agentii
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- Formula 1 RPF (2)
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His mind flashes with an image of himself, on his knees, cold marble fingers in his hair, forcing his head towards the stone protrusion with an unbreakable grasp.
or
max visits an art gallery and gets fucked by a statue that looks suspiciously like charles
beta’d by my friends may their souls be at peace
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Carcar after ausGP but it’s just my head cannon that oscar is definitely more chronically online than we give him credit for
(FANART)
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In which a new addition (Emperor Nero) to the Roman diorama causes serious trouble for our two favorite miniatures.
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“So,” Oscar huffed incredulously, “Just to be clear. You are saying I was bitten by a Spanish vampire outside a club in Miami, and that is why I feel like shit?”
Carlos grimaced. “Err… yes.”
“What the fuck. Carlos, what the actual- Is this a wind-up?”
or: the 2024 Miami Grand Prix was bad enough for Oscar before the vampires showed up.
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There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.
There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.
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“Three weeks,” Derek says.
“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.
“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…
“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“
“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”
“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.
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“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”
“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.
Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:
DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him
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Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.