#am mentally in Vegas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

US Tumblr user growth rate is estimated to slow down to 4.1%.

#am mentally in Vegas

fishy-xp · 2 years

Text

The Minor Clan v the Major Clan

I’ve seen a lot of people having differing opinons on whether Vegas parading the main family bodyguard’s around the minor family compound and showing how better the minor family bodyguards are treated was either a) accurate and the minor family do actually treat their bodyguards as more than objects or b) all for show and everyone fears them and are simply play acting for the main family bodyguards.

Personally, I am on the side that thinks what is shown by Vegas is correct. Vegas acknowledges that the minor family does the dirty work, they are the guns and the labor. They are considered as lesser than the major clan who live in luxury and excess, they are high-class, whilst the minor family are very much lower class. I think Vegas is genuinely kind to the market community outside of the minor family compound. These are mostly older people who work to support their own families through whatever means possible, selling street food and groceries who are likely backed by the minor family in return for a percentage of commission on their sales. The minor family offers them protection from anyone that tries to scam or take advantage of these families and shopkeepers in return for a physical barrier between the rest of the world and the minor family house as well as information as gossip and rumours can float very easily in a busy market place. These families see Vegas and the minor family as young masters who are very generous and protects them, the darker side of the family can be overlooked.

We are mere working class people, this is not something we need to be involved in. See no evil.

Secondly, the minor families bodyguards. I find it very likely that these men are the sons of the shop vendors outside. Coming from the same lower-middle class background, the minor family offers them employment, income and care for their elderly parents and younger siblings in return for their loyalty and their lives. I believe this differs from how the major family recruits their bodyguards which is likely through an intense screening process picked from a pool of former security guards, police officers, intelligence agents. My best evidence for this is Ken, a clearly foreign bodyguard who is likely recruited from an overseas agency, maybe former Interpol, or security intelligence. There is a very clinical process for the major clan in recruiting their bodyguards, it is merely a job where the best of the best are chosen. There is nothing relational about it. They simply demand their lives in exchange for money, nothing more. The major family can put a price on these bodyguards.

Your life is mine because I bought it.

In direct contrast, the minor family sources their men from the local community. These bodyguards were likely struggling, disenfranchised boys who are offered a way to escape the poverty cycle. They are given a purpose in life, a community with other men just like them, and are allowed to be in a position of power that life has previously withheld. There is some fear thrown into their loyalty, but it also garners their respect. Sometimes people see people who are stronger, more powerful, more forceful, more evil then themselves and that only strengthens their respect towards that person. That is how the minor family bodyguards perceive Vegas, someone to be feared but as long as you do no wrong to them, you have nothing to fear. As long as you don’t cross Vegas or the minor family, there is nothing to be worried about. They will not just begin torturing or shooting off men for fun. Vegas only lets out the crazy to traitors or people he doesn’t care about. He hasn’t once been shown to get angry, rude or violent with his own bodyguards (unlike the major family). Vegas clearly understands peoples’ emotions, so being able to relate to these men would allow him to strengthen their loyalty towards the minor clan in a way the major family would never even attempt to engage in with their own bodyguards.

We are not so different, you and I. I know exactly what you’ve been through.

Also in Ep 2 when Macau goes to his dad after Porsche pushes him into the pond, Gun chastises Korn ‘you’re not only teaching them how to use guns, but also manners’. Why say that, if Gun doesn’t value such a thing? The minor family and their manners have even been brought up by Porsche who notes not only do they have manners but they actively use them towards others including the bodyguards.

They haven’t hurt me.

Furthermore, I’d like to discuss the familial relationships between the Major and Minor Clan brothers. The major family brothers are clearly all distant from each other. If there is any sort of care towards each other, its subtle at best and non-existent at worst. They do not work together, they hide and scheme by their lonesomes, never letting anyone see their hand. In contrast, Vegas and Macau appear incredibly close knit. They are always seen hanging around together, they share jokes and are physically affectionate with each other. In Ep 7, Macau apologises to Porsche and extends an olive branch at Vegas’ request which evidently influences Porsche’s perception of the minor family as forgiving and having manners (something that in his experience cannot be said for the major family). In Ep 9, Macau forcefully restrains Pete and enthusiastically asks for him to join them at a sermon he appears very interested in only to fall asleep during said sermon which betrays his intentions that he did not give a single shit about it and only did so because Vegas had plans for Pete. Macau does this because he knows it’s what Vegas wants and he will help his brother scheme and entrap because Vegas likely makes it very explicit to him about his plans and doesn’t keep Macau in the dark about things. Vegas actually cares about Macau and vice versa, so it would make sense that Vegas does actually care about his community and his bodyguards. The minor family understands very well that the relationships they make are their strongest assets. They work as a team strengthened by intrinsic relationships rather than the major family who are burdened incessantly by duty.

There is loyalty that is forcefully taken and demanded. Then there is loyalty that is willingly given.

#mentally i am still in ep 7 #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinn theerapanyakul #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #macau theerapanyakul #sin city brothers #kinnporsche analysis #kinnporsche meta #porsche pitchaya #tankhun #kim theerapanyakul #porschay kittisawasd #fishfoodforthought

481 notes · View notes

incessant-ree · 2 months

Text

imagine edward joshua and bill playing truth or dare and joshua tells bill to kiss edward. edward guffaws but bill does it, and edward is surprised at how soft his lips are.

