#Nouveau Hot

[wanderingblindly]

WanderingBlindly Fanfic Masterlist:

Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri

October Birds (10.3k, 1/7 chapters, ongoing)

“Y’alright, World Champion Lando Norris?” Max asks, leaning back in his desk chair with his hands tucked behind his head. “Piss off,” Lando mumbles back, not liking the smile in Max’s tone. Besides, what can he say? ‘Bit lost, actually. Any idea how to handle the best day of your life feeling like the end?’. Or: Lando runs away to the wrong Perth. Oscar takes in a lost man.

The Guidebook but it's Different Because Now There's Stockings (8k words, oneshot)

The snap of the nylon, sharp against his thigh, resonates through the bedroom. But he can't rouse himself from his mind, can hardly feel his lashes against his cheek as he blinks lazily. Oscar's fingers are hot, nails lightly grazing the sensitive skin at the crease of his hip. And his lips, seemingly glued to his leg, trace along the top of the fabric. His teeth nip at the soft, thin skin of his inner thigh, tongue soothing the sting before Lando can process it. And, like a parting gift, Oscar whispers: "So beautiful..."

Oscar Piastri's (Full Homo) Guide to Fucking Your Boyfriend (19.4k words, 2/2 Chapters)

"Has my girlfriend ever kissed a guy before?" Oscar's eyes move to Lando's lips, lashes fluttering gold in the setting sun. Girlfriend. His mind goes silent, lips parted and eyelids heavy. It feels... nice. Hearing that. It feels good, even. Like Oscar's claiming him, possessing him. Girlfriend. He whispers back, feather-light. "No." Oscar looks back up, catches his eyes. "Do you want to?"

By Touch (1.6k words, oneshot)

Oscar's fingers shift, reaching for Lando's wrist and moving them both. "The hardest thing to learn, I think," Oscar starts, voice barely audible over Lando's heart, his shallow breaths. "Is letting yourself feel." Delicately, like one would touch the wings of a butterfly, Oscar ghosts Lando's fingers across his cheekbone. He's soft, as if the pink under his skin is a gently unfurling rose petal after spring rain.

Bite Down, Reverse It (1.4k words, oneshot)

“I’ve never —” He’s never heard Lando’s voice like this: tight and frantic, like he’s been caught. Shaped by my hands. “That’s fine,” Oscar breathes, leaning in closer — all he can see are Lando’s eyes in their seemingly infinite shades, all he can feel is his cock, already so hard against his thigh. “You’re gonna have to teach me.” Made exactly how I want you.

Lando Norris's (No Homo) Guide to Getting a Girlfriend (10k words, oneshot)

"Bet I could teach you." Oscar's eyes snap back to his, wider than the time Lando suggested they go skydiving in the off-season. "Teach me –" "The Lando Norris guide to getting laid." Oscar pulls a face. "That's not –" "Getting a girlfriend, then." Lando amends, holding up his largely-empty glass in cheers. "Cheers to not being a virgin, mate."

We're Not Really Strangers (4.1k words, oneshot)

"Fine," Desperate to move away from his increasingly not PR-friendly train of thought, Lando snags another card. "What's the first thing you noticed about me?" "Your eyes." Oscar freezes as soon as he's said it, mouth clamped shut and brows raised – shocked. At himself. Or: Lando and Oscar play ice breakers for a PR video, what could happen?

Impasse of Biting (12.5k words, 2/2 chapters)

"Maybe it would be good for you, something like this." Lando looks away from the espresso machine, over at Charles. "Like what?" "A vampire." "Charles," Lando breathes out, leaning against the back of his workstation and crossing his arms. "I've told you, it's not..." it's a me problem. He's the one that can't seem to connect to people, he's the one that's not noteworthy enough to want.

Too Close to Touch (2.3k words, oneshot)

"Sit up," Oscar groans, aiming for a more demanding tone than he can gather with Lando's mouth sucking lightly at his neck – not enough to bruise. Lando makes a noise in response, petulant and determined, that makes Oscar's head spin. Like he's addicted to him, unwilling to let go. Like this isn't some fucking insane bet that they made during the driver's parade. Or, Lando and Oscar make a bet: how important are hands when it comes to kissing, anyways?

It'll Pass (5.7k words, oneshot)

"Don't wanna win if you're not there." Lando says, pinkies still intertwined, looking Oscar dead in the eyes. He says it like it's common sense, like it's a normal thing to say to a teammate. Like it's not the closest Oscar will ever get to hearing I love you. "Promise." They let go.

