#///rolls around.................it was really bugging me
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bamboulabrador · 3 hours ago
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Is it really milk ??
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Follow Me & My Archive
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willowsnook · 2 days ago
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an experiment (18+)
hey, could you write a story like the one you reposted of max ”popular“ but for lando? I absolutely loved the plot and never saw one like that before, but don’t feel pressured! thank you<3
A/N: Didn’t want to do the exact same plot but did the same kind of reporter x Lando vibe where they don’t like each other.
Lando Norris x Reporter!Reader
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The media room was bustling with reporters, and your eyes were trained on Oscar Piastri as he answered the question you had just asked him, nodding along.
“So you’re not worried about team orders, then?” you asked to confirm, and he shot you a grin.
“We’re only 20 points apart, so no,” he replied, and you smiled, turning off your recorder. “Good to see you, Y/N. When are you coming to an overseas race?”
The other reporters around left as you stayed behind to talk to Oscar. “Not really sure. I’m mostly covering IndyCar this year. I’m only here today because our F1 beat reporter caught some kind of bug.”
You had covered F1 for ESPN last year and had a blast doing it, but the travel was a lot. When the chance came up to switch to IndyCar, you took it, wanting to stay in the U.S., where you were from. You did miss the F1 drivers, though. You had a good working relationship with all of them—well, except one.
You and Lando got off on the wrong foot last year, and things never really recovered. You asked him a simple question, and he bit your head off. Instead of folding, you challenged him and called him an asshole to his face, so things were a little testy after that.
You glanced up from your notes, keeping your expression neutral as Lando approached. “Norris.”
He sighed, barely looking at you. “Let’s just get this over with.”
You ignored his tone, pressing the record button. “You had a solid P2 in practice. Do you feel confident heading into qualifying, or are there still issues you need to address?”
Lando shrugged, crossing his arms. “Car’s fine. We’ll see what happens.”
You blinked, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, you pressed on. “McLaren has been closing the gap to Red Bull in recent races. Do you think this track gives you a real opportunity to challenge for the win?”
He exhaled sharply. “You lot love asking the same pointless questions every weekend, don’t you?”
You kept your voice even. “I’m asking because fans and analysts are genuinely curious about McLaren’s trajectory. If you’d rather not answer, I can move on.”
Lando let out a humorless laugh. “Right, because you’re just here for the ‘fans and analysts’—not to pick apart every word I say.”
Your grip on your pen tightened, but you refused to take the bait. “I’m here to report, Norris. What I’m not here to do is argue with you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.
You inhaled slowly, keeping your professionalism intact. “Alright. Final question—realistically, where do you see yourself finishing this weekend?”
Lando gave you a flat look. “Ahead of where you think I will.”
You held his gaze for a moment before calmly closing your notebook. “Noted. Thanks for your time.”
He scoffed. “Yeah. Sure.”
You watched as he walked off without another word, then sighed, shutting off your recorder. Interviews with Lando Norris were always a test of patience—but at least this time, you hadn’t given him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Y/N!” You heard Carlos call out, and you instantly brightened. He was one of your favorites on the grid, and you truly missed him this season.
“Hi, Carlos,” you said, walking next to him as you were both leaving the pen. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you? Still beefing with Lando, I see,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.
“He’s such a pain in the ass,” you muttered, and he let out a loud laugh.
“Please, the tension between the two of you—nothing like it,” he said, and you stopped short, giving him an incredulous look.
“What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, and he grinned.
“There are literally three different bets I know of on when you guys will get together,” he said, amused, and your eyes narrowed.
“I don’t even cover F1 races anymore,” you said.
He shrugged, holding the door open for you.
"That doesn't matter," Carlos said with a mischievous grin. "The sparks between you two are undeniable. Even from across the pond."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're delusional, Sainz. There's nothing between Lando and me except mutual disdain."
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then why does he always ask about you when you're not around?"
You froze mid-step, turning to face him. "He... what?"
"Oh, yes," Carlos nodded, clearly enjoying this. "He tries to be subtle about it, but we all notice. 'Has anyone heard from Y/N?' 'Is Y/N covering this race?' It's quite amusing, actually."
