooms.

The realtor's vision of a total gut.

This is an original room. Why did the realtor miss modernizing it?

Large deck in the back of the home.

Beautiful yard and gardens.

Oh, I see what the realtor did here- Photoshopped the exterior white so it matches the neighboring houses.

[undrgrnd-nft]

Tezos Goes Big

I really didn’t want to write this, I swear. I have real work to do, podcasts to edit and my daughter is home sick; but, it’s like holding in a sneeze, when I have something to say it’s best to get it out.

This is not about the @tezos event at Art Basel Miami. It may be what is driving the conversation but this is not really about the displays in a lobby of a hotel.

This is the culmination of years of disrespect to a driving force of adoption and endemic of the crypto space (and society) at large.

Art rejuvenating dead space is not a novel concept. In fact, in Miami, there’s an entire area that could have been used as a template by all blockchains. It’s called Wynnewood, look it up and you’ll get the New York Times article I reference all the time.

What was once an industrial park became a hub for restaurants, music and entertainment: culture.

Why? Because some graffiti artists began painting on the cold gray walls of a concrete jungle.

Did those artists share any of the financial gain brought to the neighborhood? No, but think of the exposure!

Web3 was not built by nor built for creatives like us (yea, I’m putting myself in that group, shut up about it). It was built by boys and men that look, talk and act like me (white, male, presumable douchey based on appearance) but lack a moral and emotional foundation.

They use the right words, have picked up key phrases and platitudes, but at the core it’s not about the things many of us value. It’s not about art.

It’s not about a reorganization of institutions that were built to keep specific classes, races and sexes subservient.

It is not building a utopian-Marxist future where the moral and decent are rewarded financially for their collective effort.

Look at the state of streaming services: Netflix, Hulu, Paramount, Peacock, Max. What was once meant to disrupt the cable industry has now become Cable Networks 2.0.

The same is true in crypto. What started as a revolution has become a hype parade led by influencers masquerading as cultural relevance.

Remember the @TezosFoundation Permanent Collection drama? In a Twitter space shortly after things began to spiral downward, one of the leads made a comment on the criticisms, “if this is the response maybe we won’t do this again.”

We all knew it then.

But many of us came here to create something better. So we, many of them my friends, gave second chances, put a positive spin on it and took their opportunity when it was offered.

I was jealous.

Because I would have done the same.

UNDRGRND is just me: a stay at home dad, taking care of a toddler who disrupts the means of production constantly. I know how hard it is to put together something and share it with an audience.

But so does every artist I write about.

So when we watch people with large budgets, people who are able to make a living on crypto already, getting paid to present the work of others and the result is done with the level of care it takes to hang a Missing Cat poster on a telephone pole, it’s infuriating.

Many of the artists I’ve gotten to know over these past three years were creative directors in their web2 lives. Do you know what they could have done with a fraction the amount of money @tezos has in its war chest?

It’s disrespectful.

It always has been.

I’m going to push post on this in a few minutes and the anxiety is rising. I know others are going to criticize what I’m launching in the coming months.

I’m in a glass house throwing rocks.

The difference is I’m not deluded enough to think I have all the answers or have an ego like I’ve done anything yet.

I’m just a guy writing about the things I like while my four-year-old sleeps on me.

This was never about the display.

It was about the devaluation of creatives for years and the continuation of a broken social contract that promised an idealistic future.

So heed the lesson because we’re tired of this shit.

And I’m fucking coming…

- Founder of UNDRGRND, @NFTjoe

[icarus-suraki]

Please forgive me a moment but oh my gaw... For just $1,600,000 this narco-chic house in beautiful Raleigh, NC, could be yours.

Excuse me while I get my @mcmansionhell on but oh. my gaw. There's a lot of repainting and staging in this one, but they can't hide all the beautiful, beautiful sins in this house. Personally I think the new owner should embrace this house as a lost set from Miami Vice or Scarface. Lean into the pastels, get 1980s furniture, add so many houseplants, and get your "greed is good" on.

tl;dr: this would be a great house to do cocaine in.

Also: mirrored toilet.

Knock knock! Mr. Montana? Are you in?

Built in 1988; 4 beds, 5 baths, 5360 square feet

Of course it has a lawyer foyer--kind of.

It's like a disbarred lawyer foyer. Crooked lawyer foyer.

That chandelier looks like a shower head leaking goo and I hate it.

Now we're getting into it:

The first of many, many mirrors.

The current owners have clearly repainted the whole place in "modern" colors but you can't fool us. We see that carpeted open-riser staircase that's just perfect for Michelle Pfeiffer as Elvira Hancock to saunter down before taking another bump of cocaine.

Oh here we go:

Is that... Is that...

YEAH IT IS, BITCH. THAT'S AN ETCHED MIRROR TWO-STORY FIREPLACE DEPICTING ATHENA SENDING FORTH HER OWL HOLY SHIT. And that's not the end of the mirrors and etchings in here either:

The etched glass. The columns. The weird ceiling.

It's a shame this is the only glimpse we get into the dining room because I fucking love the rando traditional chandelier in there. There are also double doors on the dining room and I believe they're etched too. I can just make out what looks like a peacock on one of them in the last fireplace photo.

Yes, they've done their best to stage this place with (slightly ironic) contemporary furniture, but it's not really proving that this house is anything besides a great place to do cocaine.

AHOY MATEY! Love the giant gold vase + bonus faded an art.

Yes, welcome to my home. Please stand under the tube of slime. (Seriously: paint that thing and make the glass green and it's 100% Nickelodeon.)

Love how the wall of the Disbarred Lawyer Foyer interrupts the weirdly traditional wrought iron bannisters. Seriously, wut?

Bedroom photos:

MORE MIRRORS FUCK YES. Honestly I do love the 1980s-does-art-deco fireplace. I could make it PoMo. Why did they un-80s this place? I weep.

What's that? You want EVEN MORE MIRRORS???

