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Priscilla, the Utterly Livid Bat that has endeared itself to Betty.
I think the tumblr peeps might like her too
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catfindr · 7 months
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roughridingrednecks · 6 months
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Davis
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jadafitch · 19 days
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Florida mangroves, for Mass Audubon and Storey Publishing‘s Nature Smarts Workbook, Ages 7-9.
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esteemed-excellency · 10 months
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thejazzdesign · 4 months
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My Fallen London character, eyes wild, hair white, Unaccountably Peckish at 10, clawing her way out of a mirror after spending 175 days lost in the forests of Parabola: A̷̮̗͛d̴̖̦͝v̵͙̂̏ē̴̜n̴̮̝̐t̶͈͛̏ ̶̘̋C̴͍͗̔a̴͓͘͜l̸̡͊͠e̸͚͚͠n̷̩͊d̷̪̗̾͝a̸̰̲̓r̶̳̀ ̶͖̅̏T̶͎͓̑i̸̩̕m̵̛͖̦̓e̵̡̥͠.
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Spices and Wines debate how to raise a child
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froggymp3 · 2 years
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https://www.instagram.com/p/CcVH2zevyoV/
#fl
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doebt · 1 year
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In awe of this photo i took w my phone
#fl
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Tag yourself I'm Responsible but not Accountable
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racingline3 · 8 months
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Early Mornigs ~ Lewis Hamilton
♡ Lewis Hamilton x Reader (!Russell Sister)
Description: Early mornings at the Paddock become a lot more interesting
~fluff & a bit of angst ~
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Weekend mornings were your new favourite time of the week.
It had happened by complete accident.
You had been extra early one Friday morning to the Paddock and made a beeline for the Mercedes catering truck to find it wasn’t completely set up. There was one table and chairs set up and someone was sitting there already.
But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Lewis Hamilton.
Being George’s older sister, you had met the man before, when George had first signed his contract, at a Mercedes Friends and Family event. You saw him around the garage but you were always hiding away in George’s side, keeping out of everyone’s way.
You had never spoken to him alone. But you did need somewhere to sit until everything else set up. You were far too aware that he was a multiple time world champion and practical living legend but you reminded yourself he was still a human being too.
“Hi…eh, Lewis?” You ask, “Would you mind if I take a seat?” You nod to the chair on the other side of the large table, while juggling your coffee mug, bag and laptop.
He looks up from his phone and recognition dawns on his face, he says your name like you chat everyday, “George’s sister right?”
You think that it must speak volumes about his character to bother remembering the names of peripheral family of your teammate at this kind of elite level. “Of course, take a seat.”
“Thanks so much. I didn’t mean to get here so early.” You apologize.
“No worries.” He waves away your apology. “It’s nice to be here before the craziness descends.” He smiles softly.
“Oh God, am I interrupting your pre race ritual? Pretend I’m not here.” You rush out, opening your laptop to put a barrier between the two of you.
“No, not at all. I just like to get my coffee before the mayhem. I’m not a morning person by nature so I like to have some time before jumping into the day’s meetings.”
You shut your laptop down with a click, “Oh that’s good, because it is far too early for me to start work.” You grin and crip your mug with both hands.
“You work this early?” He asks, his head tipping to the side slightly, giving you his full attention.
It was complicated to say the least, “Eh…I mean…not…”
“Some things are too difficult to talk about this early in the morning.” He says leaning across to you ever so slightly.
“Yeah.” You admit with a sigh.
“Wait, I thought you didn’t like Formula 1?” You look at him in disbelief as he remembers something you mentioned when you had been chatting to him and Toto when George was signing his contract. “It’s pretty unusual for everyone in the family not to be consumed by it all.” His smile is smaller, as if he’s self-conscious of remembering something so specific about you.
You lean over and fake whisper, “I probably wouldn’t watch motor sports if George wasn’t involved.”
He places a hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”
“It’s just cars driving in circles.” You quip, using the description that always drove George mad with indignation.
But Lewis just throws his head back with a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
“So you’re a good sister to come here and put up with all this then?” He asks as he idly traces a finger around the rim of his mug and you have the sudden ache for him to softly trace his finger like that against your collarbone.
“I love George. We all helped him make his dream come through, and now he’s helping me.” You say and Lewis doesn’t push when you don’t give anymore information.
“It’s nice when the first thing someone talks to me about isn’t my racing strategy, my thoughts on FIA regulations and the rest of it.” He admits.
“Oh damn, I was actually going to ask you about a race in 2015 when…” You say but laugh instead, “I can’t even come up with an example.” You shrug.
