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chaosandmarigolds · 6 months ago

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Before we begin. I would like to remind you all that Caleb is a fictional character, he cannot be hurt- but so is Simon Riley so do with that information what you will :)

“Garrick.”

Johnny clears his throat before speaking, the commotion of the station loud through the phone, “Ya n the missus still in th’ country?”

To that Kyle frowned, moving carry on bag to sit down on the chair, “We’re just gettin back from Las Vegas, Becca got-“

“Ollie is gone.”

well. That sent a shock through his system, with a quick straighten of the posture Kyle speaks again, “An’ Simon doesn’t-“

“Some bullshit happenin’ makin it look like he helped his girl with kidnappin em from da dad, dad’s takin em …”a breath, “Si doesn’t know Ollie is gone yet. He’s been in questionin for five hours kno.”

Kyle looks down at his boots for a moment, meanwhile his wife gives him a confused stare, “Jesus- fuck, you need me?”

“I dunnae ye. Probably, ya got a ETA?”

Kyle shrugged and then looks at Rebecca, who had her luggage stolen so they were waiting on the security to do their work. “Si’s kid is missin.”

She stares up at him in disbelief for a moment, “How?”

“Bio-dad bullshit.” Kyle puts the phone to his ear again, “Hows Cap holding up?”

“Pissed off. But we all are.”

“Ya seen LT yet?”

“Nah, got her’ two hours go.”

If he were being honest, he wanted to simply take the gun and shoot the detective- it would finally make that man shut his mouth. However, Simon was showing self restraint, yet that task grew harder with each moment. So as he sat in the empty room, he was mainly focusing on keeping his breathing even, and temper in check.

About ten minutes went by before someone came to let him go, and to no one surprise Price was behind the door with the officer.

“I need you to be-“

“Where’s Ollie? Where is she?”

Price tried to keep his expression neutral, “Caleb had temporary rights-“

“The fuck does that mean? Where is MY SON?” Okay, so temper wasn’t in check but he was doing his best.

“He’s going to Las Vegas.”

—

Rebecca sipped her coffee as she sat in the airport lounge, after talking the security and as Kyle gave out the description of the small boy. She was currently going through Caleb’s social media, as someone had gone through a lot of trouble to edit photos where Simon had been in and replace them with himself, somehow editing the timestamps as well. Which was funny, because normally she was the phone taking the family photos.

With a frown she turns her phone over and looks around the bustling airport.

That’s when she spots Caleb. Hoodie pulled up to cover his face and quickly walking through the terminals.

Some part of her knew she needed to tell Kyle, and to not rush after him. And she knew he probably could’ve over powered her/ but it was so easy to just use that book she had grabbed as she went after him to take him down.

He probably could’ve thrown her off but instead he let her pin him down, panicked eyes and heaved breathing. “I swear! I didn’t- it wasn’t my idea! They-I owed the em money! I had to!”

“Where is Oliver?”

“They had me hand him off-off to some lady! I don’t know! Russian, tall, I don’t know!”

Rebecca looks down at him, her heart beginning to race as the security began to come over and to grab them, and she slowly turned as Kyle pulls her away. “I don’t…I don’t think is about Ollie. I don’t think this is about him at all.”

Ollie stares at the ground of the small plane, having a cup of water and a little baggie of goldfish in front of him. His eyes red with tears.

“Oh, come now little man, eat up. Get strong.” The woman coax’s, her voice muffled by the accent but her smile sweet, “Your father does not want to see you hurt.”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know. But you cannot go right now, your father- he owes us a debt.”

—-

Tee…tee hee 🤍🤍

(Am I getting carried away? Yes obviously. But I am having too much fun to stop)

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cumikering · 4 months ago

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F1 John Price x reader

2.7k | fluff Price raced for Mclaren. You didn’t know that (part 2)

No human body was made for this: jetting across continents and time zones for nine months out of twelve.

Even after the years, John Price hadn’t got used to it. Neither was he used to flying from Las Vegas to London for a photoshoot only to hop on another plane the day after for his next race in Qatar.

He groaned internally, his body aching as he plopped down onto the backseat of the cab before taking his black surgical mask and cap off. He didn’t get a proper rest with how turbulent his flight was.

“Oh, I’ve seen ya mate!” the middle-aged driver exclaimed, eyeing him from the rear-view mirror. “You’re famous- you’re the F1 bloke, innit?”

John gave him a polite smile.

“Could you sign something of mine?” He popped open his glovebox. “Wait, this wouldn’t sell so high…” he muttered as he rummaged through it.

The cars behind started a cacophony of honks.

“Am in the way.” He chuckled sheepishly as he pulled away. “You better not run off before I find something!"

Downtown London was packed at the hour. The driver had plenty of time to look through every nook and cranny of his car, but cursing when he could only come up with a yellowing notepad and a drying pen. John made do.

“Could you also put your name down, please?” He held the pad over his shoulder after he’d inspected it. “So we know who you are.”

And he did, with another rehearsed smile.

“Cheers, mate.” With a pleased grin, he tossed the pad onto the passenger seat, not even bothering to make eye contact amidst the traffic.

At the red light around the corner of the magazine HQ, the taxi halted in front of a coffee shop. He glanced at his watch - he was 20 minutes early and he desperately needed caffeine.

John pulled his mask and cap back on before exiting the car. The cap was still stiff, one with a French flag patch he grabbed at random at the airport with a grumble. He’d misplaced the plain one he liked.

He kept his head down as he stood in the short queue.

“Hot Americano, double shot, please.”

His phone chimed when he waved it over the payment terminal. He was going to regret this. He wasn’t a big coffee drinker.

“Can I get a name for that?” You looked up from the cup you scribbled on.

“JP.”

You smiled, glancing at his cap and wrote his name down. “Like Jean Pierre?”

He chuckled, only now making eye contact with you. It was a joke between him and his teammate, Kyle, or Gaz as the fans called him. You must be one of those well-meaning people pretending to not recognise him, giving him a slice of normalcy.

He always appreciated the gesture, especially the more years passed. As glamorous as life had been since F1, John discovered he wasn’t about all the glitz and glam.

He didn’t care about looking immaculate all the time, scripted speech in designer clothing or driving expensive cars. Have you seen the state of London’s streets? Everything was PR, PR, PR - like this wasn’t even his life he was living anymore. He wanted to be home on his racing simulator or get the neighbourhood takeaway in his thick hoodies without anyone shoving a camera in his face. He just wanted his old, quiet life.

You worked the coffee machine, your back to him, and his gaze wondered to the pastry display as he leaned on the counter. The cookies were massive, thick in the middle, probably chewy too. They would be perfect with his coffee.

He glanced at the line which had grown longer, and at you at the register now, scribbling another customer’s order onto a cup with a smile. It was odd that no one else was in sight to help you at the busy time.

A quick peek at his watch: he didn’t have the time to queue again. He’d just have to come back later after his business.

“Enjoy.” You flashed him a smile as you placed his order on the counter.

It didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

Sure enough, hours later after a photoshoot and an interview, caffeine still buzzed in John’s veins. He could only imagine how long he’d be up later that night, but it was worth it. At least he didn’t look like a zombie in the footage.

His mask didn’t hold off the gust of wind - cold against his cheeks as he stepped out of the building. His stomach rumbled. While pubs had started to fill up with people in work attire, the lights were still on in your shop. He crossed the street only for the sign to read ‘closed’, the last couple exiting the door.

His shoulders sagged, but he pushed the door open anyway.

You looked up from the tablet you fumbled with, your smile apologetic. “Hiya, we’re closed. Sorry.”

He glanced at the display, empty safe for two remaining cookies. He pointed at them. “Hi, so sorry to bother, but I just wanted those, please. I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

Recognition flashed in your eyes. “Oh, I remember you. Jean-Pierre.”

“It’s me.” He laughed.

You slid the bag of two cookies across the counter. “On the house.”

“No, no. You’re doing me a favour already. Have one with me at least?”

You hummed. “Why not.”

At the nearest table, he had taken his cap and mask off. You set down a mug of milk.