You could snort cocaine off almost ever surface in this house. Also I love the door for your bathroom elf there by the tub. He brings you more toilet paper when you run out.

Blah blah blah, there's also a sauna, don't care. MOVING ON: the mystery of the portholes is solved!

Awww, Tony Montana has a sewing room. He mends his own Hawaiian shirts.

Blah blah blah, STILL MORE MIRRORS in another one of the bedrooms...

I didn't mention the pool, did I? Well, there's a pool:

The back: another view of the pool in its concrete hellscape and the yard where you can keep your pet tiger.

But I've saved the best for last: the downstairs bathroom. Based on the reflection in the mirrors (plural, yes), I think this room is just behind the kitchen/bar, behind the wooden door. It's basically under the portholes.

Are you ready? Are you sure? Get your spoons and your straws ready because...

You can snort cocaine off any surface in this room.

The walls, the ceilings, the countertop, the toilet lid, anywhere. Imagine being drunk as hell and trying to use this bathroom. Imagine tripping balls and trying to use this bathroom.

I am speechless.

So thanks for stopping by on this tour of an Escobar-approved narco chic classic in beautiful Raleigh. Bye!!

[when-to-sit-in-silence]

The Byers-Hopper family gets a cat.

A stray who frequents their back porch for food shows up with an injury one day, and Joyce takes him in.

After bringing him to the vet, she lets El and Will convince her to keep him.

Unfortunately, Jonathan is kind of allergic to cats. But he has always been fond of them anyway.

This is in contrast to Hopper, who isn’t allergic to cats but says he is because he opposes cats as a concept.

He’s outnumbered, though, so the cat stays. He is inconsolably bitter about this for roughly 48 hours.

They all let El name the cat, who becomes “Tubbs” after the Miami Vice character.

He also goes by “Tubby”, “Tub-Tub”, “Bubs”, “Bubby”, and “Bubbles”. Hopper exclusively calls him “Cat.”

El has negative associations with cats due to being forced to hurt one years ago in the Lab, but while watching Joyce feed strays, she has grown to like them. She is very gentle with Tubbs, but also very determined to make him love her, which she mostly succeeds at.

He hissed at her once and it ruined her day.

Tubbs sleeps with Will and El, alternating between their beds several times a night because both of them are terrible sleep-kickers.

Nancy is Tubbs’ favorite non-Byers-Hopper.

For the most part, Tubbs causes very little mischief around the house, but he does have a tendency to lay on top of Will’s drawings if he leaves them out.

And once, Tubbs stepped on one of Will’s palettes and tracked wet paint through the whole house.

Hopper threatened to get rid of him over it, but by then he had begrudgingly started to like the little fella and quickly succumbed to Will and El’s pleas to forgive him.

The main reason Hopper ends up liking Tubbs is because he makes his family happier.

He lets El cradle him when she’s upset, curls up in Will’s lap after a rough day at school, rubs up against Jonathan’s legs as he’s doing chores, and keeps Joyce company during anxiety attacks.

Hopper even finds himself calmed by the cat’s quiet presence on sleepless nights when nightmares keep him restless.

He still claims to hate cats, but his cat is different, obviously.

[apoptoses]

written for vckinkweek: edge play

It’s 8:34 pm when Armand ascends from the bowels of Night Island and seeks out Daniel. It’s a masterpiece of a house, even he has to admit. A modern palazzo with every amenity a mortal could ever crave, and all the newest fittings. Plush carpet floors muffle his footsteps as he takes a sweeping staircase up to the second floor, where he can feel the bright pulse of Daniel’s heart calling to him like a beacon.

Sometimes when he wakes Daniel is still lounging in bed, or in the pool. Or settled in the living room, asleep on the sofa with a glass of half drunk whiskey on the table. Tonight, though, Armand’s unnatural senses place him in the office. Which isn’t entirely unusual. It’s just that usually Daniel is in there during the day, leaving Armand to pluck the memory of what he’s accomplished from his mind.

And so it’s a rare treat to see him like this, seated behind the great oak desk Armand had imported from Europe. Dressed in his suit and pinching the bridge of his nose, Daniel could almost pass for a businessman.

But only almost. No self respecting businessman would be in a white linen suit, or have his shirt unbuttoned to expose the better part of his chest. Probably they wouldn’t have their bare feet kicked up on the desk either, but Armand is hardly going to reprimand him for that. He has entire regiments of actual business professionals working for him. He only has this one Daniel.

Armand leans against the door frame and takes in the way Daniel’s blond chest hair catches the light, the strands of it glowing as golden as the metal wrapped threads that had decorated Armand’s clothing in his youth. His mouth burns at the sight of it. He has the urge to go over, to bury his face in it and drink straight from Daniel’s beating heart.

Daniel pulls a lighter from his breast pocket and settles a cigarette between his lips. The acrid scent of smoke fills the room.

“Look, if you’re here to bitch at me about getting up and going over to the mainland for the opera or a movie or whatever it is I’m sure you’ve got tickets to, you’re gonna have to shelve it, okay?” Daniel says when he notices Armand at the door. “I have another call to make and it really can’t wait.”

Armand gives a dismissive wave. “I had no such intentions. The film will still be playing tomorrow.”

There’s a whole mess of items on the desk. Scattered papers, an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. The glass of whiskey that’s mostly empty now, the single ice cube in the center melted down so small it’s barely visible. Armand stacks some of the papers and puts them aside so that he can perch on the edge of the desk, right beside Daniel’s feet.

The tops of them have gone tan from Daniel spending time outside in the sun. Armand traces over a lighter strip of skin that runs from the space between Daniel’s toes, across the top of his arch. The pale shadow of where his sandals lie, painted on his skin by the daylight.

Armand’s fingers look monstrously white in comparison to Daniel’s living skin. He cocks his head and drags his nail over a lavender vein, and listens to Daniel’s heart race at his touch.

“I’m working,” Daniel warns. “I have to take this call.”

