#gray velvet barstool

[arnoldfinnegan]

Atlanta Kitchen Dining Dining Room A sample of a mid-sized transitional kitchen/dining room combination with dark wood floors and brown floors, gray walls, a regular fireplace, and a stone fireplace.

[chunkylechonk]

Weight of the Cards

“Can I please check your ID, and be sure to have your entrance fee ready before entering the room,” the casino employee said. 

Ethan stepped forward nervously, his shoes sinking into the plush carpet. As he handed over his driver’s license to the clerk, his ears caught the faintest click from somewhere nearby. He glanced behind him, but the cacophony of lights and sounds from the rest of the casino were like an ocean, swallowing a single drop of rain. When he turned back, the clerk was smiling at him widely. “And can I see your chips, sir?” 

Only managing a grimace in return, Ethan held up two: a blue 10 written in the middle of the checkered disks. They were all that were left of a very bad night, a very bad couple nights if he was being honest, and he needed to change his luck quick. So when another guest, an older man with a graying beard and wearing a flashy, purple chrome-colored shirt, told him about this secret poker table in the backroom of the casino, Ethan had felt it may be his only chance.

The clerk took the two chips and glanced at them before dropping them into a slot by his side. He smiled again as he handed back Ethan’s ID. “Your chips will be waiting at your seat. I hope you enjoy your time with us and that you win big.”

He stepped aside, ushering Ethan past the desk and towards the velvet curtain draped across the doorway. Lifting his hand, Ethan took a deep breath before he pushed through the threshold, the old man’s words coming unbidden to his mind. You’ll definitely gain more than you ever imagined. Pulling the heavy curtain back, he hoped that the man was right. 

The backroom was rather small, dominated by the poker table at its center. It was structured differently than Ethan would have expected: with the dealer in a hollow space in the middle; the players spaced around the origin at regular intervals. A large circle light hung overhead, illuminating the table while casting shadows across the rest of the room. Ethan squinted slightly, and saw a fully-stocked bar in the back corner. The bartender stood behind the counter, cleaning the inside of a glass with a rag. Upon spotting Ethan looking his way, he gave a slight bow, gesturing for him to approach the counter

Ethan walked over and perched nervously on the edge of one of the barstools there, glancing around at some of the other figures in the room. He turned back to the bartender’s welcoming smile, just as wide as the employee’s outside. The man flipped the glass he was cleaning into the air, simultaneously turning around and grabbing a crystal decanter from the shelf behind him. Before Ethan could even comprehend what was happening, the man turned back around, his hand out palm-down, and caught the glass perfectly on his knuckles. His smile could have lit up the entire back room. 

“First time here, buddy?” the bartender queried as he poured a thin stream of amber liquid into the glass. A coaster materialized in his hand next; the glass placed on it and slid in front of Ethan before he could respond. He ruefully took the glass, feeling a mixture of awe and embarrassment.

“Is it that obvious?” Ethan said, chuckling softly into his glass as he took a sip. The whiskey set his mouth on fire and scorched a trail as it slithered down his throat. Trying to save face, he masked his cough by continuing. “I don’t know why I feel like I’m going to get murdered back here or something.”  

The bartender laughed, inclining his head for Ethan to take another drink, which he did with marginally more success. “Nah, the regulars may seem intimidating, but they love new blood back here. Makes things exciting.” Grabbing the glass from Ethan’s hand right as he drained the last bit, he winked as he poured some more. “Besides, we only murder the guys who aren’t so cute.”

Ethan blushed, sure his cheeks were already aflame from the liquor in his stomach. “Thanks. I definitely feel a little out of my depth right now. Being the only newbie here doesn’t make me feel much better.” 

The man chuckled and casually waved toward the poker table behind them. “Don’t worry, newbie, I’m sure you'll grow into it.”

Feeling a little encouraged meeting a friendly welcome, Ethan stood with his second drink and approached the poker table, assuming that the single empty chair that was available must be for him. As Ethan drew near, the other men around the table turned to look at him, and Ethan felt a cold sweat running down his back. There were five others already there, and it seemed that Ethan had been the last to arrive.  

The first person he noticed was the older gentleman that had invited him to this secret rendezvous. He lounged back casually in his seat, with his purple suit jacket unbuttoned and thrown open. The man to his left was dressed much more subdued: a simple black polo shirt that bunched up where it was tucked into his tan, pleated pants. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, with a neat haircut and glasses that slipped down his nose slightly. The next participant was only slightly more remarkable, and he occupied the chair that was to the right of Ethan’s. He had twisted slightly to see who had come in, and Ethan took in the plain T-shirt, which was stained and hugged his protruding belly awkwardly. His neck was obscured by an extra padding of fat, and when he turned back around, his ill-fitting jeans and ample posterior gave Ethan a view of his ass crack. Honestly, the guy would have fit in much more plopped in front of a game console than at this supposedly exclusive meeting. 

When Ethan sat down, his chubby neighbor gave him a nod before pensively looking back at his phone, both of his stout thumbs tapping furiously away at the keyboard. Ethan sipped his drink and glanced to his left at the other two players that sat with them. 

The Asian man on his left was dressed impeccably, his suit tailored to show off the strong upper body and powerful legs that he had attained. On his wrist was a large gold watch, and several rings decorated his fingers. Ethan felt inferior sitting next to the guy, even though earlier today he had thought his outfit rather stylish, perhaps in a more understated kind of way. The man didn’t even glance his way, but Ethan suspected that the way he leaned forward, showing off his defined profile and sharp jawline, was a cunning way of showing off. But as he finally looked at the final player, he completely forgot about the stunning man to his left. 

This guy had to be at least 400 lbs, and he dominated the space as if he relished every bit of his size. There was no sign of the man’s chair underneath him, as it was completely engulfed by the wide stance he had to take to accommodate his massive belly. It hung heavily to sit in his lap, further accentuated by his baby blue shirt, tucked in and tracing the curve of his body. Suspenders of a darker shade bowed out on either side, and the stranger had one hand resting gently on the top of his belly, the other holding a cigar up to his lips. He let out a dense cloud of smoke from his mouth, blurring his rounded face, his bushy eyebrows giving him expression of a gentle scowl. His eyes pierced through the flimsy veil as he regarded Ethan, taking a long drag of his cigar. When Ethan’s eyes made it up to meet his, the man had already looked away, as if he was not interested in his presence at all. 

After a few more minutes, the dealer in the middle of the table deftly passed out two cards to the six players, his silence slightly unnerving Ethan. Unlike the other employees who were all smiles, the dealer’s wide-brimmed hat with the light directly overhead cast deep shadows across his face. Once their cards were in hand, the dealer uncovered the first two cards of the deck, beginning the first round. He was beginning to wonder if no one was allowed to speak, and if they were even playing with the same rules as regular poker, until the man that had invited him to this game suddenly spoke up. 

“Since I have the honor of going first, figured I’d introduce myself to all you lovely bastards I’ve not seen before. Name’s Quentin, and you best remember it,” he gave a cheeky smile as he threw two red chips into the center, “cause I’m the one gonna rob all ya out of heart and home.” Leaning back, he put his hands behind his head and laughed heartily to himself as his neighbor gave him a sour look.  

Ethan was surprised by the quiet voice of the next player, which carried a heavy Mexican accent. He simply told them his name, Angel, sniffing and pushing up his glasses as he threw his own chips into the pile. Next was Ethan’s chunky neighbor, whose name was Billy. As the guy leaned forward to place two chips in the center, Ethan noticed that his shirt clung to his sides, and when he sat back again his shirt had risen to reveal a thin strip of pale belly fat. It bulged over the waistband of his pants, looking soft and malleable. He had to look away quickly, since it was his turn and he hadn’t even looked at his cards yet. Scrambling, he quickly matched the bet and introduced himself to everyone, earning a mock salute from Quentin and a long look from Arthur. Great way to start getting back your winnings, he berated himself, downing the rest of his alcohol for liquid courage. 

The remaining two men matched the bets, introducing themselves in order as Yu-jun and Arthur.  The first game continued from there, and Ethan had a fairly bad hand once he glanced at his cards. He wasn’t even sure if this poker game had the same rules as he was used to. The chips he had started with seemed to have no basis, and the others around the table all had a varying amount. After all the cards were revealed, he only had a pair, while Quentin lauded his luck, having attained a full house that let him snag all the collected chips. Arthur reached over and clapped the victorious man on the back, seemingly unbothered by his loss. The second round went a little better for Ethan, but his hand still wasn’t enough against Arthur, who this time won with three of a kind. 

The players took a short break, and Ethan counted his chips. He had started with one-hundred seventy-eight pieces collectively, for whatever reason, and now was down twenty. He was wondering how much he could lose before cutting his losses when the dealer began giving out extra chips to the players: a black chip for Quentin, a yellow for Arthur, and blue for Ethan. He hadn’t expected that, though looking around the others didn’t seem at all surprised. A light tap on his shoulder caught his attention; the friendly bartender from before was standing behind him, his soothing smile instantly setting Ethan at ease. 

“Every couple rounds there’s a short intermission to allocate winnings and reward the players who have been playing well,” he explained, leaning past Ethan and filling his empty glass without asking for confirmation. “Each hand earns you points based on value, regardless of the outcome. At the end the top three players are awarded extra chips. Think of it like a bonus for playing well and maybe for luck as well. Even if you’re beaten by a better hand or simply a bluff, you still can earn something just because you had a good draw.”

Ethan graciously acknowledged the advice, awkwardly trying to twist around and meet the man’s eyes  “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I would survive without you.” He instantly cursed his choice of words, blaming the two drinks he’d already had for his tongue slip.  

But the guy chuckled and patted his shoulder, resting it there and slowly massaging his arm. Ethan hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, but didn’t pull away from the reassuring touch. We’re all just here to drink and have a good time. I have a feeling you’re going to win big before the night is over. ”

As the bartender drifted away to fill other drinks, Ethan turned back and his eyes fell on Quentin across the table. His jaw dropped. The man was still sitting languidly in his chair, his arms resting across the sides. But he’d suddenly acquired a substantial belly protruding from his center; a perfect sphere that stuck out several inches past his chest. The buttons of his shirt were still holding on, but large diamonds of exposed flesh were appearing between the ones at the crest of his midsection, revealing the peppering of white hair that also covered his stomach. Although mostly covered by his shirt, his chest was pressed against its confines as well, both nipples showing through the straining fabric. 

Ethan had no idea what had happened. He was positive that the guy who had invited him had not been this overweight, either before or during the game. But Quentin seemed unbothered, talking to Arthur at his side and laughing at something he was saying. Arthur also looked slightly bigger, although it was hard to tell with his already substantial size. Ethan felt that his belly had bowed out a little further; his underbelly encroaching just a little bit more into his lap. His jowls looked larger as well, rounding out his face and adding to his chubby appearance. Looking at the pair, acting as if nothing was amiss, Ethan felt like he was losing his mind.

The games continued shortly thereafter, and Ethan was definitely beginning to feel the effects of the strong drink. The entire room seemed to take on a hazy appearance, as if Ethan was looking at things through the sweltering mirage of the desert. He felt laser focused on the cards in his hand, but the edges of his vision warped and blurred. He was still watching the two men across from him however, noticing that everytime Quentin leaned forward to reach for his chips his belly looked even bigger. He glanced at the others, but no one else was exhibiting drastic physical changes at the moment. But the atmosphere had indeed changed, with all the participants bantering and joking more than before as they played through a couple games, chips exchanging hands repeated after each one. 

