#free people pullover
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Thinking about quitting. Tumblr is so toxic. I miss the old Tumblr days. {I was literally a kid}
The Sun brings both Life and Death.
#grunge#tumblr 2014#ahs#american horror story#violet harmon#ahs murder house#violet harmon aesthetic#violet harmon exacts#tate langdon#poetry#mazzy star#whimsical#taissa farmiga#lace and terry cutaway pullover#free people#free people pullover
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some of my favourites in my wardrobe 🤍
#fall fashion#violet harmon#violet harmon exact#american horror story#tate langdon#fall#2010s#alternative#autumn#free people#murder house#taissa farmiga#fashion#violet and tate#tate and violet#sweater#free people clothes#pullover#cardigan#jeans#old navy#racoon hat#mirah#clothing#closet#autumn fashion#exact collectors#ahs tate#ahs#ahs fandom
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Monster König finds a willing partner for his breeding season.....and maybe found his future wife.
Yesssss💗
Monster!König x Reader (fem)
MDNI🔞
Master List ✍🏽
>cw: fem/afab, monster, oral, p in v
1.7k word count
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You took a short vacation from work, deciding to go into the wilderness to disconnect from civilization for a bit. Having recently ended a six-year relationship, this feels like the start of a new chapter. An independent life free of love or men.
Hours from home you pull up to the camping grounds a few hours before sunset. It’s autumn so there aren’t many people here, thankfully. Once you park, you gather your camping gear, and set off on your journey. The area you’ll be in is isolated clearing deep into the woods.
The leaves crunch under every step you take, your eyes following every small creature you see scurrying past you. You're able to set up your tent before you lose natural light and you make a small fire. For some odd reason, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. From what you know, there are no dangerous animals in the area so you try to relax.
With a pullover on and leggings, you sit near the fire eating and roasting the occasional marshmallow. There are no sounds, not even a cricket in the night. It seems odd, but you’ve never been in this situation before so you once again ignore that gut feeling.
König watches from the shadow of the dark, his glowing blue eyes tracking your every move. You smell exquisite and look like a precious doll. It’s mating season for his kind, and his kind are dying out. Finding a mate is usually futile and ends in him missing the season. Yet, you’re right here. Almost as if you fell into his lap; a fertile female of the human species.
There is a heavy tension in the air as you hear a twig snap. Your eyes dart around in the darkness, unable to see anything. For a moment you hold your breath, trying to listen as closely as you can to make sure some random human wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Then it happened again. You drop the stick with roasted marshmallows on it and jump up.
“Hello? Who's there?” Your hand reaches for the can of pepper spray on your hip.
There is no response. Only a loud silence and a tension that vibrates through your whole body. You can hear your heart beating but you attempt to appear stoic. There is a small rustling of the leaves before a low growl is heard.
“H- hello?” Fear washes over you as you gaze into the darkness.
“Hallo, Liebling.”
A raspy voice comes from the trees. Heavy footsteps get closer as you slowly back away. With a shaking arm you hold out the pepper spray. Your voice cracks as you attempt to appear stronger than you are.
“I have pepper spray! Don’t come any closer!”
Silence. You don’t move, barely even breathing as you look around. After a few minutes, you begin to think that you’re going crazy, maybe being alone out here isn’t for you after all. Just as you were going to put your pepper spray away, you see glowing blue eyes gazing at you.
König walks out from the darkness, exposing himself to you. The giant creature stands at 8-feet with pale glowing eyes from behind its mask. He walks forward to you with a slow and steady speed as if to not startle you.
For some odd reason, you don’t scream or run away. Your eyes drift up and down the monster’s body, taking note of how muscular it is. A small gasp leaves your lips when you notice he has an erection; his giant cock bouncing off his thigh with each step forward.
The way you’re checking him out doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He’s pleasantly surprised to see how fascinated you appear to be, the fear in your eyes melting away. As he gets closer to you, he realizes how truly tiny you are. You’re nearly half his height; he’s never been with a human before and he’s curious to know what you could feel like wrapped around him.
“König.” His voice sent chills over your whole body.
“König?” You were confused at first until you realized that was his name. “I- I’m y/n.”
“My mate.”
Mate? You don’t respond, just gaze up at him. He lowers himself, kneeling before you. His hands caress your whole body; one of his hands nearly wrapping around your soft stomach. Small hums of satisfaction leaving his lips as he feels your warm body. He buries his nose into the crook of your neck and takes in a deep breath of your scent.
You melt like butter in his arms. All rational thought gone; this odd creature seems to have possessed you into submission. His strong musk consuming your nostrils, but it isn’t unpleasant. He slowly begins to pull up your pullover, exposing your breasts pooling in your bra.
König pulls his mask back, revealing the lower part of his face; his long slimy tongue creeps out and licks along your cleavage. You tremble, letting out a small whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours as he pulls your bra off and licks over your hard nipples.
This feels like a fever dream, monsters aren’t real; this can’t be real. It feels so real though, you can feel your pussy getting wet as his warm body mixes with the odd sensation of his tongue. When he pulls away, he looks at you, standing back up to his full height as he looks around.
“Undress.”
You do what he says, undressing before him and exposing your full body to him. The tip of his cock begins to drip with precum as he thinks of actually being able to breed, to fuck. He walks forward and grabs you, lifting you up into his arms. A small surprised gasp leaves your lips, a rush of excitement consumes you thinking about what is about to happen.
König nuzzles his masked face into yours in an almost affectionate manner. You boldly grab his mask and lift it to see a face almost human like. He pauses for a moment, wondering if you’ll reject him when you see how hideous he is. For a moment you linger saying and doing nothing causing his heart beat to pick up, but then you kiss the side of his face. Your kiss travels over him, down his neck as he kneels again, placing you closer to the fire to keep your small hairless body warm.
You look so tiny underneath him; he could crush you if he wanted to. Such a delicate beautiful human, all for himself. He leaves sloppy kisses over your abdomen, squeezing your thighs as he continues down. Finally, he reaches what he’s desiring most. His hand’s part your legs as he takes time to look at your beautiful pussy. It looks like a flower in bloom, sweet aromas emanating from the nectar glistening in the fire light.
König sticks his tongue out, swiping across your folds and tasting you. A deep growl leaves his throat, you taste like nothing he’s ever had before. The feeling of your trembling legs mixed with your small moans cause his cock to throb. His tongue pushes into your, swirling around as he attempts to get as deep as he can.
His claws dig into your skin as your eyes close letting the pleasure take over your whole body. You grab at the leaves and grass around you as your back arches. This is a new level of pleasure you’ve never felt before. When he pulls his face away you almost whine, desperate for more.
A smile crosses his lips when your gaze is full of desire. You desire him. He moves his body between your legs, kneeling. With one hand he grasps his cock and slaps his heavy cock against your pussy. The size difference is jarring but also exciting. Your tiny body will look beautiful with a full stomach carrying his seed.
“Oh fuck!” You hiss as his cock slowly slips into your cunt.
König presses in slowly to not hurt you. He knew that you’d be tight, but he didn’t know you’d be this tight. A shaky moan leaves him as he watches the way your lips spread to accommodate him. His eyes move to your face as he continues to push himself in, trying to get as much of his fat 14-inch cock into you as he can.
Your pussy feels as if it's about to tear. A stinging pain pulses as he sinks in as much as he possibly can. You look into his eyes with pinched eyebrows as you take deep breaths. His hips slowly begin to rock in and out, he can’t fight the feeling even though he knows it hurts. It will get better.
“Relax.” He whispers as he leans in to kiss your neck.
Your hands caress his body, tracing the contours of his muscles as his pace picks up. The feeling of your welcoming warm cunt consumes König; you’re perfect for him. Every thrust sends a tingle of ecstasy to build up from your cunt and burst throughout your body.
König’s hands caress your sides, wrapping around underneath your body. His hands rest on your ass, cupping the supple flesh as his hips slam harder against your delicate frame. The only objective in his mind is to cum, to get you pregnant. He begins to breathe harder as he feels himself approaching his orgasm.
He whimpers, becoming merciless in his rhythm. You moan out his name, praising him for how amazing he feels inside of you. His kind is usually never this affectionate, simply a season to pair and breed. Yet you’re under him, thanking him for fucking you. How beautiful.
“Y/n…” König moans as his hips slow to a stop.
He pulls out and looks down at you, breathing heavily as he looks at your body. For a moment he considers leaving and just coming back tomorrow night, but you look so vulnerable laying there. There is a deep desire to protect you.
König lays on the ground next to you, pulling your tiny worn-out body to his. One hand caresses your face gently as he kisses the top of your head. His massive body cocoons around you to keep you warm. You turn to König, nuzzling your face into his chest; your hand petting him as you begin to fall asleep.
#konig#konig x reader#konig cod#könig x reader#konig x y/n#könig cod#konig smut#könig#könig smut#könig mw2#könig call of duty#konig call of duty#könig x y/n#könig x you#konig x you#konig x reader smut#x reader#könig x reader smut#cod smut#cod konig#konig mw2#cod könig
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The Quiet Ones 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader
Note: don't ask me why I did this.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
You keep to yourself. That’s the safest, the easiest way to live. You keep your head down, your eyes to yourself, your voice bottled up.
You grip your phone as you approach the coffee shop. You stand on your toes to see through the painted windows and frown at the long queue. You won’t have to worry about that. Like everything else social, you’ve found a work around.
You look at your phone, the app showing your order as ‘preparing’. It should be done shortly as the progress bar fills close to complete. You can bear the claustrophobia for a minute or so until it’s ready.
You go to open the door but an arm reaches past you and does that first. You step back, patiently waiting for the other customer to precede you. They don’t move. You stare at their shoes. Dark blue velvet loafers with gold emblems on chains.
“Go on, baby face, I got it,” the man’s voice makes your skin crawl.
You shrink down and give a nod, throat clenching as you struggle to find your voice. You’re not much for conversation but you’re but impolite.
“Thanks,” you force out without raising your head.
You scurry through quickly, a bit to close to the stranger than you like, and you clasp your phone against your chest as you stand just away from the cluster of people awaiting their orders. You bounce on your feet as the noises join together to form a cacophony; the hissing steam, the clanging metal, the clinking porcelain, the calls of the workers behind the counter, and the buzz of the crowd seated or standing around the cafe. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck as the chaos swirls a storm around you.
You pull your phone away from the front of your pullover and check the screen. Should be ready any moment and you’ll be free of the circus. You adjust your grip on the phone, almost jittery as another customer joins the wait at the pick up window.
You breathe out. It’s not usually this busy at this time. You have a routine. You can handle the expected. You order on your phone so you don’t need to talk to anyone. You wait outside until it’s almost done then come in too quickly claim your prize. But not today, something’s different and it’s throwing everything off.
It’s only on Wednesday’s that you venture down to the cafe. It’s the halfway point of your week so you mark it with a taste of motivation. The same order every week. A London fog latte. Simple and affordable. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated.
Your name cuts through the din, “...medium London fog.”
You drop your arm to your side and set your shoulders. You march forward through the parting bodies ahead of you and reach for the cup. Before you can grasp it, someone else scoops it up. You nearly cry out in horror. Someone’s stealing your order!
You turn to the tea thief but they make no move to flee. They hold the cup nonchalantly, turning it to read the sticker on the side, reciting the same name that just rose from the barista’s lips seconds ago. You face the stranger but again, your eyes are downward.
The blue loafers!
“Cute name,” he comments as he holds the cup out.
You once more try to take the cup but before you can, he has it out of reach again. Your lashes flick and your fingers twiddle helplessly. His large hand is firmly around the cup so even if you did try to wrestle it from him, you doubt you’d have any hope but to spill it all.
You look around but no one else seems to notice. They’re all staring at their phones or talking with the person next to them. The staff behind the counter are too busy appeasing the rush of orders.
“I’ve never tried one of these,” he taunts, “I’m more of a ristretto guy. Like my espresso.”
You shake your head and rescind your hand, balling it against your fist. What does he want? Why is he bothering you? You said thank you. Did he not hear you?
“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he pushes the tea towards you, “there you are, sweat pea.”
You hesitate. You slowly unfurl your fingers and reach for the cup. As you wrap your fingers around it, you can’t help but brush his. Thick and strong and unmoving. He clings to it for just a moment before he lets you have it.
“Thanks,” you squeak again, this time louder so he certainly hears you.
“You got a sweet voice,” he puts his hand on his hip, a glimpse of a shiny gold watch face peeking out from beneath his sleeve, “I’d love to hear more of it.”
Your eyes round as you focus on the zipper of his thin jacket. You shake your head and meekly raise your cup awkwardly and dip your chin slightly. No thanks.
You turn and weave your way back through the crowd. Your heart is thumping in your chest. What an odd encounter.
More so, you’re dismayed that he saw you. That he noticed you. For years, you’ve done your best to be invisible. You prefer it that way. You don’t even think your neighbours know you exist. But that man, he seemed to see nothing but you.
You push outside and nearly drop your cup. You try to steady yourself. You’re all knotted up and tense. You tuck your phone into your back pocket and bring the cup before you nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the foam. Something about it isn’t as soothing as usual.
You turn down the pavement and wince as a sole scuffs close behind you. Suddenly, another set of steps walk next to yours, measured to keep in tandem with your own short legs. Blue velvet.
You walk faster. Is he following you? Why? What does he want? He’s much taller, you can’t outpace him.
“You know, when I said I’d like to hear more, I thought maybe over a coffee?” He suggests.
You don’t say a word as you keep your eyes forward, squeezing your cup tight as you try not to swish it around too much. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Men don’t see you. There was a time you hated that but since, you were grateful for that.
“I mean, I could do most of the talking, never had much of a trouble with that, jellybean,” he offers.
You shake your head. Your throat tightens. You can’t speak. You want to scream but you can’t make a noise.
As you get to the corner, you stop short. He steps past you but just as quickly catches himself and turns to face you. You gulp and look down at your cup. You can’t keep going. If you do, you’ll lead him right to your home.
“What’s going on, sweetheart? You forget something? How about we head back and I’ll buy you something sugary to go with that?”
You furrow your brow and step back on your heel. You bring your eyes up, a furtive glance at his face, brief and flickering. You just want to know what he looks like so you never see him again.
His blue eyes twinkle, his nose is long but proportioned to his chiseled face, his hair is combed back, the sides shaved, and a thick swatch of hair lines his upper lip. He’s older than you, you know that much, but you’ve never good at gauging age. You’ve never seen him before but you can’t be sure. You don’t look at many faces.
You pivot and cross the street without looking. You narrowly miss a bumper and get a honk in remonstrance. You can’t stop yourself. You’re panicking. You head down the next street as his footsteps follow. It’s all you can hear.
As you pass a bin, you dump the drink. You don’t pause as it plummets heavily into the trash and you fall into a brisk half-jog. You pump your arms, puffing wildly, dizzy as you search for a saviour.
You dash into the library. You don’t know what you’re looking for. Just for anyone to get this man to leave you alone.
You don’t look back as you enter and head straight for the front counter. You’re out of breath as you approach the rounded edge and tap the bell frantically. A woman emerges from behind the window wall and she greets you with a confused chime.
“Hello, can I help you?” She asks.
“Yes, I need...” you gulp and glance at the doors. You push away from the counter and spin, searching. You don’t see the man. He’s probably waiting outside. But you never looked back. You never really saw if he was following. “I...” you turn back to the woman, “never mind.”
You cross your arms and turn away. You cringe as you realise how ridiculous you must have seemed. Worse, you didn’t mean to bother someone just doing their job and over what? You’re own issues. You should go home, back to your reclusion, where you can’t be in anyone’s way.
👄
When you finally muster the courage to leave the library, your journey home is slowed by your paranoia. You have your phone out, held up so you can see over your shoulder with the front camera. You watch the screen more than the sidewalk ahead of you.
You get home without a second shadow. As you let yourself through the grated front door of the building, you can’t help but feel stupid. That man must’ve got the idea when you as good as ran in the other direction. You’re being dramatic.