“Yes, you said so already. What does it pertain to?” Armand asks as he traces around the jut of Daniel’s ankle.

And then his fingers drift upwards, toward the hem of Daniel’s pants leg. The fabric is wrinkled from being worn all day, the starch melted away by the humidity of Miami, and so it’s nothing to push his pants leg up and drag his fingers through the fine hair on Daniel’s calf.

He massages at the thick muscle there. Against his will, Daniel lets out a quiet groan and melts into the great leather office chair.

God, I can’t get shit done with him around. I should really kick him out.

“Taxes. The guy who did our forms fucked up, not that I can blame him- our finances are a wreck,” Daniel mutters.

“We have plenty of money-“

“Yeah and that’s the problem, plenty of money with nowhere to trace it back to, no records for half the shit you’ve stolen and sold. And so I’m stuck here well past dinner time untangling this mess.”

Daniel ashes his cigarette and picks up the glass of whiskey, downing the thing in one swallow. When Armand pinches the back of his calf for his pertness he digs his heel into his thigh in a sort of half hearted kick.

Beneath Armand’s fingertips his pulse rushes. Armand wonders if perhaps he can overwhelm him, convince him to give up the call and let him sink his fangs into his sunkissed neck.

“And what’s the worst that could happen, should you do nothing? I can take care of anyone who comes here making demands of you,” Armand says.

Daniel barks out a laugh. “Take care of them? This isn’t the 19th century, you can’t just murder every IRS man who comes knocking. People will notice,” he says. “The best thing you can do is play secretary for me and get me another glass of whiskey, and then have a seat until I’m done here.”

It’s a dismissal if Armand ever heard one. He stands and lets Daniel’s foot go crashing toward the floor.

Fine. If Daniel wants a secretary then that’s what he’ll get.

Armand ignores the way Daniel swears at his sudden movement. He takes the glass of whiskey to the bar cart in the corner and busies himself with making his drink. Not two fingers worth- closer to three, almost four. Daniel’s been drinking more since they arrived at the island but Armand ignores that too, pushes that worry to the back of his mind in favor of focusing on his more immediate desires.

By the time he delivers the drink Daniel is on the phone muttering formalities to a stranger. Apologies for calling at the late hour, gratitude for offering his services last minute. Armand tunes the details out as he tidies up the desk.

He knows how to do this. How to make a show of himself, how to bend over as he empties the ashtray into the garbage can. It’s the same tricks he played five hundred years ago to distract his master; only the accouterments involved have changed.

It had only been a movie Armand was intending on taking Daniel to see and so he’d dressed for the occasion. A soft, slightly worn t-shirt from Daniel’s drawer on top, on the bottom a pair of cut off jeans. Armand is aware of how short they are. He doesn’t need a mirror to know they ride up when he bends over because he has Daniel’s mind for that.

Daniel’s mind, which is now a jumble of thoughts. He’s half focused on what the man is saying about something called a W-2; the other half of his brain fixated on the bone white curve of Armand’s rear end, peeking out from beneath frayed denim.

Where did he get those? Does he have any idea how obscene they look on him?

Yes. Armand is well aware of how obscene they look, because judging by the way Daniel’s heart is hammering beneath his sternum he’s aroused despite Armand barely even touching him yet.

Armand pretends he’s missed the trash can, that he’s dropped a cigarette butt on the carpet. He gets to his knees on the floor and hunts around for a thing that doesn’t exist.

Daniel’s pen clicks on the desk over and over, following the rhythm of his heart. Armand reaches beneath the bar cart and feels around, spreads his knees wider so he can really reach and-

“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?” Daniel asks. His throat clicks as he swallows. “No, no, I can hear you just fine. It’s just that my secretary distracted me for a second.”

Armand smirks at the carpet. He gets up and rakes his hair back from where it’s fallen into his face, and watches Daniel’s eyes track the movement of his fingers as he drags them through his own hair.

He fluffs the flowers in their vase. Reaches high to push a book into place on its shelf and, via Daniel’s mind, sees the pale flash of his own stomach exposed by his t-shirt riding up. He straightens the paper in the fax machine and then, out of cleaning tasks to do, turns his attention back to Daniel himself.

Daniel, who’s chewing at his lower lip as he hums little sounds of acknowledgment to the man on the phone. He’s got a notepad out but all he’s managed to do is scribble a line over and over as his gaze lingers on Armand’s thighs.

Armand tugs on the arm of the chair until it spins and Daniel is no longer facing the desk. Before he can say anything, he drops himself straight into Daniel’s lap.

“I’m sorry, could hold for just a moment?” Daniel asks and then puts his hand over the receiver on the phone to muffle his voice. “I said I’m working.”

Armand blinks at him innocently. “Yes, and you also said to take a seat. You neglected to say where.”

Daniel narrows his eyes. For a moment it looks as if he might argue, or try to shove Armand off. Before he can do either Armand reaches right down between his legs and squeezes.

The sound Daniel makes- it’s as if someone has punctured his lung. Between a groan and gasp, choked off so that the man on the phone doesn’t hear it. Armand strokes him through the thin linen fabric and Daniel has to bite the heel of his palm to keep from reacting again.

He’s hard- not completely, not just yet, but Armand can fix that. He doesn’t bother with teasing, with building up to make Daniel beg for it. He just grips his cock firmly through his pants, rubbing his thumb over the tip in little circles until Daniel is squirming in his chair.

“Daniel,” Armand leans into murmur directly into his ear. Goosebumps race over Daniel’s skin at the chill of his breath. “Continue your phone call. Taxes are rather important, I’d hate for our business venture to fail before it truly begins.”

Daniel sucks in a sharp breath when Armand unzips his pants and reaches his cold hand in. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you have a man waiting for you to return the call. We’re paying him by the hour for his advice, are we not? Which means the more you fuck around the more of my money you’re wasting.”