Watch Me (5.5k words, oneshot)

It's half seven, and just like nearly every other day since he's moved in, his neighbor is in his bathroom – poorly concealed by the frosted glass window that's not nearly as frosted as it should be. He's standing on his toes, bending over his sink to get closer to the mirror, clad in next to nothing but short, black briefs. His eyes roam higher, heartrate spiking when he sees it, just like every other time he's seen it: Oscar's neighbor, a seemingly unmated omega, wears his collar. At home. Alone. When he's wearing next to nothing else.

Time After Time (3.k words, oneshot)

It's him, it's definitely... him. But it's him from years ago, narrower in the shoulders and more uncertain in his smile. He recognizes what he's wearing, remembers agonizing over it for the better part of an hour with George and Alex, both laying on his tiny dormitory bed with eager eyes. It's their first date.

Late Nights (1.3k words, oneshot)

Oscar leans forward and rummages through the bag, nabbing a pair of chopsticks and an unopened container. "Want me to stay?" Lando's heart sinks; has he been home late so often that Oscar would offer? "Babe, it's really gonna be a late one, I can't --" He talks around his mouthful of noodles. "I don'mind."

Someone in Seattle (11.6k words, oneshot)

“Could I, like… would you be my model for it? Maybe?” “That’s what the coffee was for then?” “No, that was, uh.” He can feel his face heating up, skin undeniably turning a deeper shade of red under Lando’s gaze – mirthful and a little something else. “That was different.” “Gonna say what?” “No.”

Keep Talking (2.7k words, oneshot)

Closing his eyes, pulling a deep breath in through his nose, Lando lowers himself to the floor – sitting directly next to Oscar’s spread knees. “Yeah?” Oscar asks, voice already softer – leading. He’s still sat casually against the sofa, looking down at Lando with warm, understanding eyes. Lando nods in response, eyes fluttering closed as he lets himself lean against Oscar’s leg, rubbing his cheek against his sweatpants.

Nouveau Hot (3.5k words, oneshot)

Lando’s hand moves faster, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each stroke, each flick of his wrist. Easy muscle memory, it should be enough but — “Need you, need you, need you now, I- Osc, please I -oh fuck,” He’s rambling, the words spilling out faster as he desperately chases release — hips fucking up uselessly into his hand. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

Lando v Media (1.2k words, oneshot)

He’s very aware that fucking his teammate isn’t exactly the best PR move he’s ever come up with. And he didn’t need to be told that, to be clear. Though, to be even clearer, he was told that – Jon made quick work of pointing it out, as did the HR representative, as did the PR representative, as did Andrea. But again, he was already aware, so that all felt really excessive.

Bite Down (Show Me How) (1.2k words, oneshot)

“I’m a virgin, by the way.” Smooth start. Oscar, to his irritating credit, doesn’t even look at him from his spot, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “Yeah?” He turns his head, giving Lando a look that makes him realize he’s not the one in charge here. “Wanna do something ‘bout that?”

You Bring Me Closer to God (9.7k words, oneshot)

They’re still close enough to whisper, Lando’s hand holding him in place as he grins wildly. “You like it rough, Osc?” He doesn’t even care if it’s just a bit, just Lando’s stage persona washing over him like it does all his fans. Looking up at Lando, looking at the lipstick he smeared across his cupid’s bow and chin – it’s like he’s seen god. Felt it on his lips, tasted it on his tongue. Oscar grabs him by the nape of the neck without a second thought, pulling them together just as viciously as the first time. Or: In which Lando is a very slutty front-man for a small band seeking their big break, Oscar is an enamored bartender, and Jenson's bar brings them together.

Hot Pink Ring Pops (Would You Marry Me If I Was a Worm?) (4.2k words, oneshot)

“Oscar isn’t ever gonna marry me if I’m a worm, Jon!” He laments, the words uneven and jagged as he sobs (which, Jon realizes, can’t be good for whatever injuries he’s possibly sustained from the crash). Somehow more importantly, what the fuck did Lando just say?

Is It Gay to Watch Your Teammate on Tiktok? (Asking for a Friend) (12.3k words, 2/2 Chapters)

He’s sitting on the bed, dinner long since picked at, with his knees pulled up to his chest. He feels close to hyperventilating. It’s playing on loop, some sappy little edit captioned “i need to find someone to look at me the same way oscar looks at lando”. And really, who the fuck was going to tell him that Oscar smiles at him like that? 

Mortifying! Anyways, (2.3k words, oneshot)

Mortifying interaction, but he’d survive. Besides, it’s not like the cashier was that cut– “Cute enough to make you stupid, huh Norris?” He could hear his smile before he saw his face, a proper Cheshire grin. “Fuck off mate,” Lando groaned, already trying to scrub the cashier from his brain. Except for the Australian accent, he decided; that bit could stay. Maybe his eyes, too, as tired as they had seemed. And his hair, which looked so soft in that kind of ridiculous side part.