You close the camera and put your phone away. You waist six dollars in your frantic flight. You mourn the tea latte as the heavy inner door clunks shut behind you. You drag your feet up the stairs as your keys jingle on your finger.
You apartment is at the very end of the hall. You enter and twist the latch. You slide the chain into place and hang the key ring on the little hook beside the door frame. You untangle your purse and leave it with your phone on the table in the corner.
You shuffle the few feet to the front room and look around. You find comfort in the familiarity of your little apartment. Your hideaway.
You go back to your desk and sign back in. You’re back later than usual but you can still make up the time. As long as there’s enough tasks left in the portal. You don’t have to let that man ruin your whole day. You’ll never see him again. In a few days, you won’t even remember him.
👄
Wednesday. Halfway through the week.
You scroll and click around your screen as you watch the clock in the corner tick on. Usually around this time, you’d be excited. You’d clock out for your break and go down to the cafe. As much as you looked forward to the treat, the walk alone was relaxing in its own way.
Not that day. Despite your efforts to shrug off the strange encounter, you haven’t shaken it. So instead, the kettle boils as a bag of earl gray sits in an empty mug. You’re not going. Maybe next week.
You’re a bit depressed but you’re too nervous to make the venture. Oh well, you’ll save a bit of money. You could find a different place next time. That might be easier.
You stay logged in and claim a new task. Hey, you can be done work earlier if you can power through. You might even make a few extra bucks.
The kettle clicks and you get up to pour the water. You leave it to steep, forgetting it for the screen before you. Your fingers tap endlessly across the keyboard, filling the silence as you zone in on the words, transcribing messy ink to Times New Roman.
Your trance is broken by a sudden buzz. You sit up, the kink in your neck pangs. You need to stop hunching. The buzz comes again. Is that... It must be a mistake. It happens now and then, someone buzzes the wrong apartment.
You get up as it sounds a third time and you shuffle down to the speaker box. You hit the button, “wrong number.”
“No--”
You let go of the number before you can hear the response. They buzz again. You sigh. You hit the button.
“I’m sorry but you have the wrong number,” you repeat.
“I don--”
You release the button again and take a step back. Buzz! You’re getting annoyed. You hit the button. “Wrong--”
“Got a delivery. 212.” The man’s voice drowns out your own, reciting your name after your apartment number. Your finger stays on the button as you frown. A delivery?
“I’m not expecting a delivery.”
“Are you...” he says your name again.
“... yes.”
Silence, filled with the low hum of the speaker, “so, can I come up or...?”
“Uh, I guess.”
You pull your finger away and hover it over the other. Maybe it’s from work? There was the one time they sent a cheap mass production travel mug with their logo on it as some incentive. A poor attempt at employee appreciation.
You press down and hold until you’re certain they have enough time to get in. You wait by the door, ringing your hands. You hear the door at the end of the hall open on its old hinges and you peek through the peephole.
You watch the fuzzy figure come into focus with each of his long steps. He doesn’t hold a box nor wear the uniform of a postal worker. No, he wears those blue leather loafers and holds a bright pink paper cup with a white lid. From the cafe.
As he comes close, you get a pigeon’s eye view of the hair on his upper lip and his bold blue eyes. It feels like he can see you too as he stands smirking on the other side of the door. This can’t be real.
He knocks and you wince as the door shifts in the frame.
“Special delivery,” he calls through, “open up, baby face.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#fic#dark fic#the quiet ones#dark!fic#series#the gray man
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fav violet harmon exact, my free people lost in the forest pullover in faded rose
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Violet Harmon in Piggy Piggy ٭˙⊹ 🕯
happy november! these are the outfits violet wears in the sixth episode of murder house! this episode is my favorite out of all of them! (one is missing because i couldn't find a picture :( )
below listed are the names of the clothes vi wears and what scene they are worn in 🕯
-free people angel lace and terry cutaway pullover in brown, free people animal print assymetrical top: violet finds out about tate
-free people spending time pullover: she only wore this for a few seconds, but it's when she's crying to ben
-ecote striped cropped pocket sweater in purple, free people luscious lagoon dress in grey and black: violet meeting with leah again and gives violet the pills (not pictured)
-free people voile and lace trapeze slip in storm, free people gypsy cardigan in brown, brown converse (her most famous outfit!) : violet offs herself and tate tries to save her
-free people all over lace pullover in teak/purple: tate talks to vi on how she's been distant and he'll leave her alone if that's what she wants
let me know if i missed anything! happy november ٭˙⊹ 🕯
#ahs violet#american horror story#taissa farmiga#violet harmon#violet harmon style#american horror murder house#murder house#violet and tate#Spotify
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Gives an inch, takes a mile (a free commission tale)
I nuzzled my face into my boyfriend’s chest. After his gym workout, he smelled so good. I was usually not into the smell of sweat or BO, but smelling his musk with lavender body wash was soothing as he held me in his arm. His body warmed me through my gray pullover. He knew I didn’t jock out like him. I was a bit of a geek. I preferred to stay in and play video games; but I hoped the home-cooked meals, muscle massages, and my love were enough. Yet, he posed with me in a selfie for his Facebook. He did his best to capture his good side and mine as well, but I didn’t have many good sides. Not like him. Leaning against him, I could feel his muscles and the bulge of his erection. I tried to think that it was for me, but he was still friends with his ex on Facebook. That was who the pictures were for. It was a silent competition between the two of them.
“Look at my cute boyfriend whom I snuggle with after a hard gym workout!” My boyfriend’s selfie implied. He’d take pictures of my home-cooked meals with heart emojis. Then some of us while we hung out with friends. All of this to “get back” at his ex. An emotionally manipulative asshole.
The type of asshole who posted obvious bulge pics on Facebook. He flaunted his body like it was God’s gift. He always did lewd gestures with his tongue and fingers. His photos always had him showing off his muscles, posing with other men, and partying. I tried to tell myself that my boyfriend was over him, because that dick would tease him. He would share my boyfriend’s secrets with his friends behind his back. He made my boyfriend do sexual things that made him uncomfortable. My boyfriend told me that his ex even had him wear a chastity belt to work. If he wanted it off, he’d have to beg his ex to unlock him, but his ex wouldn’t until my boyfriend submitted to him and sucked him off. This wasn’t even mentioning the times his ex cheated with other guys and gaslit my boyfriend into thinking it was his fault.
I kept think why my boyfriend had put up with it for so long. But I knew the answer.
It’s because he’s hot obviously. He had the abs, the shoulders, and the 12-inch cock that would make men put up with his shit. Someone like me had to rely on kindness and being a decent human being. I loved my boyfriend so much and wondered why he just didn’t settle down with me. If I was hot, then he would have proposed to me already. But I was just too kindhearted and unremarkable.
But I heard about a different website that could help me… It was an underground thing that was spread by word of mouth. A man walking down the street stopped me and looked me up and down. He said, “I think I got something for you.” He told me about the website and that it was built for “people like you.” The website promised to make you the “man of your lover’s dreams.” The website could make me his ex.
Well.. it did more than that. I entered my and my boyfriend’s information. It promised to turn me into someone my boyfriend loved. Someone he wanted with his whole body and mind. The next morning, I was in his ex’s body.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I played with his light-brown hair, so fair and soft unlike my original hair. I ran my hands over my biceps, then my abs. The first time I ever had abs! His body was so sensitive and I was so turned on my the sight of me controlling his ex’s body that I felt myself getting hard. I pulled down his underwear and saw the massive cock. I understood why so many people wanted this asshole now. I stroked one out right there. My jizz sprayed over my abs and chest. He had a long reach. I dug through his laundry hamper and pulled out clothes. They smelled ripe, but I noticed he didn’t have much clean clothes.
I had access to his memories and I knew that around this time he would be at the gym. That’s when I realized my boyfriend and his ex went around the gym at the same time. In his ex’s memories, I saw that they checked each other out while they worked out. They showered just a few feet apart. The whole time his ex would tease and mock my boyfriend by showing off his body to him. Not anymore.
I headed to the gym and found my boyfriend there. We made eye contact and throughout my workout, I watched my boyfriend watching me in the body of his ex. And let me tell you, it was hard to workout with a massive erection. I kept taking breaks to find ways to hide my boner. But this body was so hot, I eventually went to the showers to finish up. Then my boyfriend came in. He tried to keep things casual, saying hi and doing his shower. But I couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“Babe, it’s me.” I then told my boyfriend everything that happened. How I switched bodies and how I was his ex now. My boyfriend was shocked but suddenly realized it was me when I told him I loved him. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if I stayed in this body?” I said, smiling. “You could have a sweet boyfriend and an incredibly hot one too.”
“But, I thought you hated him?” My boyfriend said. “Every time I mentioned what he did to me, you always got mad that someone treated me so badly.”
“Yes, but I know you like his body—don’t deny it. He’s pretty hot. I got to rub one out and I honestly want to see what else it can do.” I held my boyfriend and took a picture. I loved how I look and how small my boyfriend was now.
The next few weeks were awesome. I cared for my boyfriend and gave him the attention he needed. I cooked for him and let him top this hot body, something his ex would never let him do. The first time after he tried to pin me down (he’s shorter than my new body) and shot a load in my ass, he held me and told me he loved me. He asked if it was almost the right time to get married. I was excited, but kept my cool. I told him, let’s get used to the changes first. We kissed and he explored my body with his mouth.
Some of the new changes were that my boyfriend wanted me to go with him to the gym though. And I actually got into it. I hardly play video games anymore or do that geeky shit, but I love pumping iron. The guys at the gym also can’t help checking me out. My boyfriend started to get insecure, but I tried to reassure him that I loved him and wouldn’t cheat, unless he got fat. I meant it as a joke, but he took it pretty seriously. He started working out a bit more, and I loved the results actually. So sometimes I would poke his stomach just to give him a reminder. I found that my boyfriend also had trouble making me cum during sex. He tried his best to satisfy me, but I jokingly asked if he needed another guy to help. So now I top him. It’s just easier for us that way. I also noticed I was getting cocky. The past day I got sidetracked at the gym. I was chatting with these couple hotties and just having a casual flirt. I mean it’s not cheating unless I actually fuck them, right? Well, I told my boyfriend he needed to cook dinner since I was busy. He threw a big fit, so I just decided to eat some ass. The two bros I met at the gym took me back to their place and I went to town tonguing their holes and fingering them open. While I fucked one, the other jerked off and came on me. I didn’t even wash up when I got back home. I wanted my boyfriend to see he couldn’t take me for granted.
Now I don’t even care if my boyfriend goes with me to the gym as long as he is facedown on the bed when I get home so I can pound his ass. He’s so afraid that I’d leave him. I understand why his ex was so hard on him. Give him 12 inches and he tries to take a mile. You got to keep him down so he knows who the alpha is.
#male transformation#male tf#transform#male transform#transformation#nerd to jock#mental change#personality change#alpha#male body exhibit
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me sexting
boy: what are you wearing? ;)
me: Free People Women's Pink Lost in The Forest Pullover in Faded Rose.
#violet harmon#tate and violet#free people#murder house#ahs#ahs murder house#american horror story#violet harmon aesthetic#clothes
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My favourite quotes from the book 'Mon Ami Mate'
This took me a few months to read this book and I wrote down a lot of quotes so be prepared for a long read - but definitely worth it to learn more about Mike Hawthorn & Peter Collins
"Two years later, the World War Two fighter airfield at Westhampnett became Goodwood racing circuit and, as it was just a few miles south of the Farnham area, the Members (Mike's friend group) soon found their way there. 'Mike would never pay to get in' says McNab, 'He would climb over the fence, scrounge a couple of tickets and then pass them through, so we all got in for free'" - p8
"Nick Harrison remembers a dinner party for ten or a dozen people at The Sally Lunn restaurant in Bagshot when Mike left the table at the end of the evening, climbed out of the toilet window and went home, rather than pay his share of the bill. 'That was typical of him' says Nick, 'Not because he was mean, but because loved to get away with it - it was a sort of challenge for him'" - p8
"Mike and McNab once counted twenty-four pints of light ale disappearing down the Hawthorn gullet during the course of an evening" - p8
"We became great friends, but if he didn't like you he would tread on you and I know people who felt that he was a most unpleasant young man. There was a very dark side to Mike and although he was tremendously popular I would say that twenty per-cent of the people who came into contact with him couldn't stand him" - p9
"Mike found Merridale (his house) a very lonely place, so the McNabs (best friends family) took him under their wing and he stayed with them for some six months. Although clearly upset by his parents separation, Mike never discussed it - even with Neil, whose bedroom he shared. He loved both his parents dearly and refused to allow their break up to alter his feelings towards either" - p9
"Here Peter went underwater swimming, or snorkeling, then a new sport rapidly becoming popular. He hired flippers, helmet and spear-gun and caught many good size fish, which he sold to pay for more swimming lessons" - p18
"He could be a very serious young man, especially where his cars were concerned. He was dedicated to them and if I wasn't out with him some nights he'd go to Ron and Mary's house and talk with them for hours. They were his closest friends and I don't remember Peter ever having a particular man friend at all" - p21
"On the home front, Peter adored his mother and had established good fraternal relations with his sister Trisha (now nine), who naturally hero-worshipped her dashing brother, the racing driver. There was a certain distance, however, between father and son, who were occasionally not on speaking terms" - p21
"Throughout 1951 Mike had raced the Rileys dressed in his everyday clothes, which included a tie. However, if the weather was warm and he wasn't wearing a pullover the tie would flap about in his face, which could be very disconcerting, so he began wearing one of his bow ties for racing" - p33/34
"He was driving into an Italian village at a fair clip when he and co-driver Chips Chipperton spotted a large sign saying 'Adagio', which means 'slowly'. 'Isn't that where the dancing girls come from?' Asked Mike, without lifting his foot, and promptly crashed into a stone bridge" - p39/40
"Mike went to Val d`Isere, in Switzerland, for a skiing holiday with fellow-member Mike Currie. It was not a great success, as first of all Mike got involved in a serious party after a smallpox inoculation, which combined with his alchol intake to lay him out for four or five days. When he was able to stand up again he tried skiing for the first time, only to fall down constantly. He quickly decided that various parts of the lanky Hawthorn frame were liable to snap in this dangerous endeavour and made for the comparative safety of the bar." - p44
"Having learned that his days with a green Ferrari were over he decided to add a dark green, zip-front jacket, or wind cheater, to his racing uniform. "If I can't drive a green car," he told Neil McNab, "at least I can wear a green jacket!" - p47
"The young British driver stood for the British National Anthem with tears of emotion running down his cheeks while the crowd audibly gasped with amazement when he took off his helmet and they saw his obvious youth, after a drive in which he matched every champion on the circuit with courage, speed and racecraft." - p50
"Mike spent the festivities in London with his friends, Pat and Jill Hume-Kendall, who were now the proud parents of a four month old baby boy named Simon. On Christmas morning Pat and Mike took Simon (Mike's godson) to the pub, leaving Jill to prepare lunch. "On their way home, Mike decided to demonstrate a four-wheel drift with the pram and tipped my beautiful baby onto the pavement, scraping his little head" recalls Jill, with a shudder. "I was absolutely furious, of course, and it completely ruined our Christmas lunch"." - p59
"'The night before the rally I went to bed' says Adams 'But Peter was out on the town, chasing girls' (He would chat up the maids at every hotel we went to)" - p75
"Early in 1953 Peter went to live in Paris. 'He went there to escape National Service' says John Wyer. 'There was no argument about that. He talked about it quiet openly later and at dinner one night we had a long argument with Pat Griffith, who had already done his stint. George Abecassis was there too, and he said he had throughly enjoyed his time in the RAF, in spite of spending part of it as a prisoner of war. Peter thought the whole thing was a complete waste of time and asked Pat, 'What good did it ever do you?'" - p81
"Peter also learned to speak French fluently by engaging in intercourse - social and otherwise - with countless pretty Parisiennes!" - p81
"Peter acquired an Alsatian at some stage and if he intended it to be a guard dog it appeared to be an utter failure, welcoming anyone who came to the door with its wagging tail and slobbering chops. Then one day it mistakenly proved it's worth. Peter went out, leaving a plumber and an electrician to do a couple of jobs in the flat. Many hours later he returned, to find them still there and extremely agitated. The Alsatian, which had let them in without a murmur, had refused to let them out once they had finished their work." - p82
"As soon as we arrived Jean Lucas told Mike that someone had called him from England two or three times and left a number. It was the man from Reuters Press Agency and when Mike phoned he asked if he was going to England to see his father. Mike said, 'No. I am going to Le Mans. Why should I go to England?' Then the Reuters man told him that his father had crashed and was badly hurt. Naturally, Mike was in a terrible state, but I took him to Orly and the journalist Bernard Cahier managed to get him a seat on the last plane for London. While we were waiting Mike called the garage at Farnham and was told that his father was dead." - 87