Armand hardly ever swears. He only does it to get a reaction out of Daniel, and what a reaction it is. His heart leaps up into his throat, his pulse rushing impossibly fast at the swear word leaving his lips. It affects him almost as much as the feeling of Armand’s fingers curled around his cock. Almost as much as the touch of his lips on his neck.

Daniel takes a deep breath in. He closes his eyes and tries to count to ten in his mind. He fails miserably at five when Armand licks over the stubble at the edge of his jaw.

“You’re a pitiful businessman, Daniel. You’re lucky I love you well enough to keep you working for me,” Armand teases, delighted by how easily distracted he is. “Now finish your call before I take the phone from your hand and do it myself. I’ll simply hang up on him.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, and whether it’s meant to be sarcastic or just a reaction to Armand’s thumb swiping across the leaking tip of his cock, Armand doesn’t know. “You wouldn’t be so rude.”

“Try me, lover.”

For a second they sit there and take the measure of each other. Daniel contemplates ending the call himself. It would be easy enough to fake an emergency, to call the man back during normal business hours and yet-

It would be kinda hot, having him jerk me off while I’m on the phone. This guy would never know what’s going on.

“Yes, so long as you keep quiet,” Armand says. “If you can I’ll give you a reward. I’ll let you drink from me for as long as you wish.”

Daniel jumps at the reminder that Armand is in his head. “And if I can’t?”

“Then I get to taste you first.”

Daniel mulls it over. He opens his mouth and then realizes nothing he can say could change the trajectory of this conversation or keep Armand in line and so he thinks better of it. He drops his hand from the phone receiver and turns his attention back to his call.

“I’m so sorry for that,” Daniel says and clears his throat, covering up the groan threatening to escape him when Armand resumes stroking him. “Anyways, as you were saying about our employee forms-“

Armand doesn’t listen to anything he says after that. He lets Daniel’s voice become a low rumble, just a tangle of noises that cause his chest cavity to vibrate pleasantly beneath Armand’s palm. He rests his free hand over his heart, absently toying with his chest hair as he strokes him slow and determined.

Daniel is such an all encompassing experience. He has no idea what being close to him is like, especially not when he’s aroused. It’s not just that his cock is hard and easy for Armand to touch. It’s the way the sweat begins to collect on his skin, smelling of salt and pheromones, something unique to his chemical make up; that only exists in Daniel’s cells.

Armand runs the tip of his nose over his throat and then follows it with his tongue. He gets the scent of him and the taste all at once and this time it’s him that nearly moans and alerts the man on the phone. He bites the sound back, though, and bites his own tongue instead.

A taste of his own blood. Not nearly as good as tasting Daniel’s but enough for now, enough to distract the thirst; to send the urge to bite Daniel into the back of his mind so that he can concentrate on distracting him instead.

Not that it’s difficult. Armand tugs at Daniel’s chest hair and Daniel has to put his hand over his mouth to keep from letting out a shocked gasp. He’s not even looking at anything anymore. His eyes are closed, head pushed back into the deep, plush leather as he mumbles something about assets or income or some other financial term Armand has never had to care about even once in his life. Daniel isn’t even certain he knows what he’s talking about anymore.

He’s unraveling quickly. Which is fine with Armand, who’s been burning with the thirst since he first saw this man in his suit, with his heart shamelessly exposed by his open shirt. It puts them on even ground, makes the challenge more enjoyable.

Enjoyable for Armand, at least. Daniel looks tormented when he lifts his head and catches a glimpse of his face. His expression is drawn tight enough to crack, and it quite nearly does when Armand twists his wrist and lavishes attention on the head of his cock.

He’s gorgeous like this. Like a saint in anguish, with his mouth dropped open and his eyes shut tight. Armand ignores the protest of his zipper and sneaks his other hand down his pants to fondle at his sack. It’s a light touch, Armand makes sure to be gentle, but it still has Daniel digging his heels into the carpet hard enough the chair rolls back from the desk.

‘Slow down,’ Daniel mouths at him silently. Armand furrows his brow, pretends not to understand, and strokes him faster.

It’s no longer like the touch of a mortal. It’s too precise, too methodical for a human hand and that’s the kind of thing that drives Daniel right to the edge. He’s thinking about it, jumbled words like unnatural and monstrous and jesus fuck it’s like being jacked off by a machine-

Lucky for him the man on the other line is busy explaining something- monologuing, really, so all Daniel has to do is make noises of acknowledgment. But he’s barely able to do that. When Armand tightens his cold hand around him his casual ‘uh huh’ becomes something closer to a ‘hngh’ and Armand can’t help but bite back a smirk.

And he’s not unaffected himself. His throat is burning with the thirst as he wracks his memory for something, anything that will break Daniel’s resolve and get him to moan outright. Armand can hardly hear the man on the phone for the sound of Daniel’s heart jack hammering beneath his sternum.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine, whatever you think is best,” Daniel rambles, unsure of what he’s even agreeing to. “You can-“

When Armand slips his other hand back his words cut off. The stitching on the fly of his trousers pops as he gets his hand back, back until his thumb is rubbing up against the hot flesh of his perineum, his fingertip is pressing up against Daniel’s hole and-

Daniel’s pulse jumps. He spreads his thighs wide without thinking and before he can stop himself a low groan escapes his throat.

It’s unmistakable. A sound of pleasure, the trigger Armand had been waiting for. The thirst is so strong he barely takes a second to take in Daniel’s blushing cheeks, his expression wracked with embarrassment, because he’s too busy darting in toward the thick artery that stands out on his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, Armand,” Daniel chokes out when his fangs pierce his flesh.

The blood spills over Armand’s tongue like liquid fire. Sharp and metallic and tasting of something that’s entirely Daniel, the flavor of his hormones and the sweat on his skin; more sumptuous than any of the fruit Armand had tasted in his master’s home. He swallows a great mouthful of him, and groans with relief when Daniel’s heart pulls back and fights against the draw of his mouth.