Again, they took a brief intermission, and Ethan took a moment to look at his total chips. He had earned the second place reward this time, which had bumped his total up to one-hundred ninety-eight. He was excited that he had finally made progress from where he had started, and the excitement made him shift in his chair. Then he shifted again, wiggling back and forth a few times, struggling to find a comfortable position. His slacks were hugging his waist awkwardly, which he hadn’t noticed before. Ignoring the sensation, Ethan figured he just hadn’t noticed before due to how nervous he had been. The third glass of whiskey he had over the last few games was helping him relax a lot more and enjoy the game. 

Billy, silent for most of the games and slowly losing more and more, grabbed his attention. With a sense of deja vu, Ethan was again left flabbergasted by the sudden change of the guy sitting next to him who was definitely not Billy. Gone was the chunky, awkward guy, whose clothes, once ill-fitting, had gone in the opposite direction and had turned baggy on his lean frame. His body had lost the layer of fat that had buried it, revealing skinny arms and a slim face. He no longer looked like that greasy nerd from a few moments ago; now Ethan would say Billy looked leaner than he was. He snapped out of his musing when Billy held a blue chip in front of his eyes.

“I’m backing out dude. I thought I'd give you a little gift on my way.” The stranger, who must have been Billy, handed a chip to Ethan, standing up as he did so. “You’re doing pretty well, but I heard that you’re new here, so I’ll give you a heads up. ” He gestured to the other men remaining, the movement illustrating how different his body was from mere moments ago. “It doesn't seem like anyone has explained to you what they’re betting with here. I would ask before it’s too late.” Holding up his pants slightly so they didn’t fall down, Billy waved and walked toward the exit. 

Hearing the sounds of another goodbye behind him, he turned and saw Yu-Jun standing to leave. The suave businessman had also changed drastically. His tailored suit hugged his body as at least twenty extra pounds of pure muscle had attached to his frame. His biceps were as big as grapefruits, and his shoulders were so broad that everyone could see the muscle definition through the material. Arthur shook the guy’s hand before Yu-Jun left, and as he turned he noticed Billy standing to leave as well. Ethan saw his eyes scan the guy’s body, like a wolf discovering a new source of prey. He strode toward the smaller guy and draped his muscular arm around Billy’s diminutive frame; his cocky smirk on full display as he basically corralled Billy toward the exit. As they walked out of the back room, Yu-jun leaned down to whisper something in Billy’s ear as his hand ghosted down to rest possessively on the guy's ass. 

Ethan stared at the blue chip he’d been given. He rolled it across his knuckles to collect his chaotic thoughts before placing it in the pile with the rest of his earnings. As he did though, Ethan began to feel a strange sensation in his stomach. At first he thought he had imagined it, but a growing pressure was building up behind his belly button. Looking down, he watched as his shirt began to creep up his stomach that was growing before his eyes. His waistband began digging uncomfortably into the underside of the new roll of flab. The way it bulged over his waistband reminded him ominously of Billy earlier that night. Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes, but when he reached down and grabbed the accumulated fat in each hand, he knew it was real. At a complete loss, he gave it a shake, watching the way his softer body bounced.

What the fuck just happened to me? Ethan’s mind was reeling, trying to comprehend what he had just seen. Nothing strange had preceded the change, the only thing he had done was add the extra chip to—. 

It suddenly all clicked into place. The number of chips Ethan had started with, the number feeling vaguely familiar for some reason; the discrepancy between each player's initial totals; the sudden changes he had witnessed the others incur, and the smaller one he had just experienced. Before he’d left, Billy had said he didn’t seem to know what they were betting with, as if it would be anything else besides money. But it was, and suddenly the bartender’s words from earlier took on a completely different meaning: I have a feeling you’re going to win big before the night is over. It wasn’t money they were playing for; it was actual weight. 

A deep voice intruded upon his sudden revelation, and Ethan looked up to see Arthur considering him. He inhaled deeply from his cigar, allowing the smoke to trickle from the corners of his lips before he spoke again. “So, did you figure it out, boy?”

The authority of his voice and stature left Ethan no alternative but to nod mutely and accept the bizarre situation he found himself in. Maybe it was the drink that was making him more malleable to the possibility. Maybe it was the way Arthur still had not broken eye contact, making him feel like a mouse being assessed by a lion. The larger man at last looked away and motioned to someone behind Ethan. He rapped his fingers on the tabletop, and the dealer began passing out cards as the bartender slid smoothly next to Ethan’s side. Arthur’s eyes were back on him as the server deftly poured more of that amber whiskey into his glass. “Let me elaborate while we play the next few rounds.”

The four remaining players each grabbed their cards as Arthur continued to speak. “I’m sure Quentin didn’t explain sufficiently when he invited you here tonight. However, I assure you his phrasing wasn’t meant to mislead you. I can tell you’ve realized we’re betting the weight on our bodies during this game, but just like any other game, you can cash it out when the betting is finished. Every ten pounds is ten thousand dollars.” Ethan almost dropped his glass as he had been about to take a drink, eliciting a laugh from Quentin. Arthur simply smiled, “Not a bad deal, is it?”   

 As he had been listening, the bartender had eased his way to stand directly behind Ethan, resting both hands on his shoulders. Like before, he began to apply pressure and massage Ethan’s wound up muscles, sending waves of electricity through him. The sensation made him relax physically, and he could barely focus on the game as Arthur spoke again. “Of course the money is nice, but some of us here don’t play simply for that. It’s the weight that we’re really after.” He placed his hands on the large expanse of his belly as he said that. “This feeling of being one of the biggest men in the room is simply intoxicating, and then coming here and feeling your clothes shrink before your eyes as you grow even larger. Feeling the fat start to bury you as it envelops your arms and legs, causes your ass to expand, and your gut to swell out in front of you.” Ethan could feel Arthur building up to something important as he lifted his heavy belly and let it thump heavily into his lap. His dress shirt looked basically painted on to the giant orb of lard it contained—it was basically see-through—which Ethan could not help but be enraptured by. 

“Then again, getting big isn’t the only thing that we enjoy. Watching other guys come in here and leave twice as large can be pretty arousing too.” As he said that, he reached for the top button of his shirt and undid it. “Let me get a little more comfortable so I can show you what I mean.”

One by one, Arthur undid the buttons on his dress shirt to reveal his monstrous belly. It seemed even bigger now that it had been set free. While the bottom appeared soft and hung agonizingly over the waistband of his pants, the top of his gut was firm and shone in the low lighting. The shelf his belly formed met with his pecs, although they were so soft that his nipples sagged down and formed a deep crease underneath. With his suspenders now framing his chest, Arthur’s pecs were squished together, highlighting his already significant man tits. 

He discarded his shirt and gestured to Quentin, who had been watching the entire scene with a devilish grin. Taking the queue, Quentin stood and quickly stripped off his own straining shirt, showing off his new spare tire, though it felt dwarfed by Arthur’s giant mass. Then he began to unbutton and shuffle out of his pants, allowing everyone to see how much his body shook as he worked himself out of the tight material. The jockstrap he wore matched the purple jacket he’d worn earlier, making it seem like he knew this would happen tonight. It was also tight, causing his love handles to flood over the straps. He seemed to have accumulated most of his weight in his lower body: his thighs looked positively doughy with the excess pounds, and the two giant spheres of his ass added to the width of his frame. Obviously reveling in everyone’s stares, he sauntered over to Arthur, draping his arms around the bigger man’s shoulders and playfully squeezing his pillowy tits.  

Ethan had not been able to tear his eyes away the entire time, completely enthralled by the men and the constant stimulation of the bartender. Arthur turned his attention to Ethan once again. “So boy, do you like what you see as well? Does it turn you on seeing these fat bodies we’ve earned and grown tonight?” He reached behind him and almost lovingly caressed Quentin’s belly where it hung by his side. In a daze, Ethan could only nod silently again. 

A smirk grew on Arthur’s face, as if his confession were some sort of prize to him. He pointed to Angel, whom Ethan had completely forgotten was still present. “That’s exactly how our little Angel used to feel as well.” Little was said in a mocking tone, as Angel had swelled to at least 250 lbs without Ethan even noticing. The quiet man was breathing laboriously as he leaned back in his seat. His body seemed made for taking on weight, spreading across his whole body and making him look absolutely rotund. His neck had been swallowed by a double chin, and his previously baggy polo barely reached down to his belly button. By watching Angel’s gentle ministrations to his belly, he could tell it was extremely soft.

“You and Angel should be at about the same size after that last game,” Arthur said, motioning to Angel to shift seats and sit beside Ethan. The fat boy heaved himself upright, and he pushed his glasses up subconsciously as he waddled to Ethan’s side. He had completely forgotten about their games, but now he saw the dealer holding a yellow chip out for him to reward his playing the past few rounds. Feeling numb, he placed it in his pile, raising his total to two hundred forty-eight. He distantly registered Quentin and Angel getting the other two chips, though only he seemed to have reached a new maximum. At first he was confused why Arthur had said they were the same size. His next words clarified, “Just sit back and look at our little Angel over there, so you can get a sense of what you're in for.” 

His chair was turned to face the other man, and similar to before, Ethan began to feel a growing discomfort in his stomach. He gripped his flabby midsection, and felt as new fat began to fill him from the inside. In a matter of seconds he had grown a proper beer belly, the additional weight straining his shirt. Unlike last time, however, fat also began forming across other areas as well. He stared at the mirror image of Angel as his chest puffed up and fat crept under his armpits, forcing his arms to rise and somewhat hug his frame. Ethan could see the chubby face he now felt on his own, and Ethan caught the glint of delight in Angel’s eyes as he watched. The discomfort of his pants digging into his belly was becoming unbearable, and as his thighs were barraged by the onslaught of fat as well, he feared his pants might fray and burst apart. Especially his rear, which had completely filled his seat, was threatening to break out. 

The other men watched Ethan’s body grow with rapt attention. The bartender had stepped back as the changes had wracked through his body, but now leaned close to his ear. “Let’s give these heavyweights what they want, shall we?”

At first, Ethan didn’t understand. But as he was turned back towards the others, hands reached down to the hem of his tight shirt, and he allowed his arms to rise and his shirt to be pulled off. The fabric brushing against his enlarged nipples stole a slight moan from his lips. Now shirtless, he gazed down at his belly as the bartender set to work kneading the excess fat. Bright red marks zigzagged down his sides, and Ethan had the sudden image of being like a dumpling stuffed to the brim in its packaging. 

In his drunken state, Ethan simply sat there for a while and took in the events as they unfolded in front of him. As his belly was fondled from behind, Angel also began squeezing his own fat, causing his shirt to ride up even higher. Two more chairs were brought over to them, and Arthur sat heavily in one of them. The other seemed to be for Quentin, but the eccentric man instead perched on the other man’s leg. Their bellies squished together deliciously as Quentin leaned into Arthur, kissing him deeply and feeling up his body. Arthur responded by grabbing the man’s bulbous rear and pulling him in closer; the movement showcasing Quentin to the other two. 