#edward sallow #joshua graham #bill calhoun #fallout new vegas #fallout #caesar #fnv #I AM SO MENTALLY ILL ABOUT THEM #text post

9 notes · View notes

saltedserval · 11 months

Text

*holds my fursona up like Simba*

LOOK AT THEM. I'm in the process of getting a fursuit made of them too heeheooo

#they are the creature ever #this character is literally me irl #also they r inspired by Copperhead Strike at Carowinds #i am mentally ill when it comes to rollercoasters #nightstalker #fursona #my art #furry #fallout new vegas

22 notes · View notes

maichais · 2 years

Text

on betrayed brotherly bonds : kinn and vegas

this sits as very biased meta but the problem is i don’t think for a second that vegas was going to shoot. he wasn’t going to shoot kinn and he definitely wasn’t going to shoot porsche and i think, for all their surface level hatred of each other, kinn knew it.

he still yelled in desperation when vegas pointed that gun at porsche but that’s because kinn can’t keep himself sane when it comes to porsche, can't bear the possibility of his lover being threatened, especially with an opponent as fierce as vegas.

but coming back to the point: vegas was never, for a moment, going to shoot kinn.

and it’s not like he doesn’t have plenty of chances to. right here:

instead of his evil little monologue

or here:

instead of just yelling kinn's name and running after him when there’s a fully functional gun in his hands.

i think someone could argue he wanted to do his lil villain monologue. that he didn’t want to shoot kinn carelessly, wanted the other to see him and understand what he was feeling and kill him while looking him dead in the eyes.

and you know what that’s valid, maybe that is why vegas didn’t shoot and maybe i’m completely off the mark.

but in the universe where i am not insane, this set of expressions:

just looks like two brothers standing at the end of a very twisted road. vegas looks angry but kinn looks almost calm, which goes against everything we're led to believe about them.

because i am nothing if not a hopeless goner for optimistic tragedies, i think maybe there was a point when kinn and vegas didn’t hate each other. when they were younger and vegas was just a kid and kinn was his cool older cousin. long before gun started to poison vegas’ life, both of them young and, by virtue of being somewhere near in age, close.

i think a lot of vegas’ anger towards kinn also seems tinged with resentment. it feels very reminiscent of someone who was betrayed or whose expectations were defied and his heart broken and he’s never since recovered, not fully. i think the minute they started growing up even a little and korn’s focus shifted from tankhun to kinn as his heir (because that’s all they are to him, replaceable weapons), the little possibility of peace humming between the families in the form of the kinnvegas bond had to be wiped out.

that whole spiel in the hospital where kinn says there is a major and minor family to foster competition feels so rehearsed and deliberately planted i have a hard time believing they're not korn’s words. and gun, of course, hardly helped matters.

my bet is this: something happens when they’re young – tankhun gets kidnapped one time too many and korn realises he’s useless to him now – and kinn is picked to be the heir-in-training. gun wastes no time tearing his son away and both fathers start their little circles of abuse but vegas has it rougher. he’s forced into worse situations with a physically abusive dad whereas korn’s manipulation is soft but unwavering. from the outside, he looks indulgent. as vegas gets sucked into the dirtier rings of the minor family life, he sees kinn in the lap of luxury, being spoiled and it breaks something in him. i think he loved kinn once, as a younger brother, and he can’t stand that he was forgotten.

because kinn did forget him. kinn was so busy being papa’s perfect little boy he started to do exactly what he never would have wanted and became mean and firm and obedient like korn demanded. sentimentality had to be cut out and kinn was suddenly no longer the person who vegas could approach with a stinging cheek or when his duties suffocated him.

all it takes, then, to cut the thread loose is vegas coming to him, one last time, hoping secretly they can still go back, and kinn scornful as he throws his father’s words in his cousin’s face.

i think it’s what makes vegas snap.

he sinks and sinks and kinn watches him, above water, and the bitterness could swallow vegas whole but he doesn’t let it. he promises to be better for macau, to never let anybody have his full faith like that again, to never place himself in anyone’s hands like that.

until, of course—

but well. that’s for later.

#why am i writing pre-canon fic about vegas kinn as brothers? good question to which the answer as always is mental illness #kinnporsche #kinnporsche meta #kinnporsche ep 14 #*mine #vegas theerapanyakul #kinn theerapanyakul #vegaspete

22 notes · View notes

alittleillusionmachinee · 2 years

Text

I just feel like Lexi would be a slot machine lurker if they went to a casino. Fez would be playing blackjack and have to cash out cuz oh no his wife's fighting with a little old lady over a machine again

#yes i am in las vegas and thinking about THWM #it's mental illness your honor #fexi #i won 83 buckaroos this morning after i lurked LMAO

13 notes · View notes

doodlemeariver · 11 days

Text

I’m happy where I work.

Doesn’t mean I think it’s the best. Doesn’t mean they don’t take advantage of me and my coworkers. Doesn’t mean they didn’t lie about the companies they work with to improve the company’s lives.

I’m getting my sinuses worked on next week… I’m glad to be able to afford it.

I’m happy.

I’m happy that the day will come soon… soon that eyes will be open.

The scars on my face to show I’m making through life. Life is supposed to be easy now.

At least I’m not surrounded by drunks in the middle of the busiest zipline in the dessert.

At least I get my legally required breaks now. At least I’m numb to those who have thrown up, pissed, and shit in the public area where I use to work.

I’ve been grabbed too many times back there.