You were about to argue when you caught sight of Lando across the paddock, talking to his race engineer. For a brief moment, his eyes met yours, and you felt a simmer of the electricity Carlos was talking about. Lando looked from you to Carlos and frowned, looking away.
“Whatever, Carlos. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, dismissing him as you headed to where your car was, thinking about what he said.
Lando was an asshole to you. That was a fact. But there were things that were off: he always took your questions first, his eyes lingered on you from across the room—almost always—and you could tell how irritated he was anytime you were talking casually with another driver.
Pair that with the fact that your boss had asked if you wanted to be moved last season to cover a different team, to which you replied no because there was just something so exciting about getting under his skin. You always had a thing for guys like him, and it didn’t really help that he was as hot as he was.
You were still irritated as you got back to your apartment and quickly texted your group chat, begging to have a girls' night out. Luckily, most of your friends were free, and one of them snagged a last-minute reservation at a place nearby.
A couple of hours later, you were two drinks in, laughing about one of your friend’s most recent Hinge horror stories. Smiling, your eyes wandered around the room, landing on a very familiar mullet.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered, and your friends looked at you and then over to where you were looking. Grace was the first to laugh.
“You two are truly like magnets. Carlos was right,” she said. You shot her a pointed look. They all knew about your disdain for Lando, and you had told them what Carlos had said, hoping they’d back you up about it being ridiculous, but they had all agreed with him.
At the attention of all your friends, Lando’s friends looked over at the table, some of them smiling widely when they recognized you. It didn’t take long for one of them to come sauntering over.
“Hey, ladies,” he said. “We’re about to wrap up and would love if you guys joined us at the next bar.”
“No,” you said at the same time that your friends said, “Yes.” You groaned, putting your head into your hands.
After paying your bill, you reluctantly followed your friends out and to the next bar. Lando and his friends were hanging out on the patio, and they were excited to see your group make it. Lando smiled at all your friends, introducing himself, but then narrowed his eyes when he got to you. You rolled your eyes, muttering that you needed a drink, and walked off.
You leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender's attention. The night air was cool on your skin, a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere inside. You couldn't believe your luck—or lack thereof. Of all the places in the city, Lando and his crew had to end up at the same spot as you and your friends.
"Fancy seeing you here," a familiar voice said behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Lando.
"I could say the same to you," you replied, keeping your eyes on the bartender. "Shouldn't you be resting up for qualifying tomorrow?"
Lando moved to stand beside you, effortlessly flagging down the bartender. "I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be covering the race?"
You finally turned to face him, crossing your arms. "I'm allowed to have a life outside of my job."
"So am I," he said, mirroring you.
"You sure about that?" you asked, tilting your head. "Because the way you act, it seems like your entire personality revolves around racing and being a pain in my ass."
Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. "You love it, though."
You scoffed. "I tolerate it."
He stepped closer, just enough that you could feel the warmth of his body in the cool night air. "You tolerate me? Interesting. Because from where I’m standing, you go out of your way to get under my skin."
You arched a brow. "Funny, I was about to say the same about you."
Lando’s gaze flickered to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "Maybe we just enjoy the game too much."
You refused to be the first to look away. "Or maybe you just hate that I don’t fall for your usual charm."
His smirk deepened. "Who said I was trying to charm you?"
"Oh, please," you scoffed, taking a slow sip of your drink. "The lingering stares? The petty jabs? The way you just so happened to end up at the same bar as me tonight?"
Lando leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I just like watching you get all worked up."
You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of the way your pulse quickened. "Keep dreaming, Norris."
He smirked, stepping back just enough to let you breathe but not enough to break the tension crackling between you. "Sweet dreams, then, Y/N."
And just like that, he walked away. But before he could get far, you yanked his arm to turn him around and crashed your lips against his.
The kiss was electric, a charged collision of all the tension that had been building between you for months. Lando's surprise quickly melted away as he responded with equal fervor, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. The world around you blurred as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.
When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, you found yourselves staring at each other with a mix of shock and desire. The background noise of the bar slowly filtered back in, reminding you of where you were.