When they parted, Arthur grinned before clicking his fingers at the bartender, who had still been groping Ethan. Like a conductor directing his band, the employee instantly ceased, rushing around the group and giving each of them a glass of clear liquid. Once all four men had a drink in his hand, Arthur raised his glass for a toast, “To new friends, well-played games, and all we gained tonight!” Everyone cheered and downed the strong drink, before succumbing to the debauchery around them. 

 It was clear that Arthur was in complete control of the night. After all, that was why Ethan had been instantly intrigued by him when he’d laid eyes on his massive figure. With an outstretched hand, he was able to convey his desires, receiving a new cigar without a single word. A glance at Angel saw him remove his shirt completely, finally allowing the others to appreciate his girth. Quentin decided to take his seat and sidled up to the Mexican man’s side. He whispered something Ethan couldn’t hear, but the message was clear as he wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist, grabbing handfuls of fat as the guy groaned in pleasure. 

Turning back to Arthur, the man seemed to decide Ethan had been a spectator long enough. Those puppeteer hands beckoned him silently, bringing him into his sphere of power. Arthur placed a hand on the front of Ethan’s gut, his meaty hands exuding warmth as he traced slow circles around its circumference.

“Did you gain everything that you imagined, boy?” Before Ethan could even answer, Arthur took a long drag on his cigar. He firmly grabbed Ethan’s chin and drew him in, locking lips with him and letting the accumulated smoke overwhelm his senses. Ethan instantly grew lightheaded, both from the kiss and the high of the smoke. Arthur repeated the exchange, only pulling back at the last second to let the last remnants of the smoke wash over Ethan’s face. When it was clear, Ethan looked to see Arthur’s eyes on him. “You may have acknowledged that  you liked all of this,” he said, gesturing at his exposed body, “now it’s time you showed us how much.”

Fully under his spell, Ethan allowed himself to finally let go, diving down towards Arthur’s enormous belly. He realized as his face met the warm expanse of flesh that this was what he’d wanted from the beginning. From afar, it was simply impossible to fully appreciate how large Arthur was. Ethan kissed the furthest part of his belly, realizing that it surged out so far Arthur physically could not reach this part of his body anymore. That idea turned him on even more, and he pressed himself further into the obese man, sinking into his body. Short hair tickled his nose as he roamed across Arthur’s gut, planting kisses wherever he went. 

His movements also made it clear how much his own body had changed. Leaning forward so much, Ethan could feel his belly straining painfully against his pants. Refusing to pull away, he reached desperately to unbutton his pants, but the mass of his own fat obscured the buttons. 

Arthur must have noticed the movement, because when he separated from the man, the bartender had appeared again by their side. He coyly pushed Ethan to lean back and suck in his gut, allowing him to kneel down and reach between his legs to undo his suffering pants. Ethan felt instant relief as the button was freed and he breathed out heavily, not realizing that his belly had been held back so much. It flooded forward several inches to push against the bartender’s head, whose eyes rose to stare with obvious lust at his doughy middle. But he seemed to retain his composure and simply took Ethan’s pants off fully, stepping aside for Arthur to access him again.

The two fat men kissed passionately, and Arthur grabbed Ethan by the budding love handles he’d acquired. “I knew we’d found a keeper as soon as you walked in.” He took a deep breath and jiggled Ethan’s belly, watching the new fat bounce and ripple across his whole body. “I got a way of sensing these types of things. You can try to fight it if you want, but you’re nothing but a fat boy now.” He reached up and caressed both of Ethan’s nipples. They had become larger and more pointed, and just like before the stimulation to them elicited a deep moan from the smaller guy. “Cash all this weight out, but you’ll be back. Just like the rest of us, it’s not about the money anymore.” He pushed Ethan down to suck on his nipple, sighing as his tongue darted hungrily around it. “All we want is to be fat.”

As Arthur said it out loud, he knew in his heart that he did want to be this fat—no, even bigger—for the rest of his life. He imagined himself getting to be as big as Arthur: expanding out in all directions, having to widen his stance whenever he stood or even sat to accommodate his gigantic belly, losing definition all over his body as his arms, legs, and even his face got swallowed with lard. Maybe he would cash out fifty pounds or so tonight, but he would always keep a little paunch for him to play with. Over time, he might even start these games as large as Arthur did. The thought instantly got him hard, and he grabbed a chunk of his own blubber in excitement. Arthur was right, it wasn’t just about getting fatter; he looked at the three gorgeous butterballs around him and felt like he might swoon. Who else might eventually wander through that velvet curtain? 

“I think you might have found yourself a regular,” Ethan agreed, tickling Arthur’s chubby cheek playfully. He glanced over at Quentin and Angel, the former of whom was behind the other and devilishly bouncing his belly while kissing his neck. They both looked up at his words and nodded in acquiescence, obviously turned on by everything as well. “Although, I might give you a run for your money one day, big guy.” He compared his belly next to Arthur’s: smaller for now, but it was only his first night. “I have a good feeling that I’ll grow into this.”

The four men lost themselves to pleasure the rest of the night. The jumbled dings and sounds of slot machines and rolled dice filled the air outside the room, masking their moans of pleasure and indulgence. When they finally exited that room, no one but the grinning employee at the partition knew what had just happened that night. Ethan cradled two blue checkered disks in his hand as he left: the number 10 etched into the center of both. Though they were small, he knew they were by no means insignificant. They were an investment into his future. 

[oldforestmoonhouse]

Gourmet' Kitchen Set-up with big entertainment area featuring a gray lined marble stone top .Doesn't go unnoticed modern contemporary X3 candlelit chandeliers , High lowback velvet material barstools . French design windows for a indoor-outdoor cooking experience . www.kellyhillsinternationalproperties.com

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

Steve/Peggy + stuck in an airport AU for @thesokovianaccords

and since you were the only one to send me anything, you also get a short reading bonus :)

~ * ~

Peggy wouldn’t be annoyed with her flight being delayed, she wasn’t looking forward to spending two weeks listening to her mother’s jabs of disappointment; if she didn’t know her mom would somehow blame her for the plane being late.

As if Peggy had the power to control circumstances with sheer wishful thinking.

There was only one way to spend who knows how long waiting for her flight and prepare for storm Amanda once she sets foot in England - airport bar.

With a few of the scheduled flights being delayed, the lounges were already swarmed with irked people.

She found the last free barstool, right next to a long polished bar counter, and ran towards it - just in time to slide onto a dusty pink velvet seat before some middle aged, lanky man reached it.

She glanced at two women next to her browsing their phones and sipping on mimosas. On her right sat a man, his head bowed down as he read a book. He looked up just as she was staring at his profile.

Startled, Peggy was about to mutter an awkward apology, but he only smiled at her warmly and shifted his attention back to his book. At least he wasn’t the type to start a random conversation, or worse, try flirting.

Though he was rather pleasing to the eye.

Peggy didn’t mind light flirting, especially if she was at a bar (airport one, but still), unfortunately most of the time men who hit on her were crude assholes with egos in need of a separate plane ticket.

When the bartender approached, she ordered an old fashioned. Like the neighbors on her left, she spent some time going through her phone. She texted Michael that she’ll be late, sent a few whiny messages to Natasha, checked her social media.

And got bored.

Bored enough to start studying people around her. The man on her right included.

He read fast, but seemed absorbed with the story. Every time he turned a page he also reached up to comb back a few strands of hair fallen over his forehead. He had flecks of copper in his dark blond beard, a few gray hairs too.

And he was ordering orange juice. Only that.

Perhaps it was the boredom, or maybe Peggy found him intriguing with his quiet demeanor and non-social media catered preferences, but she decided to chat him up. 

“Plain juice? I guess you deal better with delayed flight frustration than the rest of us.”

He looked up at her, clearly surprised, but then his face lightened with a smile. He picked up his glass of juice and tipped it her way.

“Have to keep my head sober in case a gorgeous woman approached me at the airport lounge,” he replied and Peggy had to admit it was a voice tempting to continue conversation, just to hear him speak.

She grinned at his cheeky response, which was inviting enough.

“Afraid you’d be too easy if I tried to lead you astray?” Peggy brought her own glass to her lips, glancing at him over the rim.

He shook his head slightly, hair he so often brushed back fell across his forehead again.

“Rather that I make a fool out of myself if that were to happen.” He admitted.

Peggy instantly liked his honesty, and the lack of false, cocky prowess.

“You can relax, for now.” She chuckled, but couldn’t help herself leading the tease further - “I haven’t yet checked if the bathrooms are suitable enough to take full advantage of a pretty boy.”

“Mm, too crowded.” He frowned, pretending to seriously think over the ridiculous scenario. “But there’s a storage room behind the kiosk with chocolates.”

“Private and with post action snacks at hand, I like the way you’re thinking.” Peggy grinned and then both of them laughed.

“I’m Peggy.” She extended her hand to him.

“Steve.”

His handshake was firm, but gentle. Peggy always appreciated when men greeted her the way they would another man, not treating her fingers as if they were made of the most fragile glass about to shatter if they squeezed.

“So, Steve,” she squirmed on her barstool until she was facing him fully, “where were you supposed to go before we got locked up?”

“London.” Steve closed his book and leaned his side against the counter.

Sleeves of his pristine white shirt were rolled up and his tie loosened, top button of his shirt undone.

Peggy arched her brows in surprise, she never got to experience those little coincidences which Natasha called dola - signs of the fate assigned to you by the gods.

It was a first for her. And it made her feel slightly warmer; or was it her drink.

“As do I.” She admitted.

There was no point in lying, especially if they were going to share the same flight anyway.

“Going back home?” Steve asked and then cringed, as if he realized of some mistake. “Sorry, couldn’t help noticing your accent.”

“I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it.” Peggy waved her hand dismissively. She sighed. “Visiting family, so I can personally hear my mother complaining at me living in the States, not just over the phone.” 

She loved her mother, truly. She also loved having an ocean between them and the ability to end the call.

“And you?” Peggy tilted her head to the side.

“Less exciting. Only work.” Steve shrugged.

“Ah, international business. Fancy.” She didn’t want to pry, she was simply wondering how busy he’d be in case she needed an excuse to meet a friend in the city to run away from her family. 

“Something like that.” Steve smiled.

He didn’t seem uneasy, more like a little embarrassed to tell her more. Peggy understood that, after all they were complete strangers who enjoyed a little flirting at a bar. 

She was about to change the topic when a young man ran up to them. He was nearly out of breath as he stopped beside them. He put one hand on his hip, trying to compose himself. In his other hand he was holding a hanger. 

Protective foil wrapped around a distinctive, dark blue suit.

“Captain, Sir, sorry-” the man wheezed out. “All cleaned and pressed.”

“Thanks, Junior.” Steve took the hanger from him and folded it neatly over the counter. “There was no need to rush with it, we’re still delayed. And probably gonna be cancelled anyway.”

“Maria sent me.” Junior gave him a pointed look, as if that explained everything. 

“She said, and I quote, that I better deliver it to you asap, before you come up with a stupid idea to fly in your damn leather jacket.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He would do it if Maria stood in front of him, too. 

“I honestly doubt anyone actually cares what I wear, as long as I fly them safely to their destination.”