"Romolo Tavoni was present in Ferrari's office one day when he (enzo) was discussing a recent race with Mike. 'Why did you have difficulty in that race?' Asked Ferrari, "My people tell me the car was fine.' 'The gearbox was no good,' said Mike, 'It was impossible for me to change gear properly'. Ferrari (who's cars were always 'fine') flew into a rage. 'You say my gearbox is no good? My gearbox is the best and if you say it is no good a second time, you can leave!' 'Goodbye!' Said Mike, and walked out. Ferrari quickly called him back and all was forgiven. He liked people to stand up for themselves." - p103
'Another who remembers his strong, anti-German feeling is Moi Kenward, one of his few, really serious girlfriends. 'We were upstairs at the 1955 Earls Court Motor Show when someone told Mike that Sir Jeremy Boles was buying a gullwing Mercedes.' She recalled. "He's not buying a fucking German car! Come on - let's get down there" He said, he grabbed me and we hurtled downstairs and there was Sir Jeremy writing out his cheque. Mike stormed onto the stand and said, "what the hell are you buying a bloody Kraut car for? Why don't you buy a Jaguar from me, you silly bastard?" - p103
"For several years, Mike had been troubled by severe pain in his kidneys, which frequently left him feeling very low indeed. He told one or two close friends that when he went to the toilet it was 'like peeing grit' and that often, having started, he couldn't finish the job. The resulting 'off days' did not go un-noticed in the racing world, but Mike kept very quiet about the reason behind them." - p104
"The treatment involved the insertion of a small tube into the abdomen and the restoration of the balance of the fluids going through his kidneys. Visitors such as Bill Cotton and Moi Kenward remember that Mike was "full of tubes" afterwards, and, as Moi recalls, painful though his condition was, he could still see the funny side of it. 'He had a tube up his old man, draining into a bottle, and he told me it was very painful "because every time you walk into the room I get an erection. It's agony!" 'One evening I was asked to wait outside for a few minutes while the doctors examined him. They cane out roaring with laughter and Mike said, "I told them what the problem was and they're going to take it out tomorrow." - p104
"Mike was never short of visitors and Moi was one of the most frequent. 'I had long hair in those days and Mike would spend hours brushing it while I sat beside his bed. That was the very gentle side of him few people saw.' Others went not to have their hair brushed, but to have their whistles whetted, although not when Mike's mother was present. Malcolm Richardson and some friends turned up one day and when Mrs H discovered that their raincoat pockets were crammed with bottles of beer she threw them all out." - p104
"The first thing I saw Mike Hawthorn running around, white-faced and absolutely distracted. He was alone, running through the caravans behind the pits. Just running around. He must have just got out of his car" - p127
"As this was sinking in, a Jaguar mechanic appeared and asked Lance to go to the Jaguar pits and talk to Mike 'he's having hysterics and says it's all his fault...he says He's never going to race again' Macklin refused 'because he bloody nearly killed me too, and, I'm not feeling all that happy towards him'. A few minutes later, Mike appeared 'He was tottering. He stood behind me at the table, put his arms on my shoulder and said, 'Oh my God, Lance. I'm terribly sorry. I bloody near killed you and I killed all those people. I'm really sorry. I'm certainly never going to race again.' My anger evaporated, Macklin recalled" - p127
'Rob's memory of Mike's arrival is still vivid. "His first words - and I'll never forget them - were, 'it's all my fault! It was all my fault! I wanted to get into the pits before Fangio came by"' - p127
'Mike returned to England and appeared on the BBC-TV to talk about the disaster with Rudolf Uhlenhaut of Daimler-Benz. The telecast was an unhappy experience for Mike, as Moi Kenward recalls. "He had to face the music. He came round to my flat afterwards and he really was in a terrible state - he was in floods of tears"' - p131
'The weather was fantastic for Aintree, sunny and extremely hot, and I began to feel the effects, so In handed the car over to Castellotti.' wrote Mike later. This is certainly true, but as is often the case with Mike's books, it is not the whole truth, which was that Mike was suffering from a giant hangover! The previous evening he had had a blazing row with Moi Kenward, after which he became drunk as a skunk, leaving him in no state to do any serious motor racing the next day. The row continued after the race, with the result that a furious Moi went out to dinner that evening with Eugenio Castellotti. This did nothing to ease a very jealous Mike's hangover.' - p132
'Recollections of what followed are obscured by a heavy, alcoholic haze, but at some point in the proceedings, Peter Collins, Roy Salvadori and Pat Griffith were seen rolling Rob Walker down 46th Street in a large, wire litter basket' - p138
'About an hour out of Paris we were stopped by a very nice gendarme, who asked us to please drive slowly through his village. Peter pretended he couldn't speak French and the guy was very polite and let us go, but as we drove away, Peter said' "Tous les flics mangent le merde!" (All cops eat shit) when we got to the next village I thought we were going right into clink! Our nice gendarme had obviously phoned ahead and his pals were waiting for us. Peter thought it was a hellava lot of fun - until they hit us for abour fifty bucks. He was a bit subdued for a while after that'- p139
'We(Pat Griffith & Peter Collins) slid off the road and down the mountainside for about fifty feet and I ended up in Peter's lap. "Pat" he said, "I never knew you cared!"' - p140
"Ol' Pete had a very genteel streak in him and would go out of his way to be friends with the new members of the team" - p141
"John Wyer had given us strict instructions not to dice with each other and whatever order we were in at the end of the first lap was to be maintained. I made a better start than Pete, but within a couple of laps he was right with me and we had a most God-almighty dice. All round the circuit we were passing and repassing, pushing each other through the corners and having a wonderful time. Peter was laughing and waving at me, (giving me two fingers, that is!) and we were really going terribly quickly but we always got our positions right as we went past the pits, with me in the lead.Then I lost it coming out of Arnage. I spun right round, Peter went past and from then on he had every right to stay in front. He could have told John that I had spun and said, 'What was I supposed to do wait for him?' But that's exactly what he did he gave me two fingers and let me go by again. He never mentioned it to John and neither did I, because that was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid my spin could have involved Pete and we could have lost both cars. That was how nice a guy he was." - p152
"Peter took his Governorship very seriously and visited us several times that year. He liked to wander round the classrooms, chat to the kids and look at their work. They were all between the ages of five and thirteen, so although they knew he was famous they didn't really know much about him, but he was so charming and interested in what they were doing that they really warmed to him and looked forward to his visits. And he so obviously enjoyed coming down and being associated with something so different from his normal life. Unfortunately for us, he joined Ferrari in 1956 and from then in we saw very little of him, as he was seldom in this country, but he remained a great of friend of the school and myself. I often sought his advice, as he was a well-travelled young man and very intelligent, helpful and loyal." - p153
"Being a great party man and a wow with the ladies, Peter could very easily have made Brooks feel uncomfortable. Instead, he took a rather surprising attitude towards him. In those days we always had a small party the night before a race and when, on the evening before the Nine Hours, Tony said he was going to have an early night, much to everyone's surprise Peter said, 'Right - my man Brooks is going to bed and so am I.' He sunk his last half pint and off he went. That sort of thing happened on more than one occasion" - p155
"He was utterly charming and when I told him that I had to get back to work he said, 'Come back tomorrow, it won't be so busy then.' So I did and despite our age difference and the fact that he was a famous racing driver and I was a trainee salesman we struck up a good - friendship. That year many races were cancelled after Le Mans, so he was often at home and we used to meet frequently, until at the end of the year I had to go off and do my National Service. On my last night at The Black Boy (a pub) he bought me one hundred Players cigarettes and said, 'Keep in touch and come and see me at the meetings when you can get away.' Luckily, I was able to get to quite a few in the next two years and whenever he was there he would invite me into his crowd saying, 'This is my young mate, Trevor, from Kidderminster. He's in the RAF, poor bastard!' Peter never changed" - p161
"Although there was a nine-year age difference, Peter and I were always very close. He was a really terrific older brother and such a happy person, always laughing and joking. Needless to say, I hero-worshipped him and, with Mummy and Daddy, took a great interest in his career which seemed to dominate our conversations at every meal. He still didn't get on with Daddy and Wherever he came home I would say, 'How long are you here for?' and he'd say, 'It depends on the old man.' Ifthings went wrong Peter would high-tail it back to London and stay with Vick Vickers at the Washington Hotel." P161-162
"I remember once when Stirling stayed the night he left his shoes outside his bedroom door to be cleaned! My schoolfriend Sue Pridmore was staying with me and we were so incensed we filled them with sand" - Peter's sister, p162
"I was an unwilling boarder at Malvern Girls College. It was a very strict school and we were not allowed out-even with family - unless prior permission had been granted. This didn't bother Peter, who arrived one day with Stirling, sweeping to a halt in front of the school with a great swirl and flourish of loose chippings on the drive. When I told my housemistress that my brother and Stirling Moss had come to take me home for lunch she immediately phoned my parents, not knowing Peter or Stirling from Adam. "Is this young man your son?" she demanded. 'And circle who is this Stirling Moss person? Are we to release your daughter in their care?" "Mummy managed to convince her that Peter was indeed my brother and as we left he took my school hat inter off my head and in front of this very self-important pudding, plonked it on his own. Her face as we walked out.......As soon as we had gone she called my mother Berm again and said, 'I don't want those two young men to bring your daughter back, I don't like the way they behave at all." - p162
"Mike and Duncan soon found ways of keeping themselves amused.
One day they were in the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel when a member of a visiting ladies convention saw a man in a blazer and decided that he must be an attendant. "Boy! Where's our convention?" she demanded.
The 'boy' was Mike, and he was naturally unable to answer her question, whereupon the lady was very rude to him. Instead of telling her 'where to go', Mike told her where to go. "Try the eleventh floor, M'am" he said politely.
It then dawned upon the Englishmen that they had a good thing going here and in the following fifteen minutes they directed numerous ladies to the eleventh floor before taking the lift there themselves for a look- see. To their huge delight they found that things were going magnificently awry, for their ladies had walked into the middle of an all-male convention. Not all the ladies were there to attend the same ladies' convention, so the confusion was total. After a gleeful appraisal of their handiwork, Mike and Duncan walked innocently away." - p164
"Watching the race from above the BRM pits was his old schoolfriend, Bill Cotton who saw - and heard - Mike's reaction. "He threw his crash-hat across the pit and said, 'If I want to commit suicide I'll do it without your help, thank you very much indeed!' He then stormed out and went straight to the beer tent in the Paddock, where I joined him. 'That whole fucking car is an absolute time bomb!' He told me. He was livid!"" - p171
"The tyre problem clearly played on Peter's mind, as Ken Gregory remembers - "Peter and I shared a room at the Palace Hotel in Milan and two or three times during the night before the race I was woken up by his voice crying out 'The tyres! The tyres!!' As he thrashed unhappily through a nightmare. Just what mental torture he was going through at the time, I don't know, neither could he remember in the morning but, like the test of the Ferrari drivers, he was obviously terribly worried about tyre position'" - p194
'At the end of the 34th lap there occurred the most stirring things in this most exciting of races for many, many years. Peter Collins, lying in third place, came into the pits for a tyre inspection, and voluntarily handed over his car to Fangio - thereby giving up any possible chance he might have had of winning the World Championship. It was a truly generous action, and one which gives the lie to the cut-throat tactics which one or two people have alleged against motor racing.' - p195
'Despite this, Juan Manuel Fangio won the World Championship for the fourth time, thanks to the generosity of Peter Collins. "I was astonished when he handed over the car," he said afterwards, "but I did not stop to argue. In fact, Peter pushed me into it, although he still had a great chance to win the Championship himself at the time. I know how much that renunciation meant to him. This is one of the things that make a friendship really great. I do not know whether in his place I would have done the same. Collins was the gentleman driver.' - p195
'"It's too early for me to become World Champion - I'm too young." Was the 25 year old's reply, "I want to to on enjoying life and racing, but if I become World Champion now I would have all the obligations that come with it. And Fangio deserves it anyway!" - p195
'He told me, "If I'm good enough I'm automatically going to be number one, so I want to learn to be good enough," which I thought was a beautiful attitude," - p195
"Peter just loved to race," says Ken Gregory, "He did it for the sheer enjoyment it brought him. I don't think he was too concerned with money because he wasn't a big spender - he was very casual with it, really and didn't need an awful lot. He was a very popular character and was always being invited here, there and everywhere. He wasn't extravagant, he wasn't flash with cars - he had a Ford Zephyr and then I arranged for him to have one of the new Sunbeam Rapiers - and he didn't have a palatial residence anywhere. Money was not high on his list of priorities," - p197
'Peter....interestingly, he was certainly the most friendly of the three and probably the best personality, there was an absolute warmth just emanating from him. At the same time he was absolutely impossible where appointments were concerned. If you made a commitment for him you had your heart in your mouth, not knowing whether he would turn up - and frequently he didn't. On the other hand, he also had the ability to smooth ruffled feathers immediately with his charm, which was overwhelming.' - p198
"I was in the foyer, talking with Peter, who had just come back from Modena." Recalls Sir David, "Mike Hawthorn appeared with a beautiful girl on his arm and Peter rushed up to him and said, 'Mike - you must get on a plane and go to Modena. Ferrari wants another driver and you can be the captain of the team." Quite why Peter should offer Mike the 'captiancy' when he had already been given the position is hard to fathom. Nonetheless, Mike was on the phone to Modena the next day and on the following Monday he flew to Italt to talk with Enzo Ferrari. That brief conversation in the foyer of the Leicester Square Theater proved to be the starting point for the great friendship that grew up between Mike and Peter, a friendship that was soon to be adorned with the phrase, 'Mon Ami Mate." - p198
"It was while making his way there with Umberto Maglioli that he heard of his father's fatal car crash. Two days later, Basil Cardew ran a front-page story in The Daily Express revealing how - just hours before the crash - Leslie Hawthorn had spoken to him in the Goodwood Paddock and blamed himself for all of Mike's National Service troubles. "Will you help me about Mike?" He asked Cardew. "The boy is miserable and we have got to settle this call up trouble. Will you write an article in The Daily Express and let people know the whole story?" "Blame me for the mess," he went on, "I advised Mike all along from the time he was sixteen. The boy was always keen to do his National Service, but I have spent my life in racing - motorcycles in the TT and sports car races - and I thought his future lay in that direction, rather than driving lorries for the Army." - p203
"He used to come and stay with my family at Biella frequently," adds Maglioli, "He didn't go home to England because he didn't want to have to give up racing for two years and join the Army. He didn't like living on his own in Modena, so he came to us," - p204
"Mike put up with Italy because he had to in order to avoid the call up, but he badly missed his parents, the Members and the pubs. On his rare visits home he would make a bee-line for the Duke of Cambridge. "There's nothing like the green grass of England!" He would exclaim to Charlie and Marjorie Bishop as he supped his first of many pints for months, and for which he seldom, if ever, paid." - p204
"Peter's lifestyle and attitudes were somewhere in between those of Moss and Hawthorn. He loved parties and girls but was no great drinker, preferring wine with a meal (like moss) rather than downing great quantities of beer in a pub (like hawthorn)" - p211
"Mike was never his teammate (fangio) and they had no common language, so their friendship was very much at arms length, but the Englishman clearly thought the world of him and they enjoyed some unforgettable duels. Peter, on the other hand, had established a very strong rapport with him during their season together at Ferrari in 1956. By that time Fangio had a smattering of French (which Peter spoke fluently) and Peter was quick to learn some Spanish, so a genuine friendship grew up between them, one that was set in stone by the younger man's selfless behaviour in the Italian GP. And, along with everyone else, Juan Manuel came under the Collins spell and held him isn the same sort of paternal esteem as did Enzo Ferrari," - p216
"Stirling Moss had been writing for us (writing car reviews for the Sunday express) and when he left it was Harold Keeble, the Editor, who suggested that Mike should take his place. Mike agreed, with one stipulation - he had to have a slap-up meal with every test. I think his fee was £20 a week - a pittance! We used to pick up the test car at the Express building in Fleet Street and drive to Silverstone, occasionally putting in the report how long it took us to get there - fifty-seven minutes or thereabouts in a quick motor. Often we'd stop for lunch first, usually at The Bell at Aston Clinton, which was a very fine place to eat. We always started with oysters, caviar or snails (Mike was passionately fond of snails - the car used to reek of garlic afterwards), and we always had a bottle of Clos de Vougeot, a very fine wine. After lunch we'd go to Silverstone and belt the car round and then, as often as not we would sit and watch the Circuit Manager, Jimmy Brown, do a few laps in it. In the spring, Geoff Duke would often be there testing his motorbike and sometimes Mike would have a go. He would go crazy about motorbikes and would belt round with no leathers or helmet - no protection at all! In the summer, when we got bored with Silverstone we'd go to the seaside - always somewhere with a Big Dipper. Mike loved Big Dippers. He never knew what was in his Road Tests until he read the article, and next time we'd meet he'd say, 'That was a bloody silly thing I wrote last week, wasn't it?'" - p222
"Mike Hawthorn accompanied his great friend's beautiful, grieving widow back to England. At London Airport he bravely faced the Press and TV cameras and gave his eye-witness account of the crash, the tears running down his face, as The Daily Mail recorded.
