Monterey Bay Aquarium
ojovivo
Janaina Medeiros
$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Andulka
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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almost home
Product Placement
todays bird
hello vonnie
DEAR READER
h
🪼
Peter Solarz
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin
wallacepolsom
seen from United States
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@laurent--stpierre
@laurent--stpierre
"I... Well..." Étienne shook his head - the thought alone was fucking terrifying. "I'd say at least you have Amsterdam to clear your mind... But..."
"I feel like I couldn't have made it any more fucking obvious. And I damn well hate Paris. I'd rather rip off my own dick than go back out of choice."
@leylayilmazx [text]
Laurent: Tchaikovsky. Laurent: REALLY?
open: @mobscene-starters where: streets islington
Maria slipped out of the market with a small paper bag tucked under her arm, the low hum of voices and bartering fading behind her. The air felt cooler out here, easier to breathe, and she let her shoulders relax as she stepped aside, only to bump straight into someone. She stumbled slighty backwards, instinctively steadying herself. “Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, lifting her gaze to them.
Islington wasn't typically a place he frequented, but God damn, their Asian supermarkets blew all the others out of the water. Grocery shopping. The man was fucking grocery shopping. Who even was he anymore?
The collision was probably his fault. Paying attention to his surroundings wasn't exactly his forte right now. What he hadn't expected to see as he coughed up his best attempt at an apology was Maria, of all people, and had it been anyone else, he likely wouldn't have bothered. It had been a while. Laurent offered a hand to steady her.
"Good job I didn't knock you on your ass. Don't need Cece on my case for bruising one of her best." Wouldn't have been the first time, mind you...albeit for drastically different reasons. "You good?"
Location: Vixen Date: 08 February 2026
@mobscene-starters
Jean leaned back in his chair, sipping at his cognac. When he first arrived to London, it seemed impossible that the place would ever feel like a home. That anywhere would ever feel like home again. But here, sitting in Vixen, surrounded by his brothers, his famille, he knew he was.
"Are you planning to drink anything tonight or are you just going to be a drooling mess all night?"
He never said they were a sophisticated family.
"A drooling mess? As if you'd fucking attack me like that, knowing I have brain damage, you weapons grade bitch."
God, it felt good to be back.
Felt good to be able to show up at Vixen, rip shit out of his friends like the old days, sip an expensive cognac as the night passed them by... Recovering from his injuries had been a more extensive process than any of them could have imagined. Had left him with side effects he would undoubtedly suffer for the rest of his life. Still, he was too stubborn to be put down. Too stubborn to be anything but Laurent.
The Frenchman took a sip of his drink before nudging his head toward the stage.
"She new?" It had been so long since he'd spent real time at the club, there were faces he didn't even recognise anymore. "Pretty sure that ass would have stayed burned into my brain, gunshot or no..."
@lsaintpierre: Made it to 44. Who'd have fucking thought?
Maya haunts you from her grave
Laurent: I'm going to need you to be a bit more specific...
Yvonne: [picture of Félix clearly suffering] Yvonne: What the fuck happened last night?
Laurent: [forwards Spencer's contact information]
Text @ Laurent
Yvonne: What the fuck did you do to my husband????
Laurent: I'm going to need you to be a bit more specific...
WE'RE DOING ANON NIGHT, BABY:
Lara Rutherford
Konstantin Vorshevsky
Aviv Kasyanenko
Yves de Metz
Ayaz Ateş
FOR: @mobscene-starters WHERE: THE VENUE. EVENT: HALLOWEEN PARTY, 2025.
"I'm just praying the fake blood doesn't dye my hair, because my hairdresser will literally kill me if it does." Her bank account was already quivering as she stared into the first mirror she could find. Was she vain? Absolutely. Did she care? Not one little bit. "But it was easy to chuck on, didn't take much effort— if you get me." Odile had spent most of her day in a meeting about a new charity she'd be hosting. Time had been of the essence. "We need new eye-candy," she pouts. "My poor eyes are being denied what they are due."
"You look like a Brenton hooker. And I'd really rather not hear about your future sexcapades. Try to keep it in your non-existent pants until I go home, yeah?"