“Maria knew you’d say that.” Junior grinned, now clearly amused. “She ordered that I tell you-” 

He paused, straightened his back and then spoke in a manner undoubtedly meant to mock said Maria’s voice:

“Here at Shield Airlines we’re making fantasies come true. And most of our passengers fantasize about a pilot in his full uniform, so you’re going to wear it and make some panties drop.”

Junior chuckled when Steve groaned and hung his head low in embarrassment. He mock-saluted him then turned around and left.

“I think I need to have a talk with Maria.” Steve muttered, finally looking up. 

He glanced at Peggy. Uncertainty paled his features. She wondered what kind of reaction he feared seeing on her face. 

Annoyance because he didn’t tell her he’s a pilot right away? Lust because he is a pilot and that in itself turns some people on? 

Well, it was sexy, if a profession could be described as such. 

“A pilot, huh?” She kept her tone casual, not wanting to make Steve feel more awkward than he already was.

“I said I was traveling for work.” He shrugged, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You also said our flight will be cancelled?” Peggy frowned.

“The weather is getting worse, both here and right over the islands.” Steve nodded. “I expect we won’t be able to get wheels off the ground for at least six hours.”

“Bloody hell.” Peggy downed the rest of her drink in one go. 

It wasn’t that bad of news for her as it may be for other passengers. Her family wasn’t going away, she still had ten days of vacation to spend in London, and she could get back to her apartment for the night. 

Then again, it was over an hour drive one way. The weather could change anytime, she suspected. 

Six hours could become only four. Or stretch into eight. 

What was one supposed to do at the airport for so long?

Peggy licked her lips as she slid her hand along the counter. She tapped her red-painted fingernails against Steve’s fingers.

“Well, Steve. Do you know any nooks that may provide us entertainment for the next few hours without any interruptions?”

It was bold. Even for Peggy. But she felt compelled to check what dola had in store for her and that cute pilot. 

Steve’s breath hitched and Peggy felt a wicked sense of joy at his reaction. He trapped her fingers between his own, squeezing them tightly. 

“It would be very unprofessional of me to take a passenger to the pilot's private rooms.” Steve’s gaze fell to Peggy’s lips, then down to her cleavage and back up to hold her gaze.

Peggy leaned forward, tugging on his tie with her free hand.

“Here at Shield Airways you’re making fantasies come true. Your passenger is currently fantasizing about seeing you in your uniform and then out of all clothes.”

“Yes, ma’am. We aim to please.” 

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

Beautiful Condition

Summary: You have a condition called Rosacea, which makes your face red and splotchy. Loki is eager to make sure you know that you’re beautiful.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Words: 2,197

You hadn’t been an Avenger for very long. Technically, you weren’t even fully an Avenger yet, having not completed your training. Despite this, the others already considered you part of the team and you were invited, along with the rest of them, to attend a party. The event was being thrown in their honor, to celebrate their most recent successful mission; the prevention of the obliteration of the entire East Coast. You had turned down the invitation not once, not twice, not three, but four times already, saying that you hadn’t even been a part of that mission and didn’t deserve to be celebrated. With the whole team against you, however, you caved in the end. Natasha and Wanda tried to reassure you, saying that they would help you get ready, that they would make you a true spectacle, that everyone would be jealous of you.

But that wasn’t the problem.

“Y/N, are you done in there?” Wanda asked from outside the bathroom door from her place on your bed. You adjusted your formal wear a final time, appraising yourself in the large mirror above the bathroom counter. Your eyes roamed up your body, taking in the clothing that the pair had picked for you to wear tonight. It fit nicely and complimented all of the curves and angles of your body, and just as you were thinking that you might actually look hot, your gaze fell upon your face.  

The angry red splotches covering your cheeks were something that you had come to accept as a part of you. That didn’t mean that you had to like it. The bathroom door opened behind you and you saw Natasha reflected in the mirror.

“Worried about your face?” she asked tactlessly.

You turned around with a scowl. “Yeah.”

“We can put some makeup on you. Try and cover it up,” she offered.

You shook your head. “Makeup doesn’t cover it up. Trust me, I’ve tried everything. I’ve blown whole paychecks on foundation and creams to try and hide it. Nothing works.”

You pushed past her with a huff.

Wanda rose from the bed with a soft smile. “I know you don’t believe it, but it’s not that bad. Noticeable, yes, but not ugly. Having red on your face does not immediately make you ugly.”

“Maybe not to you, but to the rest of the world it does.”

She sighed, her smile dropping into a pitying frown.

Natasha cleared her throat. “Come on. We’re already late, we should get going.”

It was late in the year, and a chill breeze hit you as you slid out of the limo, followed by Wanda and Natasha. You rubbed your arms, trying to find some warmth in the friction. Before you stood a massive hotel, dark and foreboding against the bright New York skyline, the gray bricks and Victorian architecture giving the place an eerie feel. You shivered, though not from the cold, and before you could turn around and get back into the limo, your friends were pulling you toward the front doors, one on either arm.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” Wanda whispered in your ear.

“I hate parties…” you grumbled as a young man in a sharply tailored tux opened the door to grant you entrance and you were pulled inside.

The feel of the hotel’s interior was in sharp contrast to the exterior. It was brightly lit, with red velvet furniture and a massive gold chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. You gaped at anything and everything you laid your eyes on as your friends lead you farther in.

“You’re late.”

You pulled your gaze away from an exquisite stained glass window high up in the wall and dropped your head to see Tony Stark striding toward you, a glass of champagne in hand.

“Only by half an hour,” Natasha responded with a smirk.

“So, fashionably late, then,” Tony quipped with a playful grin. He turned to you then. “Glad to see you here, Y/N. I was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you mumbled coldly.

“You look good, if that’s any consolation,” he tried to reassure you.

You offered a curt nod in thanks, but said nothing else.

“Well, party’s this way,” he said and lead you, Natasha, and Wanda through the entrance hall and to a set of heavy, ornately carved doors that hung open on their hinges to reveal a massive ballroom. Well… it may not have actually been a ballroom, but that was the only word that you could think to describe it. It reminded you of something from a fairytale castle, and suddenly you felt very out of place. This is a room for royalty, not… not you.

Your friends departed as soon as you stepped over the threshold, weaving their way through the crowds of elegantly dressed guests to find the rest of the team. The sea of people within swayed like a tide and you had to dance around them to move farther into the room, lest you crash into someone. Luckily, you were fairly graceful on your feet and managed to find your way to the bar without causing an accident.

The young woman at the counter smiled at you as you pulled up and leaned back on the bar. “What can I get for you tonight?” she asked, her soft voice harmonizing with the piano and cello music whispering through the room from the stage.

You looked over your shoulder at her. “Oh, sorry. No, I don’t want anything right now, thank you.”

She nodded and moved on to another customer as you hopped up onto a barstool, facing the counter. You tried to read some of the labels on the fancy glass bottles lining the shelves, but they were either too small or the font too curly for you to make out much. After a few minutes, you were picking at your cuticles as a body took the stool to your right. Not wanting to make small talk with a stranger, you opted to ignore them, turning your body slightly away so that they would hopefully leave you alone.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“A glass of ice water for my friend here,” a dark, smooth voice with an unforgettable accent replied.

Your heart stopped in your chest and you held your breath. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The bartender set a tall glass of ice cold water in front of you and you wrapped your hands around it instinctively before muttering a thank you.

“Having fun?” Loki asked and you knew the question was directed at you.

You took a sip of water to try and cool the heat that was rising to your face. You were fond of the God of Mischief and his presence always sent fire rushing to your face, which you knew made your condition so, so much worse; the red splotches on your face darkening to a deep crimson. You tried to angle your face away from him, to hide it from his searching gaze.  

“I, um… Yeah, I… It’s… It’s a good party. Nice music,” you stammered in answer to his question. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him because you knew how he was looking at you. He didn’t look at anyone else that way, which was part of the reason that you had such a hard time being around him. When he looked at others, his eyes were dark, full of judgment and self-righteousness. When he looked at you, his eyes held the bright blue of the sky. They were soft, kind, caring. He looked at you like you were all the stars in the sky, like you were an exploding nebula, brilliant and beautiful, like you were the only thing in the whole world worth looking at. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight,” you said.

“I wasn’t going to… Until Thor told me that you’d be attending.”

You didn’t answer, unsure of what to say. He shuffled beside you. “You needn’t hide your face from me, darling.” His voice was barely a whisper as his hand came up to gently grasp your chin. You didn’t fight him as he turned your head to face him and a soft smile tugged up at the corners of his mouth as his eyes met yours. You were sure your face was beet red at this point and subconsciously you turned away once more as he lowered his hand.

You could see his smile drop and his brow furrow. “Do I truly make you so uncomfortable?” he asked.

You shook your head, eyes downcast and focused on the bar in front of you. “No, it’s not you…” you began. “It’s not you, Loki.” Finally, grudgingly, you angled your whole body toward him with a sigh. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, not in the slightest. In fact, I enjoy your company. I enjoy it more than any of the others.”

“Then… why do you avoid me?” he looked confused, but there was still a tinge of hurt behind his eyes.

There was no reason to lie to him. No reason to keep hiding. If there was one person that could look past your condition, it would be Loki. However, you’d thought that about people before, and every time, they’d let you down.

You rubbed a hand down your face and took a deep breath to steady your nerves before you looked him right in the eye. “I avoid you because I like you, but I’m afraid that my face will make it so that you won’t ever like me back.”

The crease between his brows deepened with his confusion. “Your… face? You have a beautiful face, darling. What could possibly make you think any different?”

You cocked your head to the side. “The redness,” you stated simply. “My condition.”

The prince chuckled. “Last I checked, blushing isn’t a condition, my dear.”

You shook your head. “No. No, it’s not blush. Well, I mean it is, I always blush when I see you, but it’s not… It’s not just that. It’s called Rosacea. It makes my face red, but the red gets worse when I experience strong emotions, like happiness, sadness, or anger, or when… when I like someone. Blush is just a little splash of color on your face not… not… this.” You gestured wildly to your face, to the scarlet that painted your cheeks.

His smile returned and he reached a hand up, brushing the tips of his fingers ever so gently across the splash of color before he cupped your cheek and looked once more into your eyes. “If this is a condition… then it’s surely the most beautiful condition I’ve ever seen.”

You felt the heat rush to your face once more. “Oh…” you smiled, lowering your gaze to your hands, which rested in your lap.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed of the patterns that adorn your face, darling. Da Vinci himself would envy the color upon your cheeks were he alive to see it.”

“Now you’re actively trying to make me blush,” you said, poking him in the stomach.

With a chuckle, his thumb ghosted once more across your cheek before he dropped his hand to take one of yours. “Well, of course, dear. I do so love the color that springs up when I do.”

Suddenly, the chipper piano music was replaced with a dark, haunting melody that wove through the crowd like ghosts. A sound fit to compliment the dark prince of Asgard, you thought. In one swift movement, he had slid from his barstool and stood before you, your hand still in his.

“Would you dance with me?” he asked quietly.