"Well," Lando said, his voice husky. "That was..."
"A mistake," you finished, even as your body screamed otherwise. You took a step back, trying to regain your composure. "An experiment."
"An experiment," he repeated. "And what exactly was the hypothesis?"
"I’m shocked you know that word," you said, avoiding the question.
"Y/N," he warned.
"A mutual friend hypothesized that the way we act toward each other was because of something other than hatred," you admitted, thankful that you were on drink number four now.
"And the conclusion?" he asked, tipping his head curiously.
"Inconclusive," you said, and his eyes flickered back down to your lips for a second.
"Probably need more testing," he said darkly, and your pulse quickened.
"Probably," you agreed, not breaking eye contact.
"Let’s go," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the exit.
"I just got my drink," you complained, but made no move to stop him.
His hotel was only a couple of blocks away. That was the only thing he said the whole walk over, but his hand gripped yours tightly.
By the time you made it to his floor, his pace quickened, like he didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind. The door opened, then closed, and suddenly you were pressed against it, his lips on your neck.
It lasted a minute before you gripped his hair, yanking his head back so you could press your lips against his.
The kiss was rough and demanding, both of you fighting each other with something other than words this time. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, and you lifted it up, watching his eyes widen at your bare chest.
Lando's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. His hands skimmed up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of your usual dynamic. "Shut up and kiss me, Norris."
He smirked, clearly enjoying your impatience. "So demanding," he teased, but obliged, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.
Your hands roamed his body, tugging at his shirt until he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. The feeling of skin on skin was intoxicating, and you couldn't help the small moan that escaped you as he pressed you further against the door.
His hands trailed down from your waist, past the loose band of your pants and under your panties. He lightly traced over your clit before moving to where you wanted him. 
“So wet baby, are you sure you hate me?” He teased as you moaned out. 
“Positive,” you got out before he slipped a finger inside, finding your g-spot and massaging it. 
Your head fell back against the door as Lando worked his fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. But you weren't about to let him have all the control. With a sudden surge of strength, you pushed off the door, forcing him to stumble backwards towards the bed.
"My turn," you growled, shoving him onto the mattress. Lando's eyes widened in surprise, but the smirk never left his face as you straddled him.
"Thought you hated me," he teased, his hands gripping your hips.
You ground down against him, relishing the groan that escaped his lips. "I do," you breathed. "This is simply an experiment."
Your fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his hardening length. Lando hissed as you wrapped your hand around him, pumping slowly up and down. 
“Don’t tease,” he grumbled and you smiled wickedly at him, swiping your thumb over his head causing him to whimper. The noise took you both by surprise and you knew he was embarrassed. 
“I thought you hated me,” you threw his own words back at him. “But it sounds like you don’t.”
He started to argue back but you quickly shifted your hips, slowly sinking down on top of him. 
You both gasped as you fully pushed him inside you, the sensation overwhelming. For a moment, you stayed still, adjusting to the feel of him stretching you. Lando's hands tightened on your hips, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you.
"Fuck, y/n," he breathed, voice strained. "You feel amazing."
Instead of responding, you began to move, setting a slow, torturous pace. Lando's head fell back against the pillows, a low moan escaping him. You couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph at reducing him to this state.
"Look at me," you commanded, voice husky. His eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide. "I want you to see exactly who's making you feel this good."
Lando's lips curled into a smirk, even as his breathing grew ragged. His fingers dug harshly into your waist and he started to move you faster against him and you groaned out. 
Lando suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. The change in position drove him even deeper inside you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. His eyes locked onto yours, blazing with intensity.
"My turn," he growled, echoing your earlier words.
He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit spots that made you see stars. His thrusts were deep and purposeful, each one drawing out a moan or whimper from your lips. You clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built.
Lando's lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. The dual sensation of his mouth on your throat and his cock inside you was almost too much to bear. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his as he continued his assault on your pussy. 
"God, you feel incredible," he panted, his rhythm faltering slightly as he fought to maintain control. "So tight, so perfect for me."
Your back arched off the bed as he hit a deeper angle and your climax crashed over you. He sounded animalistic as his own release was triggered, spilling into you. 