The phone clatters to the floor. Daniel’s hands fist themselves in his hair just as he spills, hot and wet down the backs of Armand’s fingers and that-

It’s like Armand can taste his orgasm too. The shudders pass through Daniel, into his blood and down Armand’s throat so that he shudders too. Daniel’s hips roll up and out of instinct Armand grinds back down against him.

And he should lift his head. He should stop drinking but Daniel is curled around him, gone limp in the leather chair, and his heart- every time Armand swallows it pounds harder. Daniel is a fighter; even as his body goes slack as a willing victim, his organs war against the pull of Armand’s mouth. It seems to take an age before the drumbeat of Daniel’s pulse matches his. His heart struggles, it sends blood rushing thick over Armand’s tongue and then begins to slow. 

It would be easy to drag him down now. Armand is so caught up in the taste of him that nothing else seems to exist; not the leather chair beneath his knees, nor Daniel’s hands on his back. His fingers had been twisted in his shirt but they’re beginning to go slack as he goes weak with blood loss. All Armand feels is a vague stroking over his shoulder blades and then a distant tap as he drinks another mouthful of this boy down.

“Armand. Armand, I think I’m gonna pass out,” Daniel slurs.

He should stop now. He should really pull away while Daniel is conscious and able to speak but Armand can’t.

One more swallow, another taste, he tells himself- Armand is as addicted to Daniel as Daniel is to his blood, and this boy has no idea. He’d take that last beat from his heart. It would be so delicious, swallowing the last spark of his life but this is Daniel. There’s only one of him. No one else would be such a willing and conscious victim, no other would love the monster in his lap and so Armand lifts his head.

He licks the wound closed but makes a sloppy job of it, addled as he is. A drop of blood mars the white linen suit collar in brilliant red.

“Jesus,” Daniel huffs. He’s pale, his pupils are blown. He looks as though his eyes might roll back at any second, and so Armand cradles his blond head in his hand; fingers warmed now by his lover’s blood. “I guess we won’t be doing any more business with that guy.”

The phone is on the floor, dial tone screeching from the receiver. The man had hung up on them.

As Daniel reaches for the cord he laughs. His fingers are shaking too badly to get ahold of it, and so Armand picks it up for him. He sets the phone on the receiver with a dull click and then turns his attention back to Daniel, dragging his fingers through his feathered hair.

“You know, Daniel, you weren’t wrong,” he murmurs.

Daniel’s eyelids flutter, blond lashes casting shadows on the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Wrong about what?”

“That I was a terrible secretary.” Armand says, words slipping out between the kisses he presses to each of Daniel’s eyelids. The bridge of his nose. His cheeks, which have gone unnaturally pale. “And so I think you should gather what strength you have and put me on that desk to teach me a lesson, don’t you?”

Daniel swallows thickly. Armand hears the click of his throat. He feels the tremble in his fingers as he reaches down, grabs hold of his backside and hauls him up onto the desk.

The desk is wide but Armand still has to wrap his legs around Daniel’s waist to keep from slipping off the edge. His auburn curls spill in a waterfall over the other side of the thing, beveled wood digging into the back of his skull as Daniel leans over him to kiss his neck.

“I guess work can wait after all,” Daniel murmurs, lips tickling Armand’s throat. “You know one day you’re not going to just get your way with me so easily.”

Armand smirks up at the ceiling while Daniel can’t see. “Yes, beloved. Whatever you say.”

[floridapainting]

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[lestappeninchidents]

My god, you guys are not ready for your future fic update !!! Thanks to @axerocknroll , I think I’m writing the most beautiful lestappen of my life. I'm very emotional while writing it and I even have tears in my eyes because I'm so proud of what I'm doing. 😭🥹

I have for now 13 pages and more than 6300k, and it’s just the begging of the story and the idea that inspired me. 🫢🫠 I’m so exiting to share with you this.

I know you didn't get the fluff you deserved in my previous fic, so here you go!! We have a Charles all in love and completely overwhelmed by his feelings for Max, we have love meetings like I've never written and religious symbolism for sensual things. We have art references too. ❤️❤️

I’M FREAKING OUT THAT YOU DON’T LIKE IT!! 🫣😭

Here a little snippet. It’s just the begging of the request, there’s so much more before and there’ll be so many more afterwards for the whole idea of @axerocknroll.

Austria 2022 (and memories of before), a podium that luxury would envy :

The nightly meetings after the days of racing, in small restaurants or pubs, had increased their relationship a little more. It made them into something, as imposing as the moon, that Charles didn't even fear to be seen late at night in public with Max. He even became proud of it. His heart became like marshmallow every time he had these thoughts and he asked for more every time. Especially with the moments of euphoria and pain that had broken his heart and left open wounds to Charles' soul. Max became his serenity, always camouflaged when he pricked himself or was pricked too hard against the field of roses that offered itself to him this season.

Charles found himself thinking several times, after one hand had caressed a drop of sauce on the corner of his lips by the thumb of the other and the looks that held the secrets of the world, that the house was Max. His soul and Max's were fused together at the heart, like atoms that attract and detach.

Max will be his undoing, he said to himself one day after he had stuffed himself with too much pasta after the Imola Grand Prix and his heart had stopped for a nanosecond when Max told him what Sassy had done to his simulator. They had been in a small Italian restaurant that Charles knew and knew he could trust not to be disturbed by him and Max.

The light was subdued, as if lit by candlelight which gave an air of Beauty and the Tramp. Almost kissing thanks to... no, because... no, thanks... in short, to a spaghetti that would bring them together without realizing it. The Ferrari driver had taken precautions to be at the back of the restaurant, in a corner that was a little more subdued than the others, with the soft, slow Italian music that would camouflage the last indiscreet ears. Everything seemed perfect. The race awaited them tomorrow and Charles was in the best conditions to play the podium, with Max who was supposed to offer him a great battle. Tonight, they would enjoy a sweet night, profiling the path of their flirtation, and tomorrow the protégé of the tifosi hoped that they would be able to close their weekend in the best way before taking the plane.