“You’re spoiling me.” He chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie. “Oh my god, it’s spot on,” he groaned.

You smiled. “I’m glad you like it. It took me a while to come up with the perfect recipe.”

“I’d thought about this for hours and it doesn’t disappoint, but I bet it tastes even better warm.” His gaze couldn’t help but fall to your untouched cookie.

You laughed, pushing the paperbag across the table.

“I’m sorry, this is so, so shameless.” He gave you a sheepish grin. “But it’s wonderful, really. I’ll be back. Definitely.”

“You’re very welcome to.”

“Can I place an order? For my team. Three dozens for tomorrow morning, or is that a bit last minute?”

“Yeah, no, I can do that.” You smiled. “If I may ask, what do you do, JP? Sounds like a big team.”

He frowned. “I thought you knew?”

You tilted your head. “Sorry, I don’t think you told me?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. Heat crept up his neck from the presumption. “I work with cars.”

“Like a mechanic?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh, that’s impressive. You must have steady hands.”

“I do, I suppose.” He held your gaze for a moment. “Oh, sorry, you were about to close. I’ll just finish this-“

You waved your hand. “Do take you time. I hadn’t had the chance to sit down.”

“Busy day?”

“Very. One of my girls is sick so I worked alone today.”

“I can stay a bit, if you don’t mind.” He smiled. “Actually, would you like dinner? I’m famished. I can get something for us?”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I saw a kebab shop a block away. Are they stingy with their chips?”

“Of course not. They wouldn’t be my favourite otherwise.”

He dashed out the door with a grin.

When John returned with dinner, you called out from the kitchen as you put away the cookie dough you’d just prepped for his order.

“I make the dough at least 12 hours ahead. That way the flavours have a chance to mingle.” You sat across him.

“Is that why they’re so good?”

You shrugged, smiling, as you unwrapped your dinner.

“I’ll be back for this too.” He nodded approvingly at the kebab, bursting at the seams with chips.

“They’ve got great food around here.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to be back.”

You chatted over the meal, about the area and its hidden gems. He was convinced he didn’t even know half of the city even after living there for many years.

“Thanks for dinner, Jean-Pierre. You can go now if you want.” You put away the wrappings. “I don’t want to bore you with all the cleaning I’m going to be doing.”

“It’s John, and I can do the dishes.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You said you were tired, and look how long I held you up.” He gestured at the dark sky outside.

You chuckled as you shook your head.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” he said over his shoulder as he sauntered to the kitchen.

You wiped down the counters and did the floor as John helped with the dishes, asking about you and your shop. While he didn’t like doing chores, doing them with you didn’t feel troublesome.

In fact, it was nice to spend some time out, not cooped up all alone in his apartment. It was refreshing to not be talking about racing or cars, to get away from it all. You laughed so heartily, so bright at his jokes. Within these four walls, maskless, he didn’t have to pretend.

He wore his mask as you locked up, but not before sliding in a few bills into the tip jar when you weren’t looking.

“So.” He turned to you, hands jammed in his pockets.

“I’m taking the bus.”

If he had his car he’d have offered to drive, but it was just as well he wasn’t driving. What if he wouldn’t want to leave?

So he walked you to the bus stop before calling a taxi for himself, back to his own reality.

While John was away for a Grand Prix weekend, between media day, qualifying and other preparations, he didn’t have the chance to be alone with his thoughts. However, as soon as he lay in his hotel bed that Sunday night, adrenaline still pumping in his blood from the race hours before, his mind drifted to you. He wondered what you were up to, if you’d thought about him since Wednesday morning when he picked up his order.

See, his problem wasn’t that he didn’t ask, but that he asked too easily and often came off too strong. He didn’t want that, especially not to you, someone the slightest bit more than an acquaintance now, a funny and pretty one at that.

But he should have asked for your number. He had so many chances to: during dinner, while walking you to the bus stop, or when he swung by the day after. You would have loved to know how everyone flocked to him when he walked into the room, oohing and aahing over your cookies.

He’d just have to wait until the next day.

Monday was his favourite day of the week because it was his day off, allowing him to not even leave his penthouse apartment if he so wished. But in the afternoon when he arrived back in London, he had somewhere else to be. On his way home from the factory, he took a detour, parking around the corner from your shop.

He wasn’t supposed to think so much about you, let alone miss you, but he did against his better judgement. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when you greeted him as he approached the counter.

“Hiya, what can I get you?”

“I’d like to place another order for tomorrow. Everyone loved your cookies.”

“Sure.” You smiled. “You know, you could just give us a ring, yeah?”

“Right, about that. I was wondering if you fancy dinner with me tonight?”

“Oh, I’ll have to prep for the cookies-“

Behind you, a young lady at the coffee machine quipped over her shoulder with a stifled smile. “I can handle that.”

You turned and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her. “Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. I’m driving.”

When you sent him to wait at a table with a cup of hot chocolate, his smile faltered. He didn’t think this through. He was driving his Mclaren. Shephard, the boss, made up this silly clause in the contract for him and Gaz to drive their own McLaren to and from the factory. Good for PR, he said.

He hurried outside as he dialled.

“Kate? Kate, I’m at that coffee shop.”

There was a beat. “Okay?”

“Would you please drive my GTI over?”

“Why, did your car break?” She chuckled. “A towed Mclaren isn’t a good look. Shephard won’t be impr-”

“No, I need my GTI in-“ he glanced at his watch. ”Exactly 52 minutes.”

“What? John, I’m your manager, not your errand boy.”

“Please! I’ve got no time to explain, just do it.”

“Or what?” she said dryly.

“I’ll tell your wife in Qatar there was a lighter in your coat pocket which smelled an awful lot like smoke.”

There was a pause followed by a huff. “Fine. Text me the address.”

Kate rolled up in his Golf GTI in time for your shop to close. You picked a place not too far from your flat, and he was thankful it wasn’t packed. You sat at the table in the corner and kept his cap on.

It was evident you were less tired that night, more playful with your jokes. He could listen to your laugh and look into your eyes all day. But before it was too late, much to his chagrin, you called it a night.

He pulled up at your flat. “I promise no more last-minute orders.”

“Just give us a call next time.”

“Rather call you.”

John Sloane, he typed into your phone.

You smiled, sliding your phone back in your pocket. “See you soon, John.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You held his gaze for another moment before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. His heart soared, but before he could react, you’d shut the door behind you with a supressed smile.

He grinned to himself as he drove home.

“Gaz!” Soap bellowed at the door. “Sorry am late. My alarm didnae go off.” The engineer hurried to the table to see Kyle munching happily. “Och, did ye get more cookies, Cap? I’m starvin’.”

Everyone on the team wore a cap, but Price was the only one who couldn’t be caught without one, therefore the curious nickname. That, and he often swore up a storm on team radio, like a bossy sailor. Simon, his engineer, could only remain silent witnessing the outbursts like he wasn’t even there. He earned his moniker Ghost that way.

John chuckled. “Help yourself, mate.”

He popped open the box, groaning after a bite. “Aye, that’s the one.”

“You sure you don’t want one, Ghost?” Gaz teased as he grabbed his third cookie. “You’ve been staring.”

“Alright, just one.”

“Oh, that didn’t take a lot of convincing,” Soap quipped between bites.

Ghost gave him the side eye. “Would you rather I eat the whole box, Johnny?”

Soap pouted and took his seat next to Gaz, and the team meeting for the upcoming race commenced.

As always, the crew flew out on Thursday, but this time, he had you to text. And he did, between the press conferences and briefs, or work, as he simply told you. If he was home, he would ask you out again in a heartbeat. Texting couldn’t compare to seeing that smile in real life, but it would have to do for now.

Abu Dhabi was the last race of the season. He was very much looking forward to winter break, even more so this time, because for the first time in years, he had someone to come home to. Okay, maybe that was too generous a statement. There was someone he would very much want to see, to say the least.

John landed in London Monday evening, still thrumming from his P1 win and finishing second for the season. He went straight home to switch cars before picking you up at work for dinner with a giddy smile.