If I'm Barbie, and You're Barbie, then Who's Driving the Bus? (814 words, oneshot)

Anyways, the driver room is largely quiet at the moment. But not entirely, much to Lando’s enjoyment. Buzzing from Oscar’s headphones, loud enough for Lando to hear the words, is a song from Barbie. Charli XCX, no less. 

[mote-historie]

Art Nouveau Poster illustration by Manuel Orazi for Job Cigarette Paper, 1902.

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

LIAR, LIAR, THEY NEVER EVER LET YOU IN

LIAR, LIAR, EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SIN

[strwberrythorn]

Sketching Chappell

[floralcrematorium]

Happy Valentine's Day from The Women Of All Time

@femslashetalia

[bbaycon]

I’m going nut, 50 pulls and no Neuvillette

Lourvine and Jurieu are adorable tho

[darthteeth]

commission for @seere-mela

[aestetet]

back from fighting for my life during finals and i finally finished this lestat wip !!!

[ragrfisk]

It came to me in a dream

[goatsandgangsters]

the design movements with "art" in the name are all such winners

arts and crafts. art nouveau. art deco.

all bangers, all the time

[wanderingblindly]

Nouveau Hot (Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, 3.5k oneshot)

Lando’s hand moves faster, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each stroke, each flick of his wrist. Easy muscle memory, it should be enough but — “Need you, need you, need you now, I- Osc, please I -oh fuck,” He’s rambling, the words spilling out faster as he desperately chases release — hips fucking up uselessly into his hand. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

READ HERE!

Please note that this is rated EXPLICIT for sexual content

i'm going to be sick actually, both at the concept of writing smut and at the images of Oscar's arms in the black fireproofs you know the one where he looks so much bigger than Lando and I just --

i'm going to bury myself actually

[mote-historie]

1914 Photographed in Autochrome Lumière by Auguste Louis, First air show, Grand Palais, Paris, France. Art Nouveau. 

First color photos autochrome Lumiere by Auguste Louis, Hot air balloons in Paris 1914.

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

Here’s the painting I posted those WIPs about! This is the first traditional painting I’ve done in a while and you can definitely tell, but I think it turned out alright!

I used watercolor, gouache, acrylic, and colored pencils, plus my brush pens and fine liners for inking.

Close ups under the cut!

The last one is in different lighting and before I took it off the pad.

I know my traditional style isn’t as pretty as my digital style but I hope you guys still like her!

[hyenaboycunt]

I'm dealing with "strangers who I find attractive consistently find me attractive in return" suddenly and for the first time in my life. So I tried to vent to girlthing about how it's confusing to once again be relearning how to navigate social interactions. But she's been hot the whole time. So she has literally zero helpful advice.

[gogojetters]

This is gonna make some people angry but… from what I have seen in the fandom- this chart.

[cuartoretorno]

Un perro andaluz (Luis Buñuel 1929) 

Un perro andaluz (título original en francés: Un chien andalou) es un cortometraje franco-español mudo (no fue hasta la versión de 1960 que se incorporaron los motivos de Tristán e Isolda de Richard Wagner y un tango),2​ escrito, producido, dirigido e interpretado por Luis Buñuel en 1929 con la colaboración en el guion de Salvador Dalí y gracias a un presupuesto de 25 000 pesetas que aportó la madre de Luis Buñuel. Fue estrenada el 6 de junio de 1929 en el cine Studio des Ursulines de París (Francia). Posteriormente se exhibió durante nueve meses ininterrumpidamente en el Studio 28 de la misma ciudad.3​

El rodaje duró quince días.4​ Según refiere Buñuel a De la Colina y Pérez Turrent, Un perro andaluz nació de la confluencia de dos sueños. Dalí le contó que soñó con hormigas que pululaban en sus manos y Buñuel soñó con una hoja de navaja que cortaba la luna en dos.5​

Un perro andaluz está considerada la película más significativa del cine surrealista. Transgrediendo los esquemas narrativos canónicos, la película pretende provocar un impacto moral en el espectador a través de la agresividad de la imagen. Remite constantemente al delirio y al sueño, tanto en las imágenes producidas como en el uso de un tiempo no lineal de las secuencias.

El nombre Un perro andaluz fue elegido porque no guardaba relación alguna con los temas del filme. Federico García Lorca se sintió aludido por el título, pero Buñuel negó dicha alusión, alegando que era el de un libro de poemas que él tenía escrito desde 1927.6​7​ En primer lugar pensó que la película se llamara El marista en la ballesta (según el título que tenía un caligrama de Pepín Bello)7​ y luego Es peligroso asomarse al interior, como inversión del aviso que tenían los trenes franceses: C'est dangereux de se pencher au dehors ('Es peligroso asomarse al exterior').8​