"There was a little dip." he said, "We went into that. There was a sharp, short right-hand bend and Peter took it a little too wide and didn't turn into it soon enough. His car hit the bank and turned over. I don't know how fast he was driving. There was just a bunch of us. Tony Brooks was in front. Peter was second. As a driver he was the best, definitely. As a friend....he was my best friend, and that is it."
The Daily Express quoted him as saying, 'Pete and I raced as a team..... We were both chasing Tony Brooks, the eventual winner, and that was fair enough. The idea was to catch Tony and try to blow him up. But we were not racing against each other. I was just waiting behind Pete as he touched the bank."
'Hawthorn could hardly speak. He was asked, "Will you race again?" "If Ferrari wants me to I will. I am due to race in the Portuguese GP in two weeks, but personally I am not very interested." 'Massive, fair-haired Hawthorn crammed a handkerchief against his mouth. "Damn silly of me." he said, "So sorry...."
'He walked blindly along the corridor, took Louise Collins by the hand and drove away.'" - p227-228
Mike described the first part of the trip briefly in Challenge Me The Race:
We landed at Toussus le Noble, got a taxi into Paris, which cost about £3, and stayed the night with some friends. It was a late night as sometimes happens in Paris and we were late getting up next morning."
Well, yes and then again, no; for while this approximates the truth is far from being the whole truth, which is much more entertaining. Neil McNab spills the beans:
"Before we left I was severely lectured by Raymond Mays to the effect that on no account was Mike to be let loose in Paris, as BRM wanted him to be in condition to drive at Monaco. We landed near Paris and grabbed a cab to Fred Payne's bar in Rue Pigalle, where we immediately got stuck into champagne. "In those days, half-bottles of bubbly were about ten bob each and we got through an astronomical number. Fred's place was next to a brothel and there were always several tarts in the bar, having a drink and looking for business. The more we drank the better-looking they became and we got very pissed, eventually going next door with two of the girls, who were by now looking very good indeed. "A while later, Mike suddenly appeared in my room stark naked and said, 'I'm getting bloody bored with mine. Why don't we go and see what else is going on? We might find some better-looking girls than ours.' "We were both very big blokes and pretty fit, so we went into some of the other rooms to see if we were missing out on any good crumpet. We'd just lift the bloke off his tart, have a good look at her and drop him back on again. What a furore that started!" A furore, indeed. The brothel was full of Algerian workers out for a night of horizontal dancing and they were not amused at having their coitus so rudely interruptus by the two giant Englishmen, who were naked, rampant and not a pretty sight! There was, as the saying goes, uproar in the house, and Hawthorn and McNab were lucky to escape with all their bits and pieces still attached." - p229
"Because Rouen was a road circuit, practice started at 6 am and was over by 8, leaving the drivers with the rest of the day free. I had joined up with Peter and Louise and Mike suggested that we all go to Deauville, so we piled into the Gull, had a delicious lunch, wandered about a bit and then flew back. As we came towards Rouen Mike was chatting away merrily and I thought we were approaching the runway rather too fast for comfort. At the very last minute he suddenly zoomed up and away and did another circuit, roaring with laughter. 'This air speed indicator of mine is absolutely up the creek!' he said, 'I must try again." - p230
"Terrifying!" he recalls emphatically. "He (Mike) wasn't the greatest map reader in the world and he used to follow railway lines to where we were going. Once we set off for Le Mans and when we got to Salisbury he realised we'd followed the wrong line out of Woking! He was definitely a 'seat of the pants' flyer. He was a good pilot in that he had a feeling for the thing, but there was very little theory involved in his navigation."
When Mike joined Peter at Ferrari in 1957 he asked Ken Gregory to look after some of his racing interests where they blended with Peter's. When they were in England, the Scuderia would cable Ken's office and ask for one or both to go to Modena for some testing. Ron Smith recalls:
"I'd phone Pete in Kidderminster to tell him that he was wanted in Modena on Tuesday, or whenever, but he'd say,
'Oh, we're going to be on the boat in Dartmouth. Give is Mike a ring.'
"So I'd call Mike in Farnham and he would say, 'What's Pete doing?'
""He's on his boat.'"
"Well, what's Taffy doing?"
"I don't know what von Trips is doing. Ferrari has asked for one of you.'
"Eventually, one or both of them would set off in
Mike's Vega Gull and, as likely as not, after a couple of hours I'd get a phone call.
""We've had to jack it in at Lydd, Ron. Can you get us on a flight from London?'"
So much for navigation. And Neil McNab says that - having retired from the circuits, Mike was planning to take up air racing. The mind boggles........." - p230
"During 1956, Peter's personal transport was a Ford Zephyr, which sported a bumper sticker proclaiming, I LIKE GIRLS!". If nothing else, this should ensure Mr Collins a place in the Guinness Book of Records, under the heading, 'Great Understatements of our Time.'
Peter and Mike simply loved the company of ladies and pursued them constantly, with vigour and lustful intent. Both men had a great deal going for them in this endeavour, being undeniably handsome, charming and charismatic to a degree. Mike was 6ft 2ins, so blond he was almost albino and possessed of a 'bowl-`em-into- bed' smile which seems to have been inherited by Jack Nicholson. For his part Peter was slight, straw-blond and so full of devastating charm it should have been illegal. Just as important is the fact that they were blessed with the gift of laughter and doubtless tumbled many a lass, giggling, between the sheets" - p241
"Before he joined Ferrari, Mike shared a flat in Chelsea with his newly-married friends, Pat and Jill Hume- Kendall. "He had a room which must have been a larder, or something, originally, because it had no widow." recalls Jill. "He called it Little Hell and it saw a lot of action - he used to bring different girls back there all the time. When we moved to Neville Terrace in the summer of 1953, Mike would often stay with us when he was in England and by then our son had arrived. I was always trying to keep his hands off my au pairs - that was my prime occupation when he was around! He also had affairs with most of my friends, the unmarried ones anyway." - p241/242
"It was at the end of that year the Mike met the first of his serious girlfriends, Moi Kenward. "I was working for Michelin Tyres at the Earls Court Motor Show and one of the reps who knew Mike brought him onto the stand for a drink. I'd just finished my stint and was about to leave when he said, 'Where are you going?' I told him I was going home and he said, 'No, you're not you're going to come and have a drink with me.' No invitation - just an order! "We went back to my flat, where I changed. He made no attempt at a pass and then we went to a sherry bar near the Michelin Building in the Fulham Road. It was all terribly innocent and I didn't go to bed with Mike for a very long time, which surprised him. Eventually, he took me to see a French film, The Ripening Seed', which did the trick and he always used to tease me afterwards. I had to take you to a sexy French film before you would go to bed with me!' I remember nothing about the film, but I do remember that Mike bought tickets for the cheapest seats in the house and immediately marched me up to the most expensive ones! That was so typical of him." - p241
"At the end of 1954 he won the Spanish Grand Prix at Barcelona. I was terribly broke and living in a little flat in Earls Court. On the evening of the race I listened to the radio on the news and heard that he had won. I was so excited, but then I thought, I wonder if I heard correctly?' so I had to wait for the next news bulletin. My radio was plugged into the mains as were the lights and I had to put shillings in the meter. I was so short of money I turned out the lights and read a book by candle- light, to make sure I had enough electricity for the radio.
"Gregor Grant of Autosport told me that Mike didn't go to the post-race party as he was so anxious to fly back to me. He brought me a beautiful belt, which I still have. He was extremely generous in this respect and was always bringing me scarves and belts and things and later when he went off to a race he would as likely as not put £100 in my bank account before he left, which was a ■lot of money in those days."- p241
"On the other hand, he was incredibly jealous. When he was in hospital with his kidney problems I visited him constantly and whenever I popped out to the loo he would empty my handbag onto his bed and go through the contents. He had a key to my flat and I'd often find that he'd been through my chest of drawers and everything to see if I'd had a letter from some other man. He often said, 'If anyone else goes out with you I'll bloody well kill him!' and we weren't even engaged! And he would never introduce me to any of the other drivers because he was so jealous" - p242
"Robert Glenton (Mike's friend and ghost-writer on The Sunday Express) recalls that he was completely smitten by Cherry. "He seemed to take girls or leave them until she came along, but he lost a lot of sleep over her - he really became moon-struck. Cherry was Mike's great love. He really wanted to marry her and when Mike wanted something really badly he went at it like a bull at a gate. We were in the Steering Wheel Club at about 10 o'clock one night when he heard that she was going out with Peter Twiss, the test pilot whom she later married. I dropped him off at her mews flat and according to Cherry he broke the door down and they had a stand-up row. Mike was impossible and I can't imagine any girl being married to him - he was so overwhelming. When he fell in love he wore his heart on his sleeve." - p244
"He certainly had a million girlfriends when I knew him." says Cherry. "He was not what I would call the world's most faithful boyfriend and that must be putting it mildly. It was pretty heartbreaking at the time. Yet he was very puritan in many ways; he was a good, middle- class boy and he didn't really like too much hanky- panky. I remember him telling me that he and Fon de Portago once went out with two beautiful girls and just when Mike was wondering which of them was going to be his for the night, Fon announced that they were not going to participate, they were going to watch! Michael was not at all impressed.
"All men who have a lot of women are, basically, men's men. Michael loved his men friends and he loved going to the pub with the boys. He liked women for the other things they could give him, but he loved the company of men. He tried to be very sophisticated about women and was quite incapable of being faithful to any one of them. Even so, I am very pleased that I had my relationship with him when I did, when I was young and impressionable. I knew him at the height of his glamour and that was lovely. He was a golden star of a man." - p244
"The young drivers in question were, of course, Peter and Lance Macklin and HWM's Chief Mechanic, Frank Webb, recalls that, "Their first aim at every practice was to compare notes after a few laps - not on how the car was going, but what the birds were like on every corner. Once they had formed some sort of consensus, the chosen ones were in our pit within a quarter of an hour and from then on we didn't see a lot of them......." - p244
"Roy Salvadori, however, is more generous in his appraisal of Peter's lady friends. "They weren't terrible looking at all. He had one or two crackers, but more often than not they were unusual - attractive in a weird way. And it was never the same girl twiice running. He was a very attractive and popular guy - it wasn't that difficult to date Peter!" - p245
"I saw Collins with the girl in the passenger seat! I got him in the morning and said, 'How did you get on?' ""Fine,' he said. 'she was inexperienced but enthusiastic. We started off on the bed and finished up in the wardrobe!'- p245
"Tears don't come easy to Eleanora Herrera, 21 year- old heiress and member of one of Argentina's grandest families.' 'wrote Peter Hahn in The Daily Mirror 'But her eyes were brimming when she told me: PETER COLLINS JILTED ME." - p245
"Immediately after the wedding, Peter denied that he had jilted Eleanora, as she had claimed. 'The report is ridiculous.' he told the Daily Sketch. 'I was engaged to her but we decided to break it off. Our engagement was never made public. Neither was the break-off. I couldn't be more sorry Eleanora is so distressed, but its entirely wrong to say I jilted her. I can't believe she misunderstood me' - p246
"Mike's inability to pass by a pretty face got him into trouble on occasion, too. His friend Nick Syrett recalls one such incident.
"We'd been to the presentation of the Ferodo Trophy at the Dorchester Hotel in Mayfair and had arranged to meet a couple of girls at The Steering Wheel Club at 8 o'clock. By the time we left the Dorchester it was 8-50, so we set off down Park Lane on foot and where the Hilton Hotel now stands was then a gathering place for ladies of the night. We noticed one in particular who was absolutely astonishingly beautiful and as we walked by she said, 'Hallo darling - want to come home with me?'
"This, of course, was irresistible to Mike! I tried to get him to move on as we were now almost an hour late for our date, but he was having none of it and protracted negotiations began. The girl wanted £4 (then the going rate) for her services and Mike - tight-fisted as ever - tried to beat her down to £3. After a lot of haggling the deal was abandoned and we finally made it to The Steering Wheel, where our ladies gave us a pretty frosty reception, having been kept waiting so long.
"We had a couple of drinks and then walked back to the Dorchester to collect the car and go on somewhere for dinner. The aforementioned lady was still on her patch and as we approached she looked Mike's girl up and down, then looked at Mike and said, 'See what you get for three quid!'
"The temperature between Mike and his girlfriend was already pretty chilly, due to our lateness and it now became very frosty indeed as she demanded to know the meaning of that remark. Mike tried to laugh it off, but by the time we reached the restaurant the temperature was well below zero and I insisted that our table for four was changed to two tables for two! Throughout the meal Mike was making frantic 'help me!' signs, but I just let him get on with it. My date and I eventually joined him and his friend for coffee." - p246/247
"Mike's last serious romance began in the Spring of 1958, when he started going out with 21 year-old Jean Howarth, one of London's top fashion models who worked for Hardy Aimes and John Cavanagh, among others. "I'd known Mike on and off for a while," she recalls, "because I had a boyfriend who lived in Farnham and we used to meet Mike in the local pubs. Our relationship started to get serious at the Goodwood Easter Monday meeting. "Behind the scenes with his mask off he was a very nice, quiet, loving homebody. He wanted to marry, settle down and have a home and children of his own and he was emphatic that he was not going to be a married racing driver - that would not be fair on the girl, who was going to be me. When he wasn't racing he liked to get up late on a Sunday morning, go to the pub for a few drinks and then come home for Sunday lunch. Afterwards he would put his feet up in front of the fire and watch the telly." - p247
"He was a very sensitive man and could cry easily. He was shattered by Peter's death and that made up his mind to retire at the end of the season. But smaller tragedies upset him too. He had a boxer dog called Grogger and one day during the 1958 Motor Show (or just after) we were having a drink with some friends at the Barley Mow at Tilford when Mike gave someone a run in his Ferrari demonstrator, leaving Grogger with us. When he heard the car coming back, Grogger ran in front of it and was killed. Mike was very upset about that and cried a lot." - p247
"Mike had proposed to Jean while they were driving from London to Farnham in his Jaguar.