With a smile, you nodded and he wasted no time in pulling you to your feet. The crowd parted for him so you could easily pass and he pulled you close once you came to a stop in the middle of the room. The crowd of people faded into darkness, indistinct shapes dancing in the background. He held you tight as he gazed down at you and took a step. His smile widened as you moved with him and he took another. Soon enough, you were dancing an elegant dance with Loki, who was looking down at you as if you were the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

“My crimson flower…” he sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “My alluring crimson flower. Do you think you’re not beautiful?” he asked. “Roses weep as you pass. Do you think you’re not regal? The sea bows to the sand when you stand upon it. You are not your condition, Y/N. Don’t you ever think you are not enchanting. You are everything to me.”

He glanced down at your lips and you knew what he wanted. Without hesitation, you inclined your head and brushed his lips with your own. He pressed them together, kissing you softly, slowly, passionately, starting a fire in your chest. All too soon, he pulled away, his breath hot against your skin.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. And for once, you believed it.

[anisanews]

9 Minimalist Home Interior Design Ideas for a Breezy Home

Now that it’s summer, you may have forgotten about your New Year’s resolutions to keep your home organized and embrace a more minimalist home interior. As you take a look around your home, you may even start to notice miscellaneous papers strewn across the counters, or knick-knacks you can’t remember buying cluttering up your shelves. With a new season about to begin, there’s no better time than now to clear the clutter and start fresh. 

You can create a minimalist home interior by making simple changes to your living space or opting for an interior design renovation. Whether you’re living in a condo in Vancouver, CA, or a two-story home in Dallas, TX, you can make your home stylish yet subtle. These 9 tips will help you begin designing a more minimalist home interior, helping you learn how to live better with less. 

1) Keep clutter to a minimum

One of the main reasons you might be looking for minimalist home décor is due to the clutter your home has accumulated over the years. If you’re looking for a way to begin – start small. That may be spending five minutes a day decluttering your space, organizing room-by-room, or simply clearing off any surface clutter. No matter how you begin organizing your home, you have options to make decluttering doable.

2) Make sure you have enough storage

An easy way to keep the clutter at bay is having enough storage to stow away your things properly. Lack of storage space can prevent you from achieving your goal of a minimalist home and lifestyle. However, that doesn’t mean you should start buying more things than you need. Having optimal storage will allow you to store what you need in its proper place without clutter overflowing into your living spaces. Consider streamlined built-in storage cabinets to keep your items organized and stylishly out of sight. 

3) Choose light colors to brighten up your space

The first step in creating a minimalist home interior is to choose light colors as your base. Think whites, beiges, light grays, or any neutral color variation that you like best. But don’t be afraid to add some splashes of black to your space. Having these contrasting colors will help create dimension in your living area. Whether it’s a black throw blanket over an off-white couch or dark grey pillows on an ecru bedspread, you can keep your color palette bright while also incorporating darker shades. 

4) Use pops of color as accents

Just because a minimalist home interior highlights a neutral color palette doesn’t mean you have to turn away from color. Choosing the right pops of color in your home can bring personality and add brightness to your space. Consider warm colors like mustard yellow or rust orange pillows on a crisp white chair or the right piece of artwork against light-colored walls, like a sunset painting or abstract drawing. Home trends may come and go, but incorporating the right touches of color into a minimalist home design can create a timeless space.

5) Streamlined and functional furniture is key to a minimalist home interior

Whether you have a popular home style or something more unique, designing a minimalist home interior takes time and thought. If you’re considering updating your furniture, go for a streamlined look. Choose furniture with sleek lines, like backless barstools in a kitchen or a chic glass coffee table. You want to have a space that includes functional pieces and complements your home’s interior, no matter the style.

6) Use a variety of textures to create dimension

To create contrast and interest in your space, it’s important to use a variety of textures, such as mixing a chunky wool blanket on a brushed velvet couch with linen curtains to frame your windows. This way, you can stick to a sleek color palette without making your home appear one-note. If you’re having trouble visualizing or designing your space, contact an interior designer to help design the perfect minimalist home interior.

7) Decorate your space with intention and meaning

One of the reasons you may be looking to design a minimalist home is because of all the knick-knacks cluttering up your space. When decorating your space, it’s important to choose pieces with intention – ones that mean something to you. Having a curated collection of decorative items will add style to your space without taking away from the rest of your décor. Be sure not to over-decorate. Choose the right artwork for your walls and space out your ceramics or candles on the shelves. 

8) Add greenery and brightness to your space with plants 

While it may seem counterintuitive to have bright greenery in your home when sticking to a neutral color palette, incorporating plants into your home can help tie your space together. Houseplants add an element of natural beauty and can breathe new life into your home while staying also minimal. Use a fiddle-leaf fig next to a window with lots of sunlight or add a pothos in your bedroom where there’s low light. The options to use indoor plants and flowers as part of your minimalist home interior design are endless. Plus, plants have many benefits like increasing productivity and improving indoor air quality.

9) Use natural light to warm up your home

When you’re looking for the right place in your home for your new houseplants, make sure to lift your window shades. Sunlight can add warmth to your neutral furnishings and can go a long way to make your house feel like a home. Embrace what natural light your windows let in to keep your space feeling airy and bright. Even if you live in a city where there isn’t much sunlight, like Portland, OR, use breezy, sheer curtains to highlight your windows or place a mirror to help spread natural light around your space.

from Anisa News https://ift.tt/350g6S9

[ragwitch]

Darcy Lewis, Unenchantress

IT’S THE FIRST HALLOWEEN PROMPT ANSWER!!! For @zephrbabe who requested #18 - Wintershock (I’m saving the ask for the other prompt that was included in it.)

In my head this is a Halloweentown/Nightmare Before Christmas AU and I may need to come back to it someday.

18. 'Are you a witch? Cause I am enchanted.’ 'That’s a terrible pick up line.’ 'What? No. I’m enchanted. Like, literally, I’m under a curse. Can you help?’

Pairing- Darcy/Bucky

Rating- Teen for language and innuendo I suppose.

Darcy was sipping on her black cat martini trying to decide if she was going to give her new velvet dress a spin on the dance floor, when six feet of muscle and scruff and one of Dr. Zolastein’s robotic arms came sidling up to her at the bar.

“Are you a witch?” he muttered under his breath in her ear. “‘Cause I am enchanted.”

Darcy’s eyebrows raised and she stared down into her purple drink for a long moment before turning her barstool to face him. He was shuffling in place and casting nervous glances around the bar.

“That’s a terrible pick up line,” Darcy said.

His head shot up, stunned and he stared back at her, eyes a compelling shade of moon blue. “What? No.” His head started to shake side to side nervously. “Like, literally, I’m under a curse. Can you help?” he whispered. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Darcy giggled and felt her cheeks heat up. “Sorry, my mistake. Umm, sure. Have you tried staking iron nails through your hands?”

“Unfortunately yes,” he said, raising his hands. The flesh one was lightly scarred in the center. The metal was spotless.

“Well good, because I didn’t want to try that one,” Darcy said with a shrug. “So, who got you? Was it Wanda? She has rough days, don’t take it personally.”

“Hydra,” he whispered.

“Oh shit.” Darcy nodded and reached out to pat at the human shoulder. It was a nice shoulder. She might have let her hand linger. But he leaned in so he didn’t seem to mind. “What’d you do? Stand her up? Leave in the middle of the night?” She winked.

“I pulled through into the parking spot she wanted at the grocery store,” he mumbled.

“Awww dick move.” She shrugged and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, grateful for the way he was eyeing her skin hungrily. Definitely a werewolf. He was totally thinking about marking her. And if he wasn’t a customer she might have let him. “Okay, so. What’s your full name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he said. “But I prefer Bucky.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes,” Darcy trilled. She smiled at him. “How do you feel?”

“Confused?”

“Well it was a worth a shot.” She dug into her purse and pulled a slightly bent card out. Darcy Lewis - Unenchantress, Witch, Very Cute. “My address is on the back. Come by on the full moon and we’ll see what I can do.”

“Is that safe for you?” he asked. He smiled down at the card and ran his thumb over her name.

Darcy grinned and leaned forward to leave violet lipstick on his cheek. “You’re sweet to worry.”

_

The moon rose two weeks later and Darcy stood in her backyard, gray and brown werewolf facing her, teeth bared as it snarled softly.

“You’ve been a very bad werewolf!” Darcy snapped, finger pointed accusingly between it’s eyes. The growl deepened and Darcy barked back, “You pissed on my carpet.”

He really hadn’t. But it did the trick, the soft ears twitched  and the head cocked slightly.

“You ate my throw pillows!” Darcy yelled. The snarl faded and the downy brow furrowed. “You kept me up all night, howling at…at…bats!!”

Bucky’s little wolf head flinched slightly at that.

“That’s right! You can’t catch bats! You can’t even fly! What were you thinking?? And don’t even get me started on how you’ve treated my begonias! They didn’t need your fertilizer, you mangy old mutt!!”

Bucky whimpered at that and shuffled down onto his belly, gazing up at her with those husky dog blue eyes of his, snuffling at the ground apologetically.

Darcy took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “Okaaaay. Well…okay. I feel sort of bad now.” Darcy stepped carefully up to Bucky the werewolf. But he only gazed up at her, sniffing softly at her hand and scooting forward on his belly as she knelt down in front of him.

“Good boy,” she said, scratching behind his ears. His back leg thumped against the ground happily. “Good boy, don’t be scared,” she soothed gently. Then she whipped a knife out of from the back of her skirt and whapped him on the head with the flat side. He yipped and looked up at her with startled eyes, but nothing changed.

Darcy sighed. “Sorry, Bucky. Guess you better come inside and stay the night. I was serious about the carpet though, you better lemme know if I need to…take you outside for a walk or whatever.”

_

Darcy woke up to sun shining and a warm, naked man spread over her covers, his head nestling into her lap sleepily.

“So….” she started. Bucky’s head perked up, eyes heavy lidded and squinting. He looked down at himself, but then back up at her without seeming very bothered. “You’re still a werewolf,” she said. “But you’re a tame werewolf.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice raspy with sleep in a way that made Darcy turn warm in the belly. “Yeah, I definitely felt clear-headed.”

He was staring at the stretched collar of her nightgown hungrily. Right. She had changed in front of him last night. While he’d been a clear-headed werewolf.

“I have one more idea,” she said. “But ethically speaking, you couldn’t really be my customer.”

“Was I paying you?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Apparently not. Okay so…the oldest cure that we know of is to exhaust the werewolf with extended…physical activity.”

“Like running?” Bucky asked and Darcy noted the way his head tilted at just the same angle as the wolf’s.

“Sure. Sure. Running would work.”

There was a stretch of silence. Darcy looked down the bare length of him and then back to his face, raising her eyebrows. Then he raised his eyebrows and looked at her in her nightdress.

“Oh,” he said, and a tiny little smile started to grow on his face. “Is this a…one time prescription?”

“No, it’d be fairly long term,” Darcy said. The blankets were starting to pull back from her lap and she found his fingers as the culprits, slowly gathering the fabric under his grip.

“It sounds like the most…beneficial remedy you’ve suggested yet,” Bucky said, voice turning to gravel as he sat up on his knees and started to prowl up to the head of the bed.

“I’m very thorough,” Darcy whispered, kicking the blankets back.

“So am I,” Bucky said, grinning.