The two of you breathed heavily for a moment looking at each other. Finally you pushed yourself off the bed and headed into the bathroom to pee and clean yourself off. When you returned, Lando was leaning against he headboard watching you as you put your clothes back on. 
“Leaving?” He asked.
“Yes,” you replied, finally looking at him. “This was just an experiment remember, it wasn’t real.”
“I remember,” he said, still watching. “You could stay.”
“I have never in my life stayed over for a one night stand,” you said. You don’t know why you told him that, he didn’t need to know anything about your personal life. 
“Are you serious?” He asked, shocked. 
“Very.” 
Lando's eyes widened at your admission. "Never? Not even once?"
You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as you slipped on your shoes. "Never saw the point. It's called a one-night stand for a reason."
He sat up straighter, the sheet pooling around his waist. "But what about... I don't know, cuddling? Or morning sex?"
You couldn't help but laugh. "Cuddling? With you? Please."
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm an excellent cuddler," he protested, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
You rolled your eyes, but found yourself hesitating by the door. "Look, Norris, this was... satisfying. But let's not make it more than it was."
Lando's expression sobered. "And what exactly was it, y/n.”
“An experiment,” you said again, leaving before he had a chance to ask what the result was. 
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revelboo · 12 hours ago
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Waitng patiently for a new insecticons story (i love them so much, thanks to you. Please dont die)
I will try my hardest not to 🤣 I’m just on the struggle bus today
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You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 7
Insecticons x Reader
• Wary as they watch you, it’s like they’re waiting on something. They’ve called you their queen more than once. Mentioned a coronation, though the details get a bit hazy, lost in the heated ache of need when they’d kissed you, when that one had gone down on you. Body flushing at that memory as you wiggle out from between Kickback and Shrapnel, pulling one of the blankets you’re sitting on up over your lap so everything isn’t just on display. “What if I don’t want to be your queen?” You ask slowly and the other two both look at Bombshell, tensing. Big guy is definitely the one in charge. “Hypothetically,” you add as his head tips.
• “Hypothetically, you’re of little value except as food if you’re not our queen,” Bombshell growls, long glossa curling around a servo to clean it. Aware of the way you watch him, grinning crookedly as his battle mask clicks back together. It’s a threat plain and simple, a hollow one. Those two idiots have at least partially bonded you. Forcing his hand. And after having you, he can’t really deny that he’s decided he wants to keep you, too. Had imagined a fierce queen, but maybe a soft queen that looks to him for protection wouldn’t be so bad. Someone who needs him. Who won’t curtail his plans.
• “This hive is only temporary,” Kickback says into the silence when you lean further away from all of them. “Not fit for a queen.” Antenna back, he leans over to lay his head in your lap, pretending he doesn’t notice when you tense. “We’ll do better. Bigger, more fitting for you.” Room for young, room to expand. Freezing when you hesitantly lift a hand and touch his antenna. Gently. So gently ghosting your fingers against him. Has anyone touched him like that before?
• Heck of a choice. Play queen of the scary, bug robots or be dinner. The big one had asked you to make demands. Seemed to expect it, like maybe you’re supposed to take charge. Play queen. Mouth dry as you toy with Kickback’s antenna to make him shiver and chirp against you, you can’t break Bombshell’s stare. The challenge in it. “This place is drafty. Dirty. Not a proper hive,” you manage, rolling with it and all three of them go still. Listening. “And I’m not eating that.”
• Struggling to suppress his laughter as Bombshell goes rigid in offense at your scorn, Shrapnel clears his vents noisily. Can’t help but grin, though. “Organics eat flesh,” Bombshell growls, sweeping his hand at the deer. And Shrapnel’s starving, but won’t touch it until you eat. ‘Not raw,’ you counter, little chin lifting. ‘Cook it.’ And he is laughing now, not even caring how angry Bombshell is, because this is too delicious. You’re figuring out your place. Taking charge like you’re meant to.