He had a few days to himself before leaving for Liverpool for Christmas, which hopefully meant one more time of seeing you, if you let him, that was. But when you gave him another peck on his cheek when he opened the car door for you, he decided it was impossible to stay away from you.

I’ve missed you too much.

Ex boyfriend Price Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @keegansshark @kyletogaz @footyandformula

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jupiitersreturn · 10 months ago

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Astrocartography Observations Part One: Sun, Venus, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter.

(Disclaimer: A lot of Astrologers use different orbs of measurements for Astrocartography. My limit is 200 km because I have seen lines that have influences up to that point, and depending on the planet, sometimes more.)

Planets:

Sun: Fame, Happiness, Vitality, Children.

Moon: Home, Roots, Family, Nostalgia.

Venus: Love, Beauty, Luxury, Desires.

Mercury: Lower Education, Communication, Knowledge, Friendships.

Mars: Passions, Action, Pain, Anger.

Jupiter: Luck, Higher Education, Religion, Beliefs.

Saturn: Karma, Restrictions, Discipline, Commitments.

Uranus: Unpredictability, Innovation, Rebellion, Technology.

Neptune: Illusions, Dreams, Spirituality, Intuition.

Pluto: Destruction, Transformations, Deaths and Rebirths.

Where your Sun lines are running through are places that you could gain or increase your fame or societal standing. And depending on the Angle of the Sun(DC, AS, MC, IC) it can also tell you what exactly it is that gives you that happiness.

☆ Despite being the daughter of a US Navy Pilot, Priscilla Presley gained her fame from being married to famous musician Elvis Presley. They got married at the Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada. Priscilla has her Sun DC line running through Las Vegas. Sun rules fame, DC rules partnerships.

☆ Blake Lively has her Sun MC line running through London, where she has expressed her love for on numerous occasions, AND where she has made meaningful connections with other celebrities that has contributed to her social status and public persona. (MC)

☆ David Beckham has his Sun IC line running through Miami and although he retired from soccer in 2013, he maintained and even increased his societal standing when he became the co-owner of the Inter Miami CF.

☆ Interestingly enough, Blake Lively also has her Sun, Venus, AND Mars MC lines running directly through London, which is a place that she loves to go and feels happy at (Sun). A few months ago, she and her partner (Venus) bought a house in London to live in while he finishes up his filming of the Deadpool Franchise (Sun MC) which is an action movie (Mars).

☆ Perrie Edwards has her Sun DC line running through London and she gained fame (Sun) from her role as 1/4 of the girl group Little Mix (DC)

Where your Mars lines are running through are places that you could experience or be subject to hate, pain (physical, mental, and emotional), and anger.

☆ Victoria Beckham's Mars AS line runs through Madrid. When her husband David Beckham transferred from Manchester United to Real Madrid, they moved to Madrid. Victoria Beckham was singled out for hating Spain due to her remark of Spain smelling like Garlic and giving off a terrible scent. This one phrase basically ruined her life in Spain as the hate against her lasted for up to 4 years. She has said that it was the most unhappy she has ever been in her life.

☆ David Beckham has his Mars AS line running through Rio De Janeiro. In 2014 he was under a lot of fire from Brazilian locals after being accused of indirectly causing the prices of favelas to increase after buying a "slum-house" for $1M allowing gentrification to ensue.

☆ Charli D'Amelio's Mars MC is going straight through the center of the United States. We all know how disliked/hated she is amongst people in the United States. And with this being her MC line, it makes sense that the hate is largely due to and greatly affects her public persona and the way that she is portrayed by media.

☆ Monica Lewinsky has her Mars DS line running through California which we all know is Fame Headquarters (Hollywood). She was a hot topic in the entertainment industry and subject to a fuck ton of scrutiny and hate for a long time due to her intimate relationship with former president Bill Clinton (DS).

Where Your Venus lines are at, could be potential places that you may meet your life partner or long term relationships, and the lines that pass through it could tell you the circumstances.

☆ Blake Lively has her Sun AS, Mars AS, AND her Venus AS lines touching New Orleans. She met her Husband of 11 years in New Orleans (Venus rules Love) while shooting an Action Movie (Sun rules Movies and Fame, Mars rules Action)

☆ Victoria Beckham has her both her Venus MC and Jupiter MC lines going through London. She met her husband of over 20 years in London. Additionally, the Midheaven or Medium Coeli is the highest point of your chart and represents your Public Image and Success. The Beckham's are known to be one of Hollywood's longest standing marriages and have created a household name for themselves propelling both of them in their careers and future prospects. (Jupiter MC)

☆ (Also, I just thought this was interesting) Victoria Beckham had her start in the entertainment industry as a member of The Spice Girls. Her stage name was Posh Spice (Venus) which defined her Public Image (MC).

Where your IC lines are, could indicate your ancestry, or where and how you grew up or experienced your early life at.

☆ Selena Quintanilla's Saturn IC line runs through Mexico and she is Mexican. Although she became the biggest Mexican-American music artist in her 20's, when she was younger she had no connection to her Mexican ancestry (IC). She had to learn about her ancestry, AND learn Spanish before she was able to be labeled a Mexican American music artist. (Saturn represents restrictions and delays)

☆ Nicole Kidman's Mercury IC line runs through Ireland, and she has openly talked (Mercury) about her Irish ancestry (IC)

☆ Perrie Edwards has her Mercury DS line running through Scotland and she has Scottish ancestry.

☆ Hailey Bieber has her Mercury IC line running through Brazil. She has Brazilian ancestry as her mother is Brazilian.

☆ Charli D'Amelio has her Mercury IC line touching Italy. She is of Italian Descent on her fathers side.

Where your Jupiter lines are, could indicate where and how you experience luck.

☆ Charlize Theron has her Jupiter MC line running through California and it was there that she was discovered by a Hollywood agent while getting into an altercation with a bank teller.

☆ Anya Taylor Joy has her Jupiter DC line running through London which is where she was disocvered while walking her dog.

☆ Justin Bieber has his Jupiter AS line running through Canada which is where he was discovered by Scooter Braun completely by chance as he clicked on the wrong Youtube video and Justin's video came up.

#fxiryspeaks #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months ago

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Here we have a kind of castle, Las Vegas, NV style. It was built in 2006, has 6bds, 7ba, and is priced at $10M.

I don't know exactly where this waterfall is, but it looks like it's in an entrance somewhere.

The sitting room lets in the desert sun and has 2 doors to the outside. It also has a bar and several flat screens on the wall.

There's also a mezzanine over the sitting room, and a curved, textured ceiling.

I think that I would rather sit in the library. I love the 2nd floor stacks.

There's also a nice home theater. I like when a home theater looks more like a smaller version of real theater.

I don't know why the photographer took a photo of this, but it looks like a magician's hat and table backstage.

Very personalized home office.

Meanwhile, outside it's time for a giant, glowing game of chess.

The narrow dining room seats 16, but seems kind of tight. There appears to be an open room above it.

This is such a huge, spread-out home, that you can really get lost. The large kitchen has white and natural wood cabinetry with solid black counters. Every room, no matter which it is, has art way up the walls to the 2nd story level.

The halls are narrow and appear to me as if you're sneaking around behind the scenes.

This lounge features a vintage barber chair and what looks like a bar.

This looks like either a snack table or a game table.

This 2nd kitchen is possibly part of the rec room.

You can walk along the top of the castle and yell things at approaching guests, just like Monty Python.

The large home is circular and includes 10.05 acres of Nevada dessert land.

There is a gate at the entrance to the property, plus what looks like a large gatehouse. Possibly a jail to detain trespassers? I can't understand why the fence doesn't go all the way around.

The house looks like it was built on a man-made mound and a long driveway leads up to it.

There's a gigantic parking area and I think that the white house is the main entrance.

Here you can better see the round curvature of the building.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1280-Scooter-St-Henderson-NV-89002/70055558_zpid/?

#modern castles #castle houses #mansions #houses #houst tours #home tour

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

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Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1

Based on a request:

Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.