Masking a smile

Masking a smile…

Retail life can be fun… but it should be treated as important.

I’m not your family. I’m not your grab-at and get-away.

I’m not working for that zip line. I’m getting my minimum wage fixed.

I’m happy because people know how the store works… and it’s not a rush to upsell just to get paid less than what you sell.

$20 of 2 photos from a $8 worker won’t sell.

$20 in produce will sell better from a $16 worker.

I was a circus act. I still am. They all just look at me behind the glass.

And I smile…

#i’m only good at retail #i’m very gullible #my mental state is shit #mental health #increase minimum wage #I am scraping by #las vegas

0 notes

vivwritesfics · 7 days

Text

Military Flyover

The dagger squad don't want to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas grand Prix. None of them really knew much about and, those that did only really knew about Nascar.

She hated the Vegas Grand Prix as much as those doing the military flyover. But the cute WSO there to support his friends was making it bearable.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F1 driver!reader

5.6K

a/n: yes a military flyover doesn't make sense for vegas buuuut let a girl dream lol - i'm hoping I've managed to write this for an audience that might not really know f1 but idk how confident i am in my abilities lol

Bob couldn't quite believe what the two time Top Gun graduates were having to do. They had completed an insanely dangerous mission and returned to be permanently stationed in San Diego, except from when they were called away for deployment.

They were a part of the military, why were they doing this?

Well, at least Bob didn't have to actually fly. He was a Weapon Systems Officer, he didn't have to take part in this. But he still went, more to morally support his squad.

Nat wasn't happy about have to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. She, Bradley and Jake were constantly complaining. None of them knew anything about Formula One, not enough to appreciate doing the flyover.

(May I just say, even if they did know about F1, they still wouldn't appreciate it. They'd train for years to be in the navy and now they were having to waste their time on this.)

The flyover was on the Sunday. Only Natasha, Jake and Bradley were taking part. Bob didn't have to go, didn't have to visit the track on the Friday and the Saturday with the three of them.

But Natasha had begged him. "Drive up with me," she'd said to him. "It's five hours and I could use the company."

So, Bob agreed. His dad had sometimes watched Nascar while he was growing up. He didn't know much of anything about motorsport but, if Nat wanted him there, he'd go.

The navy pilots didn't know they'd been invited to meet the drivers. Bob followed Natasha through the paddock. "Getting to meet the drivers might be the only good thing thing to come from this," Nat mumbled as she led the way.

The paddock was buzzing with life. There were cameras following people around, interviews happening as they walked through the paddock. Fans stopped men in team shirts and hats for pictures before letting them continue.

There was a familiar whistle, just loud enough for Natasha and Bob to hear over the crowd around them. They turned and saw Rooster and Hangman striding towards them.

"Where are we meant to be?" Asked Hangman as Rooster pulled off his aviators and looked around. The three of them (Natasha, Jake and Bradley) were in their overalls, looking proper in their uniform. Bob, though. He was dressed down, wearing jeans and a sweater (Vegas really wasn't that warm this time of year), his military issued glasses sitting on his nose. He looked cute, even if he didn't know it.

"Cyclone said the Ferrari garage, right?" She said as she looked between the other aviators. Bob, who had studied the itinerary, nodded his head and the four of them set off towards the red garage.

***

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a joke. All of the drivers thought so.

The Ferrari drivers weren't happy about it (just like the rest of the grid). They had spent the season struggling behind the Red Bulls and driving on an unknown track wasn't going to help that.

She needed a lot of mental preparation for this one. Just like the other drivers, before the first practice session her only experience on the track had been through sim racing. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been before.

She donned her red fireproofs, the overalls hanging from from her hips. She pulled her cap onto her head when there was a knock on her driver room door. "Yeah?" She called and the member of Ferrari staff walked in.

"The navy pilots are on their way," she said and went to back out of the drivers room.

"What?" The Ferrari driver called suddenly, her brows furrowed. "What navy pilots?"

The member of staff gulped. "They're doing a military flyover before the Grand Prix," she said. "They're on their way here to meet you and Charles," she said.

The driver let out a huff. She grabbed her drinks bottle and marched out of her drivers room, heading to find her teammate.

Charles was doing an interview for Sky Sports when she walked through the garage. She didn't much care, though. She powered on, her hand on Charles's shoulder as she stood at his side. "Chuck," she said, looking at her teammate.

Lawrence Barretto moved his microphone back to his mouth. "Is that his official name for the Vegas Grand Prix?" He asked and moved the microphone towards her.

"Yes," she said as Charles shook his head, repeatedly saying 'no'.

She stood beside him until the interview was over, answering any question Lawrence sent her way. As soon as they were done she grabbed Charles and pulled him away, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage.

"What's up?" Charles asked. He was a brilliant teammate, one of her best friends. They'd known each other for yeas and were close enough for people to think they were together at one point. Brocedes 2.0, many commented on the pictures of the two of them posted on the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram account, as if they were a disaster waiting to happen.

"Did you know we're having to meet the navy pilots doing the military flyover?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Charles furrowed his brows. And then his face relaxed as he shook his head at her. "Start checking your emails, please," he said.

She gently pushed him as a member of the Ferrari staff, the same girl from before, approached them. "They're here," she said and left them to it.

Charles led the way back through the garage, heading to where the navy pilots were standing around his car. Three of them, the three that looked the part, chatted with Fred while one, one that was dressed down, stood to the side.

Suddenly, she pulled Charles out of sight. "What is it?" He asked quickly, concern written on his face.