[ellen-reincarnated1967]

Thirty Days or Less Pt. 25

Andie couldn’t help but stifle a cocky laugh, she was right, Dean was throwing a drink down his throat in the hotel’s lounge. She scanned the room and shrank into herself, it was frigid and barren, sans the creepy bartender who kept eyeballing her from across the room.  She could smell Dean as she approached him.  She slid onto a barstool, it’s red velvet cushions, compressed as she situated herself, and she tapped the bar once.  

“You reek like ass and whiskey,” she let the amber liquid coat her throat and pushed the tumbler away from her.

“And yet you’re still here, so it can’t be that bad,” Dean smirked behind his shot glass.

“I’ve smelled worse,” Andie cringed as Dean turned to face her, his stool swiveling around, nodding in concurrence.

“I bet you have,” he waved a finger at the bartender, but Andie caught his hand.  He hesitantly recoiled from her touch.  

“Paranoid much?”  she inquired in her cocky accent and Dean narrowed his eyebrows until they met dead center.

“You saw what I did,” he growled, his voice a low, threatening purr, “how can you joke?”

“How can I not, Dean?”  Andie turned in her seat, hooking one leg underneath her and letting her hands fall to lap.

“Did you forget who has the highest degree of education in the lot of us,” she pointed a finger toward the ceiling, as if Van was in the room above them, “Van’s been researching how to save you before hopped her little white picket fence a couple of weeks back.”

“Huh,” Dean swallowed, shame left the crinkles in his forehead, and Andie saw the makings of a smile, but he faltered.

“That wasn’t you upstairs, Dean,” Andie reminded him, “it was the hallucinations, yet another tasty side effect of your ramifications with the Cross Roads Demon.”

As Dean sat listening to Andie, he couldn’t help but dart his eyes back to the bartender.  The man kept silent the whole time, constantly refilling his glass, never making eye contact.  Dean ran his fingers around the edge of the glass, tapping it, watching the man wipe down the tumblers and wine glasses.  He watched him for what could have been no longer than a minute, when Andie waved a hand in front of his face.

“You in there, Winchester?”  Andie waved her hand back and forth glancing in the direction of the bartender.  At the mere mention of Dean’s surname, the man turned, slowly, cryptically, as if he heard her, and stared in their direction.  Andie furrowed her brow as she simultaneously rolled her eyes,

“You don’t get paid to eavesdrop Buddy,” she called over to the bartender who began to walk slowly toward them.  She didn’t notice, but he held a butcher knife at his side, the glimmer of the blade caught Dean’s eye.  That, and the fact that he looked like something out of a Rob Zombie horror film.  The man’s face was ghoulish and gray.  His eyes were pitch black.  The whole time Dean was wallowing in his whiskey, a freaking demon was serving him.

“Uh, Morgan?”  Dean stood up, slowly, reaching for his waist, and pulled out his gun.

“What the hell, Dean,” Andie stood up, her hands raised as if to protect herself, “you can’t just go shootin’ a fella for eavesdropping.”  Andie cocked her head to the side and considered her statement and mumbled, “In a perfect world maybe.”

“Shut up and duck!” Dean ordered as he fired a round off over her head, hitting the bartender directly in the skull.  Black smoke began to emit from his eye sockets, mouth and nostrils.  Dean shoved Andie toward the exit and pulled a knife that Sam had given him that killed a demon dead, sending their possessing soul snatching asses back to Hell, leaving the human unscathed.  

“Take the stairs,” he pushed her again, and this time, Andie began to haul ass up the steps, taking two at a time, while Dean was on her heels, checking the stairwell for demons.  Andie reached their floor in record time, pulled open the doorway that led to the corridor, and halted.  There was a housekeeping cart outside a room, a few doors down, from their respective rooms.  She halted, signaled to Dean that there was someone ahead, and waited.  They could hear the maid exiting before they saw her and risked the chance.  They walked quickly toward Andie’s room, where Sam and Donovan were, knocked on the door repeatedly.  Andie heard Dean inhale and turned to look down the hall; the maid had gone back to her cleaning cart, busying herself with towels.  Andie beat the ball of her hand into the door, calling for Sam to open the door.  

“Forget your key?”  Sam chuckled as he opened the door, and nearly fell over, as Andie tumbled into him.  He saw her pale stricken face and began to ask what was wrong, but he could hear Dean outside in the hall, fighting off someone.  He heard the woman’s guttural cries and watched as Dean shoved the blade of the knife into her throat.  A ghastly shadow flickered, illuminating her from the inside out, and a black plume of smoke, exited her body and sought refuge in the air vents.  

“Dean, what the hell?”  Sam pulled his brother off the older woman and knelt to feel for a pulse.  Dean kicked him in the ass

“She ain’t home, Sammy,” Dean pulled his brother up by the back of his shirt and hurried him inside the hotel room.  Dean locked the door, shouted to anyone to get his duffel bag, to which Van unlocked the adjoining room door, and came back within seconds with his bag.  Dean’s hand momentarily graced Van’s and their eyes locked.  In that moment, all that had happened was in the past.  Right now, she was assisting him in lining the hotel room with salt.  The doors and the windows were taken care of; all that was remaining was the air vents. Sam hastily climbed to the sink and used duct tape to close off the ventilation system.  He tossed Andie the roll of tape and she did the same to the vent in the bathroom.  Once everyone had taken cautionary measures to ward off the influx of demons, the room fell silent, sans their heavy breathing.

“Okay,” Van wiped salt from her hands, flinching as the tiny granules infiltrated her cuts, “what the fuck was that?”  She pointed a shaky finger to the hallway. Andie reached for her hand and they interlocked fingers.

“Demons,” Andie told her, “boy wonder over there can see them now.”

“What do you mean, ‘see them’?”  Sam inquired, confused as anyone, but as he looked to his brother, stole glances at the girls, he noted that they weren’t as shocked as he was.  Andie recalled the scene at the bar.

“What do you want me to say, Sammy,” Dean huffed, “at first he was just pouring me drinks, the next minute his face was all,” Dean scrunched his face, gnarled his fingers, sagged his tongue out of his mouth, “demonic.”

“And her?”  Sam pointed a slender finger toward the deceased body that was strewn across the hallway floor.

“Oh hell, she was goddamned hideous.”  Dean retorted.  

“How long have you been able to see demons,” Sam exasperated.

“Since around, I dunno, Sammy, twenty minutes ago.”

“You knew about this,” Sam turned his attention on a very exhausted Donovan, not asking, just stating the obvious.

“Of course I knew,” she sighed, “I knew Dean had made the deal before you two showed up, I knew when the gates of hell opened up, I knew that you two were heading my way,” she threw up her hands in finality, “what I don’t know, Sam, is how to save him.”  Tears began to well in her eyes, her voice was still raspy from Dean’s previous strangulation, and Van was feeling quite fatigued.  Dean walked over to where she was propped up against the wall, leaning her head on Andie’s shoulder, and slid down next to her. He took her free hand into his and squeezed. Van returned the gesture and turned toward Dean.  She mouthed,

“I’m sorry.”

He put a warm hand to her cheek, rubbed his thumb alongside her face, and told her she had nothing to be sorry for; he knew she was doing everything she could, even if she had been holding out on him.  

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed the guilt of his prior misbehaviors, “one minute all I wanted to do was kiss you and the next thing I knew I had my hands around your throat.”  Dean cringed as the words exited his lips, his eyes lingered on the bruises on Van’s neck.

“I don’t know what’s real or what’s not,” he shook his head, closing his eyes, he let his head hit the wall with a resonating thud.  

“We’re real,” Van reassured him, “Dean, you hear me, we are real.”  

 Dean opened his eyes and found that his brother had seated himself in front of the trio and rested a hand on his brother’s leg. He patted Dean’s leg once, nodded that he was there for Dean, and Andie coughed.

“Alright, enough of this shit,” she blinked back some saline, and Van laughed.

“Morgan, you got somethin’ in your eye?”  

“Freakin’ salt,” Andie rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes, sniffled into her shirt, and wiped her hands on her jeans, “burns like a son of a bitch.”

“Salt,” Dean chuckled, “gets me every time.”  

“Whatever,” Andie stood up and paced the room, “now that we’re sequestered in this hell hole,” she looked at Dean and pursed her lips, “my bad,” she continued on as planned, “what do we do now?”

“We get our shit in order and wait it out,” Dean suggested, “if this is the end, we’re better off together then separated.”

“Wait it out,” Van echoed, “you’re not serious?”

“I’m a hazard to everyone, including myself, if we go out there,” Dean pointed out, using his past transgressions as proof.

“On the contrary,” Van stood up and rummaged through their bags, checking their arsenal of weapons, flipping through her journal, “if you can see these bastards, why not just take them out?”

“Because if might just be a trap,” Sam contributed, “and if it is, we have to one up them.”

“So let’s hit the books, the web, call Bobby, call in the Angel,” Van’s voice was steady as she eyed each and every one of them. She waited for them to come up with an excuse, but instead, Dean tilted his head to the side and grumbled something incoherent hidden beneath a smile and called Bobby.  Sam plugged in his laptop and began to type away furiously at the keys, Andie took a seat on the floor at the foot of the queen sized bed, and perused through her journal.  Van watched them disperse to different areas of the hotel room and smiled inwardly.

Van sat cross legged on the bed, turning pages in her father’s journal, speeding through the pages, looking for something, anything that could help their defense.  Andie did the same.  Dean’s voice was urgent on the phone, Van watched him pace back and forth, giving Bobby the four one one on their situation.  Sam stopped typing and whistled.  All eyes turned to him and waited for whatever it was that he had stumbled upon.  Sam stalled, on purpose, until Van slapped him across the head with a down pillow.  

“Time, Sam, isn’t on our side here,” Van lifted the pillow for a second attack, but Sam held up his hands.

“Alright, okay, relax,” he turned the laptop so they could all circle in and read it simultaneously.  Each one of them began to smile and Andie reread an entry in her journal, a page that she had just minutes ago dog-eared.  She nodded that she was on board with the plan.  Van too had shoved the entry in her father’s journal toward Sam, who chuckled.  Van couldn’t believe that the three of them had all thought of the same thing, that was until Dean let out a guffaw that caused them all to turn to him in wonder.

“Bobby,” he breathed, “you’re never going to believe this.”  He put the cell on speaker and nodded at Bobby’s garbled voice.  

“It can be done, boy,” Bobby continued talking, “I’ve seen it done, you nitwits are just going to have to time it just right, but it can be done,” Bobby sighed, “it’ll give you time to get out of there anyways.”

“Why you idjits so quiet,” Bobby’s gruff voice came out over the speaker of the cell.  Dean, Sam, Van, and Andie couldn’t believe that they had all stumbled upon the same answer.  

“Dean!”  Bobby was growing impatient and Dean thumbed a button and walked toward the window and looked outside.  They watched Dean peer outside and waited for confirmation.  

“Yeah, Bobby,” Dean informed him, “seems they’re just waiting for us, there’s this old bag walking a dog, a crowd just walked into the bar across the street, and some new guests are checking in now.”  

“Right,” he closed the phone over and turned to Van, “How’s your Latin?”

Van’s face brightened at the thought of speaking the dead language and began to write out the incantation to bless the emergency water supply that linked each room in the hotel to a sprinkler system.  Andie rifled through her duffel bag, pulled out a set of wooden rosary beads, and tossed them across the room to her friend. Van caught them with a flick of her wrist and eyed the old beads.  