"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.

The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.

Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.

This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.

"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.

As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.

Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.

Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.

There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.

"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.

After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.

Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.

A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry

Tags: @agasawit

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thisismeracing · 1 year ago

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LEWIS HAMILTON MASTERLIST

✦ LEWIS HAMILTON ▶ LH44

All my Lewis posts here

▸ main masterlist | patreon guide ▸ taglist ▸ who I write for & guidelines ▸ subscribe to Patreon for exclusive content ▸ tip me on ko-fi

KEYS: s: smut f: fluff a: angst ✷: Patreon exclusive

― ✦ SOCIAL MEDIA AU

it's just us against the world (f): Some fans noticed how Leiws is constantly listening to Y/n’s songs and decided to back him up and make it happen a bit faster. Will their cupid play work?

jealousy, jealousy (f): After a red carpet interaction, people are shipping Yn with Chris Evans without knowing that she’s dating a pilot. What will Lewis do when he sees the fuss internet is making about it?

a friend of a friend (f): After a friend in common introduced them, Lewis and Yn can’t seem to stay away from each other, and the fans are quick to catch and manifest a relationship.

part of your world (f): What happens when Lewis goes to the theater with his nephews and realizes he now has a new favorite Disney movie. The princess? Ynl Yln and she’s definitely fairytale-worthy outside the screens as well.

she's that girl (f): Lewis would never imagine that something, or rather someone, could take his attention off Beyonce during her own show, but one of her dancers did

sunshine (f): In which Lewis starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy.

moonshine (f): In which Lewis is sunshine, but dates a grumpy!reader and fans start noticing how different they are.

food baby (f): Yn is used to posting her belly after meals, claiming it’s her “food baby”, but fans are hell-bent on waiting for the reveal of a real baby Hamilton.

mó paz (f): It’s time for the Interlagos GP and fans are excited to see how Lewis’ Portuguese sounds after becoming a citizen AND dating Yn.

after the afterparty (f): Fans have been watching Yn and Lewis interact since she first started attending races. Nothing seemed enough for them to pinpoint what was going on between the two until the Las Vegas Gran Prix happened, and contrary to the belief, what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas. Yn and Lewis are about to find out.

your time (a): A couple months after the biggest breakup in the F1 paddock, your song gets leaked, and the internet uproars about your relationship again. This time they have more ammunition than ever to feed the narrative that Lewis Hamilton cheated on you. Are they right though?

more than friends (f): You’re friends with Lewis, but fans don’t buy the “just friends” discourse - for them, you and Lewis make the most powerful couple, even if you’re not famous. And maybe they’re right, maybe you’re supposed to be more than friends.

― ✦ BLURBS

Home (f)

Essays and cuddles (f)

More than friends (a)

― ✦ REGULAR IMAGINES

the phantom of miscommunication (a): Dating a professional athlete is hard, and it’s even harder when you are famous too, and your schedules just keep crashing. How will their love beat their insecurities?

haunted (s): Lost in the years, lost in the days, Lewis Hamilton haunts the house that once was his. The house where he was killed. And the house that now has new inhabitants. He was used to blowing candles, breaking chinas, and it being enough for the curious newbies to leave. However, it was the first time he met someone who wouldn’t act terrified by his presence. Yn was curious, and that curiosity had a price. Lewis was the one who would collect the debt.

bad religion (s)✷: He used to be a sinner, maybe that’s why nowadays he has so much compassion for those. Your kindness, however, can be your downfall. Especially when directed towards a demon. A breach and a hand to hold were all that Yn needed to complete the Devil’s wish. Lewis should have crushed the snake’s head before she swiftly bit him.

this love is ours (f): Relationships aren’t usually easy. Add to it the fact that you date a world champion racing driver, and your dad doesn’t really like said driver and the media is ready to dissect every move you make. At the end of the day, the stakes are high and the waters can be rough, but what you share with Lewis is true love, and it’s yours

heartdresser (f): When Lewis finds himself just a couple days away from a racing weekend and without his usual braids he desperately searches for suggestions of available hairdressers in the area. As the saying goes, love can come from the most unexpected places, and Lewis is about to discover that this is, in fact, true.

falling (in love) (f)✷: When your kid found a new friend in his new school, you did not expect that would mean you would find yourself friends too. And sure enough, you weren’t expecting to fall for his friend’s uncle.

falling (asleep) (f)✷: You had dinner with a few friends, and Leo loved the fact that Lewis was included - so much so, that he wanted his new favorite pilot to tuck him in bed and read him to sleep

― ✦ HEADCANONS

♡ lewis dating a korean girl ♡ lewis marrying a desi girl ♡ lewis as a dad ✷

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

#lh44 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 fandom #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #op: masterlists

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archivaltrigger · 11 days ago

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vimeo

“Because the US government was not acting on mass shootings, we directly attacked a trait Americans are most known for: their pride in their country. Change the Ref created the Shamecards, a postcard collection designed to demand gun law reform from Congress. Subverting the traditional greeting cards that depict each city’s landmarks, ours show what cities are becoming known for.”

shamecards.org

There is 54 cards total representing:

Annapolis — Maryland: Capital Gazette Shooting

Atlanta — Georgia: Day Trading Firm Shootings

Benton — Kentucky: Marshall County High School Shooting

Bethel — Alaska: Regional High School Shooting

Binghamton — New York: Binghamton Shooting

Blacksburg — Virginia: Virginia Tech Massacre

Camden – New Jersey: Walk of Death Massacre

Charleston — South Carolina: Charleston Church Shooting

Charlotte — North Carolina: 2019 University Shooting

Cheyenne — Wyoming: Senior Home Shooting

Chicago — Illinois: Medical Center Shooting

Clovis — New Mexico: Clovis Library Shooting

Columbine — Colorado: Columbine

Dayton — Ohio: Dayton Shooting

Edmond — Oklahoma: Post Office Shooting

El Paso — Texas: El Paso Shooting

Ennis — Montana: Madison County Shooting

Essex Junction — Vermont: Essex Elementary School Shooting

Geneva — Alabama: Geneva County Massacre.

Grand Forks — North Dakota: Grand Forks Shooting

Hesston — Kansas: Hesston Shooting

Honolulu — Hawaii: First Hawaiian Mass Shooting

Huntington — West Virginia: New Year's Eve Shooting

Indianapolis — Indiana: Hamilton Avenue Murders

Iowa City — Iowa: University Shooting

Jonesboro — Arkansas: Middle School Massacre

Kalamazoo — Michigan: Kalamazoo Shooting

Lafayette — Louisana: Lafayette Shooting

Las Vegas — Nevada: Las Vegas Strip Shooting

Madison — Maine: Madison Rampage

Meridian — Mississippi: Meridian Company Shooting

Moscow — Idaho: Moscow Rampage

Nashville — Tennessee: Nashville Waffle House shooting

Newtown — Connecticut: Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting

Omaha — Nebraska: Westroads Mall shooting

Orlando — Florida: Pulse Nightclub Shooting

Parkland — Florida: Parkland School Shooting

Pelham — New Hampshire: Wedding Shooting

Pittsburgh — Pennsylvania: Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooting

Prices Corner — Delaware: Delaware Shooting

Red Lake — Minnesota: Indian Reservation Shooting

Roseburg — Oregon: Umpqua Community Collage Shooting

Salt Lake City — Utah: Salt Lake City Mall Shooting

San Diego — California: San Ysidro Massacre

Santa Fe — Texas: Santa Fe School Shooting

Schofield — Wisconsin: Marathon County Shooting

Seattle — Washington: Capitol Hill Massacre

Sisseton — South Dakota: Sisseton Massacre

St. Louis — Missouri: Power Plant Shooting

Sutherland Springs — Texas: Sutherland Springs Church Shooting

Tucson — Arizona: Tocson Shooting

Wakefield — Massachusetts: Tech Company Massacre

Washington — D.C.: Navy Yard Shooting

Westerly — Rhode Island: Assisted-Living Complex Rampage

#at:other #tcc columbine #tee cee cee #Vimeo

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allprocarpetsteamers · 8 months ago

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Breathe Easy: The Importance Of Air Duct Cleaning In Las Vegas

Are you breathing easy in Las Vegas? The air around us is crucial to our health and well-being, yet it's often overlooked. In this bustling city of lights, ensuring the quality of the air we breathe is essential. Join us as we delve into the world of air duct cleaning and discover why it's a game-changer for your indoor environment. Let's explore how clean Air Duct Cleaning Las Vegas home or business!