She looked back around the corner at the pilots for just a second. "Holy shit, Cha, I think I'm in love," she said and Charles just laughed.

"Do you need a wingman?"

She furiously shook her head. "Don't you bloody dare."

She steadied herself and followed Charles over to the navy pilots. Fred spotted his drivers first. He gestured over to them as he back away from the pilots, letting the drivers take over.

Charles held his hand out towards them introducing himself first. She went next, giving them her name as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Natasha Trace," she said with a smile as she shook her hand. "Callsign Phoenix."

She moved on to the man with the moustache. "Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster," he said and shook her hand, his grip firm. He wore a smile, but it was respectful.

Unlike the man next to him. She could tell who he was from the moment she looked at him, wearing that flirty smile. "Jake Seresin," he said, pulling her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "You can call me Hangman."

The smile dropped from her face and she pulled her hand away, clearly unimpressed. She looked past him, at the guy in the sweater and the glasses. "How about you?" She asked, completely ignoring Hangman. "Are you in the navy too?"

Bob blushed bright red as he stepped forward. "Robert Floyd," he said and shook her hand. "I'm a weapon systems officer."

"Oh," she said. Just that one word and she sounded incredibly fascinated. "Do tell me more."

She'd asked Charles not to wing man her, but he did it anyway. She might not have been aware as Charles spoke to the other navy pilots, doing the job for both of them. (Charles didn't know if Bob was the one she had fancied, but it was easy to guess. He looked like her type).

They spoke for a good twenty minutes before the drivers were told to wrap up the conversation. "You got a call sign?" She asked Bob as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall.

Jake had been wrapped up in the conversation he, Rooster and Phoenix were having with Charles until that point. Upon hearing her question, he placed his arm around the WSO's shoulders and grinned at the driver. "This is Baby On Board," he said with a grin, going to pinch Bob's cheeks.

Again, his cheeks were flaming as he stepped away from Jake. "It's Bob," he said. "Just Bob."

"Just Bob," she repeated as she smiled at him, completely ignoring everything Jake had said (something that Bob was grateful for). "It's simple, I like it."

Her engineer called for her. She turned and put her thumbs up before turning back to Bob. "Are you staying for the free practice?" She asked and Charles couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Sorry," he said to the pilots. "She doesn't read her emails."

She sent a glare in Charles's direction. The drivers said a quick goodbye to the navy pilots (although she hoped it wasn't for the last time), and got themselves ready for the first practice session in Las Vegas. They pulled up the red and white overalls and placed the balaclavas over their faces.

Bob watched as she pulled her helmet on, hiding her undeniably pretty face. He really did think she was beautiful, and she seemed interested in him, but he wasn't going to read too much into that.

He couldn't see as she gave him a smile from beneath her helmet. When she climbed into the red car with the number 53 on it, Bob knew which one he had to look out for.

The track wasn't ready, everybody knew it. But they didn't know how bad it was until they shower of sparks coming out the back of her car. "What the fuck was that?" She said to her engineer down the radio. "I just hit a fucking manhole cover."

The pilots were leaning forward as she stopped the car. The session was stopped, the other drivers coming into the pits. She jumped out of the car, waiting for it to be lifted onto the truck so that she could look at the extent of the damage beneath.

As the car was taken back to the garage and workers surrounded the manhole cover, she climbed into the medical car and was taken back to the pitlane.

Bob watched as she stormed into the garage, pulling off her helmet and balaclava. "Nine fucking minutes!" She heard her say to somebody in a Ferrari shirt. "I officially hate the Vegas Grand Prix."

She looked around the garage, eyes focusing in on the pilots. They were watching her, too, and she forced her expression to soften as she walked over. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, unzipping her race suit.

Bob shook his head. "'s no worries, ma'am," he said before he could stop himself. When his fellow aviators looked at him, his cheeks flushed red.

"We're just glad to know you're okay," Natasha said for him.

The driver smiled at them. But the interaction was short lived as she was called over to her wrecked car. (It looked fine on the top, but everybody knew the damage was beneath, invisible).

The nine minutes of practice wasn't enough to help the aviators get into F1. Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix wanted to head back to their hotels, but Bob wanted to stick around.

"My dad was into Nascar," he explained as the others left. They nodded, but they knew better. Their Baby On Board had a crush.

She hadn't expect him to stay, that much was clear. She'd seen the other aviators leave and had gotten on with what she needed to do, speaking to the mechanics about the parts they needed to replace and speaking to Fred about the potential consequences.

"Oh!" She said when she saw Bob still sitting there. "I thought you would have left."

Bob gave a polite smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to learn more."

The smile she gave him matched his own. "Well, you're not gonna learn much here," she said. "Let me get changed and we can get dinner."

Bob didn't expect dinner to be in the Ferrari hospitality suite. He'd didn't exactly think he'd be going out to dinner with her, but he didn't expect this.

She sat Bob down at a table and got a selection of food for them to share. "I can't exactly go crazy," she'd said as she sat down opposite him, placing the single plate in between them. "I still have a car to drive later."

Bob grabbed something from the plate. "Why does that mean you can't go crazy?" He asked curiously, innocently.

Every question Bob had, she answered. He told her that his dad watched Nascar while he was going up but he couldn't get into it. Didn't have the time once he joined the navy.

She asked him all about that, just as curious as he was about her job. Bob knew she was meant to be this big celebrity, but she was normal with him, and he really appreciated it.