“Never would have pegged you as the praying type,” she raised an eyebrow in Andie’s direction.  Her friend just shrugged,

“Who knew some poor sap thought praying for a Morgan would come in handy,” she winked.  While the Winchesters were organizing their weaponry, Andie mouthed in Van’s directions, “Castiel.”

Tagging: @atc74 @d-s-winchester

[itsworn]

2018 Trans-Am Racing at the Monterey Historic

We all have them: the automotive bucket lists that we’ve compiled in our heads over the years. As teenagers growing up on the East Coast, we would sit around drinking beer and talk about how one day we’d roll in the Hot Rod Power Tour, break records at Speed Week, and then rumble down Woodward Avenue in Detroit as part of the Dream Cruise. These were the events our adolescent psyches lived for; excursions that we’d mentally plan out but that would most likely never come to fruition. We would talk about what we’d drive there, how we’d scoff at the law by doing burnouts and donuts and then ultimately, be discovered by a news crew or magazine publisher and then become instantly famous due to our radiating coolness. That is were our minds were at in those days, and it was the weekend b.s. sessions like that which got us through the winter months when two-feet of snow lined the streets.

But that was then, and now I live on the West coast, in Northern, CA, a mere 118-miles away from one of the greatest automotive events the world has to offer. I speak of course about Monterey Car Week, that yearly orgy of automotive gluttony and excess that takes place mid-August in and around the Monterey Bay Peninsula. During this week the streets are literally filled with billions of dollars worth of automobiles, auction houses, and individuals whose wristwatches are worth more than most new cars. It’s a true spectacle, and if it’s not on your automotive bucket list, then add it immediately, because it’s something you’ll not want to miss.

One of the highlights of car week comes in the form of the Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion (a mouthful, I know) that is held at WeatherTech Raceway Laguna Seca. This event plays home to all manner of racecars stretching over the last 100 years. There are vendors, celebrity drivers, thousands of like-minded enthusiasts, and automobiles that have been borrowed from some of the finest collections.

The various grids are made up of everything from pre-war Bugatti and Alfa’s, to early Formula One cars and the Trans-Am Series hot-rods of the 1960s and early 70’s. We’re talking about vehicles with dollar values in the high six-figures (and beyond) that are piloted by drivers who don’t hold back. Ever see a 1952 Allard go head-to-head with a ’54 Porsche? You will here. How about a 1984 Nissan 300ZX Turbo roll in the same field as a 1973 BMW CSL? It’s crazy I know, but this is where it happens. We’re talking about an automotive Disney Land that your imagination would be hard pressed to topple if given the opportunity.

Races aside, one of the best aspects of the Motorsports Reunion is the unbridled access that everyone in attendance has to the vehicles, personnel, and the drivers. There are no security guards in black suits or velvet ropes keeping folks out. Instead the paddock is filled with EZ-Up tents that house tools and the crews who work feverishly to make sure that the cars are ready for the next race. There’s also an understanding that everyone in attendance respects: look but don’t touch, ask questions and be polite and above all else, enjoy. For the teams participating, this is serious, and it costs big dollars. Therefore, keep your distance when work is underway, and more importantly, understand that being here is a privilege, despite what that $110.00 ticket says.

As a standalone track, Laguna Seca is pretty damn good. We’re talking about a 2.2-mile road course with 11-turns, a ¼-mile+ long straight and of course, the legendary corkscrew that, when taken properly, makes you feel like your falling off the Earth. From a technical perspective it’s somewhat of a point-and-shoot affair, but that doesn’t mean it’s not entertaining. I’ve driven everything from a Porsche GT3 RS to a Dodge Caravan through these bends, and each and every time, I’m reminded that I’m rolling on hallowed ground.

Wandering around the pits is enough to send your brain into sensory overload, especially when your childhood heroes are sitting in front of you. Vehicles like the 1971 championship-winning AMC Javelin driven by Mark Donohue, or the ‘70 Boss Mustang that was wheeled by Parnelli Jones (1970 Trans-Am Championship Winner). There was also Sam Posey’s Sublime Green 1970 Dodge Challenger (complete with Keith Black small block), along with some lesser-known cars like Rusty Jowett’s red 1968 Camaro Z/28, the ’68 Ford Mustang Coupe of Dean Gregson and another one of my favorites, the 1964 Pontiac Tempest (known as the Gray Ghost) that debuted at Lime Rock in 1971.

As a muscle car guy, the Trans-Am Championship Series of racing that took place between 1966-1972 was my favorite series of all time. We’re talking about racecars that looked almost identical to their showroom brethren and that would rip a hole in the atmosphere every time they cranked to life. It was the golden age of motor racing in the United State,s and it was one of the few times in history when racing was still relatable to the common enthusiast. Camaro’s, Mustang’s, Javelin’s, Tempest’s and Challenger’s would all mix it up and grind fenders, while at the same time, igniting the imaginations of every kid who had their faces pressed against a showroom window.

These are racecars that ran carburetors and manual transmissions and employed drivers whose nether regions were so massive that they overcame the need for self-preservation. Drivers aside, this was also when the engineers and pit crews from back in the day cheated so tastefully that it would drive the tech inspectors insane. As a case-in-point, consider Sam Posey’s ’70 Dodge Challenger that had been acid dipped to reduce weight. The roof material was so thin, when a tech-marshal rested his elbow on it,  it actually dimpled it was so thin!

Want to cheat like the professionals? Well then, that’s how you do it.

Throughout the day, we watched everything from the pre-war cars on their pizza-cutter sized tires to the wild-looking IMSA rigs that dominated the 1970’s and 80’s. And while they were a sight to behold, it was the 8-cylinder symphonies of the Trans-Am cars that had me glued to the fence. One after the other, they roared passed while I camped out at the corner of Turn 4. The red, white & blue Donohue Javelin, Posey’s Challenger, the Grey Ghost Tempest – for me, and without getting overly dramatic, it was a dream.

Lap after lap, they swapped positions while four-wheel sliding through the bends. Some of these cars were more than 50-years old, and the drivers were pushing them like they had every modern safety feature incorporated into them (*see nether regions). Between the sonic booms emanating from the open exhausts, the fans and the announcements being made over the P.A. system, if you closed your eyes you may have actually thought you’d gone back in time. The race lasted around 25-minutes with the tri-colored AMC Javelin driven by one William Ockerlund taking the checkered flag. The yellow and black ’69 Z/28 Camaro wheeled by Chad Raynal took second, with third place going to the Grey Ghost 1964 Pontiac Tempest with John Hildebrand behind the wheel.

The cool down lap was filled with drivers, hands out of their windows, waving to the crowd like victorious gladiators. The cars, now a bit dirtier and with a few more paint chips, seemed to be relieved that the race was over, yet in their heyday they would’ve covered 90-laps or more. We followed other fans down from the grandstands and through the paddock to watch the cars pulled back into their stalls. As we walked, I heard those around us comment on how awesome it was to be here, and it was great to know people felt the same way I did. We had all traveled long distances to witness a mere 25-minutes of awesomeness, and I highly doubt if there was one among us who left disappointed.

We muddled around the paddock for another hour or so before heading home and once there I headed straight for the Internet to find original Trans-Am Series footage. As I watched, I wondered what it must’ve been like to experience these cars in their prime with the cheating, balls-out driving, and competition. I suppose in some respects it’s not much different than today, sans the advanced technology and safety regulations we’re all privy to. Then, I began to think about the track days we do out here in our own cars. Head to any HPDE event for instance and you’ll see Mustangs, Porsches, Camaros, Challengers, and all manner of Corvette and Miata ripping around with the drivers involved in mental battles with the clock and those around them. Is it real racing? No, at least not in the literal sense anyway. Yet for those of us who still yearn to see semi-modified street cars run flat out on the track, it’s about as good as it gets.

The vintage races that are run at the Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion are spectacular. There are events from Thursday on, with races held on both Saturday and Sunday at the track. Then there’s car week in general, which brings together automotive enthusiasts from around the globe. From a people-watching perspective, it’s downright hilarious, as Botox and overpriced shirts seem to be the norm. If you’re into auctions there’s Mecum, RM Sotheby’s, Gooding & Company, Bonhams and more. As for the high-class meet-ups, you can always hit up the McCall’s Motorwerks Revival, the Quail Lodge at weeks end, or the Concours d’Elegance on the lawn at Pebble Beach on Sunday. If these are your types of jams, though, just be prepared to spend upwards of $375.00 for each ticket (we know, it’s nuts).

Automotive enthusiasts will gravitate to anything with an engine, be it a barstool or a HEMI ‘Cuda. We love them because it’s how we’re wired and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. Car week is everything we love about the automobile in excess, and the Trans-Am Series races are just icing on what we view as the world’s greatest cake. Are these events expensive and time consuming when you factor in hotels and food? Sure they are, but believe me when I tell you that with all the stress that everyday life can bring, knowing that gatherings like this still exist make me feel pretty damn good about being in this hobby.

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[carolinetrin]

Seven Steps to Love Living in a Small Apartment

Dear Carolina, 

Can you give me tips on how to love living in a small apartment? I had a very large home and decided to down-size so I could travel more. I sold the house and opted for an apartment. What I didn’t consider was my love for grand scale pieces and how stuffy it would feel because I didn’t want to get rid of all of my furniture – only some. I really enjoy traveling more often but I…

[mariacedano-blog-blog]