"He asked me to marry him and, of course, I said, 'Yes!' says Jean, remembering that joyful moment with absolute clarity. With equal clarity she recalls how Mike - always the great romantic - then lobbed a king-sized rock into his new fiancée's placid pool of happiness.
"Now tell me." he said, "Do you have any skeletons in your cupboard?"
"No." said Jean, puzzled, "Why?"
"Because I do. I have a four year-old son in France." - p247
"He (Mike's son Arnaud) had fleeting memories of meeting him (Mike) on a couple of occasions, and of meeting Mrs Hawthorn not long after Mike was killed - but her interest in her grandson did not, it seems, last very long. Arnaud had not heard from her since he was a small boy and did not know if she was still alive. I was able to tell him that she was, but would not talk to anyone about her son, let alone her grandson." - p252
"It must be said that the fact that the Tennis Club was (and still is) private does not mean that Mike would have needed an invitation. He might have required one, but needed it....? No. As his old drinking buddies, the Members, well recall, Mike was adept at inviting himself to parties. If he saw some pretty girls through a window and heard the sound of clinking glasses, he was quite capable of walking in off the street and joining in the fun, his tremendous charm and that dazzling smile obviating the need for the formality of an invitation. It is quite possible that he was invited to the soirée, but he was for a few more days, anyway - completely unknown to the average citizen of Reims and so hardly likely to be there as a celebrity." - p253
"Jacqueline was enormously attracted to Mike at once, and vice versa." says Monique. "They spent every single moment together and Mike invited us both to be his guests at the race on the following Sunday. We told him that we were already going, with our father, so we agreed to meet afterwards. Of course, we had not the slightest idea that he would win. When we got home from the Tennis Club Jacqueline was terribly excited about Mike and talked about him non-stop." - p253
"By this time Cherry Huggins was Mike's girlfriend. She had recently learned to fly and Mike asked her to bring his Fairchild Argus over to Reims for him, which she did. 'I remember that there was a lady about who had Mike's son.' She recalls, 'I thought it was very irresponsible of him and I gave him hell about it. By that time he certainly had some pretty strong paternal feelings towards the boy,'" - p255
"From 1956 he visited Jacqueline every time he raced in Reims. Arnaud remembers seeing his father briefly in his aunt's house behind the cathedral. "My mother wanted me to be there to say hallo, but I refused at first as I was busy playing with my toy cars. I also recall meeting Mike at the circuit behind the pits, probably in 1958, and my mother told me that we went to England once to see him. We had a ride in his Jaguar, but I don't remember anything about that." - p255
"Stirling Moss suggested that as he was going to Miami, he should look up an actress of his acquaintance while he was there.
"I had met Louise with Donald Healey during the Nassau Speed Week the previous December." says Stirling. "She was a very beautiful girl and great fun, so I told Peter he could find her at the Playhouse."
On Monday, February 4, Peter duly called Louise and arranged to meet her that evening in the bar after the show. Little did Stirling know that he was playing Cupid in what was about to become a great romance! Naturally, Louise recalls that meeting as if it were yesterday.
"When I walked into the bar, Peter was already there and talking to Bob Said, whom we both knew. He obviously thought that Peter and I knew each other, too, because no introductions were made. We had a drink and then Bob suggested we all go out to dinner, but Peter said he couldn't leave yet, as he had to meet someone. I found this puzzling, as I thought he was there to meet me. 'Who are you meeting?' I asked.
""Louise King.' he said.
""You're crazy - I'm Louise!'
'We got over that and went out to dinner.' The following Wednesday afternoon I went to the motel where Peter and Mastern were staying and we were all sitting by the pool - Masten on my right and Peter on my left - when Peter asked me to marry him! I said 'yes' and we made plans in a couple of minutes of whispering and Masten never heard a thing.'- p260
"On Tuesday morning, Masten was in Kansas driving to his bowling alley, when he heard on the car radio that Peter Collins had got married. He thought that was a hoot - Peter had been out with me the previous week and now had obviously married someone else. He was furious when he learned that he'd been right there when Peter proposed" - p261
"As events turned out," says Gregory, "he was absolutely right. The marriage was a very good thing and Louise was a great influence on him in many ways. She was of a similar temperament and personality, free as the wind, full of fun and a very good-looking girl! I think she had a sensuous aura which attracted Peter - she was a very compatible and equal force and together they formed an even better force." - p261
"Their marriage in Miami was a joyous occasion, but for Peter it was marred by the stoney silence that emanated from his home. It was very clear from that dreadful transatlantic phone call that his parents (and his father in particular) were very unhappy about the union, but naturally, Peter had hoped for a congratulatory cable, at least, on his big day, It never came" - p264
"For the first time in my life I am able to realize what it means to really have someone for whom I have so much love, respect and tenderness that I'm afraid of things that may in any way spoil the happiness that we have found together.
I know that when you both meet Louise you will realize that she is not only a wonderful person but also so obviously right for me and I for her and I am sure you will both come to love her, not as much as I do because I don't think that is possible, but as a new and very fine member of our family." (Peter Collins letter to his parents) - p264
"I would like to say now that there is nothing more in this world that I would have rather had at our wedding than you and Mum but, well, I only wish I could put into words how much Louise means to me and now, after one week together even more so, if that is possible." (Peter Collins letter to his parents) - p265
'Just two months later, Stirling announced his engagement to Katie Molson, saying, "Of course I realise this is a foolish time to get engaged because Peter Collins has just got married and released a flood of crumpet onto the market and now I can't do anything about it!" - p266
'The Caribbean island was in ferment, as Fidel Castro was leading his rebel forces against the government and causing all kinds of trouble, so the Principal drivers Fangio, Moss, Collins and Castellotti - were all assigned heavily-armed bodyguards, Castellotti being informed that they were to keep the women away.... Peter and Stirling shared the attentions of an amiable giant named Chico, whose English was as fluent as their Spanish. On their first night in Havana, they managed to give him the slip and went to a boxing match. They had just taken their seats when a number of Castro's friends began firing their guns into the roof and in the ensuing panic several people were crushed to death. Moss and Collins made it to safety and were glad of Chico's company from then on' - p266
'At that time Tavoni had been working as Enzo Ferrari's personal assistant for seven years, so Ferrari had absolute trust in him and this more than made up for his complete lack of any racing experience.
He also lacked a proper knowledge of English, which was, of course, the lingua franca of motor racing. Mike Hawthorn welcomed his old friend to Sebring and decided to help him out.
"Mike said, 'Romolo, you must learn English with me, listen - Rosie, Posie, Pinkey, Pink, Shitty, Farty, Poopie, Stink. Repeat, Romolo!'
"So I repeat and he said, 'Good, now you explain to this gentleman's wife.' But Phil Hill was there and he said, 'No, no, stop Ferma!' It was the wife of Mr Alec Ullmann, the head man of Sebring!"
Just one of Hawthorn's little jokes......' - p267
'Louise remembers that dinner for a remark de Portago made at one point. With hindsight, he might
have been dictating his own epitaph. "Life has to be lived to the full." said the Spanish nobleman, who always did just that. "It is better to be wholly alive for thirty years than half-dead for sixty." The next day he was 'wholly dead' at thirty-one.
"Portago was a fascinating character," says Louise, "but I didn't find him attractive in the way that I found Taffy von Trips, Olivier Gendebien and Jo Bonnier attractive. He always seemed rough and unkempt to me - scruffy. Yet he attracted all these unbelievably beautiful women available women and lots of supposedly unavailable women too! He really was extraordinary in the way he got in and out of bed with an amazing number of females without others knowing about it. That man was so busy with women I don't know how he had any time for racing." - p271
"Phil Hill recalls that while Mike called Peter 'Mon ami mate' almost as a matter of course, Peter used it less frequently. At one time on the Saturday afternoon, Mike surely must have said the words with a hard edge to his voice, for Peter crashed his car!
Mike had been dissatisfied with the steering of his Ferrari on the Friday, so it was changed overnight. On the Saturday afternoon he found that the change made a marked improvement, but he was still not happy with the car's performance and asked Peter to have a go in it. 'Mon ami mate' promptly stuffed it at the chicane, piling head-on into a bollard on the very edge of the harbour and coming within an ace of emulating Alberto Ascari's diving exhibition of 1955. Mike was distinctly unchuffed at this, because that was his special, long chassis car and, clearly, it could not be repaired in time for the race.' - p278
'Wolfgang Graf Berghe von Trips was a handsome, charming, 29 year-old Count whose film biography - had it ever been made - could only have starred Robert Redford, who bears him a striking likeness. He started racing in 1950 and proved to be very fast, but wild, having numerous accidents. After a spell with the Mercedes sports car team in 1955, he drove for Porsche for most of '56 until invited to share a Ferrari with Peter Collins in the Swedish sports car GP at the end of the year. The two quickly became great friends and it was Peter who gave von Trips the nickname Taffy, "Because you look like a Taffy.' What the young German made of this irrefutable Collins logic is not on record, but the name stuck and Taffy von Trips went on to become a very popular member of the Ferrari team.
He lived with his parents in their ancestral home Wasserschloss Burg Hemmersbach in Horrem, not far from Cologne and, as he was back on his feet after his Nürburgring crash, Peter and Louise invited him out.
"He joined us for dinner with a beard!! Which makes him look about a million years old.'wrote Louise to her parents. 'He is feeling quite well but has to wear a big plaster cast all round his middle for about two more weeks. The beard came from lying flat on his back for a while and everyone tells him how terrible it is so it shall probably be removed shortly.
After dinner he took us to his house and showed us the films he took on his trip to the Americas this winter. We spent the night there and the next day met the family and took a look around the house and grounds. His home is a huge affair surrounded by two moats and parks, gardens, etc. During the war all the furniture and everything of value was stolen so its still in rather sad shape, but they've fixed up part of it to make it quite pleasant. Now we're at the Nürburgring again and getting back to our "routine weekends"!!' - p293
"He loved cottage pie, mince-meat, rissoles - never anything fancy," said Marge. "He used to sit with his knife and fork in his hands and say, 'flying start, Marge' and I would just put the plate in front of him and off he would go. Whenever he went abroad to race he would say, 'I'll be back on Monday for roast beef and Yorkshire pud.' He hated to be away for long' On rare weekends when he wasn't racing he would get together with Nick Syrett, who lived locally (and who would become Secretary of the British Racing and Sports Car Club in 1958). 'We had a Saturday routine." says Nick. "I would pick him up at the garage, we'd go to The Bush for a couple of pints and then on to Deeley's café in West Street for sausage, egg, chips and baked beans. Deeley's was a real 'greasy spoon' run by a Mr Wackett and Mike used to bring him matchbox labels from all over the world.
"After lunch we'd go to the cinema, irrespective of what was showing and then it would be back to the Duke of Cambridge for a few pints and a game of darts while we decided what we were going to do in the evening. Mike kept on devising these new games of darts which nobody but he understood. That was the whole idea, because it meant that he always won!" - p297
'Peter is now going through a change of life, or something, because he is talking more and more about stopping racing and building houses and raising little Peters and Louises. We've been searching the American housing magazines like mad and cutting out things, etc. I think we want to build a modern American-type house near Peter's home (and that's unheard of here). We have a piece of land about three minutes walking distance from Shatterford Grange that's on top of a hill, with a view both ways that goes for miles and miles.' Louise letters - p298
'It was an eventful journey. They arrived over Milan to find it covered in thick fog, so the plane was diverted to Turin, where they had to wait nearly three hours for a coach to take them to Milan. The coach driver clearly had something of the Kamikaze in him, for he kept trying to overtake huge lorries in the fog, which frightened the life out of Ken and Mike (one of the world's worst passengers).
After a death-defying trip they arrived in Milan to find there was no transport to take them to the railway station, where they were to catch a train to Modena. After walking a fair distance with their luggage, Mike spotted a taxi outside an hotel. They leapt inside, only to find that it had arrived to collect one of the hotel's guests. As they got out, Mike revealed that his years with Ferrari had taught him enough Italian to be able to question the taxi driver's parentage. The taxi driver replied in the same vein and Mike was all set to indulge in some serious fisticuffs until the driver produced his car's starting handle and the engine was already running.... Mike and Ken continued their walk to the station, eventually arriving in Modena just before midnight.' - p300
'Mike left the circuit early, to avoid the rush and - more important - to enjoy a couple of beers at a bar Ivor had found. Later, Mike returned to the motel where he, Peter and Louise, Taffy von Trips and Wolfgang Seidel were staying. He walked into the Collins' room and, finding that Louise had just run a hot bath for her tired, but victorious husband, stepped into it.
"He didn't say a word." remembers Louise. "He just got in, fully clothed and I'll never forget the sight of him lying there, tired and dusty, his clothes ballooning around him and his bow tie askew, as usual.
"He hadn't noticed that Paul O'Shea's wife, Robin, was with us. She burst out laughing and went into the bathroom to tease him. He pulled her down to him for a kiss and turned the shower on at the same time. She got completely soaked! Then Mike got out, carefully negotiated his way around the furniture and squelched out of the room. And he still hadn't said a word!" - p305
'A furious Hawthorn set off to walk back to the pits, only to be diverted by the sight of a beautiful blonde looking out of a window of the Station Hotel. Never one to miss such an opportunity, he asked her for a drink of water and she invited him in, so he clambered through the window, later returning to the pits in a much happier frame of mind' - p310
'Monaco marked the first anniversary of 'mon ami mate' and Mike and Peter continued to read the Four D Jones strip in The Daily Express avidly. Over the past year their friendship had become very close and an acknowledged feature of the racing circus, but what brought it about? In some respects it was clearly the attraction of opposites, for although both were bright, fun-loving personalities, Mike was very much the extrovert, who could be brash, loud and bloody rude when he felt like it, whereas Peter was somewhat introverted - quiet and with a much gentler character.
As their team-mate in 1957-58, Phil Hill became a close friend of both. "Peter was a great guy and always very helpful and friendly to me when I first joined the Scuderia in 1956, although our friendship had started in Argentina in 1954. I felt that he was a better-adjusted person than Mike, who seemed to have a defence mechanism built into his personality that Peter didn't have at all. He didn't find it as easy as Peter to open up to someone he felt he might be able to be friendly with. He wasn't nearly so approachable and he had a real temper! Mike could get really pissed off by something and become angry and irrational and darn near get physical. I remember leaving Monza one time and we were on the grass, driving past a line of stationary cars and there was an old lady on a bike in front of us and she just would not get out of the way. This infuriated Mike, so he gave her a push and she fell in a heap. She wasn't hurt and we drove on. Mike often got away with things like that." - p310
'The constant travelling meant that we were living in hotels, so our room became a home away from home for Peter and me, and for Mike, too. We had a refuge that he also enjoyed, so he would come and sit with us and he and Peter would get stuck into the endless supply of mystery paperbacks they had bought in Reims in 1957.
I became the den mother, constantly making tea for them, doing their ironing and sewing on buttons while they read their books. Occasionally I would cook for them, so I would be sent out to do the shopping. When we were in England or Europe I always had to buy The Daily Express, so they could catch up on Four D Jones. They called each other 'mon ami mate' and I became 'mon ami matess'.
"Their friendship never imposed on our marriage. Peter and I were really fantastically close, there was this tremendous bond between us and in the eighteen months we had together I don't remember anyone - certainly not Mike-interrupting that bond. The love we had for each other was so terrific and we were so close - physically all the time that no-one could come between us. It was not as if Peter went off to work every day.
"The three of us had a very nice, easy relationship. Mike was dear and we really enjoyed being together. His rudery was never directed at us usually at someone who got him a little off-base. He was boisterous and always funny, like the time when he climbed fully- clothed into the bath I had just run for Peter. I'm sure - that was just his way of releasing the tension of racing, which none of the boys ever wanted to talk about.