He hadn't known who she was going into this weekend, but he heard the way the fans screamed her name. She was so famous, and he was just a boy from Montana.

"Are you and your friends watching anything else of the Grand Prix weekend?" She asked as she ate a piece of lettuce (literally just holding a big piece of lettuce to her lips and crunching on it).

Bob shook his head as he looked down at the table in front of him. "'Friad not, ma'am," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Bob didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took them off.

"Aw," she said with a pout. "I liked them."

"Really?" Bob couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "I used to have ones with slightly thicker frames, but these are military issued," he explained, putting them back on his face.

She grinned at him. "They're cute," she said, resting her cheek in her hand. It was undeniably flirty, and her grin was only making it worse. Well, that would have been if Bob could have allowed himself to believe that was flirting with him.

"I could get you tickets, if you'd like," she said. "You and your pilot friends. You can come back back to the Ferrari garage, support us for the rest of the weekend."

Bob gave her a gentle smile. "I'd like that," he said.

They continued chatting until she had to head back to the garage. Bob followed her, walking behind her.

She took him back to the garage, leaving him to stand with the rest of the Ferrari guests while she disappeared into her drivers room. Bob couldn't help but think of her as she got herself ready, getting dressed into her fireproofs and race suit. If Nat was here, he could ask her for advice.

Ten minutes before the start of FP2, she walked over to Bob. He'd seen her dressed down in a Ferrari hoodie and cute cargos, seen her in her race suit, and seen her in her fire proofs, race suit sitting low on her hips.

That was how she walked towards him. He'd seen so little of her, but this was his favourite (and he certainly wanted to see more). "Want to sit in the car?" She asked, hands on her hips.

***

The first thing she did after FP2 was give Bob her phone number. He couldn't quite believe it, and made a mental note to recount everything to Natasha as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Have you got a way back to your hotel?" She asked, her helmet tucked beneath her arm.

"I, uh..." No, he and Natasha had gotten a cab together.

She waved him off before he could give her a proper answer. "I can drive you, if you'd like," she offered.

That was how Bob found himself sitting in an F1 drivers car, telling her about his childhood as she took him back to his hotel. He told her about his big family and the mountains he grew up around. He told her about when he joined the military, about his first time in Top Gun and his permanent stationing in Coronado.

Before very long they were pulling up outside of his hotel. "Well, here we are," he said, patting his legs. He didn't move to leave the car, but she didn't much mind.

"I really liked meeting you today, Bob," she said as she tapped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

"It was lovely to meet you, too," he said.

"Promise you'll text me?"

"Promise."

She held out her pinky finger and Bob wrapped his own around it, sealing the deal. He looked at her one last time and climbed out of the car, heading into the hotel.

Bob couldn't hide his smile as he walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Just days ago he'd hated the thought of a military flyover for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the track, back to the Ferrari garage.

Nat noticed it the minute he walked through the door of the hotel room they were sharing. "Had a good time watching the rest of it?" She asked as she pushed away from the desk in the room.

Bob nodded as he pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact. But, the moment he was there, he didn't know what to say to her. "Nat," he called, looking up at her. "I need your help."

He only needed Nat's help to get the ball rolling. But soon, she and Bob were sending messages back and forth with just a second long gap between. Sometimes Bob took a little longer to reply, but only because Nat was reading the messages over his shoulder and assuring him that she was flirting.

Bob couldn't believe it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"I'll go with you tomorrow," Nat said as she climbed into her bed. It was incredibly late and Bob was hyper-aware that they were still texting. "Find out if she really is flirting with you."

"Nat..."

"Goodnight, Bob."

Natasha went to sleep, but Bob stayed up. She was still replying to his messages, and he couldn't bring himself to not respond. At least until she turned around and wished him goodnight.

When Bob woke up, she had already texted him. I don't have to be on track until later - wanna get food?

Who was Bob to say no? Natasha grinned as he got himself ready, including his glasses. (He had brought his contacts to Vegas because of how much he hated wearing his glasses. He didn't have time to put them in before they headed to the track the day before, but Nat didn't expect him to wear them now).

He walked out of the hotel, ignoring Hangman and Rooster as they called after him. They sat in the lobby, do doubt waiting for Natasha as they whistled at him.

Bob kept going. He saw her car before he walked out of the glass doors, and had to stop himself from breaking into a small jog. As he approached, she pushed open the passenger side door. "Hey, Robby!" She called, wearing a grin.

"Hey," Bob said, wearing a smile as he climbed into the passenger side.

As soon as he was buckled in, she began driving. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asked as she headed towards the strip.

Bob shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't in the same way he'd said 'ma'am' before. No, those time he had been nervous saying it. This time, it was so fucking cute and she loved it. "I don't get enough leave for that."

"Why do you call me ma'am?" She asked, but she never wanted it to stop.

Bob couldn't stop his smile. "My momma raised me right."

That much she could tell. She parked the car and climbed out as Bob did the same. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They went to a restaurant. Bob didn't catch the name of it as she pulled him through the doors. Even when sat gave the waiter her name, she was still holding his hand.

They sat down at a table for two. It felt far too intimate, almost like a date. She couldn't order a drink, but insisted that Bob did. He ordered one beer and made sure to make it last through their entire lunch.

She ordered a salad. Bob wanted to do the same, but she could see how conflicted he was. "Have whatever you want," she said, lowering her menu.