Beautiful Homes of Instagram It’s great to start a brand new week having you guys here and I am very happy to be sharing Rachel’s newly-built modern farmhouse on “Beautiful Homes of Instagram“. Her home is all about family life! You can feel how it’s loved and how every space was carefully planned to accommodate this young family of four and friends. It’s truly an honor to have this friend here and I am sure you will love getting to know more about her and how she designed her beautiful home: Hello and welcome to Meadowland Farms. My name is Rachel, @crateandcottage, and I’m a born and raised Nashvillian, which is definitely rare and hard to come by these days. I grew up with two wonderful parents, still sweetly in love, and two beautiful sisters. I went to a local private high school and graduated college at a local state school with a degree in English and Journalism. I met my husband when I was 14 at the church we both attended. We dated for 7 years and got married in 2006. We both started our married life with odd and end jobs and my husband finally settled into full-time real estate in 2010. We’ve grown our little company from a one-room office to a 2000 square foot space with nearly 40 agents. We love flipping, building new, and finding investment property to build on and resell. We welcomed two sweet boys into our lives in 2009 and 2015 and are deeply focused on homeschooling and raising them simply. Crate and Cottage was born from my deep love of all things old. I grew up going to antique malls and flea markets with a mom, who was constantly changing and redecorating her space and a historian for a father, so my love for all things old comes naturally. Decorating on a budget is my passion and repurposing old is even better. My mom and I opened an antique booth in 2015 and decided on the name Crate and Cottage, displaying our relics in stained crates. The name “Crate and Cottage” has since just stuck. ​Summer of 2017 was the move in date for our new self-designed farmhouse on 20 acres. It truly was a dream come true designing and getting to settle on our own land. We have many projects to look forward to and have only been here a few months but are happily making this our home. Thanks for stopping by and enjoy the tour. Beautiful Homes of Instagram As mentioned above our home is located on 20 acres. Although we are only 30 minutes to downtown Nashville, we are only 10 minutes to local groceries and shops. Our property is tree lined and very private. A 400-yard driveway leads you right to the opening of our meadow, hence our chosen name Meadowland Farms. What is unique about our property is that we share it with my mother and father. They too built a custom cottage farmhouse and recently settled on the other side of the meadow. It definitely makes things very convenient. Metal Roof/Gutters: Burnished Slate. Home-Sweet-Home My husband and I lived in our starter home for 10 years before we decided what we wanted to build. Luckily we have been surrounded by some amazingly talented people in our business and are fortunate to have a family friend who is a brilliant architect and designer. We knew exactly what we wanted. I laid out the interior very preciously and knew that I wanted the exterior to have varying dimensions in height and texture. Soon our home was brought to life. Exterior Paint Color We went with an all-white exterior from Sherwin Williams called Alabaster White. The exterior is covered board and batten and horizontal 7′ hardy plank. Our gutters are dark to give dimension and we covered all our porches in dark metal, a color called burnished slate. Exterior Paint: Alabaster White, Sherwin Williams. Exterior Barn Lights: Amazon Farmhouse Window Boxes These custom farmhouse-style window boxes add some extra charm to Rachel’s home. Brick The brick skirt surrounds the entire home as well. Brick: “Magnolia Ridge” General Shale, Ivory Mortar. Front Door We have quite the number of exterior doors on this home but the front doors we bought from a local salvage shop. We have the main entry here on the left of the home and a second entry off the kitchen. Stain Color: Oil-based Custom match to our flooring by Sherwin Williams. Beaded Chandelier: Amazon Foyer Upon entering the home you will see our grand great room and to the right is our entryway, painted in Repose Gray by Sherwin Williams. Adorned with a few local finds, some odds and ends from TJMaxx and Hobby Lobby – one of our family verses. Table: Joss and Main Custom Verse: @treasuredpearlhandmade Home Office To the right upon entry is my husband’s office. Dark stained french doors with antique knobs welcome you into his more masculine modern office. Decor My husband works daily from home and wanted a more industrial feel but eagerly agreed to the shiplap all throughout. We went with a few custom shelves and antiques along with a cowhide rug and more modern furniture. Desk: Amazon Side Chairs: Discontinued – similar here, here & here. Rug: Amazon Living Room Our living room is the heart of our home. We based every room off of this long central area. The wall color in our entire home is Repose Gray, by Sherwin Williams. Ceiling The living room ceilings are cathedral height at 24 feet. The beams above is what characterize the room. Our beams overhead are accessorized with two giant chandeliers and our showpiece, the windmill fan. Chandeliers: Amazon Windmill Fan: Amazoon Fireplace Our brick fireplace, which matches the brick out front goes from floor to ceiling. Open Space The living room and dining room are connected and it leads you to the kitchen. What a beautiful and inviting home! Coffee Table: here – Similar: here, here & here. Side Table: here. Rug: Amazon Curtains Curtains: IKEA Ritva Grey Sofas The grey tufted velvet sofas are from Home Depot. Dining Room This room also holds our 10-foot farmhouse table and reclaimed church pews for a central dining area. Three French doors off the living room open up to our screened in porch. We prayed our home would always be a welcoming place to those we love and envisioned having all of these doors open enlarging the entertainment space. Similar Farmhouse Dining Table: here, here, here, here, here & here. Kitchen Off the living room is our kitchen, and although it truly is all one common space, the kitchen is separated by the custom archway. Island Chandelier: Antique Farmhouse (currently unavailable). Countertop & Shelves We based our kitchen around the giant quartz island. We have custom made open shelving along the stove wall and upper cabinets in white along the left side. Quartz: Bianco Marina Quartz Island Color Island Color: Custom Cabinet in Flint, similar color Gauntlet Gray Sherwin Williams. Barstools: Restoration Hardware French Bistro Chairs (currently unavailable) Similar item in same color here. Breakfast Room A small eat-in area with benched seating is off the kitchen along with a walk-in pantry. Similar Rustic Pendant Light: here, here & here. Pantry The pantry features hardwood flooring and plenty of storage. Nook To walk to our master your pass through what I call our “day nook” A ship-lapped area that houses a window seat and bins for toys. It’s a great way to keep them hidden. This space features grey cubbies and shiplap paneling. Bench Color: Gauntlet Gray, Sherwin Williams. Bins: Foldable storage bins Lights: Amazon Master Bedroom Also off the living room is our master bedroom. Bed: Wayfair BedSpread: Ikea End Tables: Amazon Fan: Amazon Fireplace & Paint Color Sherwin Williams Repose Gray SW 7015 Into our master, you will find Repose Gray walls and a shiplapped master bath. Higher 12 foot ceilings carry throughout the remaining rooms on the bottom floor. I used an antique fireplace mantel to mimic a real one and worked with darker oil rubbed bronze pallet. I was thrilled to inherit my mom’s vintage dark trays to hang bedside. French doors lead out to our private master porch looking over the pool. Master Bathroom Into the master bath, which is open to the master, you will find a vintage-inspired clawfoot tub. Paired with the white shiplap walls, hanging chandelier, and dark oil rubbed bronze scalloped mirrors, this room is easily one of my favorites in the house. We went with a matching Bianco quartz countertops and Glazed white penny porcelain mosaic tile to add texture and dimension to the floors. Vintage Tub: Randolph Morris 66 Inch Acrylic Double Ended Clawfoot Tub – No Drillings – Similar: here, here & here. Chandelier: Unavailable Similar Style here. Mirrors: Antique Farmhouse Penny Tile: Floor and Decor – similar here. Shower Our master shower is very large, per my husbands request, with two showers heads and one overhead. I will admit it is easier to put both boy in at once. We carried the penny tile into the shower and paired it with a hexagon white tile up the walls and ceiling. Hexagon Shower: Tile Floor and Decor – similar here. Closet Off the bath is our walk-in closet. We went with custom shelving throughout. All the trim in our home is Sherwin Williams Alabaster White, which mimics the outside paint color. The sparkling chandelier above was an extra fun add on to the closet as well. Chandelier: Amazon Mudroom Through the kitchen leads to our half bath, mud room, and what I call my “mom room”. The mudroom is our central drop zone. Most of the time it is full of coats and muddy boots but we went with shiplap for the walls and lockers in the color Sherwin Williams Gauntlet Gray to tie in the kitchen island and window seat in the living room. Family Life There also is an extra shower here in the mudroom for muddy boots, children, and or dogs :). Similar Striped Runner: here, here, here & here. Powder Room The half bath is also near and dear to my heart. My grandmother’s washstand was repurposed to become the sink vanity and other vintage pieces hang simply throughout. I went with brushed gold in here to tie in the flower floral marble mosaic flooring which was a splurge, but my absolute favorite tile. Tile: Floor & Decor Gray and White Flower Marble Mosaic. Arm Light: Wayfair. Mom Zone & Laundry Room This is the entryway to my “office” aka laundry headquarters and bill/writing station. Yes I adorned it with a girlie wall decor and flowers. Desk Into my mom zone, you will find a custom desk area and my washing station. Seeing that I have boys all around me, I wanted a feminine retreat. Chandelier: Amazon. Wallpaper I used floral wallpaper by Magnolia behind the washer, hung a fun girlie chandelier above, and some small accents pieces for folding and crafting. Wallpaper: Heirloom Rose Wallpaper in Red and White from the Magnolia Home Collection by Joanna Gaines. Stairwell Chandelier Upstairs you will find our two boys room, a playroom, bath, and guest room. We kept the kid zone up and farthest away from the master. While it’s been hard with littles being far away we know once they get a little older the distance won’t be so bad :). Stairwell Chandelier: Birch Lane. Boy’s Bedroom My oldest son wanted bunk beds. I went with a simple gray tone bunk bed and patterned quilts. Paired the more modern bed with a few antique accents like the bedside hanging lamps and the rope shelf in the corner. Bunks: Viv + Rae Sienna Bunks (56% sale!) Bedding: Target Patchwork Boys Quilt Fan: Amazon Lights Vintage lights: Antique Farmhouse (currently not Available) Shelves Similar rope shelf can be found here. Little Boy’s Bedroom My youngest has the hand me downs. His brother’s bed and a vintage dresser I redid. We went with the same simple feel in both kids rooms and the boys have really enjoyed their spaces. Bedding: Target Patchwork Boys Quilt Bedroom Dresser I also added some fun accent pieces from Hobby Lobby. Hallway Into the hallway, you will see a few antique pieces and the handmade cradle made for my boys by my father. I would love to have a gallery wall of sorts in this space eventually. Every year we take family photos and I’m hoping to carry those photos throughout this space. We also carried the same beams as downstairs upstairs into this hallway. Lighting: Amazon Kids Bathroom Through the hallway, you will see the boys bath. There will find high ceilings, a great beam, and hanging chandelier. I again carried the gray tones into their bath and paired the darker cabinetry with lighter wood mirrors. A favorite feature in the room is their white herringbone porcelain tiled floor. Mirrors: World Market Lighting: Amazon Tile: Floor and Decor White Herringbone – similar here. Countertops: Bianco Marina Quartz Playroom On into the playroom, you will find our television and kid zone. High ceilings and a central beam flow throughout this room as well. I’ve used an Ikea storage system along with crates to house the toys in some sort of organized fashion and have my antique nursery armoire in the corner to house more toys. Couch: Ikea Ektorp Sectional Sofa with Chaise. Rug: Amazon Blinds: Bamboo Shades Chairs: Wicker Wing Chair Storage Unit: Ikea Kallax Storage Unit Wet Bar My husband’s second request was the custom wet bar area for movie nights. Guest Bedroom With future plans of adopting a girl, I turned what once was suppose to be attic space into a guest room, and I am glad I did. I paired a simple iron bed with my childhood hope chest that sits at its foot. There isn’t much room to work with here, but the simplicity is what makes it so beautiful. Bed: Lyon Panel Bed Screened-in Porch On back through the living room and off through the three sets of french doors is our screened in porch. Many a meal and gathering has taken place here. Set with some outdoor cafe lights overhead this creates the perfect ambiance. Backyard Our backyard is also a favorite, especially for the boys. We installed a pool during construction and we have already gotten our money’s worth out of the summer fun it brought. Fence We went with a popular fence and cedar posts in an “x’ pattern. My idea was to bring the farmhouse feel even to this back area. We have three separate fencing zones, one for dogs, one for a garden, and one for the chickens coming in the spring. Also, the little house you see will be a pool house/shed. It will be completed in the spring to house two bunk areas, a small living room, bathroom, and kitchenette. That concludes our tour. I hope you enjoyed our home. Be sure to check in on the blog or Instagram to see regular updates, holiday decor, and new designs. -Rachel – Make sure to follow Rachel from @crateandcottage on Instagram to see more photos of her beautiful home! Get ready for the Holidays – Cyber Monday Sales: Serena & Lily: Get started on your holiday shopping with 20% off everything at Serena and Lily. Use code CHEERS Neiman Marcus: Up to 70% Off in ONLINE CLEARANCE! $750 Gift Card – Use Code GC4YOU Nordstrom: Up to 40% off select styles plus an extra 20% off sale items. J.Crew: 40% off entire purchase, in stores and online!! 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