It was then you got hit by the effect of Lewis’ full smile, one that lit up his eyes and made your heart beat that little bit faster.
*****************
You spent all Friday evening overthinking it all. If you turned up to Paddock early again on Saturday and Lewis was there, would he think you were being a stalker?
You ignored the tiny voice that mentioned that if he wasn’t there, that you’d be disappointed.
So you turned up, the same time as the previous day and to your utter relief Lewis smiled when he saw you and pointed to the chair opposite him.
“Fancy seeing you here.” He grins.
“I swear I’m not stalking you.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop. The familiar grip of anxiety clasped around your throat.
“I’m going to have to call off the restraining order now.” He says with a straight face and you panic for a split second before his mouth twitches into a grin, “I’m just joking, I never thought you were. You know people usually follow me around to see the trophies and hear the on-track stories, I kind of think that would send you running.”
“Straight to a plane and back to England.” You confirm when your shoulders relax at his jovial mood.
He laughs again and you’re worried that the sound is becoming more addictive than your morning caffeine hit.
"I hate driving." You admit and he looks at you like you're a puzzle he wants to solve, "that's why I'm here so early. I avoid all the traffic and there's plenty of room for me to try and park without anyone looking at how many tries it takes me." You blush, wondering why his presence made you feel comfortable enough to say things you'd never tell anyone else.
Perhaps it's because it's just the two of you.
Perhaps it's the early morning.
Or perhaps that's just the effect that Lewis has on you.
He nods as he digests your words, "So you do what you're scared of despite the fear, that’s pretty brave you know. I'm here because once people know I'm awake my life is full of noise, full of schedules and training and sometimes I need a break, without offending anyone."
"So you can be Lewis and not Lewis Hamilton?" You ask.
"Yeah exactly." He says, his eyes might as well have been looking right into your very soul.
It was probably for the best that his phone started ringing. "Toto." He says as he glances at the screen.
"Time to go be Lewis Hamilton." You say softly.
"I'll see you tomorrow? " He asks as he stands up before answering his phone.
"See you then."
It had been that simple.
You and Lewis and met you every morning of a Grand Prix for months.
You had told him about the burnout you had at your corporate job and how George had come to your rescue and wanted you to travel with him for a year, seeing as you had taken extra part-time jobs for years to help fund his karting career.
About how your dream was to be a published writer and so while everyone timed laps, you were timing story pace. How you were very happy to let George take the limelight and had your pen name chosen.
He told you how claustrophobic life could be like for him. How he missed his family and normal life sometimes. How he felt such pressure on his shoulders. How hungry he was for another world championship.
The two of you, being each others’ rock for a while every time the storms of the Grand Prix hit. It felt like a special little bubble.
Until it burst.
**********************
You have a skip in your step as you enter the catering area, you had come up with the resolution of a plot twist that had been annoying you and can’t wait to tell Lewis about it.
But Lewis isn't at his, your, usual table.
You stop before telling yourself he must be running late and get your coffee.
And wait.
You even send him a text to see if he's okay. You had long since swapped numbers, you delighted when your little bubble extended to everyday life as you sent him driving memes and he sent you pictures of Roscoe.
You know he had had a bad qualifying but that had never stopped him turning up before. He doesn't even read the message and you sit there until your coffee turns cold.
It was only worse later on in the day when your heart was practically flooded with ice when Lewis walked right past you in the Paddock, ignoring when you said hi and disappearing into the crowd.
He knew you hid from the media, wearing a peak cap at all times and never speaking to many people at a Grand Prix so as not to draw attention to yourself. So the mere act of saying hello to him was a big deal.
And now you were left standing in the middle of the chaos watching as Lewis Hamilton walked away and you wondered where the hell your Lewis had gone.
You had kept your meetups as a sweet secret just for the two of you. Now you wished you had yelled it from the rooftops just so that someone else knew about it and so you know it wasn't all a dream.
The next time you got close to him was when he was going for the drivers parade and you called to him.
He reached up and put his sunglasses down over his eyes and walked by you like you were just another person of the omnipresent crowd around him.
You go straight to George. He looks up from some stats he's looking over and frowns when he sees your face. "What's wrong?" Your little brother knows you well.
"Nothing. It's just…has Lewis been acting differently with you today?"
He seems to ponder it, "No but…"
"But what Georgie?"
"Is there something going on between you and Lewis?"
"What?"
"I just heard some rumors. You were seen together and you know how the gossip rumor works, you’re practically married by now." He shrugs.