"...if you had seen this, Charles! The menace that she is, jumped on the screen while I was showering, like she knew what she was doing. The cunning one! I'm sure she's the one who lost me the race in Miami, I couldn't train properly at the apartment. She took advantage of the fact that I forgot to close the damn door, which never happens to me, to sneak in like the little devil she is. And then..."

Charles watched the tagliatelle wrap around his fork energetically, because of the story he was telling. The divine carbonara sauce that the predestinato had already been able to taste several times, had made its way onto the freckle on Max's upper lip. If at this very moment Charles could paint the scene, believe him, it would be obscener than any nude that art could count, and will count in the future. Obscener than Courbet's The Origin of the World, more obscene than Manet's Luncheon on the Grass which had shocked the crowd at the time, even more obscene than Rodin’s bronze Iris, Messenger of the Gods which was even more equivocal than The Origin of the World.

If Charles Leclerc had been able to paint or sculpt Max Verstappen at that very moment: the Academy of arts, the World, the public, the Formula 1 fans, the teams, and the Universe would have half covered their eyes; so violent would the divine be to contemplate for their retina. Which would have ended up burning their eyes, like a solar eclipse. So much the better. Charles would rather keep it to himself, in his Pandora's box, which only he could open and unleash when he wanted to.

Was it wrong if Charles was dying to literally sit on Max's lap, in full view of everyone like an exhibitionist, and lick the little piece of sauce obscenely for several minutes? Then, to feed him and Max on these same strong thighs that he was dying to bite, to suck, to knead and to lick until the groin to make Max crazy. Just like he had done a few months earlier at that party.

Oh, yes. It was the most tantalizing fantasy he'd ever had in his life and especially one that had given him an erection so quickly, right in the middle of a restaurant. His legs tightened to keep anyone from noticing his unchaste thoughts.

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Love, Bad Decisions, Cocaine, and Angst from Brother's Keeper to Freefall

Here before you lies the entirety of all my Miami Vice fiction, compiled in one place! The Sonny/Rico fics follow the series from beginning to end, and are intended to be a reasonably canon-compliant explanation of their relationship, tied to specific episodes. There's also two Gina/Trudy fics and one Switek/Zito fic; the implication is they take place concurrently. (Yes, everyone on Vice squad is queer. No, I don't care that that implies some very strange things are happening in the Miami PD hiring department.) Pretty much all fics contain angst, language, internalized homophobia, and period typical attitudes, but the series ends happily as a whole! Rating beside title.

Sonny/Rico Fics:

Ashes in a Goldfish Bowl - M - S1E19 Made for Each Other - Sonny contemplates a growing and awkward crush on his coworker.

Gas Station Confessional - M - S1E22 Evan - As he learns about Evan Freed, Rico pieces together that Sonny may be hiding more than he's letting on.

Unnecessary Medicine - M - S2E5 & 8 The Dutch Oven & Tale of the Goat - Sonny is dosed with cocaine; later, Rico is dosed with tetrodotoxin. They take care of one another.

Adventures in Microwave Sales - E - S2E9 Bushido - In the aftermath of Jack Gretzky, Sonny decides life is too short not to take Rico up on his offer to be friends with benefits.

Faults and Hairline Fractures - E - S3E12 Down for the Count - After their friend's death, Rico notices that Sonny seems uncharacteristically upbeat after months of brooding.

The Naming of Cats - E - S4E3 Death and the Lady - Sonny lets his guard down while he and Rico take care of a kitten for Gina, and hates himself for it.

Wise Men Say, "Only Fools..." - M - S4E8 Like a Hurricane - After Sonny's wedding, Rico makes a series of bad decisions.

Playing House - M - S4E20 A Bullet for Crockett - With Rico taking care of him after being shot, Sonny chafes against the constraints of his marriage, and questions his choices.

Repossession - M - S5E12 Jack of All Trades (or around there) - Rico is incredibly concerned and hurt as an increasingly depressed and listless Sonny gets very drunk at an auction.

Take Me Home - E S5E18 Freefall - If Sonny and Rico have any hope of moving on together, they need to push past five years of refusing to communicate and be honest with one another.

And Life Goes on Beside the Palisades - T - Post-series - Crossover with Wiseguy - Sonny and Rico have settled into their life together in New York. A chance encounter with another pair of ex-agents gives everyone an opportunity to reflect on where they want to go from here.

Trudy/Gina:

Not Like a Painting - T - S2E8 Tale of the Goat (or around there) - Trudy suggests playing hooky, and wonders if Gina knows she's acting like they're on a date.

Warfarin, Eggs, and Chase & Sanborn - E - S2E9 Bushido - Gina worries that Trudy might not return her attraction, and they find out where they stand during a series of all-nighters.

Stan/Larry:

Wearin' That Loved On Look - E - Late S1/Early S2 - Larry tries not to think too hard about what happens sometimes in the Bug Van.

[mlobsters]

flipping between documentaries in the background while i paint and movies. i've got the big short on right now and like. wow what a cast. but also

the way this is framed, like no one else could see it coming. but OH MY FUCKING GOD. yes we could!! we KNEW about all the subprime mortgages. we SAW house prices climbing up astronomically.

they just had people go out to miami in this movie to check on homeowners in these mortgage bonds.... i'm fucking losing my shit because

I OWNED A HOUSE IN MIAMI IN 2008*

if you were paying attention at all, you knew about the housing bubble. it was fucking insane. how could some fucking 28 year old IT person in miami know about this and UGH--

listen. if the bernie madoff story taught me anything, it was that the desire for money makes people put massive blinders on. to things they should really know better about, considering their JOB is to know these things.

so yeah. people were talking about it, it's not like i had my nose to the grindstone researching. i was just paying attention to the news and the housing market around me. but $$$$ > everything

it was motherfucking disgraceful what they did to people, getting them into these horrible loans and fucking their lives over.

aaaAAAHHHHHHH

*(bought the house with ex in 2003 before all this, was a traditional fixed rate 30 year. got divorced, he bought me out of the mortgage and had to try to sell the house post-crash. did eventually sell, at a small loss)

[dxivi]

okay

So who do I write for you ask? Very good question. I'll throw in some fandoms and put in who I'll write for. (Ill forget to put fandoms in without a doubt so someone remind me of fandoms)

Also I write all three. M!reader, GN!reader and F!reader. (Yes, that includes trans!reader as well)

Fandoms

Criminal minds

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Spencer Reid (That's still a bit doubtful but ill give it a try)

2. COD MWII

Simon "Ghost" Riley

John "Soap" MacTavish

John Price

I will only do Gaz and any of the others when in combo with the above.