"Mike was always being pursued by various females and, of course, he did a fair amount of pursuing himself. When Peter and I were on 'Mipooka' in Monte Carlo harbour, Peter would often point out a pretty girl on the quay, saying, 'Don't you think Mike would fancy her?" For his part, if Mike met a girl he thought an old married couple like us would approve of he would introduce her, but if he found someone he thought we wouldn't like, he would go to enormous trouble to avoid us!
"I think our marriage made the relationship between Peter and Mike even closer than it would have been otherwise, because I was always there and I did accept Mike as Peter's very best friend. It was good for me, too, because I didn't have any close girlfriends during that time. I never got to know Katie Moss well at all, we were in different camps, but Harry Schell's wife, Monique, became a good friend. In the Ferrari team I was surrounded by delightful fellas like Phil and Taffy and Olivier, but next to Peter my closest relationship was with Mike, although he was never my confidant - I would never speak to him about a personal matter 1 wouldn't discuss with Peter." - p310
'Roy Salvadori liked both men enormously, but in his opinion, "They were possibly the worst pair of drivers Ferrari ever had! They were so friendly they weren't doing their best for the team. You used to see them following each other around, taking it in turns to lead, or tackle somebody, and you won't get results that way in Grand Prix racing. Can you imagine Peter sticking his neck out to beat Mike? It never happened, because it didn't matter to him whether he was quicker than Mike in practice or the race. They were so friendly they wanted to share everything, so they never pushed each other.' - p310/311
'The most important thing about Peter was that he had such an engaging personality. He could be infuriating, but it was literally impossible (even for me) to be annoyed with him for long. He could get away with anything just by turning on the charm, which never seemed to be forced or insincere. It seemed to illuminate everything he did and I never met anyone who was impervious to it." - p317
'By the time Peter arrived in Modena, Dino was also suffering from nephritis and his life was slipping away. Peter went to see him and the two young men born scarcely a couple of months apart formed an immediate rapport, as Romolo Tavoni testifies.
"Peter was a very good friend for Dino, because he was very sympathetic and understanding. Dino would say, 'Peter - are you going to the movies tonight?'
'No. I will stay here with you. Why?'
'Because if you go to the movies, tomorrow morning you can tell me all about it. I cannot get out of bed. I am like a small bird in a big cage.'
"So Peter would go to the cinema and the next day he would describe to Dino the movie he had seen. Naturally, this kindness created a very good impression with Enzo Ferrari and the Signora, although Peter did not do it for this reason." - p318
'At the end of June, Dino died. Enzo Ferrari and Laura were devastated, but at the same time they seemed to find in Peter a surrogate son and lavished kindness and affection upon him. Dino had had the use of a flat above the Ristorante Cavallino and not long after his death Ferrari insisted that Peter leave the Reale Hotel and move in. It is said that Signora Ferrari often made his breakfast and even took care of his laundry on occasion.' - p318
'"I got the distinct impression that the Old Man was looking to Peter to replace Dino in a sense - in an emotional rather than a family way. Peter learned to speak Italian well and often joined Ferrari for meals. He had arrived on the scene almost at the moment of Ferrari's greatest grief and I think the Old Man liked the fact that he was probably the least serious of all the drivers he ever had. He had this wonderful boyish, infectious sense of humour and he was always laughing. Ferrari was clearly very fond of him and they had a very good relationship." - p318
'Bernard Cahier is even more emphatic. "Ferrari fell in love with Peter and after Dino died he looked upon him as a second son. Peter enjoyed this relationship and spent much of his time at Maranello, but when he married Louise the Old Man became very jealous - he didn't like drivers' wives or girlfriends around at the best of times. A few years ago he told me that Peter was his favourite driver of all, but added, He would have had a wonderful career had it not been for that donna - that woman!"
Jabby Crombac has the same impression. "When Peter first went to Ferrari he was the darling of Enzo and his wife, Laura and when Dino died, Peter became the son they had lost, but when he married Louise, the climate changed immediately." - p318
'Throughout that year, whenever they were in Modena the Collinses would dine frequently with the Ferraris and Peter would spend a great deal of time with the Old Man. "They were certainly parental figures in both our lives." says Louise. "It is said that Ferrari didn't like it when Peter and I got married, but he never showed it to me. They were both very kind and always showed great warmth towards me."
Due to her lack of Italian, Louise's relationship with the Ferraris hardly extended beyond smiles, nods and gestures, but Peter arguably got closer to Enzo than any other driver, before or since. This intimacy brought fourth a remarkable result late in 1957, shortly before the Italian Grand Prix.' - p319
'Peter decided it was time to put their special relationship to the test. He went to see the Old Man and gave him a severe talking to.
"He felt that the root cause of Ferrari's unhappiness was the loss of Dino." says Louise. "He told him that he had done enough mourning; that he should stop living in the past (which he never did otherwise) and that he should pay attention to the racing programme and get it going again.
"Ferrari just sat there and said nothing, and I remember Peter coming back to me looking very worried. 'I don't think he'll ever speak to me again.' he said, 'I'm probably out of a job!"
What happened next astonished Peter and Louise. Ferrari summoned them both to his office, where he thanked Peter profusely for his advice and then made them a remarkable offer, as Louise excitedly informed her parents a few days later.
Ferrari has decided that he would keep us in Modena more if we had a nice place to live, so he has given us his villa near the factory at Maranello to use for as long as we want, They haven't lived in it since the war, so the day before yesterday we opened it up and started to clean the place. Its quite modern and we're thrilled to death with it. All we had to do was to open the windows and peasant-type people came screaming in to help. Peter has been getting some exercise getting weeds out of the driveway and I'm working miracles with soap and water inside. On the first floor we have two big rooms and a huge hall - both with marble floors - a small john and kitchen, and on the second floor three bedrooms, very big modern bathroom, a small room which will be a bar and a balcony that runs the full length of the house.' - p320
'Peter and Louise were in for another surprise. Enzo and Laura Ferrari arrived and presented Louise with a big three-diamond ring! 'We're still not quite sure why they gave it to me,' she wrote to her parents, 'but believe me, they got thanked good and proper. WOW!' - p320
'for a couple of weeks later Peter and Louise closed up the villa in Maranello and moved on board their new boat in Monte Carlo harbour.
That move was the beginning of the end of the special relationship. "Ferrari actually became jealous because Peter had escaped his clutches." recalls Jabby Crombac. "By leaving Maranello, Peter had deserted the family. He had become a traitor!"
So why did Peter leave? "He had become unhappy living under the Ferrari yoke at Modena." says Phil Hill.
"No matter who you were, when you lived there you had to toe the Ferrari line and like so many other people Peter became uncomfortable at always having to please Ferrari - for everything to have to go his way. Ferrari did everything he could to make Louise and Peter happy in that little house down the road from Maranello. He felt good having Peter nearby and he was not at all pleased when they went to live in Monte Carlo," - p320
'On their return from Le Mans, Peter and Louise stayed overnight at the Frensham Ponds Hotel, near Farnham, and spent some time with Mike and his mother in their house at Folley Hill, before heading North for Kidderminster. "The funny thing about that" says Louise, "was that Mike had complained bitterly about there being no headroom for him on our boat in Monte Carlo, yet in his own home he had to duck through every doorway!" - p321
'Peter was very upset about being dropped from the Grand Prix and that evening there was a pretty heated meeting between himself, Mike, Tavoni and Ken Gregory in the Collinses hotel suite at the Lion d'Or. "Mike took full blame for wrecking the clutch at Le Mans," says Ken, "but I was never sure that Tavoni believed him. Eventually, we persuaded Tavoni to talk to Ferrari on Peter's behalf and he phoned him the next day, with the result that Peter got his drive in the Grand Prix, as well as doing the F2 race." - p325
'Tony Rudd was there with BRM and he recalls having lunch at the Lion d'Or with Harry Schell. "He told me that he was going to have a good steak and a bottle of Beaujolais, then he was going to take his wife, Monique to bed for one of the best experiences of her life! During the meal, Mike Hawthorn passed by and whispered to me "Keep him talking!" Later, I learned that when Harry and Monique got to their room they found that absolutely everything had been removed, there was just a large vase of flowers in the middle of the floor. Then they found that they had been locked in.
"Harry kicked up such a spectacular row that next day the perpetrators carried his little Vespa car in off the street and up the stairs to the card room on the second floor, where they left it with a 'For sale' sign on top" - p325
'Despite the tragedy, the Grand Prix circus carried on as usual. That night Tony Rudd walked into everyone's favourite watering hole, Bridget's Bar, to be greeted by Mike.
""Glad you've come.' he said, and proceeded to wind a hosepipe round and round my waist before sticking the nozzle down my trousers. I managed to remove it just before he turned the water on!" - p326
'For his part, Peter apparently resolved to help Mike all he could in his quest for the Championship, as Sir David Brown recalls. 'Peter and Louise came aboard my boat in Monte Carlo several times before the British Grand Prix and I remember a discussion when Peter suggested that instead of hanging back and driving to finish at Silverstone, he should go flat out and tempt the opposition to chase him and blow up. He would either blow up, too, or slow down and allow Mike to go through and win. He asked me what I thought and I said, 'Its all right if it works.', but it didn't work. He led from the start, but his car did not blow up and he won!" - p327
'The Collins family returned joyously to Shatterford Grange, taking with them Tony Brooks and his fiancée, Pina Resegotti, whom he had met when the Aston Martin team was racing at Rouen in 1956. Peter booked them into a nearby hotel and was astonished when Tony asked for separate rooms. Pina laughs at the memory. "He was so impressed by that. To think that there were still some people who did not sleep together before they were married! He joked about it almost in amazement but in a very nice way. He respected our decision, although he obviously thought we were crazy. Peter had such tremendous charm and savoir faire. That weekend he spent some time trying to persuade Tony to join Ferrari - 'You will fit in so well with Mike and me.'" - p329
"Racing weekends in general were very social," recalls Louise "and when we went to the hotel lobby or restaurant it was always a time of high energy. Mike spent a great deal of time with us and I can't remember the first occasion I woke up to find him in our bedroom, looking down on Peter and me saying, 'Where's the tea?' Invariably he would join us for breakfast and he and Peter would bully me - there was never enough tea and while I was ringing Room Service for more they would drink up all the milk." - p333
'Meanwhile back at the start and finish area the racing fraternity was in a fearful state of uncertainty, as American journalist Denise McCluggage recalled in Auto Week:
'We didn't hear anything. We didn't know anything. There had been a helicopter, we were told. They had taken Peter to Bonn. And time stretched on.
'I don't remember whose room we were in at the Sporthotel under the stands, nor exactly who was there. Eight or ten others. We were waiting an understood but acknowledged waiting. Anyone close to racing is familiar with it. And in the meantime we talked and laughed. I was cutting Jo Bonnier's hair.
'Jo and I were the only ones facing the open door and we saw Mike first and froze and then everyone else turned and froze.
Mike Hawthorn was big and square-jawed and fair- haired. So fair. One of those English schoolboy faces that said "Goodbye, Mr Chips." to Robert Donat. He was still in his driving clothes - his dirty white pants, his green battle-jacket. His face was streaked. And tired.
'He didn't have to say anything. Slowly in his hands he turned a shattered brown crash hat we all recognised as Peter's.'
Mike went to his room and packed his belongings. He was then told by Artur Keser of Mercedes that Peter was seriously hurt and had been flown to Bonn. He packed Peter's and Louise's things and then, with Harry Schell, set out for the hospital in the Mercedes Peter and Harry had hired at the airport a couple of days earlier.' - p336
"They wanted to see Peter, so I went to the Reception and said, 'I am Tavoni of Ferrari and I want to see Peter Collins, who has been brought here by helicopter.'
"But you will see a dead man!' said the receptionist.
"I told her his wife is here and she wants to see him."
Louise was adamant. "I needed to see him, otherwise I wasn't going to believe he was dead." she says. "I think Mike and I probably still had a strong feeling that it was all a mistake. I remember going into the room and he was on a table of sorts. I just saw one foot and it was absolutely white. It could have been anyone's foot, but I finally knew. I didn't need to see anything else."
Tavoni remembers vividly that "The doctor pulled back the sheet and there was Peter, like he was asleep. Mike took one look, turned and went out into the corridor, where he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. He just sat there, saying nothing. I looked at Peter. There was a bruise on one arm and the skin at the back of his neck was very red, but that was all." - p336
"There were hundreds of people waiting to see us get off the plane." remembers Louise. "The observation platform at Heathrow was absolutely packed and the Press were everywhere. There was a special Press reception area and when Mike and I walked in it was like going through a tunnel of people. Mike spoke to them briefly and then someone produced a car for us and we drove up to Kidderminster. When we got there we were in such a state that we couldn't remember how to get to Shatterford, so we found The Black Boy at Bewdley and Alistair Wilson looked after us."
"They arrived here at about 7 pm in Mike's Jaguar." recalls Alistair. "Louise was in a bit of a state and stayed outside the pub having a couple of brandies. As Pat and Elaine were still on their way back from Dartmouth, she had arranged to pick up some keys for Shatterford Grange from the Lodge to the house, but neither she nor Mike could remember how to get to Shatterford from Bewdley. I led them over in my car and once they had got the keys I left them there to wait for the others." - p337
'Mike was absolutely shattered by the death of 'mon ami mate'.
"It really floored him." says Bill Morgan, who was still running the TT Garage with Mrs Hawthorn. "He talked about it frequently in the following weeks and it affected him very badly - he nearly finished with racing right there and then. On more than one occasion he sat with me in the office and said, 'Bill, I'm giving up. I'm getting the twitch."
He said much the same thing to Jill Hume-Kendall.
"He was in floods of tears and very shaky about the whole thing. He wasn't at all sure that he could go on racing." - p338
'I have never seen Ferrari as upset as he is now over Peter's death. He said that since his own son died he regarded Peter as his son and wanted to give us the villa and to give Peter part of the Ferrari factory. He was so much like Peter's father with so many plans for his future and now all that is just finished. Well, its wonderful that Peter did have that marvellous relationship with Ferrari.' - p338
'Mike decided to continue racing, feeling a deep obligation towards Peter, who had been trying so hard to help him win the title. His earlier decision to retire at the end of the year, however, was now set in stone as a result of Peter's death.' - p339
'The evidence that cleared Mike came, remarkably, from his great rival Stirling Moss.
"I spoke up for Mike because it looked as though they might disqualify him and I didn't want to win the Championship by default. I had seen him stall the car and I told him to go down the hill and re-start. But he wasn't on the circuit - he was on the escape road, so there was no question of him going against the traffic and I felt that he should not be disqualified.
"It cost me the Championship, but so what? It depends on which way you want to win it. I liked Mike so I volunteered the information. If it had been someone else I might have waited to see if I was asked." - p340
'Mike was staying at the Palace Hotel, in Milan, as was Louise, who realised with a jolt that the great friendship she and Peter had shared with him was virtually over. "With Peter gone, his attitude towards me changed completely." she says. "It was probably the simple fact that we were not three anymore. I went to his room on the morning of the race and we had tea together. It was a mistake. Later, we went to the circuit with some friends of his and after the race I saw him only very briefly before he was gone."
The friends were Michael and Noreen Irving Swift, who lived near Mike in Farnham and were holidaying in Italy, having arranged to go to the race with him. "When we arrived at the Palace Hotel it was about mid- day and he was still in bed." says Michael. "He wasn't looking forward to the race at all the Championship was really getting to him. Eventually five of us set off for Monza - Mike, Jack Dunfee, my wife and I and Louise. We all piled into Mike's Lancia Aurelia, which had no brakes as such, so it was quite a ride. Louise was holding together quite well in the circumstances, for not only was this her first race since Peter's death, but certain charming sections of the Press were trying to make out that she and Mike were having and affair, which was nonsense." - p343
'A week or so later, he took his girlfriend Jean Howarth to Paris, where he first admired the curves of the cars at the Salon and later those of the girls at the Saloon (Crazy Horse).