• Heart racing as Bombshell looms over you, there’s fear that maybe you pushed him too hard. That you pissed him off and he’s going to lash out. Instead he just stares down at you, seizes Shrapnel by one of the beetle-like horns jutting up from his shoulders and yanks him up as he hisses. Ordering him to dig a fire pit. And you shouldn’t get a little thrill out of being obeyed by them. You should be plotting your escape, not idly playing with Kickback’s antenna. Freezing when he loops his arms around you and presses his face against your stomach, venting.
Previous
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stevie-petey · 2 days ago
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Had an idea and wanted to pester you about it (I’m kidding, I hope I’m not actually pestering you). What if you were to write a cute snow day blurb for Stug? Set in between S3 and S4? I ask because it’s currently snowing where I’m at and just thought “dang, that’d be so cute.”
you could never pester me i loooove answering blurbs <33 now if i may pester you i changed the timeline to between seasons 2 and 3 because i couldnt resist the idea of pre-dating steve n bug playing in the snow together n being all shy n cutie ugh
enjoy !
"its snowing," steve leans your desk chair back, nearly tipping over completely as he peers out your window. "like. a lot."
theres a mound of assignments on your desk and you only spare a quick glance outside. "oh," your absent minded tone doesnt go unnoticed by steve. "thats nice."
he narrows his eyes. "i thought you loved snow."
"i do," this time more genuineness comes through your voice. you look outside again and ache when you see just how snow has fallen. "but..."
your head tilts down to the work scattered between you and steve. youre insanely behind on calculus assignments and steve has a lab report three weeks overdue and today is the first real day your injuries from demodogs and billy have healed enough to even attempt to understand what a derivative is.
jonathan is stuck at home taking care of will and promised you hed help you with the math as soon as he was able, but now, with all the snow that inevitably will block the roads, you know youre doomed.
steve sees the stress that tenses your spine and an idea pops into his head. he snatches the homework from you and is running out of your room.
"what the-?" but hes already gone, annoyingly fast when he wants to be.
you run after steve, having no other option, really, and find him and dustin rushing to put their coats on.
"shes here!" dustin screeches when he sees you. he shoves at steve, urging him to hurry up, and your mother watches fondly from the kitchen.
you push past your brother. "what is happening?"
steve zips up coat and winks at you, giving no response other than flinging the front door open and chasing dustin through the snow. theyre gone in a heartbeat, giggling like children as they fucking prance through the falling snow.
"id join them if i were you, y/n." your mom says with a slight chuckle. "steve told me to hide your homework until you were 'soaked in snowflakes'."
your jaw drops. "mom-"
"im sorry, sweet girl." she laughs at you now. "blame that handsome boy of yours and go play with your brother outside. itll be good to get some fresh air!"
"but-"
"wear a coat!"
and then your mother shuts her bedroom door, leaving you to watch steve tackle dustin into the snow as they shriek and wrestle in the slippery ground.
"my eye!" steve squeals in pain, rolling around, and dustin giggles menacingly. feeling your eyes on him, steve flings a distressed hand towards you. "y/n, help a guy out here, would ya?"
even though he cant see you, you still roll your eyes at steve. dustin echoes his own sentiments of wanting you to join. the boys plead with you over and over and youre weak to them.
sighing, you grab your heaviest coat. "if either one of you even thinks about tackling me, youre dead."
dustin salutes you. "yes, ma'am."
you help steve up. his hand is cold and his nose red and eyes shining and you cant help but giggle slightly at the sight of him. theres flecks of snow that line his brown hair and hes a delicate kind of pretty that rivals the spiral of snowflakes.
"saved me again, angel." he winks at you again, causing you to blush.
"shut up." you shove at his chest, avoiding his tender eyes. they reveal more to you than you know hes ready to admit.
steve laughs and dustin throws a snowball at your face and everything is warm and soft.
-
﹂blurb masterlist
﹂if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎
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viridianhorizon · 3 days ago
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Absokutely stunning!
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My origami flowers compilation XIII. (recent ones only) 🌿🌻🌿🌼🌿🌺 🌿🌻🌿🌼🌿🌺 origamiaround @ youtube instagram facebook pinterest deviantart patreon ko-fi  
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lsunstreakerl · 3 days ago
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slinking out of my homework induced coma. darkbull! 1.7k words, carlos pov. (I'll be posting the "discipline" ficlet later today hopefully, but you guys get some insight into it with this one). once again: this is the darkbull universe. it's not as bad as the kidnapping ficlet but it's not great either.