3. NCIS/NCIS:LA/NCIS: New Orleans

No one probably knows of this fandom but here;

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Ziva David

Anthony Dinozzo

Abby Scuito

Mayyyybee Timothy Mcgee but doubtful

Dwayne Pride

Tammy Gregorio

Christopher LaSalle (i haven't watched ncis new orleans in a hot minute so shit might be very ooc)

Sam Hanna

Kensi Blye

G. Callen

Marty Deeks

4. Hawaii Five 0

Even less know abt this one but;

Steven J. Mcgarrett

Daniel Williams

Kono Kalakaua

Chin Ho Kelly

Catherine Rollins (if you dare ask me to paint her in a good light go screw yourself, she fucked up Steve so long. I will not alter her so shes suddenly amazing and heroic.)

5. Bones

Dr. Temperance Brennan aka Bones

Seeley Booth

James Aubrey

6. Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw (his death + fanfics with mav absolutely ended me- I still didnt finish the most hurtful one and its been over a year now)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Possibly: Phoenix

7. The Mentalist

Patrick Jane

8. Sherlock (bbc & movies)

Sherlock Holmes

James Moriarty

John Watson

9. Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester (as a side character)

Crowley

10. The Slasher Fandom

Michael Myers

Jason Voorhees

Bubba Sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Freddy Krueger

Stu Matcher

Vincent Sinclair

(Probably more but I don't remember of the top of my head)

11. Marvel Universe

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Natasha Romanoff

Peter Parker (no smut, kids a fucking minor)

T'Challa (as a loving father type figure but it might be very ooc)

Clint Barton

Honerable mentions for movies/shows/books I don't have enough braincells for to put in but will possibly write for:

The Da Vinci Code

Angels and Demons

Inferno

Dante's Peak

CSI: Miami

CSI: Las Vegas

CSI: NY

Fbi: International

Fbi

THE FUGITIVE (1993)

Law & Order: SVU

Bull (like the show, Dr. Bull)

Jason Bourne

House M.D.

The fallen triology (Olympus has fallen, London has fallen, Angel has fallen)

The Matrix

Rush Hour (i love them <3)

Michael Vey (book)

PJO fandom

HOO fandom

Without a trace

Castle

Elementary

Hannibal (really depends, i only know fanfic of them)

Winx Club (not fate you heathen)

And uhhh- thats it i think? This probably isnt everything because im in so many fandoms of which I didnt watch/see anything besides the fandom itself but yeah- (many of which are on this list, why'd you think dr who isnt here)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Can’t resist this glamorous pink 1921 Mediterranean Revival in Miami Beach, Florida. 9bd. 6.5ba. $8.5M.

It’s been restored and it appears that the beamed coffered ceiling and fireplace have been painted white as usually happens when people remodel.

The small office is quite colorful with it’s tiger wallpaper.

Lovely sunroom. It kind of looks like bringing the outdoors in.

The dining room. I do like the wallpaper, but the carpet kind of detracts from it. Look at the view of the garden from that window.

Very white kitchen with an everyday table and Spanish tile stairs to the upper floor.

Spacious main bd. with a fireplace.

Large walk-in closet/dressing. 

Makeup table.

And, matching bath.

Like pink flamingo wallpaper in the room, but I’m not too keen on the green paint.

Smaller bedroom has a cool floor.

One of the other baths. I always liked a floating sink.

This is beautiful.

Large patio with a pool and look at the size of terrace on the 2nd floor.

https://www.dirt.com/gallery/more-dirt/real-estate-listings/miami-beach-pink-house-ximina-caminos-1203634610/pinkmiami_c/

[acorrespondence]

Miami, Part 2:

Boyd comes back when the kitchen’s quiet to find Lissy scowling and kicking at the closest leg on the kitchen table, the shoes Raylan already bullied her into leaving scuffs on the paint. He raises his arms and fixes her with a look. “What is goin on with you, girl?”

“Nothing.” 

Her brows are drawn down, shadowing her eyes like storm clouds. Threatening rain, if he’s reading the sky right. Raylan got like this sometimes, as a child, and there was just no moving him. Boyd crouches in front of her. “I ain’t mad, baby,” he says. He takes her head in his hands, strokes her baby-fine hair, the strands slipping through his fingers when she shakes her head. “I just want you to talk to me. I can’t help you feel better ‘less I know what’s wrong.”

She looks away, toward the battered white refrigerator. Boyd tries not to look at it, sitting bare where once it was covered over in so many family photos and baby pictures and bizarre elementary school art projects you couldn’t tell the color of it. “I don’t wanna leave Bumblebee,” she mumbles.

Boyd pauses. He breathes in. She’s a lot like Raylan, and he knows that cost her something to say. “Oh, honey, no. We’re takin Bumblebee with us.”

She looks at him. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says, hands still smoothing down her hair. “She’s comin too.”

“Oh.” She tugs at the hammer loop on her overalls, looks down as she fusses with it, just as loath to show embarrassment as she was to show the sadness come before. She drags her toe over the linoleum, leaving scuffs there, too, little marks for the house to remember her by. Whatever transplant Raylan’s boss lines up to lease the house will see those lines and know the place has already been laid claim to, a truth writ in these little signs of a life that’s forever tied to its furniture, its floors—its very foundations.