"There was one who did a reverse strip-tease." says Jean. "Mike found that very interesting! It was a great relief for him to get away from England for a few days. The long gap between the races made him very nervous and people would keep asking him silly questions about the Championship."' - p346
'Previously he had never come to my bedroom the night before a race, but he did in Casablanca. Most unlike Michael!' - p347
"You did it, you old so-and-so." said the gallant loser, who must have been bitterly disappointed to have won four races and still failed to secure the title.
An ecstatic Romolo Tavoni clapped Mike on the back.
"Next year we will do it again."
"I won't be racing next year." said Mike, "I'm going to retire."
Tavoni didn't believe him.
For the man who had just become World Champion, Mike was decidedly lacking in excitement immediately after the race. "He was quite strange - he didn't want to know anyone." says Jean Howarth. "He walked me away from the circuit with everyone trying to get him back. He just wanted to get to the hotel for some peace and quiet and he was worried about Stuart Lewis- Evans, for the news of him was not good. And Olivier Gendebien had had a big accident, too." - p348
'What should have been a glorious day of victory for Mike ended in a pretty downbeat manner, with everyone deeply concerned about the condition of the very popular Stuart Lewis-Evans. Mike, Jean and some friends decided to have a couple of drinks in their hotel room before turning in, but then Ralph Martin of Shell arrived and suggested they all go to a nearby night club and join up with John Cooper, Roy Salvadori, Graham Hill and Cliff Allison.
They went, but not before Mike had sent a cable to Louise, who was playing in 'Romanoff and Juliet' at the National Theatre in Washington, DC. Deeply conscious of the part Peter had played in his success, Mike gave Louise the good news:
'WE HAVE DONE IT MON AMI MATESS. WILL WRITE SOON. LOVE MON AMI MATE. MICHAEL.' - p348
"He walked into a wall of something he never expected all the fuss that went with the title. His idea of the end of season was to go splashing about in the mud on his motor bike, chasing girls and drinking in pubs, but now he was virtually under arrest from the time he became World Champion. He didn't have a moment to himself and he had no agent, no organisation to deal with it." - p349
'Mike and Jean spent Christmas with Mrs Hawthorn at Green Fields, on Folley Hill. It was not the most enjoyable of Christmas Days for Mike, as his kidneys were giving him considerable pain and he spent the day in bed. He recovered in time to spend New Year's Eve with Jean at nearby Wanborough Manor, but New Year's Day brought him something of a slap in the face Britain's first World Champion was not included in the New Year's Honours List! Nor was Tony Vandervell, whose Vanwalls had done so much for Britain's prestige and had won the Constructors' title. However, Stirling Moss, who had not won the World Championship, was awarded the Order of the British Empire.
The racing world was delighted for Stirling, who thoroughly deserved his honour, but the omission of Mike Hawthorn and Tony Vandervell from the list seemed like a calculated snub by someone. Nick Syrett phoned his friend to commiserate.
"I see your mate won the OBE, then." he said, with some sarcasm.
"Yes," said Mike, "Order of the Bald Ead."
And that was the end of that conversation.' - p352
"When Mike asked my father's permission to marry me he had not - understandably - said anything about his illegitimate son in France." says Jean. "I went home to explain that situation and the following weekend Mike was going to Paris to see his French lawyer and make some kind of settlement on the boy." - p353
"I'd been staying with Peter's parents at Shatterford Grange, and on my way to London I stopped and called Mike to confirm the time of our date at the Westbury. He sounded marvellous and said he would meet me at 3 o'clock. I'd hardly seen him at all since Peter died, so I was really looking forward to that afternoon." - p354
'Mr James Marks saw the crash from his house. He told The Daily Express; 'When the two cars passed me they were going at such a speed I knew something must happen at the bends they were approaching. They were neck and neck as they went by my house. I opened the window to watch. The Jaguar, approaching the bend, just could not get far enough over to the far side to negotiate it. It shot across the road and ended in a ditch.' - p354
"The car was on its side, wrapped around a tree....Hawthorn was barely breathing. He had no pulse. He was deeply unconscious. He possibly breathed twice, but it was too late to do anything." - p355
'John Coombs also called Bill Morgan at the TT Garage.
"He told me that Mike had had a spill and would I come down straightaway. I went to find Mrs H and we joked about it. 'Hope he hasn't done any damage. Then Coombs called again and said, 'Don't come here, they've taken him to the Guildford Hospital.' When we arrived there, someone came out to meet us and before he could say a word, Mrs H said, 'My son is dead, isn't he?'" - p355
'Not long after the funeral the surgeon who had operated on Mike in 1954 wrote to Bill Morgan to say that while his death was very sad, it was really for the best. He had died in an instant and without suffering, whereas had he lived it would have only been for another year or eighteen months, as his kidneys were deteriorating rapidly and would have caused him a great deal of unpleasantness before they failed completely. Their condition was incurable. Duncan Hamilton was told the same story by the man who had conducted Mike's autopsy.' - p359
#this is a very long read#but filled with lots and lots of information#funny and sad#classic f1#f1#formula one#formula 1#vintage f1#mike hawthorn#peter collins
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What would be ur recs/advice for those who wanna start dressing like violet? I started the show less than a week ago ( late to the party, I know lmao ) but I already love it and she really stands out to me as a character.
Ps: I think ur posts are so cool!!
thank you! better to be late than never come i guess. :,)
if you're looking into violet's style and just want to dress like her, i recommend doing research on all of her outfits. she dresses very grunge-like at times with a twinge of girly and boho style. a great example of this is her outfit in “home invasion”, where she wears a dress and a flannel paired together.
the way she wears dresses is slightly influenced by 90s style. in “home invasion”, violet asks the girls if the tights they're forcing her to wear are vintage. it's clear that violet loves vintage style clothing. this photo is from a 1996 delia’s fall catalog, which is similar to violet's clothing style.
model A is definitely wearing something violet would wear. as violet loves to pair short-sleeve dresses with long sleeves. she also often wears combat-style boots with dresses, or vintage-style ankle boots. she wears ballet flats a few times, giving her outfits a feminine look. she also does wear a few blouses. violet is more on the girly side when it comes to dressing up.
for shoes, violet wears a lot of boots and ballet flats. her most common boots worn are her urban outfitters ecoté equestrian ankle boot. she wears them with almost every outfit with leggings, tights, etc.. with most of her outfits, she does wear combat-style boots. a great example of this is her boots worn with her ymc dress and the boots worn with the joie cardigan. she does wear ballet flats a few times, once with the spending time pullover and once with her free people fit and flare burgundy skater dress. only once in the show she wears sneakers. she also wears black, lace up oxfords with her a.p.c dress, which are never worn again after that.
violet often wears patterned clothing. the most common pattern violet wears is floral. almost all of her dresses have floral prints. her tights also have floral patterns. she often wears paisley print tops as well, such as the free people regal macrame asymmetrical tunic and the paisley ruffle top worn underneath the banana republic striped cardigan. she likes stripes as well, her socks are striped as well as some of her cardigans and sweaters.
another thing to remember is that violet always layers her clothing. underneath sweaters, she always wears an undershirt. underneath dresses, she wears long sleeves, and so on. underneath tank tops, she often layers two long sleeves or rolls up the sleeves.
she most often covers up her body when wearing dresses. she always wears something underneath her dresses to avoid showing any cleavage. she always makes sure to wear long sleeves with dresses as well to hide her cuts. when wearing sleeveless dresses, violet will pair cardigans or long sleeves underneath a dress to avoid showing her arms. when wearing shorts and dresses, violet always wears tights or long socks. it's clear that violet doesn't like to show a lot of skin. when wearing tank tops or short sleeves, she always wears something underneath unless she's by herself or with tate. only a few times in the show violet shows some skin, but not very much.
violet also loves graphic t-shirts. she wears a few of them like the j. crew lake erie boating club henley, the custom-made kinks tee, and the nordstrom chloe k. multicolored feather print tee. when wearing these, she always wears a long sleeve top underneath. as for long sleeves, violet likes to wear burnouts, such as the free people floral burnout henley and the free people striped long sleeve burnout in sand.
as for color, her outfits are never really vibrant. most of the time they include colors with dark hues. she wears a lot of black, purple, burgundy, gray, and beige from what i've seen. most of her outfits consist of muted color schemes.
for accessories, violet wears a lot of hats and bracelets. she wears the urban outfitters bailey of hollywood cosgrove wide brim pork pie hat a couple times. she also wears a lot of knit beanies or berets. when wearing bracelets, she really just wears whatever, such as pearl bracelets, knot bracelets, hair ties, and so on. she likes to wear scarves too, and she wears a small wrist scarf around her wrist a few times. with every outfit, violet wears silver hoop earrings, which aren't too noticeable unless she pulls her hair back. she also includes different bags, such as her rothco book bag and her ecoté backpack.
another thing about her style is that she often wears a lot of free people and urban outfitters brands, such as pins and needles, staring at stars, bdg, ecoté, and so on. free people is a mainly boho style clothing brand, and violet does wear a lot of boho style clothing as well. once in the show, she does wear a crochet white beanie, which stems from the whole 2010s boho style.
she wears crochet tank tops, paisley patterns, floral patterns, macrame vests and tank tops, ponchos, crochet dresses, lace tops and dresses, fringe cardigans and bags, the list goes on. her style overall is a mix of 2010’s boho, grunge, and vintage style clothing.
if you're looking to actually collect exacts, then before you start collecting, i would recommend doing your research on violet's outfits so you don't get the wrong exact. i've seen people buy the wrong colorway of the trapeze slip dress, so you should probably do your research first.
to start collecting violet’s clothes, you may want to start with some common items. such as the items listed down below. do keep in mind, as the years go on, the availability of some exacts are getting more and more limited as they age, so get these while you can.
• free people intimately voile and lace trapeze slip dress in storm.
• anthropologie moulinette soeurs anthro horkelia shift dress in orange.
• free people fit and flare burgundy skater dress.
• free people lost in the forest knit pullover in tan/faded rose.
• free people spending time pullover in ivory/cream.
these items are almost always available, these are some casual staples in your collection that really capture violet's unique style. new collectors usually get these anyway because if and when any rarer items are on sale, older collectors usually strive to get those because they've probably been looking for them for a while. as you slowly start to build your collection up, you can start to buy rarer exacts.
i recommend searching for items on other apps such as mercari, poshmark, vinted, curtsy, and ebay. if you search hard enough, you can find these items for really cheap. you can type in the brand name of an item you're looking for with a vague description of it, just like this. you can even use image searches on poshmark and ebay if you want.
you can find really cheap exacts this way, but if you can't find anything, then don't be discouraged. mapleavenues has been selling exacts since the early 2010s, and she still does to this day. she's on depop, poshmark, and ebay. however, her prices are high, so if you're not willing to pay that much, then you may wanna start searching with this method.
this is pretty much all i have to say about dressing like violet. this was a bit rushed, but i tried! violet's style is so unique and it always surprises me. so don't be afraid to change up your outfits every now and then like violet does. hopefully i explained this well enough, but violet's style doesn't have a main theme, so it is very, very complex and hard to explain. :,) hopefully this helps.
#violet harmon#ahs violet#ahs murder house#violet harmon style#american horror murder house#ahs fandom#american horror story#violet harmon aesthetic#violet harmon exacts#bohostyle#90s#grunge#2010s#2011
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new top from free people 🤍
#american horror story#violet harmon#tate langdon#fall#free people#2010s#alternative#autumn#taissa farmiga#murder house#ahs#mindscape#poshmark#free people clothes#sweater#pullover#violet harmon exact#tate and violet#cutesy#fall aesthetic#aesthetic#the lisbon sisters#the virgin suicides#pretty little liars#aria montgomery#mirah#girl blogger#girl in pieces#speak#the bell jar
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♡ VIOLET STUFF ON SALE%♡
♡ Ecote cropped sweater in creme $180
size small
♡ screen accurate Free people Black floral Henley $80
size xs
♡ screen accurate Pins n Needles sweater $165
size small
♡ screen accurate Free people lost in the forest in creme rainbow $75
size large
♡ Splendid tab shirt in navy $35
size small
♡ Free people asymmetrical animal print tank in alt color dark purple $68
size small
♡ screen accurate Cabin in the woods skirt $200 SOLD
size small
_______________________________________________
♡New Exacts♡
♡ screen accurate EUC Banana Republic wool blend striped draped lightweight cardigan $135
size small
♡ screen accurate Free people Free People Floral Fit and Flare skater Dress in boysenberry burgundy $135
size small
♡ Free People Floral Fit and Flare Dress in black $100
size small
♡ Free people burnout Henley alt for floral burnout $60
size medium (other sellers with top listed are all inactive except maple avenues and this one. I did a deep search. Idk why? But yeah…I tried 3 separate sellers with the listing and no response for weeks and last active years ago. SMH)
♡ screen accurate Free people spending time pullover $110
size med
♡ Free people trapeze dress in blue $95
size xs and s
THANKS! LOVE YA
#tate and violet#violet ahs#violet harmon#violet harmon exacts#taissa farmiga#violet harmon room#ahs murder house#ahs violet harmon#violet harmon ahs#american horror story#violetharmon#violet and tate#violet harmon outfits#ahs violet#violet exacts#cigarette#effy stonem#effy aesthetic#cassie skins#vintage#murder house#tate langdon
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Can I hold it for you? (SFW/flirty!Gojo x fem!reader)
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Thank you for my sweet @ladycheesington for helping me and proofreading it. I'm so grateful! <3
Warnings:mention of car crash and death
It's pure fluff otherwise. Gojo being a sweet little pie^^
Wordcount:1503
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The cold wind brushed your cheeks like a sharp blade while you walked on the street. And you were more than happy when you finally spotted your favorite coffee house. It was late in the evening or we should say it was night rather than evening anymore.
The city looked beautiful, there was no need to lie. But what’s a pleasure to the eyes is a torment to the body. You pulled the collar of your beige coat higher up and buried your face into your fluffy scarf. Without hesitation you stepped in and felt grateful that you found a place which was open non-stop.
“Hey!” you smiled at the girl behind the bar “I’d like a matcha latte, please.” The sudden temperature change sent shivers down your spine.
“Sure. I’ll bring it to your table right away.” she nodded lovely.
You chose to sit down at a table next to the window. You completely zoned out as you were watching the city through the glass. Seeing all those people rush to somewhere made you shake your head. There was a time you loved every minute of this life but now it felt more like a burden. Since your husband passed away years ago nothing felt the same. You weren’t able to smile or laugh honestly. As you bit your inner cheek your eyes wandered to your reflection. That was the moment you noticed a tall man with snow white hair standing next to your table.
“Can I help you?” you turned to him immediately.
“Uhm…can I have a seat?” His raspy voice was a pleasure to the ears.
“I don’t want to be rude but…” you took a tiny break “there are plenty of free tables. Why don’t you choose from one of those? I had a long, hard day. I want to enjoy my latte in silence.”
The man nodded and sat down at another table, the nearest one to yours and picked the seat which let him sit right in front of you.
“Unbelievable…” you shook your head, smiling.
“I’m sitting at a completely free table.” he giggled. “It’s not my fault that you are right in front of me.” he opened the drink menu.
You didn’t say a thing but turned your face back to the window and watched the city once again. From time to time your eyes wandered at the man. He was wearing a white knitted pullover with a turtleneck and black pants. His snow white hair seemed so silky and shiny. But his eyes…oh my God those eyes. Pierce, ocean blue eyes which could look right into your soul.
“Your latte, miss.” the waitress placed your drink carefully in front of you.
“Oh, thank you very much!” you smiled and took a sip right away.
“What can I get for you?” she walked up to the handsome man.
“Uhm, I’d like to get what the lady chose.” he winked at you.
“I’ll be right back.” she spun on her heels.
“I hope you ordered something tasty” he clicked his tongue teasingly “I don’t want to be disappointed.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake…” you rolled your eyes “Do you want to sit here?” you pulled an annoyed face.
“I thought you wanted to sit alone.” he raised one of his eyebrows.
“Yes, correct! I would love to but you keep talking to me across the tables which is embarrassing. So just come here and let’s get it over with.”