The Impact Of Poor Indoor Air Quality

Poor indoor air quality can significantly impact your health and well-being. When your air ducts are filled with dust, allergens, and pollutants, the air circulating in your home becomes contaminated. This can lead to respiratory issues, allergies, and other health problems for you and your family.

Breathing in polluted air consistently can aggravate existing conditions like asthma or allergies. It can also cause headaches, fatigue, and irritation of the eyes, nose, and throat. Additionally, poor indoor air quality may contribute to an overall decline in indoor comfort levels.

If addressed, indoor air quality can improve over time as contaminants continue to accumulate in the ductwork. This is why regular air duct cleaning is essential to maintain a healthy living environment for you and your loved ones.

Benefits Of Regular Air Duct Cleaning

When it comes to maintaining a healthy indoor environment, regular air duct cleaning is an essential component. Over time, dust, dirt, pet dander, and other contaminants can accumulate in your air ducts. These pollutants affect the quality of the air you breathe and the efficiency of your HVAC system.

Investing in regular air duct cleaning can improve the overall air quality in your home or office. Clean air ducts help reduce allergens and irritants that can exacerbate respiratory conditions like asthma or allergies. Additionally, they promote better airflow throughout your space, leading to improved energy efficiency and lower utility bills.

Moreover, regular air duct maintenance can extend your HVAC system's lifespan. When debris builds up in the ductwork, it forces the system to work harder to heat or cool your space, which can result in premature wear and tear on components. Ensuring that your air ducts are clean helps prevent unnecessary strain on your HVAC unit and reduces the risk of costly repairs.

Choosing A Reliable And Efficient Air Duct Cleaning Service In Las Vegas

Reliability and efficiency are key factors to consider when selecting an air duct cleaning service in Las Vegas. With the abundance of options available, it can be overwhelming to make the right choice.

Start by researching companies online and reading customer reviews to understand their reputation. Look for a company that is licensed and insured and has experienced technicians who use industry-standard equipment.

Ask about their process – a reputable service provider will conduct a thorough inspection before starting the cleaning process. Please inquire about additional services they offer, such as mold remediation or dryer vent cleaning.

Remember to request a detailed quote upfront with no hidden fees. A trustworthy company will provide transparency regarding its pricing structure.

Choosing a reliable and efficient air duct cleaning service in Las Vegas is essential for maintaining good indoor air quality and ensuring your HVAC system operates at its best.

Conclusion

In Las Vegas, where clean air is essential for comfort and health, air duct cleaning plays a vital role in maintaining good indoor air quality. Regular cleaning keeps your HVAC system clear of dust, debris, and contaminants so you can quickly know that the air circulating in your home is fresh and clean.

Choosing a reliable and efficient air duct cleaning service in Las Vegas ensures the job is done thoroughly and professionally. With the benefits of improved indoor air quality, energy efficiency, cost savings, and overall well-being at stake, investing in regular air duct cleaning pays off in more ways than one.

Don't wait until poor indoor air quality affects your health or increases energy bills. Take proactive steps to ensure your HVAC system runs efficiently by scheduling regular air duct cleaning with trusted professionals. Your lungs—and wallet—will thank you!

#Air Duct Cleaning Las Vegas

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posttexasstressdisorder · 29 days ago

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'People have had enough': Here are the 3 'big-picture' reasons why Kamala Harris will win

John Stoehr

October 14, 2024 7:16AM ET

Democratic presidential nominee and U.S. Vice President Kamala Harris prepares to depart for Arizona at Harry Reid International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada, U.S., October 10, 2024. REUTERS/Evelyn Hockstein

This article was paid for by Raw Story subscribers. Not a subscriber? Try us and go ad-free for $1. Prefer to give a one-time tip? Click here.

It’s time for me to speak plainly about what I think are the chances of Kamala Harris defeating Donald Trump. In July, I said that Joe Biden’s decision to drop out was a mistake, but hopefully not a fatal one. It’s been about three months since then. I feel like I owe you a follow-up.

I think the vice president can do it. Yes, there are many, many caveats, but I think she can. I don’t base this on polling, because I don’t think most of the polling is reliable. I base it on three big-picture things.

The unity, the economy and the bulls—.

The unity Kamala Harris has united the Democrats in ways Biden could not. To be sure, there is some softness here and here. Former President Barack Obama said as much yesterday when he chided Black men who may be thinking about not voting or voting for Trump. But that seems to be more of a “bringing Democrats back home” errand than a structural problem. She has unity. Without that, candidates can’t win.

Since the convention, the goal has been expanding the base. She is doing it. Trump isn’t. As other writers have already pointed out, the former president has hit or is going to hit soon his ceiling of support, somewhere in the vicinity of 46-47 percent. That would be where things stood in 2016 and 2020. Harris, however, has room to grow, and she’s growing not just among undecided voters, but among nonvoters.

Harris also has more endorsements from current and former Republican officials than perhaps any Democratic nominee in my lifetime. These are negative and positive. Negative: they have said that they won’t vote for Trump, which means they tacitly endorse Harris. Positive: they have said explicitly that they will vote for her. Republican support has come from all corners and it has amassed so visibly that it’s fair to say Kamala Harris is a bipartisan presidential candidate.

The economy Every economic indicator is going in the right direction – inflation, employment, wages, GDP growth and on and on. Investors have sent stock markets soaring scores of times this year alone. The US economy is the envy of the world. Biden and Harris have pulled off a miracle.

The economy is humming along so well that you’d think it wouldn’t be a top issue on voters minds, but it is. I think that’s due to a few things. First, Republicans respondents to opinion polls lie about the economy. Second, Trump and his allies lie about the economy. Third, prices, especially the cost of food and housing, are so high that they give those lies about the economy the appearance of being true. Put all these pieces together and you have an election in which the economy is the top issue even though the economy has rarely been better.

This is where Harris made a brilliant decision. She isn’t moving from Biden’s transformational accomplishments because she’d be a fool to do that. But she is expanding the scope of his policy vision. Whereas the president was primarily focused on macroeconomics – inflation, employment, growth, etc. – Harris is focused on microeconomics. Biden had to stabilize an economy on the brink during covid. Now that it’s stabilized, Harris wants to bring the cost of living down for all.

When the economy is good, the incumbent usually wins. Biden is no longer running, but the roaring economy is his doing. Harris is telling voters she wants to broaden that success to include bans on price-gouging, middle-class tax breaks, small-business supports and now expanding Medicare to cover long-term home care for seniors.

And that’s sounding really, really good to lots of people.

The bulls— No candidate can win without unity. A growing economy is perhaps the most fundamental aspect of any incumbent party’s success. But I can’t help thinking that the biggest reason Kamala Harris is going to pull this off is because so many people are so tired of Trump’s bulls—.

The bulls— is why he messed up America’s response to covid. It’s why he tried overthrowing a free and fair election. And most recently, it’s why Republican voters are actually turning away help from the government after hurricanes rammed through their communities because they believe lies about Democrats coming to get them.

As Tim Walz said Friday on Twitter: “All Donald Trump and JD Vance know about manufacturing is how to manufacture bulls—.”

It’s endless. It’s everywhere. It’s exhausting. I think most people have had enough. And I think that’s why polling now shows a stable race.

It’s not that I trust polling. What I trust is Americans’ weariness. Even Trump’s people are bored. Nothing about him has changed in the nine years he’s been in national politics. If anything, his bulls— has gotten worse. It’s like the more he lies, the more people are digging into the fact that they made up their minds about him a long time ago.