Carlos breaths out a slow breath, fingertips grazing the cool metal in front of him. Wheatley watches impassively from a few feet away, protective headphones around his neck.
"Your father ever teach you to handle those?"
Carlos remembers being small, holding BB pellets in his hands, but-
That had been for fun. Not anything serious, just boys being boys, trying to see who had the best aim, who could hit the furthest can.
Nothing like this.
He wraps his fingers around the handle and lifts, feeling the weight in his palms. It feels heavy, but not as much as it should.
Something with the power to so easily take a life shouldn't be so easy to lift.
"He didn't teach me with one of these, no."
Wheatley nods, stepping closer and rearranging Carlos's fingers around the handle.
"It's going to have some kickback. I don't want you worrying about bullseyes yet. I want you making sure your aim is steady."
Carlos brings it up in front of him as Wheatley raises his headphones up, placing Carlos's over his ears as well.
He widens his stance a bit, steadies himself as much as possible. Wheatley had been telling him about this part- shoot on exhale.
He focuses on the target and lets his thumb flick over the safety.
This is not what he thought he'd be doing when he joined Formula 1- not even close. None of it is. He didn't think he'd be content in a "junior" team, he didn't think he'd end up entangled in part of a historical criminal empire, he didn't think he would be in a three way relationship where only two of them know what's actually happening.
At least- he thinks it's three way. If it's not now, it will be soon. Daniel has been circling him and Max, like the moon orbiting the Earth. He gets closer each pass, eating meals with them or doing workouts together, and Carlos knows Max is head over heels, so it's really only a matter of time.
Max wants Daniel, just like he'd wanted Carlos, and he gets what he wants.
Always.
Max getting what he wants is why Carlos is here in the factory basement, learning how to kill someone.
Max has no idea about the way the factory revolves around him. He's their guiding star, their perfect pet, their number one driver.
Carlos sometimes finds himself wondering if Max even realized what was happening when he was seventeen. Probably not- Carlos remembers Max at seventeen, angry and defensive. Nothing like the Max of now, fierce on track but happy to roll over for the team, let them do whatever they want to him.
If Carlos hadn't been present in the factory to watch the slow progression, he almost wouldn't believe it. He has to respect Redbull for their patience, but-
He's afraid of how long they're willing to play the long game. They'd been so careful with Max. They'd gained his trust, and they'd gone so slowly it's no surprise Max didn't notice.
Holding onto him just a bit longer in a hug than someone normally would, a hand slipping lower on his back or higher on his thigh, palms around his neck- the slow removal of personal space, of boundaries- the way there are always eyes on him. Max is so used to being observed he doesn't even register it anymore.
Carlos had pressed him against a counter the other day, because Max had been sweet and desperate and wanting, and he'd had a moment where he worried that someone could walk in.
And then Max had whined into his mouth and begged for his fingers, and Carlos realized he didn't care. Max's flat is bugged, there are trackers buried deep into muscle and flesh, the team has never had any grievances about drugging him- if someone walks in on them, they'll probably just be glad to see Max has his needs met.
Just like he'd feared, someone had walked in- gotten their drink from the fridge as normal, winked at Carlos, and then left.
The only change afterwards was that Carlos felt like the team approved of him more.
So. He's been proving himself right lately.
Carlos looks at the target in front of him. Max is so- Max is naive, about the whole thing. The team works very hard to keep it that way, and that responsibility now falls on Carlos as well.
He tries to imagine someone breaking in, trying to hurt Max, trying to kill Max-
Redbull would go on a warpath.
Carlos thinks of Max laid out underneath him in bed, curled up with him on the couch, running next to him on the track. Fierce, syrupy sweet Max.
He thinks of someone else getting that Max, someone who's not Redbull, someone who hasn't put in the work.
There's a sharp flicker of possessiveness through him.
Carlos fires.
------
Two weeks later:
Carlos has his back leaned against the headboard, Max asleep between his legs, head resting on his stomach.