“Over with what?” he took a seat at your table in an instant.
“What do you want from me?”
“To talk.” he shrugged. “You have a pretty face and I assumed you must be a sweet person. Maybe I made a mistake.” he poked his inner cheek with his tongue.
“Excuse me?” your eyes widened immediately.
“Just kidding.” he laughed out loud. “I’m sure you’re a cute girl” he took a deep breath “but you hide it well enough.” he exhaled while chuckling.
Even if you tried you couldn’t hold back the laughter either. He was right, you were a complete douche with him, yet he didn’t want anything but to talk.
“I’m sorry.” you offered your hand for a shake, still laughing “I’m Y/N L/N.”
“Gojo Satoru.” He took your hand and held it just a little bit longer than necessary. As he rubbed your finger he noticed the wedding ring. “Married?” he asked.
“Used to be.”
“I’m sorry you got divorced.”
“I didn’t…” you fidgeted the ring “I lost him in a car crash many many years ago.”
“Oh my…I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” you nodded slightly.
The heavy silence was broken by the cheerful waitress who danced to your table with a tray.
“Let’s see what kind of taste you have, Y/N.” he took a sip from the drink.
“Well?” you asked like you cared. But to be fair you didn’t…at all.
“Hmm nice, very nice.” he hummed.
“Well, it’s late. It’s time for me to leave.” you grabbed your wallet and were about to call the waitress.
“It was on me.” Gojo put his hand on yours.
“No need to.” you pulled an awkward smile.
“I insist. Please.”
“Thank you. It’s very sweet of you.”
“I don’t do it out of selflessness.” he smirked.
“What?” you looked at him suspiciously.
“I do it because in this case you will need to meet me again. Otherwise you’d feel like you were in my debt.” he giggled.
You kept laughing as you stood up and grabbed your coat.
“So maybe tomorrow?” Gojo bit his lower lip.
“We’ll see.” you smiled as you walked away.
***
“May I ask you to give this note to the lady who I had a drink with last night at that table?” Gojo pointed in the direction of the window.
“Sure.” the girl nodded. Even though hundreds of people walked in yesterday she remembered Gojo vividly. But who wouldn’t remember a man like him?
“Oh and I’m gonna pay for her matcha.” he took out his credit card from his wallet.
The poor girl blushed from head to toe as Gojo smiled smoothly. He knew exactly how charming women found him but he didn’t care. His only goal was getting close to you. You got his attention so he decided to make you his no matter what. And if Gojo Satoru wanted something he always found a way to get it.
***
You had so many things to do that you weren’t able to show up in the coffee house the next day. To be honest you completely forgot about it. It’s been a rush day with a lot of work crises, so you were glad the day finally came to an end.
The next morning, though, you decided to grab some of your favorite drink before heading to work.
“Morning!” you smiled at the girl who seemed so tired.
“Oh, good morning!” she chirped “The usual matcha, right? I’ll bring it right away. Please take a seat.”
You nodded slightly while trying to find an empty table. Searching in your bag you finally found your book and started to read until she arrived with your drink.
“Here.” she placed it carefully at the table with a piece of paper alongside.
“What’s this?” you frowned.
“Oh, it’s a message the tall, white haired man left you yesterday. He asked me to give it to you when you next appear. He also paid for your drink already.”
“Satoru…” you whispered as you unfolded the tiny piece of paper.
“Now you owe me two matcha. I’ll wait for you at 7 at our table.”
Before you left you walked up to the counter. “Can I ask you a favor? Could you please reserve that table over there at 7 o’clock?” you pointed at the table by the window.
***
Gojo was already waiting for you when you arrived.
“You were early.” you teased.
“I wasn’t sure you would show up.” he stood up and pulled the chair for you to take a seat.
“I was waiting for hours yesterday.” he clicked his tongue.
“Sorry.”
Words followed words and you didn’t even realize how much you enjoyed yourself. He made several bad jokes but you laughed anyway. The way he non stop flirted with you made you blush. Gojo didn’t hide his intention for even a second.
After hours of talking he took a deep breath. “Wanna take a walk?”
“Sure.” you agreed without hesitation.
The cold air wasn’t a pleasant feeling on your skin but you tried to focus on the fact that the man next to you was a total cuteness.
As you were walking in a nearby park he bit his bottom lip before shooting his perfect pick up line without even looking at you.
“Your hand looks so lonely. Can I hold it for you?”
A loud laughter bursted out of you, an honest and happy laugh that you didn’t experience for a long long time.
“Please, do.” you kept giggling as you let him take your hand.
#jjk gojo#fanfiction#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#jjk satoru#gojo x you#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo saturo#jjk#gojo fluff#satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#fluff#gojo satoru x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you
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A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER 4: BREAKFAST AT MABEL'S
MDNI, Also available on ao3
Odyssey is one of the last in the house to wake up. Her eyes don’t open until Ford lightly shakes her awake, giving her little kisses on the shoulder. “We’re all going out for breakfast,” he tells her. She stretches and turns into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“They got a place that can take that many people?” She questions. She hasn’t bothered to count the number of guests, but the house is crowded enough that the number has to be over 30. Mabel is on another level to be able to organize that many people.
“Mabel reserved the whole diner.”
“They won’t notice if two people are missing, will they?”
“Mabel will.” Ford tugs on Odyssey’s waist, urging her to get her ass in gear. The chaos of an early morning in a full house is largely avoided by Odyssey’s late awakening. The snoring roommate is one of many family members already heading to the diner. Odyssey can hear a few stragglers trying to get out the door on the first floor, but she and Ford are the only ones left upstairs. The bathroom is free for her use. She cringes at the mess on the sink counter from ten different people’s grooming products being scattered over it. She carefully plucks her toothbrush and toothpaste out of the pile and washes the toothbrush thoroughly before using it. There’s a drop of urine on the toilet seat that someone didn’t wipe off.
“Ugh,” Odyssey groans to herself. The things she puts up with to make her man happy. She takes her sweet time getting ready. Usually, she’s the more social one between her and Ford by far, but she’s feeling the same way her man feels after half an hour at one of Fiddleford’s bustling backyard barbecues. Granted, Ford is very clearly exhausted, but the fact that he’s able to go along with it all is nothing short of a miracle.
Odyssey slinks out of the bathroom and flops back on the bed where Ford is sitting. “No time for that, Odyssey.”
She groans, rubs her face, and stands back up to get dressed. “Is this dress too slutty?” She holds up a little black dress for Ford to judge.
“It’s… revealing. Why don’t you save it for tonight? Just wear something comfortable to breakfast.” She puts the dress back in her suitcase and pulls out some faded jeans and a Gravity Falls Gossiper pullover. The bizarre cartoon graphic of Toby Determined’s face on the shirt always cheers her up. “Perfect.”
“Last chance to stay here and have the place to ourselves,” Odyssey suggests. Ford puts an arm around her shoulder and makes her walk with him to the car.
“Two more nights, my dear. Just put up with it for two more nights.” Reluctantly, Odyssey climbs into the passenger seat and lets Ford cart her away to the hell that is a family meal. One thing she hates about road trips is how much Ford has to drive, because she sucks at it. It took her a year to get comfortable driving around Gravity Falls. Driving in any other area is out of the question. She fully expects some of his family members to catch on to how he’s the one who does all the driving. They’re going to call her useless when she’s out of earshot. She knows it.
She realizes she doesn’t remember the names of any of his family members besides Dipper and Mabel. Not even his nephew’s wife’s name, despite hearing it just last night. They are the last ones at the diner. Nobody waited for the stragglers to arrive before ordering, which is reassuring to Odyssey, because she knows she would’ve been blamed for keeping everyone hungry while she lagged. A bunch of tables in the diner have been pushed together so people could sit together. The only empty seats are two to Dipper’s right.
“Great uncle Ford! I saved you and Odyssey a seat!” Dipper waves the couple over. He brilliantly saved them the seats at the end of the table so they wouldn’t be crowded between random relatives. Ford gives Dipper a pat on the shoulder.
“Odyssey! That shirt is adorable! Where do I get one?” Mabel questions from Dipper’s left.
“You think so? It’s from the newspaper I work at. I’ll have one shipped to you when I get home,” Odyssey promises.
“That’s the MVP right there!” Mabel shoots Odyssey the finger guns.
“Think you can convince great uncle Ford to send me some Institute of Oddology swag, too?” Dipper asks. “He refuses to, for whatever reason.”
“I don’t refuse to, it just slips my mind,” Ford insists.
“I’ll make him put something together for ya.” Odyssey winks at Dipper.
“Yes!” The twins make breakfast bearable for the couple. With Mabel sticking close to them, no one dares say anything rude to Odyssey. And Dipper spends the whole meal talking to them, preventing Ford from having to make small talk with relatives he hardly knows.
“See? This isn’t so bad,” Ford whispers in Odyssey’s ear.
“Yeah, cuz the kids are acting as a buffer to all the bullshit. I wish we were just hanging out with them this whole time, instead of this clusterfuck.”
“Honestly, me too,” Ford admits. The sound of spoons clinking against a glass interrupts all conversations in the room. Mabel stands on her chair.
“Mabel, don’t ruin the restaurant’s seats,” Mabel’s mom chastises. She goes ignored.
“Everyone, thank you for attending this year’s nondenominational holiday bash! It wouldn’t be the same without you all here,” Mabel speaks. “We have three newbies joining us this year! I’d like to welcome cousin Josh’s new wife, Katie!” Mabel points the spoon at a 30ish year old couple. “Baby Natalie!” She points to a fussing baby in her mom’s cousin’s arms. “And, most shockingly, great uncle Ford’s girlfriend, Odyssey!” Ford hides his embarrassed face behind his hand. “We never thought the day would come!” Odyssey giggles at Ford’s misery.
“She just roasted you alive, baby,” she whispers in his ear, rubbing his back. She can tell that Dipper is trying to hold back some laughter himself.
“Every year’s party has been better than the last, so let’s make this one the best ever!” Mabel cheers. People clap supportively for Mabel’s speech as she sits back down. Breakfast resumes as normal.
“Mabel, don’t say embarrassing things about great uncle Ford next time!” Dipper scolds. Ford puts a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.
“It’s fine, my boy. Odyssey got a kick out of it.” Dipper snorts.
“It was kinda funny,” he laughs. “Sorry, great uncle Ford.” With Mabel’s obligatory speech over, Ford and Dipper are free to get back to their discussion of Ford’s work. Odyssey watches their conversation fondly. There’s nothing cuter to her than Ford finding someone with as much passion for the paranormal as him. It’s a shame he doesn’t get more time with Dipper.
Mabel’s intense schedule miraculously allows for a few hours of free time after breakfast. Many out of town family members take the time to explore the city for themselves, cars leaving the diner in all different directions. Ford and Odyssey, however, choose to use this time to make up for lost sleep from the night before. They’re the only ones who head back to the house.
“Ugh… I’m too tired to even fuck you before we nap,” Odyssey groans, curling up into their bed in her jeans.
“Whoa, I never expected those words to come out of your mouth.” Ford snuggles up next to her and holds her from behind. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t know this would be so hard on you. I won’t ask you to come to the next one.” Odyssey shakes her head.
“I’m just adjusting, is all. Seeing big families together makes me feel… odd.” She turns around and pulls Ford into a big hug. “As long as I have you, I can handle anything.”
“That’s so cliche, honey…” Ford says, his trembling voice betraying his cold words.
“I know, baby. I know.” She nuzzles her head into his chest and passes right out.
Other than a headache when waking up, Odyssey slowly makes it through the day unscathed. Mabel’s big plans for today all involve staying at the house. Having noticed Odyssey’s avoidance of the adults last night, Dipper makes it his duty to stick close to her and Ford so no one can make any more nasty comments about their relationship.
“Dipper, you must be so bored hanging out with us all night. Don’t you wanna go have fun with your sister and cousins?” Odyssey asks. She has a glass of wine in her hands, and she has to stop herself from drinking it too quick so no one sees her as a bad influence on Dipper.
“Ugh, they’re all so childish,” Dipper complains.
“Well, they’re children, as are you.”
“But I’m not like… a baby like some of them are. They don’t even like my favorite game, so there’s no point in wasting my time. I’d rather talk to you two.” Ford and Odyssey give each other a concerned look.
“What if you and I try to get a game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons going with them?” Ford suggests. “We might have to tone it down a little from our usual games, but you might get someone hooked so you don’t have to play with just me.”
“I really don’t think that would work…”
“It’s worth a try,” Ford urges. Dipper sighs in defeat.
“No one will listen to me if I suggest it… but maybe Mabel can convince them?” Dipper pushes through the crowd to search for his sister.
“You don’t mind if I sit this one out, do you?” Odyssey asks Ford. “Dipper and Mabel I can handle, but those other kids are kinda unruly.”
“If you leave me to take care of those kids on my own, you owe me a game of DDnMD at home.”
“Fine, but you better make the campaign sexy.” She kisses him on the cheek and runs off with her glass of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers. This is the perfect chance to have some alone time to listen to music and write while everyone is distracted. While nothing like her own family, she finds herself in an uncomfortable place with a whole horde of Pineses surrounding her. It brings her back to a time she’d rather forget. She pulls her laptop from her suitcase and opens a blank document in her writing program.
#gravity falls#gravity falls fanfiction#stanford pines#ford pines#ford pines x oc#stanford pines x oc#oc x canon#oc fanfiction#abw#odyssey rhodes#dipper pines#stan pines#mabel pines#archive of our own#ao3#gravity falls au#au fanfiction
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1. Do you (always, sometimes rarely, etc) wear ONLY a pullover hoodie WITHOUT an ACTUAL shirt underneath?
(If you wear only bras or binders underneath, it still means you ONLY wear the hoodie without an actually shirt, in this case. Or you can wear no bros or binders at all and only the hoodie on top, then that counts too.)
2. Do you think it's WEIRD to wear ONLY a hoodie WITHOUT an ACTUAL shirt underneath?
*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).
#hoodie#fashion#social etiquette#etiquette#social norms#clothing#tumblr polls#poll#polls#tumblr poll#incognito polls#poll time#random polls
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Zoe Benson list exacts
I’ve been looking around on tumblr to see if anyone made a exact list for clothes that Zoe wore and I only found small posts made by @harmonaesthetic and to make it easier for Zoe collectors I’m just gonna list items they found to their posts
Dresses:
Topshop Chiffon Lace Midi Slip
Topshop Strappy Lace Vintage Slip in Blue
Opening Ceremony High-Neck Plisse Short-Sleeve Shift Dress
Malia Sheer Eyelet-Lace Midi Dress
Twelfth Street by Cynthia Vincent Western Dress
Shirts:
Zara Tokyo Crop Top
Free People Waterfall Graphic Tank in Charcoal
Topshop Photo Dove Tee
Topshop Long Sleeve Cape Blouse in White
See by Chloé Flowy Button-Front Blouse in Eden White
Alexander McQueen Asymmetrical Button Down Shirt
Marc Jacobs Silk Tie-Neck Blouse in Ivory
Topshop Chambray Work Shirt
Bottoms:
Topshop Cutwork Mensy Fit Shorts
Topshop Dill Overalls
Jackets/Cardigans&Sweaters:
Topshop Chinoiserie Flower Bomber Jacket
Addison Mia Cropped Overlay Sweater in Grey & Black
Urban Outfitters Sparkle & Fade Slit Pullover Sweater in Grey
French Connection Honey Lace Insert Sweatshirt
Topshop Longline Fringe Kimono
Alexander Wang Sleeve Drape Wool-Mohair Tuxedo Blazer
Shoes:
Jeffrey Campbell Wesley Heeled Oxford
Loweffler Randall Fenton Buckle Booties
Accessories:
Earthling Jewelry Moonstone Ring
AEAOA Lace Parasol Umbrella in Black
#zoe benson#american horror story#ahs#ahs coven#Coven#Zoe benson dupe#Zoe benson aesthetic#zoe benson style#Zoe benson alternatives#Zoe benson exacts
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