Indeed, no matter what has happened – an assassination attempt, a couple of massive hurricanes or Trump’s conspicuous mental deterioration – very little has moved the electorate since around August 1. Growth has mainly been in Harris’ direction. Trump’s has almost peaked. The static nature of the race was enough for one data analyst to joke: “Nothing has happened. We are all insanely bored.”

The conclusion If Harris loses, it won’t be because of anything she did or didn’t do in terms of policy. It sure-as-hell won’t be because of Trump’s positive attributes, though the press corps will try to find some if he prevails.

No, a defeat for Harris would be due to just enough people believing just enough lies about her and her party in just enough places.

Alas, a repeat of 2016.

But I think there’s reason to be optimistic.

The fundamentals are sound.

I hope I’m right.

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allthefandomthings55 · 9 months ago

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Life in the Limelight

Chapter 2

“Y/N, I got something for you.”

I look up from my computer to look at Ben. “For me? What do you have for me?”

He smiled at me, “You know that card you asked me to run from the guy you talked with at the coffee shop? Yeah well everything checks out. His name is Spencer Walter Reid. He’s from Las Vegas and graduated when he was 12 went to college and got three Ph. D.s, two B.A.s and is working on another B.A. It looks like as soon as he could he went into the FBI. His record is clean and he’s never been arrested.”

You look at him interested, “Oh, ok thank you. Did you get a read on him at the shop?”

Ben came closer to me, “Yeah. He seems like a good guy and that he was interested in talking to you not about you. Y/N I know you’re intrigued by this guy because he doesn’t recognize you and I say start out as his friend. You don’t want to move too fast.” I nod my head deep in thought. Ben leaves and I’m alone and I decide to text Spencer.

Hi Spencer it’s Y/N. Sorry I haven’t texted, it’s been a busy couple of days.

Spencer

Hi Y/N. It’s no problem or worries. I’ve been busy at work. How are you?

I’m good. I was actually wondering if you wanted to get lunch and chat some more? I have been seriously lacking in the friend department and you seem like you’ll be a good one.

Spencer

Sure! I’d love to get lunch. I think I should be around this Saturday if that works for you?

Yeah that works for me. How about 12:30? Then it might not be as crazy as it usually might be?

Spencer

Yeah sounds great. Anywhere specific you’d like to go?

Yeah I have a friend that owns a restaurant and it’s really good. Decently priced too if you’re interested.

Spencer

Sure. What is it called?

L’unico

Spencer

One of a kind in Italian? I’m interested

Yeah, she’s Italian

Spencer

Perfect, do you want me to pick you up or do you want to meet there?

I’ll meet you there.

Spencer

I’ll see you then

I looked around to make sure I was alone. I then got up and did a little dance. Being famous is hard. Not financially or anything like that, but it’s hard to make friends when you’re famous. You can never tell if people want to be friends with you because you’re famous or because they’re actually a good person. I got back to writing the song I was writing before Ben came in.

Lying, thinking last night

How to find my sould a home

Where water is not thirsty

And bread loaf is not stone

I came up with one thing

And I don’t believe I’m wrong

That nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone

Aone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires

With money they can’t use

Their wives run round like banshees

Their children sing the blues

They’ve got expensive doctors

To cure their hearts of stone.

But nobody

No, nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely

I’ll tell you what I know

Storm clouds are gathering

The wind is gonna blow

The race of man is suffering

And I can hear the moan,

‘Cause nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone

(This is a poem by Maya Angelou called Alone)

I looked up from my notebook proud of what I’ve written. It comes from deep within my heart. I don’t know what the song will be called yet but that’s the best part of writing a song. I closed my notebook for now, being done with writing for now. I decided I’m going to go to the gym I have in my basement. The one unfortunate thing about being famous is that I can’t go outside very often without being seen and surrounded.

#aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #Spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfiction

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vvyvernicus · 7 months ago

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Why Mr. House Likes Snow Globes

In 2022 when Robert Edwin House was only two years old, his older half-brother, Anthony House, cut him off entirely from his inheritance as well as forcing him into the foster system. Because of this, Robert House was passed around several families during his childhood in the state of Nevada.

In 2032, he ends up living under the care of a resident of the renowned Las Vegas. However, like most of the other foster homes, he doesn't enjoy being there and feels more comfortable being virtually anywhere else. He quickly enjoys the atmosphere of Vegas and sees it as a place with opportunities. Still, as a minor he was responsible enough to stay out of the less savory parts of it.

One day after another unsolicited scolding from a drunken foster parent, Robert leaves the apartment to take a walk on the neighborhood strip. He ends up wandering to section he is less familiar with, but another nice part of Las Vegas nonetheless. An antique shop catches his eye and his eyes quickly scan over a snow globe in the window display.

It's miniature version of Las Vegas with buildings that appeared to glow brightly despite having no internal lighting. He is intrigued by the design, but less so by the price. Such a small, some would say insignificant, object for a hefty $100? Even if he was given some sort of allowance, the price would be too steep for him to consider for the peculiar thing. And yet... somehow looking at it made him feel more at ease.

A woman with long, dark hair and blue eyes notices him as she walks down that same street. Regularly she would keep walking and mind her own business, but something about the boy's expression stood out to her. There was a certain loneliness, but also a lingering determination. So, she makes a slight detour and walks over to greet him.

At first he doesn't realize the presence of the woman who stands beside him—being too fixated on the globe—but once he realizes she's there it's hard to ignore. She asks for his name, but since he doesn't trust her he tells her his middle name: Edwin. She's a little odd, talking to a child she doesn't know, but... she's somewhat pretty. Weird, but oddly pleasant to talk to.

The topic of conversation quickly changes to the snow globe he had been eyeing before she interrupted him. She asks him if he has a fondness for snow globes, to which he brushes her off by saying that there was no point in spending so much on useless knickknacks. In response, she just smiled and entered the store.

A few minutes later the snow globe was removed from the viewing window by a store clerk. When the woman returns outside, Robert instantly that she had bought it in attempt to gloat. Just like everyone else had in his life. Things were simply taken from you before you even had the chance to take them for yourself.

Instead, she hands the bag out to him. She says that it's a special gift. All he has to do is accept it. But all he can do is stare at her like there's some type of explosive inside that bag.

What? This didn't make any sense. It must have been some kind of trick. No random adult would just come across a kid and buy them something like this. There must have been some underlying scheme, he thought.

Cautiously, he peers into the bag. There inside was the Las Vegas themed snow globe, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap to prevent damages. His hands began to shake and he worried about dropping the paper bag. This person made no sense at all to him.

She tells him that one day things will get better for him if he works hard and maybe he could collect more snow globes in the future. He looks up at her like he wants to say "thank you". However she was already smiling so brightly like she had received all the praise in the world.

However, just as quickly as she appeared, she suddenly excuses herself and starts to hurry down the street. Was she late for something? It must have not been important if she had time to spare to buy a random boy a snow globe. But despite the briefness, the unconditional warmth she shared had not yet faded.

Even over 200 years later, he still has that same snow globe. It's hidden somewhere only he can see it in the Lucky 38. To him, it's a reminder that no matter how messed up the world gets, there will always be a fraction of humanity worth preserving. The other snow globes are rare finds themselves, each one holding a unspoken innocence.

Hope you enjoyed my headcanon! Maybe we'll find out more actual backstory in the Fallout TV series season 2. Bonus if it shows his current snow globe collection in live action.

#fallout new vegas #mr house #fallout #headcanon #backstory #tempted to write a more detailed scene of this interaction #a future original character?

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chaosandmarigolds · 6 months ago

Note

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THE NEXT PART 🙏🙏🙏

https://www.tumblr.com/chaosandmarigolds/751434497871970304/eek-pt-three-of-i-dunno-how-many-simon-gets

Here ya go pookie! 🤍

Johnny stared at the officer that had very briefly explained the situation to him, his face contorted into some dumbfounded state because there was no way in the seven hells this random woman was telling him that Oliver was going back to his deadbeat half assed dad. He was leaning on the desk, after he had managed to get you calmed down and sat down in his truck, so he figured it was his time to get the story- after all, your words were just sobbed attempts.