Daniel steps back out of the bathroom, passing Carlos a washcloth.
"He out?"
Carlos nods, fingers absentmindedly running through Max's hair. It's been getting softer since Carlos convinced him to start using conditioner. It's getting longer as well- enough that Carlos can tug on it gently, enough that the ends of it curl at the nape of his neck.
"Yes."
Daniel pulls on a pair of sweatpants and settles next to Carlos, careful not to shift the bed too much. They're both talking quietly.
"Well, we know he likes that."
Carlos huffs a small laugh.
"We should keep a list."
He means it as a joke, but the way Daniel tilts his head, eyes assessing- it might not be a half bad idea.
Daniel reaches over to the bedside table, tearing out a piece of paper from one of their smaller notebooks as he snags a pen.
His eyes shift over to Carlos, and he sounds contemplative when he speaks.
"Wheatley's added evening meets to my schedule for the next two weeks- said I should ask you about it."
Well, that answers a question Carlos had been wondering about, if Daniel had been trained already or not.
"He's going to teach you to shoot. Also some knife work."
Daniel snorts, eyes crinkling over at him.
"Nah mate, seriously, what's it about?"
Carlos lowers his head a bit, eyes flicking back down to where Max is asleep between them.
"I am serious. We are around Max a lot- we should know how to protect him just as well as the rest of the garage."
Daniel's eyes are wide when Carlos looks back up at him.
"Oh."
He carefully folds the paper up before sliding it back in the drawer.
"When did they start teaching you?"
Carlos hums, lightly scratching his nails across Max's scalp. Even in his sleep he makes a soft noise, burrowing slightly closer to Carlos.
"Right after we got together. The team is very observant about these things."
Daniel nods.
"And he seriously doesn't know anything?"
Carlos shakes his head, but it's somewhat fond. How Max has managed to remain completely oblivious is a feat in itself, and Carlos has his suspicions that Max purposely ignores things that don't make sense. Ignorance is bliss, or something like that.
"No idea. I think maybe he gets suspicious when the team is mad at him, but it is hard to keep track during that time. He gets very lost."
"Mad at him- like a couple weeks ago with the Williams incident? The only thing I noticed was that he was a lot quieter and had a hard time staying focused. If anything, the team seemed nicer to him."
Daniel sounds confused, which is fair.
"Daniel, that is the punishment."
Carlos needs to think of a way to phrase this that doesn't send Daniel running for the hills, cultlike crime empire team bosses be damned.
Carlos had thought it was bad too, when he'd first learned, but he's since then seen the positive effects. Max really does do better this way, with the positive reinforcement, but sometimes they have to... wipe the slate first.
"The Williams thing, he was reckless, yes? Was not thinking of his own safety on that overtake, and it crashed them both out. He was not thinking of his own safety because the pundits that week were talking shit about him."
Daniel still looks confused.
"They were talking shit about the whole garage, yeah. That weekend sucked."
"So the most recent thing in his brain is the media, for that race. Makes him race bad. The solution is to,"
Carlos flounders for a second. Christian had explained this much better.
"The team 'wipes the slate', if that makes sense. When he is lost or unfocused, it is because they are trying to remind him of the actual priorities. You will hear them remind him often about how we want him to drive. The repetitiveness-"
Carlos spins his index finger a few times to mimic the motion.
"-it sticks with him. He doesn't remember specific things from that time if they only happen once, but if everyone is telling him frequently to look out for his own safety in the car... much easier for him to remember, yes?"
Carlos brings his hand back down. It really does make sense, if you skip past the questionable ethics.
"And he does not like to be confused like that, so he tries to do what the team asks and avoid it."
Daniel's brows are furrowed, and he looks concerned- but also deep in thought.
"How the fuck are they doing that?"
Carlos shrugs.
"No idea."
He lets the topic drop, because he does know. Had even helped with it, after the Williams incident, because it helps Max, but Daniel-
Daniel isn't ready for that yet. Might not agree to the group effort of slipping things in Max's food and drinks, keeping him unsteady and disoriented. Carlos doesn't like doing it, none of the team does, but it's a necessary thing.