@leylaayilmaz Event: Hallowe'en 2025.
"Mr. Smith is a lucky guy. I'm objectifying your ass in a completely respectful way, obviously. Don't sic him on me."
Laurent St. Pierre attends Hallowe'en 2025 @ The Venue. Date: Friday, 7/11/25. Dressed as: Guess. Escorting: Mrs. Smith.
“It’s five nickels, actually — don't worry, must be the brain damage." He didn't wait for the next quip he knew would find its way out of his shit-eating cunt mouth. "And the STD comes with a handwritten apology, fruit basket, and a reminder I’ve had better nights than you ever will, you walking beige flag.”
"See, that's not the burn you think it is, Igor. At least I have an excuse for my head being fucked. What's yours? Wait--don't tell me. Your parents were related, am I right? Don't bother answering, I know I'm right."
"Look, PornHub and a bottle of lotion don't qualify as a good night, man. I hate to inform you. Though, on the upside, you'll get to see yourself on the home page after tonight with what I assume will be a spectacular fucking railing from Pecatti."
@leylayilmazx Event: Fight Club - during the fights.
The only thing worse than getting pummelled in the ring—not that he'd endured much of that, mind you—was not being able to fight at all. Watching his friends take their wins and their losses, blood shed and blood drawn, left him feeling more helpless and useless than he had done since being confined to the hospital bed.
Just about the only thing keeping him from clawing his own fucking skin off as he sat bolted to his seat was her. Well, that and the weed.
"Still love me, even though I'm too tragic to fight?"
Fight club: After 1st fight.
"Mon dieu," Delphine muttered under her breath, talking to no one in particular "This is just as entertaining as watching paint dry," she reached for her clutch to take out her cigarettes, shaking one out of the pack and putting it between her lips.
"The next one better actually have at least some finesse or I'm going to have to be much more fucked up to get through the evening." And she'd planned on being very fucked up to deal with present company.
"Always so bitter, Delphine..."
And in other news, water was fucking wet. The blonde was always easily spotted in a crowd—as devastating beautiful as she was miserable—and Laurent had gravitated toward her as he sought solace from the loudness of the French corner purely because he was all out of other viable options. In spite of his cutting tone, he held out a martini; a peace offering, even though Laurent almost never chose peace. Particularly not when it came to her. Where was the fun in that?
"Are you going to get up there next time? That, I would enjoy immensely. I promise I'll start throwing dollar bills. Five of them, at least."
@mobscene-starters When: Fight Club- Post Rossi v. Erdoğan Fight
"If all the female matchups go this way, Lara will never allow the women to fight again." Lisette sips from her sparkling flute, "and I wouldn't even blame her,"
"If all the female match ups go this way, and Lara puts a stop to the women fighting, it'll be an unforgiveable fucking crime against humanity. I think those were the words you were looking for, Lisette. You're clearly drunk."
When his familiar voice hit her ears, she narrowed her eyes but kept her smile firmly in place. "Oh. It's you. Good to see you're still...just the same as you ever were." She said, putting only a tad bit of condescension in her tone, if only for the fact that he'd been out of commission for so long.
Her head tilted lightly to the side, a light sigh leaving her lips. She didn't know him well personally but everyone knew of Laurent. She'd run into him here and there throughout her time in both Porto and London.
"Wish I could say it's pleasure to see you...but..." She said, shrugging a shoulder, a glint in her eye. "I love to see how you people underestimate me when it comes to my ability to sell things and their quality. How small minded," she tutted.
"But it would be an understatement, I know..."
The Frenchman quirked an eyebrow in amusement. So easily rustled, this one was. In spite of his connections with Lara, he'd had little contact with her friends, and the woman in front of him was no exception. A pity, really, that they sat on opposite sides of the ring; she probably could've been entertaining if she wasn't so insufferably...Rutherford.
"All right then, Catalina. Consider this a test, and hit me with your best shit. I happen to be a cocainnoisseur; feel free to use the term, trying to get it to catch on. Satan up there on the balcony will cover me, just give her a nod."