“Yer fuckin pulling me leg.”

The officer blinked and frowned, “I’m sorry sir I don’t understand.”

“Ye just jokin me, ‘cause there no way Ollie is goin with tha man."

to that the officer 'tsk'ed and set the folder down on her desk, looking up at him, her face emotionless except for some patronizing smile, "And you said you were with Mister Riley?"

A short pause and Johnny looks around the office, "Can I talk to him?"

Ollie sat in the empty conference room, his few toys scattered on the table and the television playing some PBS Kids show with a volume of less than ten. He could hear the people outside of the room, but he didn't understand them, sometimes they would yell, and sometimes it was silent, he couldn't tell anymore. Nor did he care.

He spins in his chair as the door opens and he yelps, "UNCLE SOAPY."

"Ey, laddie," without missing a beat Johnny picks up the boy and looks him over, still in his pjs from the night before, his boots not even laced all the way up and his hair messy, with a huff he gives the officer a glare and sits down at the table again, "Yer mum wanted me to come check on ya."

Ollie frowns to that, "Why-why not she come? I.-Uncle Soapy, can we go home now? I do- it scary here."

"Price's, this is Eliza."

"Is th' Captain home?" "Simon! Darling-....oh honey, is everything okay? You sound like-"

"No. Please give John the tell."

"Get away from my son."

Johnny stands up when he heard the voice, turning around with Ollie still in his grasp, and unshcokingly he saw a less-than-average man who looked awful mad by his presence. Ollie, after about ten minutes of tears as fallen asleep, his head on his shoulder and happily snoozing.

"Ah, Caleb- 'm Johnny, heard about ya."

"Funny, haven't heard about you." Caleb frowned, slowly moving to get the young boy, "Now if you don't mind I have to take him back home."

Out of habit Johnny took a step back, "Back to his mum, yeah? Cu' tha's his home."

"No, back to Las Vegas, my home."

There was a long silence and then Johnny speaks, "Bloody out of your mind if you think 'll let tha happen."

Caleb almost smiled to that, "Then I’m out of my mind. Now give me my son before I make you."

(....Teee...hee? more of Uncle Soap action in this segment)

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #coco's chaos <3 #cod x you #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #johnny mactavish #cod soap #call of duty soap #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad simon riley #dad!soap

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year ago

Text

Three Way Script

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Warnings: rather angsty and with some strong language -but with a load of gentleness and love thrown in as is typical with this universe, please note the subjects covered here relate to infidelity and the death of an infant. Everyone herein is coping and not in a very tidy way but they’re tryin’.

Note: this is written in experimental first person view from Ann-Margret’s perspective. I’ve zero intention to vilify anyone and even had a little bit of qualms regarding using her in this at all. As is, I’m creating more of a character for her in the form of “Thumper” and her dynamic with the fictional Presley’s than any true resemblance to the lady herself. Cheers 💋

Dedicated to sweet @ab4eva who loves her hot tamale

Circa: summer of ‘63 on the set of Viva Las Vegas

It was a dark and deathly quiet quarter to four in the morning. I’d just been decked in the face by a sleepwalking Elvis Presley for trying to wake him up. Face throbbing, nerves strained from our undefined tryst, I clumsily chased him as he wandered outside, strangely stubborn in his unconscious quest for air, or space, or -her.

I didn’t know the etiquette for this, for any of it. I’d told him just that as he, a married man of such notoriety, pressed his lips against mine and told me that we had a connection.

He and I.

As if I couldn't feel it thrumming and seething and tugging between us during every scene and more concerning still, in the lulls between, in the quiet and unpretentious moments of rest when it wasn’t our characters, when it was just us. When he admitted to being gutted by the loss of his child, estranged from his ever-ebullient wife in her own bereavement, envious of his son, not even four years old, who occupied his space in her bed and took comfort from her body while he was obliged to dance and sing his way to another hit as if he wasn’t fragmented by the grief of it all.

“I thought you’d be all tough n’shit, a real firecracker.” he’d breathed with immense relief after uncovering that gooey, soft, vulnerable place inside of me that something about his grief and his hollow smirk and his lonesomeness had almost immediately unleashed in my soul. That urge to comfort, to assure him he wasn’t going out on a limb, it had me spending my days making a fool of myself for him.

Yet it seemed the price for such misplaced loyalty and pleasure was about to be extracted as I trailed him, calling out to him in vain, ignoring my aching jaw in an attempt to stall his sleepwalking, quelling the panic I felt at what must be done.

His guys didn’t know he was here with me and I wasn’t sure if I should tell them anyway, though I would have at this crucial point if I could have found or telephoned any of them. Tell them he was about to wander bare as the Lord made him into the studio lot.

I had to spare her that at least.

I had to call Graceland.

When I had entered my studio apartment earlier that evening Elvis had been sat in the kitchenette chair, twirling the landline cord around his finger, feet propped up on the Formica table, perfectly at home in my space, saying his goodbyes to a child or four. He gave me a dazzling smile as I stepped over my own threshold yet held up his finger for silence in my own space as he finished speaking with his family.

“Your phone ain’t bugged like mine is.” he had said casually by way of explanation for his entitlement to my rented room and then took me in his arms. I’d forgotten to press my point regarding privacy and rumors after that.

Now I fumbled the receiver off its hook and with all the cold, dreading heroism of a soldier launching a nuclear missile, I pushed redial.

One of the Presley cousins answered, I calculated the truth would get me where I needed fastest, so I said outright “Elvis is sleep walking on the lot and no one knows how to wake him”.

I was asked to hold and about twenty seconds later the receiver picks up again and this woman’s soft drawl comes over,

“Thumper? Is that you? Is he with you?”

Elaine was anxious. I could feel the strength of it through the phone, a visceral connection with a total stranger just by the waiver of her voice. So very anxious in that way that people who’ve been in a rash of losing things start to freak over the slightest possibility of another blow. It was the first time we’d ever spoken and yet I told her the situation as it stood, clear and concise. She knew of me -not just of Ann-Margret but of Thumper- and god knows I knew of her.

Elaine gained strength with details, demanded how long he’d been asleep and if he had his eyes open at all. With the first question I thought she was trying to trap me and get me to admit something I was more than ready to own up to. But then I realized she was just trying to triage. I gave her all the details I could tell and she gave me some suggestions.

“Make sure you duck away when you touch him or he’ll wallop you in the face, Thumper.” she warned with the surety of a veteran and her tone was so kind it took me ten whole minutes later to process the fact she had anticipated everything that had occurred and would occur. Despite that she was kind.

She was still kind after she suggested I let the dream run its course and maybe try to steer him from the gates or keep the outer door locked, and I had to tell her sheepishly he wasn’t wearing anything. Again, instead of what I was expecting she just let out a little huff and said

“Why didn’t you say? That makes things easier, you’ve got an ice pail, don’t you?”

So I ended up tossing ice at Elvis Presley’s chilled skin till he woke up and startled. Then led him back inside and when he saw the phone off the hook he got spooked and yelled at me that it wasn’t something to call the police for.

I said it was his wife instead. It was like he turned into a little boy then, he just yanked a sheet off the bed and curled into a chair at the kitchenette table and picked up the receiver.

I heard him whisper,

“Tink?”

before he waved me away and off as if this wasn’t my place that he had crashed in. But they were still softly chattin’ in a foreign sort of gibberish on the line by the time I gave up and fell asleep with the lamp on and him mumbling to his wife about his dream and asking to talk to a kid if one was awake.

He was gone when I woke up, so were his clothes.

Next I saw him, he was on set looking chipper, full face of pancake makeup disguising his exhaustion, playing cards with the boys waiting for the director to show. A quart’s worth of makeup was lathered to my own face, meticulously plastered on my left cheek five layers deep to disguise the purpling bruise he’d given me.

He acted like nothing, and I do mean nothing of any sort, had happened the night before. It was puzzling and I began to realize just how well he could compartmentalize everything. Lines and paces and dances and duets, he moved through them all that day with ease, belying the man who told me the night before he didn’t think he could keep going on like this.