Besides-
He looks back down at Max. He's so trusting of all of them. Eager to please, thrives on praise- none of them could bear actually being angry with him. It still hurts the heart of the team when he's confused like that, and it's upsetting to see the way he gets disoriented and lost, but he comes out of it better. It's the right thing to do for him, and it works.
Daniel will get looped in when he's ready.
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longreads · 3 months ago
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How Concerned Citizens Drove a Neo-Nazi Out of Rural Maine
Christopher Pohlhaus planned to build a fascist training compound in the woods of rural Maine. The local journalists, veterans, lumberjacks, and policymakers weren't having it.
Pohlhaus, 37, is a former U.S. marine, an itinerant tattoo artist, and a hardcore white-supremacist influencer. He is loud and hostile, and proud to be both. His voice is pitched surprisingly high, and he has a slight Southern drawl. He has a large body and small bald head; a blue-black tattoo crawls up the right side of his face, from his chin to his forehead. Over the years, Pohlhaus has collected thousands of social media followers, who know him by his nickname: Hammer.
Hammer had been living in Texas for a few years when, in March 2022, he bought the land in Maine. He told his followers that he was going to use it to build a haven, operational center, and training ground for white supremacists.
Check out our excerpt of The Atavist’s latest blockbuster story. 
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389 · 10 months ago
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PORTO ROCHA
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nanaluvbug · 2 years ago
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🧀🥪🌶️🥭 The Ravening War portraits  🧀🥪🌶️🥭
patreon * twitch * shop  
[ID: a series of digitally illustrated portraits showing - top left to bottom right - Bishop Raphaniel Charlock (an old radish man with a big red head and large white eyebrows & a scraggly beard. he wears green and gold robes with symbols of the bulb and he smirks at the viewer) Karna Solara (a skinny young chili pepper woman with wavy green hair, freckled light green skin with red blooms on her cheeks. she wears a chili pepper hood lined with small pepper seeds and stares cagily ahead) Thane Delissandro Katzon (a muscular young beef man with bright pinkish skin with small skin variations to resemble pastrami and dark burgundy hair. he wears a bread headress with a swirl of rye covering his ears and he looks ahead, optimistic and determined) Queen Amangeaux Epicée du Peche (a bright mango woman with orange skin, big red hair adorned with a green laurel, and sparkling green/gold makeup. she wears large gold hoop earrings and a high leafy collar) and Colin Provolone (a scraggly cheese man with waxy yellow skin and dark slicked back hair and patchy dark facial hair. he wears a muted, ratty blue bandana around his neck and raises a scarred brow at the viewer with a smirk) End ID.)
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70sscifiart · 2 years ago
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One of my favorites by Paul Lehr, used as a 1971 cover to "Earth Abides," by George R. Stewart. It's also in my upcoming art book!
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taizooo · 5 months ago
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もともとは10年ほど前にTumblrにすごくハマっていて。いろんな人をフォローしたらかっこいい写真や色が洪水のように出てきて、もう自分で絵を描かなくて良いじゃん、ってなったんです。それで何年も画像を集めていって、そこで集まった色のイメージやモチーフ、レンズの距離感など画面構成を抽象化して、いまの感覚にアウトプ��トしています。画像の持つ情報量というものが作品の影響になっていますね。
映画『きみの色』山田尚子監督×はくいきしろい対談。嫉妬し合うふたりが語る、色と光の表現|Tokyo Art Beat
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layla-keating · 2 years ago
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#thistension
XO, KITTY — 1.09 “SNAFU”
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nevver · 3 months ago
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No one wants to be here and no one wants to leave, Dave Smith (because)
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foodffs · 4 months ago
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Noodles with Lamb Sauce (Laghman, 新疆拌面) Xinjiang laghman features chewy noodles served with a bold and rich lamb and tomato sauce that is bursting with flavor.
Recipe: https://omnivorescookbook.com/recipes/uyghur-style-noodles-with-lamb-sauce
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lesserknownbots · 5 months ago
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CJ from Hello World (MSPFA) by phasedsun?
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mellowlike · 2 months ago
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齋藤飛鳥
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