So, he did just that. Bob got himself a burger, the cheapest one on the menu (which was still incredibly expensive).

While they ate, Bob couldn't ignore the way her foot touched his knee beneath the table. He gulped as he reached for his beer.

While they waited, she told Bob about how she had grown up. Karting from a young age before moving onto single seaters.

The more she spoke, the more Bob could imagine getting into F1. Watching races, coming to see her in Vegas when he wasn't deployed. He just had to hope she still liked him enough to keep in contact with him.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until she was taking Bob to the track with her. Pictures of the two of them were taken as they walked through the paddock, too close to just be friends.

Once again, Bob stood in the garage while she completed the last practice session. She led, the fastest car until the Red Bulls were released onto the track.

But still, Bob couldn't stop watching the number 53 car. She came into the pits, had her tyres changed and went out a few minutes later.

Bob couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb the leaderboard. When practice ended, she didn't come in right away, doing a practice start with the other drivers.

When she got out of her car, she pulled off her helmet and balaclava, and spoke to her engineers. She had looked so happy when she climbed out of the car, but Bob watched as her face fell.

She walked over to him, unable to keep herself from sighing. The anger dropped from her face, replaced by sadness. "Wanna come sit in my drivers room?"

So, Bob followed her to her drivers room. She led him inside and shut the door behind him, letting out a breath as she leaned against it.

"Everything okay?" Asked Bob as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

She unzipped her overalls and let them fall to her hips. Bob shuffled over on the couch, giving her space. She sat beside him, shutting her eyes as she leaned back. "Because of the parts they'd had to replace in my car, I'm probably going to get a penalty later," she mumbled.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and Bob didn't move. He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That that, she shuffled slightly closer, which Bob didn't mind one bit.

Suddenly, she let out a weak laugh. "You're kinda making me want to stay in the states a little longer, Robby," she mumbled.

He looked down at her. "Would you? Seriously?" Bob could imagine it then, taking her to stay with him in San Diego, taking her to Montana to meet his mom at Christmas.

She shook her head. "I can't," she said and sighed through her nose. "There's one last race before the end of the season."

After that, Bob wanted to say. But he squeezed her shoulder instead.

When her trainer came in, Bob wished her good luck and headed back out to the garage. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent Natasha a text. She hadn't gone to the track with him, instead going with Bradley and Jake to the hangar they would be flying from.

If Nat showed Rooster and Hangman his texts, he'd never hear the end of it. But Bob realised he didn't mind. Let them talk, he was here with her.

The first round of the qualifying session was about to start. Bob sort of knew what to expect, she'd explained it to him while they sat in her drivers room, her head on his shoulder. He watched as she walked towards the car, her red, gold, black and white helmet on her head.

She climbed into the car and somebody strapped her in as somebody else spoke to her. She nodded at whatever they were saying and put her thumbs up.

Admittedly, Bob couldn't tell the difference between the practice sessions and the qualifying session. He watched as she went from having no time on the board to being the quickest car on track. But then she was knocked out of the top spot, down in eighth by the end of that session.

Bob had assumed that she was starting the race in eighth position after the eighteen minute long qualifying session. But then she and fourteen other drivers were going back out onto track.

Again she was at the top of the board, knocked out by the same driver. But she stayed in fourth, unable to get a quicker time in before the end of the session.

She went out for a third and final time. Bob heard her calling down the radio as somebody got in her way. But she put an impressive time on the board, finishing third.

It may have been obvious to everybody else in the garage, but Bob had to ask the girl standing next to him. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and answered with a thick French accent. Bob thanked her and watched as the 53 car came into the garage.

She hopped out, did what she needed to do and came to find Bob.

It was near midnight and she couldn't quite believe he was still there, watching her. They'd spent the entire day together, and she'd loved every minute of it.

"Want me to drive you home?" She asked and Bob nodded his head.

She did just that, driving Bob back to his hotel. "They haven't confirmed if I've got a penalty or not," she said as she drove him. "So, for now I'm starting in P3." She quickly glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "Think you might be my good luck charm, Robby," she said and he blushed a deep shade of red.

She pulled up outside of the hotel, just as she had done the day before. And, like the day before, Bob was hesitant to climb out of the car.

As Bob reached for the handle of the door, she opened her mouth, ready to say something, and he stopped. But she closed her mouth. Still, Bob didn't move.

She sucked in a breath and tried again. This time, words came out. "Can I come up?"

Bob knew what that meant. How could he not? Some part of him had been wanting her to ask something like this for the last few hours. But still, he shook his head. "I, uh, I can't. I'm sharing my room with Nat."

"Oh," she said and looked down at the centre console between them. "Oh, shit. Are you and Nat- I didn't mean to overstep... I-"

Bob quickly shook his head. "No. No, Nat's my best friend, but only my best friend," he said. "But, her bed is a couple feet away from mine, so..."

She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face at that. "Can I kiss you, Robby?" She asked.

He leaned over the centre console. Her arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.

Bob kissed her. He closed the gap between them, his arm awkwardly resting on her shoulders as his lips moved against her own. Her nose bumped the lens of his glasses, but neither of them minded.

If the expensive car left room for it, he would have moved her onto his lap. But he couldn't. He pulled away, staring at her as his eyes opened again. "Holy shit," he whispered and she grinned at him.

"I'll come and get you before the race," she said and Bob climbed out of the car.

***

He didn't wake up to a text from her. Immediately Bob's mind played tricks on him, telling him that, after they had kissed, she didn't want him.