‘This’ being the continuing of the smiling and dancing and grinding for all the nation to applaud, anything to market his resilience, once again having to rebound from his unsellable grief. But a child buried comes back in a man’s dreams.

“They made me choose, Annie,” he’d wept to me, “came out in their coats and said ‘which would ya like us to save, Mr. Presley?’ What was I s’posed to say to that, Thumper?” he begged me for an answer like I had an opinion on such a horrific conundrum. It’s times like these when a twenty three year old starlet isn’t sure what to say. “I can’t live without her! Can’t keep ‘em all well and happy without her, chose her. Now my baby girl’s dead.”

Her was always Elaine. And baby girl had been named Joe.

Josephine Belleaza, though her daddy couldn’t say her name, the name he’d lovingly chosen in happier times, couldn’t say it aloud without sounding strangled.

“It wouldn’t have changed a thing.” I kept insisting, I didn’t know what else to say except the truth of it, “They just ask those things to put it back on the -the- the patient.” The victim, the father, the parents. Putting those sleepless nights about choices back on his shoulders. As if a child drowned in the amniotic fluid that had once been its home and haven could be revived if the mother was cut apart to take it out. It was cruel, there never was a choice that god hadn't already made. “Wouldn’t have changed a thing. She doesn’t blame you, does she?”

“No, no never.” he’d sighed bitterly.

We talked a lot about her for a young co-star and her married leading man, laying in those twisted sheets he laid me out on, reveling in the fact I had no old memories etched on my skin, yet was soft and giving in all the ways to mimic the familiar one. It was an unfair usage, but when you’re in love you take a married man happily even if he seems as if he’s looking for more and less than your unstoried body could ever give him. A respite from things associated with dreams gone wrong, turned dark and twisted. He made me feel like a lifeline, he made me feel indispensable for him getting up each new day, he made my body rejoice and thrum from even the smallest of child play beneath the sheets, he made me fall in love with him.

And then he railed at me for calling her. I was the lifeline to get him back to her alive, sane and somewhat devoted. I was never his wife and according to him I should never have made his wife listen to his passing dalliance recount our tryst. It was unfair, I had done it to protect him but the minute the cameras stopped rolling he had cornered me and cut me down for the night before.

“You told her about us!” I accused him right back, righteous and misled all at once.

“There ain’t no us!” and he said it so easily.

That was true, I’d never met a fully grown man with such drive who found a way to make love in every possible way except the typical insertion method. I had not pressed it before, thinking it connected to his fear of pregnancy. “You told her about me being Thumper!” I clarified my complaint.

“Course I did!” he acted like I’d cracked up, “I tell her ‘bout all of ‘em, she’s accommodatin’ like that. Don’t mean she should have to have salt rubbed in the wound by talkin’ to ya. Ain’t fittin. She’s my wife!”

That stung, the categorization. There was little ole me, one of an apparent host of good time girls, and then there was her. And the fact she was his wife, that he really had his priorities straight despite his wandering eye, was a virtue lost on my love sick heart.

I was just furious and hurt.

“Did she put you up to this?” I seethed and he said no, no she hadn’t but this was just the way of things. He told Elaine about all his friends, which he considered me one, and on the flip side he kept them separated from his family life. It was traditional and tidy and archaic and we fought bitterly over it and made up in my bed.

He was gone again when I woke the next morning. But across the room in his stead was a large spray of roses he must’ve allowed in, shaped in a heart like a valentine, though the month was July. I anticipated conciliatory words in his childish scribble on the note. Instead, there in a delicate cursive was a quote, from Anna Karenina, I recognized,

“There are as many kinds of loves as there are hearts”

and down below in tiny, achingly gentle words was the sentiment:

“to a very tender young lady, for her pains and kindness to us, hope the cheek heals by the time I come and kiss it, all my thanks, -Elaine.”

———————————————————

I so hope I can crank out another of these or one for Gigi before too long, and a happier one at that, but for now I hope y’all enjoyed and thanks for all the love and questions flooding into my inbox for this make-believe family, it makes me so soft 🥹

Hope y’all enjoyed xoxo, lemme know below if you’d like to added to the taglist

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@whatstruthgottadowithit

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

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monicareconstructed · 2 months ago

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Pat Barrington.

Pat screamed feminine sex appeal, like 'I AM WOMAN!!' at top decibels.

Not such a happy childhood, and lived the life of a stripper with a few forays into film. But her looks and body - oh, my! I would have loved to have her body in her prime!!

Her web bio:

Pat Barrington was an extremely buxom, curvy, and drop-dead gorgeous blonde topless dancer who popped up in a handful of enjoyably trashy softcore sexploitation features throughout the 1960's, often for producer Harry H. Novak's Boxoffice International Pictures and directed by William Rotsler.

Barrington was born Patricia Annette Bray on October 16, 1939 in Charlotte, North Carolina. Her mother Willie Jo Bray had a fling with a local man named Claude Weidenhause and became pregnant at age sixteen. Weidenhause had already left by the time Barrington was born. Pat moved with her mother Willie Jo to Richmond, Virginia when she was only two years old. Willie Jo married another man, Eugene Lee Barringer. But the marriage was short-lived and Pat found herself moving once again with her mother to Hyattsville, Maryland. Willie Jo subsequently married a former Marine suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Upset with the unstable situation at home, Barrington left her mother and went out to fend for herself after her sophomore year in high school.

Pat relocated to Baltimore, Maryland, where she hooked up with an Italian-American mobster named Bob. Barrington got married for the first time in the late 1950's. But Pat soon left her first husband after the relationship became abusive. Bob helped Barrington get back on her feet by securing her a job as an exotic dancer. Pat then made a name for herself in Washington, D.C. dancing under the name of Vivian Storm. Barrington caught the eye of local jazz musician Melvin Rees and moved into Rees's abode in Hyattsville, Maryland in 1959. Pat moved down south with Rees in 1960. Alas, Rees was found guilty of murdering a Virginia family and was sentenced to life in prison.

Barrington moved to Los Angeles, California in 1962 and promptly got a job dancing at the prestigious nightclub The Classic Cat. Pat then decided to pursue a modeling career and subsequently started posing in spreads for various men's magazines as well as numerous commercial layouts. After an ill-advised foray into dancing in Las Vegas, Barrington returned to Los Angeles and resumed her career as a model while still dancing on the side. Pat eventually began auditioning for film work in the mid-1960's. Barrington achieved her greatest cult cinema fame as the female lead in Stephen C. Apostolof's unintentionally hilarious horror camp hoot Orgy of the Dead (1965), in which she also performs one of her patented steamy nude dances as the painted Gold Girl. Barrington had another rare substantial starring part as a bored housewife who works as a high-priced call girl in the seamy Agony of Love (1966). More often, though, the stunning and spectacularly alluring Pat was relegated to secondary roles as a go-go dancer in such delightfully down'n'dirty low-grade fare as Lila (1968), The Girl with the Hungry Eyes (1967) and Sisters in Leather (1969). She appeared as herself in both the lurid mondo item Hedonistic Pleasures (1969) and Russ Meyer's blithely silly documentary Mondo Topless (1966). During this time Barrington was briefly married to cinematographer Robert Caramico.

After calling it quits as an actress, Pat left Los Angeles and moved to New Jersey with a singer named Romeo. Barrington soon found gainful employment dancing in clubs up and down the East Coast under the pseudonym of Princess Jajah. In the mid-1970's Pat branched out into topless dancing. She settled down in Cliffside Park, New Jersey in 1980. Barrington eventually dumped Romeo and became involved with a much younger man named Robert. Pat moved with Robert to Fort Lauderdale, Florida in 1984. Pat worked as a stripper using the name Yvette at assorted seedy clubs throughout Florida. After retiring from dancing in the early 1990's, Barrington went on to work as a telemarketer. In her later years Pat also helped local animal rescue groups (she was a lifelong lover of animals). Barrington died from lung cancer at age 74 on September 1, 2014.

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