"There's nothing happening. I just thought we were friends." You admit. "He's been off with me today."
"I'm sure it's not on purpose, Lewis is a good guy." He huffs then and crosses his arms, "But if something happens I'm going to have to have a talk with him."
You roll your eyes with a laugh, "You don't have to protect me Georgie."
Someone called George from inside the garage and your talk was cut short. You could do nothing but go along with the flow as the race set up and the lights went out.You felt a headache coming on. It just worsened as you watched the race, trying to pretend to be normal.
Trying to pretend that Lewis hadn't hurt you. Trying to pretend that you hadn't given Lewis your heart over the past few months and he may as well have driven his car over it.
*******************
As the race trundled on, you wondered when exactly you had fallen in love with Lewis. The realisation hit you as hard as a car hitting the wall on a street circuit.
You had fallen in love with his smile, his way of thinking, his values, his terrible dad jokes, his very soul.
He had once told you that you were brave. So you mustered all you could, shoved your anxiety back down your throat and stalked across the garage post race like a woman on a mission.
You didn't care who saw you. You didn't care if everyone posted it on every social media platform.
You followed Lewis into his trailer, jumping up the step and stopping the door closing behind him.
He looks at you as you close the door behind you, sweat stuck to his skin and his breath still slightly laboured from the race.
"What is going on?" You ask, trying to get his attention as he looks out the window of his trailer before shutting the blinds. "What are you doing?" You ask, completely bewildered.
It was like all your nightmares coming true.
Was he ashamed to be seen with you?
"What are you doing here?" He asks, his voice hard.
"What is going on Lewis? I thought we were friends." You fire back as gruffly.
His eyes soften, "Of course we are."
"Then what the hell is happening?"
"What's happening is that people have found out we hang out."
"So you don't want anyone to know that you know me?" Your stomach churned at the thought of being some dirty secret for him.
"No I don't." He says, then his armor falls away, "Because then you would be sucked into my media storm and you don't deserve that. It's better if we keep a distance."
"You didn't want to tell me any of this?" You wonder aloud.
"Because people change when they have a chance at fame."
"And you thought that of me?" You hated that your voice broke over his lack of trust in you.
"No. Not for a second. But you don't want this. You hate fame. You want a quiet life and I can't give you that." His voice was strained. "So it's...."
"Better to keep our distance, apparently?" You tossed his words back to him.
He nods, "Because it hit me, if I spend much more time with you, I won't ever want to let you go, and you won't want to stay amidst the chaos."
He stole the air right out of your lungs.
"I like you. I’ve started to look forward more to seeing you than the races at weekends." He says, "And I don't want to keep hold of you if you don’t any of this, so I'm letting you go before this gets...,"
"Lewis." You say, your voice practically strangled by emotion. "I'm not going anywhere."
The air became heavy, your heart started racing as if it had been given a jump by DRS.
"I didn't mean to hurt you. I figured you're better off without me and the crazy rumours." He says.
You don't know where you find the courage to take a step towards him. "What if they're not rumors anymore?"
He gently encircles one of your wrists with his hand, ghosting his thumb over your pulse point.
“You’re right. I don’t like the limelight, I’m shy and quiet and I don’t care about Formula 1 further than you and George love it. I don’t care about any of it, Lewis. I don't want you for your fame. I care about you. I want you."
He lifts your hand so it's placed on his shoulder, you dig you fingers into his race suit immediately as if you plan to hold onto him for dear life.
“I thought it would hurt you more, all of this.” He admits. “And I never want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t push me away.” You tell him, “I know my own mind and I want to be here.”
He does exactly as you ask as he moves an arm around your waist and takes the final step towards you. He leans down, his mouth ghosting over yours, giving you another chance to back out, to run a mile.
So you lean in the rest of the way.
The world rearranges itself so there’s nothing but Lewis, how he tastes, how he feels, as he pulls you fully against him.
If this is the exhilaration of driving a Formula 1 car, you really can’t blame Lewis for loving it so much.
It was Toto Wolff of all people who barged in and interrupted the best damn kiss of your life. You pulled away but Lewis kept his hand on your back.
“Ah.” He says in usual straight talking manner. “This is why you’re so happy at our morning meetings lately.”
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Also introducing, Mabel, Betty's Talkative and Food-Motivated lampcat! She is a menace with an appetite.
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catfindr · 4 months
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roughridingrednecks · 1 month
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B-Rad and Rob in Florida
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kiwira-art · 5 months
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Commission for glarthir on Flight Rising of their dragons Birkin and Wesker
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