Boyd tugs gently on a lock of her hair. When she looks up, her eyes are solemn and a little glassy, still, the remnants of tears shining in the light that spills through the window over the sink. “What put that notion in your head?”

“Alex Rivera had to give his dog away.”

“Did he?”

She nods, looks down again. “When he moved.”

“Well, that is a shame.” Boyd untangles her fingers from the hammer loop and takes her little hand in his. “I can assure you, we will not leave our sweet Bumblebee behind.”

“You promise?” she asks, one corner of her mouth pinched in. It looks like Raylan’s, when he can’t quite figure the lay of the land. It makes Boyd smile.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he says, grinning at her until her mouth tugs up in response. “Might leave your daddy behind, though.”

She gives him a weird look. Boyd laughs, tugs her head forward into a kiss at the crown. Hands on his knees, he pushes himself upright and drops a gentle hand on her head. 

I’m really glad you picked this scene, because it’s a pretty good encapsulation of the way I write kids. I think one of the most important things to remember writing children is that their goals and priorities very often don’t match up with those of the adults. While it might seem at first glance that they share the same concerns as their parents, the reasons for their reactions are often very different. So what are the kids’ priorities? Pemberley is very watchful of her parents, but she has no real investment in any of their specific concerns; what she cares about is how their worries and the state of their relationship will affect her. She doesn’t care about Raylan’s job, but she cares that it means she’s going to have to move to a school where she doesn’t know anyone; that it means she has to move from the house she loves to a place where she doesn’t even remember living. Meanwhile, Felicity’s concerns are even more immediate than that. I think she’s at an age where she has issues even conceptualizing a place she has no reference for, and so it becomes less about what might be waiting for her in Kentucky and more about what she’s being made to leave behind.

She knows that she’ll be leaving the house and yard behind, which makes her sad and mad but not worried, really, and she knows that her sister and parents will be coming with her. So what worry could she have that might get lost or go unnoticed in the pile of other worries that everyone else is bringing to the table? What’s a possible point of uncertainty that feels immediate, conceivable, and relevant to her life? The specific worry I alighted upon was inspired by a childhood friend of mine who had to move into an apartment that didn’t allow pets, and so had to give her dog away. I remember being deeply empathetic because I had a cat myself, and I think Lissy would have felt similarly disturbed by this notion even if she didn’t at the time think of it as a possibility for herself, so it made sense that she might get this idea into her head.

I was pretty proud of this metaphor; comparing anger/upset feelings to storm clouds is a very cliche thing, but I like to sometimes take a really obvious metaphor and sort of tilt it around to try and find some untapped facets of it. So I went from anger like storm clouds >> rural tendency to be more tapped into nature >> reading the sky, and then through that kind of tie into something that comes up later in the fic (taken from canon) about Raylan reading Arlo’s moods. A lot of this fic is about inheritance in an abstract sense, what these men pass onto their kids both with and without realizing it. Arlo compares his father to a thunderstorm and Raylan compares Arlo to a tornado, so this metaphor being used for Lissy implies that she inherited their tempers.

I’ve talked about this before, I think mostly with you in the comments, but I think that Boyd’s most lasting damage from Bo’s abuse comes not from the violence itself but from the fact that he didn’t even try to understand Boyd and didn’t trust him to be able to comprehend the reason behind Bo’s instructions and expectations. He wanted Bo to a) endeavor to find out why he was acting the way he was, b) acknowledge the validity of those reasons, and c) clue Boyd in to why different behavior was expected. Because these were all things he wanted but never got from his father, he takes great pains to offer them to his children.

I just think Boyd is the kind of guy to clip a million things to the refrigerator. I think when he was growing up the kitchen was very much his mother’s domain, and therefore a place he remembers fondly. Though he likely expected Boyd’s mother to manage their interior design, Bo was probably very strict about what was allowed to be displayed throughout most of their house, because the image that was being put forth mattered a lot to him. However, I think the kitchen, because he considered it a woman’s space, would have been subject to less policing by Bo, and so I think Boyd’s mother plastered the fridge with photos of and art by her boys, and Boyd chooses to emulate this. I think Raylan appreciates it—even if outwardly he complains about things getting knocked off of it every five seconds—because he likes having tangible proof that his children are happy and safe and cared for: that his influence on them isn’t doing irreparable damage.

While Boyd would have jumped to explain himself in this way to his daddy, he knows that Raylan has trouble ceding emotional ground—admitting something is bothering him is exposing an exploitable weakness—and sees the same trait in their daughter. Also like Raylan, she feels this way about basically every emotion except anger, so her embarrassment to have worried over nothing is just as important to hide as the worry in the first place: it serves as further damning evidence that the worry was there in the first place, because losing Bumblebee would have hurt her, and she doesn’t want to acknowledge that vulnerability.

This is a recurring motif that comes up a lot in this story, the idea of certain kinds of wear and tear to a house or room being physical evidence of love, contrasted with other kinds of damage that come from neglect.

Lissy tugging at the hammer loop on the hip of her overalls is kind of a callback to the way Raylan is always resting one hand on his holster, or flipping back his jacket to show off his holster, etc. Both Raylan and Boyd are fidgety assholes, so both of their kids are too. But Boyd’s usually comes from a spillover of excess emotion, whereas Raylan’s is used to distract from his emotions long enough to repress them. Boyd taking her hand here is an indication that he sees how she feels and wants her to share it with him instead of hiding it.

She’s not feeling her most trusting at the moment, when her parents just turned her life so fully upside-down, so she doesn’t know if she should trust Boyd’s answer. And then he tired to reassure her and cut the tension with a joke, and the very idea that her parents might willingly separate is so baffling that it works. She doesn’t even think for a second to add this to her list of worries, and it implies that Boyd wouldn’t leave the cat any more than he’d leave Raylan, which is a more binding promise than the words alone could ever be.