He sat in the hotel for half of the day, in a perpetual state of anxiousness. Part of him didn't want to move until he heard from her, until he knew that everything was okay.

"You coming?" Nat asked him. He checked his phone one last time before following her out of the hotel room.

He didn't know what she was currently dealing with, that she had just found out about her grid place penalty. "This is such shit!" She cried as she and Charles walked through the paddock. She'd woken up to the news and hadn't had time to message Bob.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Charles said, stopping to sign things for fans (signs, hats, and even a packet of oreos). "How are things going with the navy guy?"

She grinned as they kept walking through the paddock. "We kissed, Cha," she said, suddenly much happier.

"Kissed and..." Charles tried to push.

She shook her head. "Just kissed."

Charles nodded as they walked into the garage. "Just kissed, but you wanted more," he said. "Are you gonna see him before we leave?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm gonna go and pick him up before the race."

Through the evening, she and Charles did what they needed to do for the race. When she got a minute, she texted Bob, but she didn't have many opportunities to check her phone.

As soon as she had a chance, she ran out of the paddock. She held her phone to her ear as she went, making her way to her car. Bob picked up on the third ring. "Hey," she said, opening the door of her car. "I'm on my way."

Bob hesitated before he answered. "I'm not at the hotel right now."

"Do you still want to come to the race?" She asked quickly.

"Do you still want me there?"

She let out a laugh. "Of course I do, Robby. Give me the address and I'll pick you up."

That was just what happened. She picked Bob up and took him to the track. She promised the other aviators that she would get him there to watch the military flyover and drove off with him in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" Bob asked as she drove. It had been playing on his mind a lot since they kissed, his best case scenario (which was currently happening. He could have laughed at himself for being so worried).

She shook her head. "I haven't had a chance to explore outside of the places we have Grand Prix," she answered.

"So, you haven't been to Montana?"

"Nope."

Bob couldn't help but smile. He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't know when you're gonna have time off, but I could show you Montana, if you'd like."

She grinned at him as she parked the car. "I'd love that, Robby," she said and climbed out of the car.

She checked the time on her watch, grabbed her hand and began running. "I'm late!" She cried. Bob was only happy to run beside her, heading into the Ferrari garage. He slowed to a walk, but she kept going, running to her drivers room to pull on her fireproofs and overalls.

Bob watched it all. He watched as she stood for the national anthem with her fellow drivers, watched as she completed the formation lap from the back of the grid (something he had to ask about), and watched as she raced.

Bob couldn't help but be impressed as she fought her way across the track, racing past most of the grid. She overtook ten other cars, finishing in 5th.

When she climbed out of the car, Bob could see just how happy she was from her body language alone. She did what she had to do, spoke to the team and was interviewed, before she ran over to Bob and threw her arms around him.

"That was incredible!" He cried, smiling down at her. "I didn't realise racing was so exciting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Think you'll watch next weeks race?"

"Definitely," he said.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him in front of all of the cameras. But Bob didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I leave in the morning," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me, in my hotel. One last night."

"Until Montana?" Bob asked, his forehead against her own.

"Until Montana."

a/n: ok i loved this and it may need a part two lol

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader smut #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #top gun #top gun bob #top gun maverick

266 notes · View notes

f1version · 9 months

Text

DRIVE THE NIGHT ★ F1 SERIES

f1 grid x multiple oc . . . Malibu Racing sees the checkered flag as the 11th team on the 2023 Formula One grid.

warnings . . . significant changes to the 2023 F1 season; topics such as inequality, sexism, racism, discrimination, mental health, and more will be discussed (every chapter will have their own warnings)

navigation ★ taglist

MEET THE DEVILS IN PINK !

“The world is talking, I am okay with that. I can hear them.” Roberts says, a smile on her lips “Ten years ago, this world booed my name when I raised my trophies, now they cheer. It’s such an unpredictable game that we just have to drive and see what they do when we, Malibu Racing, win"

★ ABOUT THE TEAM

★ BARBARA ROBERTS

★ ALEJANDRA D’ALESSI #34

★ ZOYAH PERRY #8

MASTERLIST !

THE 2023 SEASON

★ TESTING: let them talk

★ BAHRAIN: new beginnings

★ SAUDI ARABIA: trophy trading

★ AUSTRALIA: let the chaos begin

★ AZERBAIJAN . . .

★ MIAMI . . .

★ MONACO . . .

★ SPAIN . . .

★ CANADA . . .

★ AUSTRIA . . .

★ UNITED KINGDOM . . .

★ BELGIUM . . .

★ NETHERLANDS . . .

★ MONZA . . .

★ SINGAPORE . . .

★ JAPAN . . .

★ QATAR . . .

★ AUSTIN . . .

★ MEXICO . . .

★ BRAZIL . . .

★ LAS VEGAS . . .

★ ABU DHABI . . .

more to be added…

HISTORY, WRITINGS & HCS

★ MR59 — livery launch and introduction

★ the creation — alejandra d’alessi and zoyah perry

★ catalyst — alejandra d’alessi and max verstappen

★ frenemies — zoyah perry and oscar piastri

more to be added…

ARTICLES & MEDIA

★ barbara roberts: from world champion to team principal

★ the devils in pink: all you need to know about F1 new competitors, malibu racing

★ gossip-time: the 2023 F1 grid talks about malibu racing

★ what to expect from zoyah perry’s long-awaited debut in F1

★ alejandra d’alessi: redbull’s lost promise is back to F1

★ mario schumacher rejects offers in ferrari and mercedes to join malibu racing!

more to be added…

EXTRAS

more to be added…

#.ﾟ ᧓ ﹒masterlist !#☆ f1 ៸៸ drive the night #f1 #formula 1

521 notes · View notes

thearchercore · 3 months

Text

why charles, ironically, is a good fit as a potential condender for a red bull seat and why red bull needs a driver like charles (an essay)

charles embodies the "red bull gives you wings" mentality and branding. red bull prides themselves with pushing limits, constant adrenaline rush of the sports they currently sponsor/participate in. just look at his recent instagram posts, he loves doing weird side quests for the adrenaline rush -- something ferrari does not particularly enjoy. for instance, he once tried skydiving (to quote @gaslightgirlsummer "he’s legally not allowed to do it anymore. he was actually legally not allowed to do it when he did it the first time around either"). when he got asked about it, he said "in case it went wrong, i would not be here to be told up".

max and checo, on the other hand, prefer only racing. they don't do anything extra during their prep or training. in fact, max prefers to train in the privacy of his own balcony. the both don't really resonate with the initial message red bull is trying to push, they only do so exclusively when racing.

red bull is in desparate need of keeping themselves interesting for potential sponsors and just in general, being in the public eye and remaining relavant. their main goal is to sell the drinks, after all. max recently had an interview with the TIME magazine, released around the vegas weekend, conducted around COTA, the interview highlighted that max's focus is on racing and the PR responsibilites pretty much drain his energy because they are part of the sport. it showcased that despite the results in racing, they need someone who's more interesting for sponsors/events to keep themselves in the spotlight, which max and checo don't really do. charles, on the other hand, attends these events quite smoothly.

recently, christian horner at the ferrari movie premiere:

Christian Horner says Ferrari would be ‘crazy’ not to keep hold of Charles Leclerc:

Horner on the contract extension rumours:

🗣️: “It’s totally natural, he’s a great driver. I’m sure they’ll want to keep hold of him and they’d be crazy if they didn’t.”

there's more but to align it with my previous charles PR rebrand post, it's truly fascinating to see charles and his PR team push the narrative of all his adrenaline side quests as of recent from his training (24 hour ski trip from italy to austria and back, or the sliding). i'm not saying that charles is going to red bull, i still believe he wants to give ferrari one more chance, but i am convinced charles has a solid back up plan if ferrari does not deliver again, and red bull keeps their door open in case charles wants to look for a team alternative in the future. don't forget contracts have mutliple exit clauses, and it would be stupid to think charles did not secure the ferrari contract with multiple to make sure he wouldn't waste his active racing years at a team that won't deliver and help him achieve the WDC title. don't forget what charles said - he's ready to leave ferrari if he does not believe in the project anymore.

"Whenever I don't believe in the project anymore, I'll have to go away. Because it’s in these kinds of situations that you don't get the best out of yourself, that you don't help the team as much as it needs to be helped."

and that's exactly what's happening. now it's up to ferrari to deliver on the said project.

#charles leclerc #lestappen gate 2023 #formula 1 #lestappengate #f1

277 notes · View notes

sprout-fics · 10 months

Note

I really don't know how to imagine certain scenarios, so I usually come back to fanfiction to satisfy my need to imagine characters. I was laying in bed imagining a gangbang scenario, or trying to, and all I could think about was the 141 talking some grim shit about how they should help eachother realize their last wishes before or if they died, and I thought wouldn't it be funny if they got to reader and she said some shit like, "I have a lot of sexual fantasies..." and they all turn to her like, yeah I can help you with that! It's 2 am I am tired, sorry for this nonsense.

I don't have a drabble for this so much as the mental image of all of you splayed around whatever safehouse you're hunkered down in, exhausted and drained but not yet able to rest. You haven't taken your tac gear off yet, but there's weapons and equipment propped around the room where you're all at. You're lying across the couch with your feet in Gaz's lap, Soap at your side on the floor, Ghost on the opposite side of the room and Price hunched forward in a chair facing you all.

Soap starts it, mentions how he doesn't know how he keeps surviving this shit, how he needs to go do some stuff on his shore leave so he can at least say he's done it before he kicks the bucket. Nobody scolds him for mentioning death, you all know it's as much an ally as an imminent fate at this point. So Gaz chimes in, says he's always wanted to go to Vegas. The conversation trickles on like that, your wishes and strange thoughts about the nonsense you all want to do before you die.

"Maybe I should get gangbanged at some point." You muse, eyelids heavy with fatigue, the drain on your energy reserves entirely removing your mental filter. "Or be a glory hole maybe? One of those."

The room goes dead silent.

It takes you a few moments for you to notice, eventually looking your head up to see the men around the room all turned to look at you.

"...What?"

It's Gaz who makes the first noise, a little cough to clear his throat. Yet whatever he's about to say is cut off by Soap, who's eyes twinkle suggestively.

"I...think we may be able to help with that." He tells you breathily, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. You blink at him, realize in horror what you just said aloud.

"Just to make sure you don't have any last regrets, that is."

#poly 141 x reader #thursday night thots #STELLAR IDEA ANON

367 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

dei-hime

Sweet Crying Crocuses

natastudies

Fly Away

eveledoze

🎀 evele 🧸

supertoastedclumsybread

hi :)

uta-core

uta